"I did kill him, you know. I killed my husband."
Bess wasn't certain why she felt the need to reiterate that fact – certainly it was assumed by the good doctor. Still, she felt the warning might give her time…or at least give Schultz pause just in case she had misjudged his character. The words, once she'd spoken them didn't quite sound like her own, and Bess thought that everything had taken on a suddenly surreal hue. The room was softer at the edges, and her heart was moving like a swift pinging hammer - it seemed capable of breaking the ribcage that held it in place.
"If you were to take me in…if you killed me and collected the reward, you'd be justified in your actions, Doctor. Quite frankly, I don't know why you and I are sitting here having such a civil…chat."
Dr. Schultz raised his eyebrows, and inhaled what little air he could in the small cramped quarters. He tilted his head slightly to one side, twisting his beard a bit as he took in the fugitive he'd been hunting for the better part of the last month. He'd first gotten wind of her crimes in Knoxville where he'd been dealing with a band of particularly vicious horse thieves. Usually, a singular criminal was hardly worth the time and funds that it took to hunt them – better to set out after multiple offenders at once. However, the reward attached to this particular vagabond had been so large that he – as well as others in his profession – had been immediately intrigued.
There was, every now and again, a woman that necessity dictated he should have to deal with. There were a number of killers, cattle rustlers, and brutal desperate humans in the wilds of America – some of whom happened to be female. Most were just as, if not more, immoral than their male counterparts. It was a strange irony that such a thing as that seemed to support equality between the sexes. He had expected the same unpleasant roughness from the Norcross girl, though the thousand dollar bounty had led him to believe her to be even more…formidable.
She did not look threatening, and seemed more frightened child than hardened criminal.
Large hazel eyes shone fever bright like brass buttons from a pale, oval face. Her hair was, as he'd expected after his investigation at the boarding house back in Camden, a bright red that was almost otherworldly. Of course, the ragged tufts of it shot up at different angles in an almost humorous way – no doubt the work of Nattie's nervous, harried chopping in the parlor on the day that Bess had flown from her hiding place. Elizabeth Norcross had already succeeded in looking nothing like the formerly pampered Northern woman of means who'd been running for her life. The wanted poster had given everyone the impression that Bess was a great and terrible beauty. This poor little wretch was not even pretty – but singular, certainly. And where had she learned to shoot a gun like that, anyway?
"Well, those are pertinent facts, Mrs. Norcross…but there are facts, and then there is…the real story, yes?"
"If you please, Doctor - I never want to be called Mrs. Norcross again," Bess growled softly.
The older man made an apologetic motion with his hand, and caught Bess' eyes.
"How foolish of me – I'm sorry. Of course. Sarah – she told me about your…previous experience."
Bess sat very still, quietly regarding Schultz.
"The night terrors, all of it," King continued. "So, fräulein….Bess?"
Schultz tried the name out, elongating the consonants on the end which he stretched out until he sounded a little like a child's imitation of a snake.
"Your friends – they have made a very generous business offer to me, and I have accepted. It seems that the Widow Stoddard and her companion are looking to join Nattie's family in Ohio…after what has transpired in Camden, they do not feel they can keep the boardinghouse open without trouble."
Bess bit her lip, fixing her eyes down at her hands. Guilt made a pang in her gut. It was her fault. It was all her fault that Sarah and Nattie had to leave their home.
"At any rate," Schultz continued. "They feel sure that if you can meet them in the north, they will be able to shield you. I have some doubts about this plan, but with my help we might achieve certain…measures that will throw any other bounty hunters - like myself - off your trail. In this, I can be a valuable ally." At this point, Schultz let himself smile a bit proudly, motioning towards the woman who still looked nonplussed, numb.
"Sarah has given me an advance of three hundred dollars, and will also pay me a large percentage of the profit that they will gain from selling the boardinghouse for my services. The rest of their money, they will use for their own traveling expenses."
"That seems like a lot of trouble, Doctor," Bess wondered aloud. "Wouldn't it just be easier to kill me and collect all the money? Why should you help a hardened, cold-blooded murderess?" She emphasized the last few words sardonically, still testing her new acquaintance.
The doctor wrinkled his brow, unable to answer the young woman.
It really would be easier to shoot her.
Certainly, he'd had the chance back on the street. He'd watched her go into the barn to see her horse, and could have ended her life before the interloper had made his presence known. Of course, he'd made a deal with Sarah…but she and Nattie were guilty of harboring a criminal. They'd never be able to hold him to his word if indeed he did decide to collect the reward for Bess.
Gently, Schultz stood and reached across the table. Despite himself and the gravity of the situation, his lips turned upwards slightly at Bess' pronouncement. His hand gently tilted her head towards the light from the small, dingy window in the room and he inspected the place where she'd been hit by the man – the man who had been hunting her, and was now dead thanks to the doctor's Derringer.
"Trapped creatures fighting for their lives cannot truly be blamed for their actions," was all he could think to say.
The first thing they did was leave the tiny, dusty little burg called Westville. Schultz had cleared everything up with the sheriff in a satisfactory way, and he informed Bess that he thought it would be best to escape before their presence was further scrutinized. It was at that point the doctor began saying things that Bess didn't like very much. He did this calmly and without relish – in the gentle manner of someone breaking bad news to a child.
Still, life suddenly became…complicated.
First of all, there was the matter of Jake the horse. Sarah had given the doctor permission to sell him as part of her payment for Schultz's services. Even though the man Schultz made this transaction with seemed nice enough, Bess hated to see the only friend she'd had for the last three days trot away. Jake had symbolized her home, as well as her connection to Sarah & Nattie. Without him she felt even more alone.
It occurred to her more than once that Schultz could be lying about his interaction with her friends. She thought about going back to Camden to make certain the doctor's story was true, but the opportunity for escape seemed to have passed her by already. And anyway, why would he lie? They both knew exactly where the other stood in terms of their particular arrangement. For Bess to strike out on her own without Schultz would mean almost certain demise. So late the next morning, after watching Jake trod off to his new home, Bess took a seat next to Dr. Schultz on his traveling wagon and they headed off to the next town. The wagon's seat itself was spring-cushioned and afforded some comfort. However, Bess was still wary – her mouth kept going dry, and she shook with little provocation.
The six-shooter was still tucked into the waistband of her pants. It was heavy, and warm against her skin. It felt more alive than she did.
For the first hour or so of the jostling, bumpy ride Bess remained mired in her own thoughts. Occasionally, Schultz would say something in German to his horse, Fritz. She had been properly introduced to the beast before they'd left the town, and she'd found that the doctor had trained his stallion to do a little bow whenever he said Fritz's name aloud. Despite herself, she'd grinned and affectionately rubbed the horse's velvety nose.
The wagon's harness jangled pleasantly, and there was a curious 'thwap-boing' noise that came from the top of the wagon's ornamental tooth every few minutes. In the late morning sun there were moments when Bess could almost image that she was not herself. The air and motion loosened her bit by bit, and she began to think of things other than death and fear for the first time in days. The motion of the ride was very nearly meditative, and her mind began wandering towards words from books about heroes and adventures. If she held her breath and wished, maybe she would not be Elizabeth Norcross, murderess and fugitive of the law riding next to a bounty hunter dentist who could end her at a moment's notice.
Like a madwoman in a dream, she muttered verse under her breath, certain that the noise from the wagon and road would shield her voice.
"The gemmy bridle glitter'd free/Like to some branch of stars we see/ Hung in the golden Galaxy/The bridle bells rang merrily…"
From beside her on the wagon seat, Schultz made a quiet, almost satisfied noise in the back of his throat.
Right after Schultz said the next thing Bess didn't like, he found himself dodging objects from the hotel room he'd purchased.
"No!" Bess shouted loudly, wheeling around in a fit of rage.
"No! Absolutely not!"
"Scheiße!" Schultz dodged a tin washing basin that had been, till recently, sitting on a large worn-looking vanity.
"My dear fräulein, please!" the older man pleaded. "Please calm down, and let me finish…"
Yes, it would have been easier to shoot her.
"Do you think me mad?" Bess yelled.
"Right now you are quite mad – yes, I'd say so. Now…" Schultz put both of his hands in front of himself as if showing a wild animal that no harm would come to it.
"If you could just hear me out, I might elucidate this –admittedly odd – suggestion to you."
"I told you – I killed my husband," she bellowed back. "I don't want another."
"What I am suggesting is a simple ruse, not any real matrimonial entanglement," the doctor countered. "What I am suggesting with my expertise, which I must point out is far greater than your own, is that those who are searching for you are searching for a woman alone! If you are not alone – and more than that, the wife of a bounty hunter, there will be no suspicion."
"You!" Bess was now shaking her finger at Schultz in a rage. "You've thought about this! You lecherous old man, you THOUGHT about this!"
"Mein Gott, woman!"
At this point, Schultz drew himself up to his full stature – which wasn't much taller than Bess herself, and his face set into angry awe at the insinuation. He took a moment to calm down, taking a deep breath.
"I have nothing but good intentions, and I will continue to have them unless you keep throwing objects at my head - in which case I will be forced to shoot you out of self-defense!"
Bess balled her fists at her side, and looked directly into the doctor's face. If she was acting savagely it was because she felt savage. Putting herself in anyone's power – let alone an individual who was a deadly shot, and seemed ruthless as well as nearly insane would simply not do. As if able to read her mind, the doctor continued in a calm, metered tone that seemed almost indifferent.
"I can assure you that I have no plans to harm you, such as things stand at this moment – this is simply a business transaction. As a bounty hunter, I work in a flesh-for-cash business. The only difference this time is that I am simply transporting you – out of the goodness of my heart, might I add! – to those who have hired me for my…particular skill set. You, fräulein, are my cargo. As I see it, you can be LIVE cargo that is delivered relatively unscathed to the Widow Stoddard in Ohio…or you may take your life into your own hands."
"Cargo!" she breathed, incensed. Her nostrils flared, and she had the overwhelming urge to grab for her gun…and then she thought better of it, remembering the man in the street at Westville.
There was no difference, then, between a roomy mansion in Boston and a hotel room in the backwater of the frontier. Birds in cages are still trapped, no matter what room they are moved to. She could refuse the doctor's help – but what was stopping him from shooting her himself and taking her in for the reward? Certainly, Sarah had given him an alternative and he seemed at least kind enough to take it – but if the agreement were to be broken, what was stopping him from taking her in – dead or alive?
She gathered herself, and crossed the hotel room that – while certainly nicer than the flea-infested space she'd rented in Westville – did not seem large enough for both her and the doctor anymore. Taking a stance at the window, she looked out into the darkening twilight. Something about the light reminded her of bruised flames, and rotting fruit. She could hear the doctor take a seat behind her in the chair next to the vanity.
"I thought we might purchase you clothing befitting your assumed role – and, as the best lies are often mostly true, we will need to have a short formal ceremony – in order to procure documents proving to all those who inquire that you are indeed my wife, and not Elizabeth Norcross, fugitive at large."
"I'll need a new name?"
"Inevitably so, my dear. I will leave it to you to choose an appropriate moniker."
"And after we arrive? In Ohio, I mean – once I'm with Sarah and Nattie again?"
"We'll simply annul the…legal contract. There is no reason that we could not, as I am NOT the lecherous old man that you suppose me to be, and you obviously find this, ah, situation – unacceptable." He emphasized the last two words, and Bess made a mental note that his accent grew thicker when he was exasperated.
It would be useful to know that.
She held on to the sill, to keep herself upright. Oh, the mess she'd made…
Bess was not certain how long she stood at the window in mute shock and silence. After a few minutes, the doctor excused himself from the room, and left her alone with her thoughts. The street outside grew dark, and she could see lamps light up in the windows across from where the hotel stood. Eventually, Bess realized that her legs were getting tired, and her stomach was growling fiercely. Defeated, she sat down on the large four-poster bed that stood against the far wall from the door. She ran her hand over the soft coverlet and sheets, and was nearly ready to give into the utter exhaustion she felt when there was another – familiar, by now – soft knocking on the door. Schultz bustled into the room with a plate and a glass of water.
"I was nearly afraid to come in! I thought perhaps you'd had time to find more things to throw at me!"
Bess smiled to herself as Schultz unloaded the plate and glass onto the surface of the vanity, and then pulled a chair up to the scuffed-up piece of furniture.
"Now, I can't have you dying of hunger," he proclaimed, clamping his hands together then using them to direct her towards where he'd set the plate. "It's not Widow Stoddard's chicken and dumplings…but I think it will do."
"Thank you," Bess managed to say with some conviction. Schultz pulled the chair out for her as she seated herself, and then, despite everything she dug into the food as if she hadn't eaten in years.
As she ate, Schultz lit a lantern in the room and laid out a grey leather-bound portfolio with various documents in it on the bed. He stood, wire gold-rimmed glasses soon retrieved from his waist-coat pocket, and rifled through the papers amid the sometimes loud noises of Bess' food inhalation. She came up for air a few minutes later, wishing desperately to break the silence with something other than the sound of chewing and the soft shifting of paper. Again, Bess surveyed the man. She could get a better look at him now without his hat and overcoat. As she'd observed earlier, he was only a little taller than herself. His clothing was just as well tailored as many of the people she'd known in Boston. Certainly, he was a person of some means, even if those means were paid for with outlaw blood.
"I didn't mean to insult you."
Schultz looked up towards where Bess was sitting, and raised both of his brows in mock surprise.
"Insult me? You were throwing things. At my head."
"I…I know, and I'm sorry. I know you're just trying to help…I mean, I know you want to get your…cargo where it needs to go."
"Well," Schultz countered, looking back down at one document in particular that he had clasped in his hand.
"You are in a peculiar and stressful situation. Just don't do it again…or I really might shoot you."
Bess grinned, taking a piece of bread of the plate. She tore it into little pieces, and mopped up the thick brown gravy left over from the meat she'd long since eaten.
"Doctor, I hate to interrupt you – but as you can imagine, I have some questions."
"Of course you do," he replied, not raising his head or so much as glancing at the woman.
"Well…I suppose that I wondered about who you are. I mean, you are German. I know that much. You are apparently a bounty hunter of some renown. I know that too. What I don't know is," and here, Bess stopped for a breath before daring to launch into the rest of her query - "why does a German man…one who is educated as…a dentist? Why does such a man come to America and take on bounty hunting as a profession?"
Schultz's full attention was suddenly fixed on Bess, and she could not read the expression on his face.
"You have an ear, do you? For voices? Accents?"
"I do – and anyway, your horse is named Fritz. You spoke to him all the way here in German. I thought you knew it was obvious to me."
Or you simply didn't care, she added mentally.
"And I wonder," he began, "how a woman like you – from the north and very rich – has the presence of mind to aim a gun at the feet of a man who is threatening to kill her...unless that is what they are teaching young accomplished ladies in finishing school now? I am wondering how this same woman can light a house on fire, kill her husband, hide out in South Carolina after traveling for days on a train, and still have the wherewithal to recite poetry?"
Both bounty and hunter locked eyes for a moment, one suspiciously regarding the other.
Unsettled by his pronouncement, Bess gave up and went back to eating her bread.
She was there.
It was like she hadn't left.
The blood had stained the soft fawn-brown leather of her house shoes. It had sprayed down her face, into her hair, down her dress, and finally it had made its way to her shoes. She wondered at it – thought, in her shock, that it looked like a small river. Her face throbbed, and she buckled. She couldn't breathe because of all the blood – there was so much blood.
She could hear him shouting things at her – shouting things about the useless stupid bitch he'd married who wasn't even as good as those other women – women he visited often at the houses of ill repute they both knew he went to.
"If you leave, I'll make sure your mother dies on the street. I'll make sure they find you in a ditch."
It was the second time he'd broken her nose.
When Bess finally woke up, Schultz was kneeling beside her next to the bed.
Had he shaken her awake? Had she roused herself from the nightmare?
She didn't know.
He'd been snoring softly in the chair across the room when she'd finally lost consciousness – but they were both wide awake now, that was certain. The older man poured water into the glass she'd been drinking from earlier, and Bess sat up – embarrassed and apologetic.
Bess drew her knees up to her chest, and tried to make out objects in the room from the little bit of light coming in through the window. She accepted the glass thankfully. It was odd – waking up and not having Nattie's arms around her. She wanted Sarah's soothing voice, telling her that it had only been a dream. There was only this stranger now – but at least he seemed respectful, if cool. She drank her water, doing her best to breathe normally. The doctor stayed next to her, and she thought for a moment that he must have had a good bedside manner when he'd been a dentist – just a dentist.
"I-I'm sorry," she stuttered. "They just happen – the dreams just happen, and I'm so loud-"
Schultz made a 'shushing' sound, then took back the glass in order to refill it with water. When he returned, she was sitting cross-legged on top of the comforter.
"You know," he said softly, "I think I would like to tell you a story now."
His voice seemed to reverberate a little in the darkness, and Bess could feel herself relaxing. She had been almost afraid to fall asleep – the night terrors seemed an unlucky inevitability, and she could not guess how her traveling companion would react to cargo that might end up screaming half the night.
"In the place I come from, there has been much…unrest," at this, Bess could see the doctor's hands moving in the darkness as if he needed them to help pull the words out of the air around him.
"I won't bore you with every detail. Suffice it to say that there are those in power who do not have the good of the people at heart. I had friends – belonged to a group who did not believe that a country should be ruled by one person, or even a hand full of select people."
"What did you do about it? Were you like our colonies and England?"
"What? Well, I suppose, eh…wait, I'll get to that…drink your water. Anyway, there were many of us – in this group, I mean. We wanted to unify our motherland…and we had a great many plans to do so, but," he waved his hand again. "It was not to be. Your revolution, while just as messy, was more successful than ours. Yes, the fight ended badly, and many of us had to leave our home. My brother and I came here to your America and," the doctor trailed off for a moment, then continued.
"We decided to practice dentistry together and when we had enough money we would move further west - set up a permanent practice in California."
"So…the cart. That belonged to both of you? You and your brother?"
"Yes…although it used to have both of our names on the side."
There was a long pause, and Bess knew what was coming before the doctor told her.
"Klaus was killed in Mississippi two years ago – he was shot…by common thieves."
"And you decided to be a bounty hunter after that?"
"I made sure the Buxley Gang was the first official handbill I received. After that, it made sense to…just keep going. The money is, after all, hard to resist."
There was silence then while Bess mulled this information over. In the dimness, she thought she saw Schultz's hand twist the right side of his beard thoughtfully.
"And you…do you have dreams about your brother?"
"Often, yes – and other unpleasant things. Though, when you're older you don't seem to sleep so much."
"I think I'm looking forward to that," Bess mused, sighing heavily into the glass.
"Well, that's not going to happen for a while – not for you. And anyway, right now you need your rest. Climb back in, my dear – you have an expert marksman at your behest, after all! Nothing bad can happen to you."
Bess crawled back under the covers, mentally exhausted if not reluctant and somewhat unwilling to fall back to sleep.
The doctor returned to his post in the chair, and Bess situated her head on the pillow, keeping the man in plain sight.
For the rest of the night, Bess dreamt of horses that had molars on their feet instead of hooves.
When she finally woke up, she was alone in the hotel room. Bess jolted upright as soon as she realized this, and looked around, thoroughly alarmed.
He's left me – he's decided I'm too much trouble, she thought. No sooner had her mind started spinning to all of the awful things that might happen now that she'd been abandon, the door to the room flew open. Standing there in the bright light of what Bess guessed was late morning was a woman whose head seemed encased by a yellow halo. It took a moment for Bess to realize that her hair – which could have been spun gold - was piled high on top of her head. She was dressed in green taffeta stitched together amid hoops and fringe, and black kohl lined her eyelids. She stormed into the room with purpose, and approached the bed where Bess lay.
"Well, good grief pumpkin! I didn't mean to wake you. I thought you'd already be up." The woman's expression was nonplussed – almost unpleasant.
"Who are you?"
"Name's Darlin' Devine…you'n call me Dee, if ya like. That fiancé of yours left early this mornin' to conduct some business, but left you in my care. Paid me plenty to get you all fixed up for your…" at this point, Dee paused, and looked Bess up and down, taking in her mussed appearance and the unmade bed.
"…Your nuptials," she finished smugly.
Even though she was completely clothed, Bess understood what the woman saw…or what she thought she saw. Instantly, Bess' eyes widened.
"I…I'm not…I mean, we didn't,"
"Pumpkin, it's none of my business and frankly I don't give a pig's ass. What I do know is that the good doctor has stayed with us in the past, and he pays us a pretty penny. So, when he asks us to do something special for 'im, we…do our best to comply."
Bess' mind reeled at that. There seemed to be quite a few possibilities in the scenario Miss Darling Devine had blatantly set forth in front of her.
"First off," Dee proclaimed, "we'd better give you a good wash in the bath house. I'm not putting a clean dress on someone who smells like they've been living in the trash heap."
Bess stood in a room in the very back of the hotel's second floor while Dee and two or three other women rearranged her face, hair, and…other assets. There was the mess of hair that Nattie had left to contend with, and the best that could be done for that was a bit of camouflage with a silken head-scarf and a large Magnolia blossom perched becomingly over Bess' ear. Two teardrop-shaped earrings hung lightly from her lobes, which Dee insisted gave a nearly exotic overtone to the bride's ensemble.
Of course, at the mention of the word 'bride,' it was all Bess could do not to cringe outright.
As the intrusive process wore on, Bess began to resemble the woman she'd been in Boston and not the runaway sweeper-girl taking up residence with local boarding house biddies. She assumed that Darling Devine was someone who was in charge of the goings-ons of the hotel. However, the more she saw of the place the more she realized that this establishment – The Nugget – had more in common with Midas' Bone Yard than Stoddard's Room & Board. All the rooms of the hotel were upstairs, and on the main floor across from the door where she and the doctor had first entered the establishment was a proper bar built out of fine lacquered wood. Card tables and dart boards spotted the festive room below. The smell of whiskey and dust also hung in the air, although Bess was sure she hadn't taken note of any of these things yesterday because of the shock she'd been in.
As far as the torturous process of dressing? Well, she was used to that – it was something her ladies' maid had done for her on a regular basis. Getting on a corset and trimmed lace petticoats under the monumental tents women deemed appropriate dress was a nearly impossible task on one's own. The garment that Dee had pulled from the shop uptown was less elaborate than anything Elizabeth Norcross would have worn. However, as a middle-class doctor's wife, the garment was more than appropriate.
She hadn't actually told Schultz if she was going to go through with his insane plan yet. She'd merely stopped throwing things at him, but that was hardly consent, was it? He'd assumed she had no choice, and as much as Bess loathed this fact, she knew that he was exactly right. To calm herself, Bess kept replaying the doctor's speech – cargo, annulment, and ruse – over and over again. This was not real. This was only a bit of play acting to get her to Ohio without being found out.
The dress itself was a beautiful pale jewel blue that offset Bess' hair and skin. A light pattern of delicate flowers criss-crossed their way along the wide expanse of skirts and ruffles. The pagoda-style sleeves were split at the ends, and there were cunning little arm cuffs that held crème muslin in place that wrapped around Bess' arms so that nothing below her wrist would show. The bodice was gathered and tucked, and the skirt flared out like a large sky-colored cloud, encapsulating her in bulk.
She had forgotten how hard it was to move in dresses like these. She'd borrowed plain cotton work skirts from Sarah for cleaning the house back in Camden.
The women smeared small dark lines over the top of her lids, and made her brows thick with colored powder. They covered her lips in wax that was filled with the pigment of crushed berries. Dee gave the woman a looking glass to hold up to her face once the transformation was complete.
"I must say – you clean up right nice. If things don't work out with Doctor Schultz, I wouldn't mind you comin' back here and working for us, Miss…what did you say your name was, again?"
"I didn't," Bess murmured.
Suddenly, she felt she was wearing a mask - and for what she knew she had to do, that suited her fine.
For one odd moment, she did entertain the thought of being a saloon girl. From what she understood, the primary job of these women was to decorate a bar with their presence and entice patrons to drink as much as they could pay for. She'd known women back in Camden who could make ten dollars a week doing the same job for The Bone Yard. It might not be such a bad life. But there was still the problem of the doctor…
"Would you ladies excuse me?" she said calmly, gazing at her image in the looking glass.
"I need to go to my room…"
He'd been in Westville most of the day, and had been gone long before Bess had woken up. It was no wonder she'd still been sleeping when he left – she'd had quite a night. On his way out the door, Schultz had stopped at the door of Darling Devine, one of the proprietors of the hotel. It was not the first time he'd stayed in the establishment, and Devine had greeted him…warmly. Perhaps even a little expectantly.
"I'm afraid that I cannot stay, my dear," he explained to the older blonde woman sadly. "I have business…but I do need your help, and I would very much like to pay you for your time and attention,"
"Aw, Doctor Schultz – you have always been so generous," Darling slid a hand suggestively over his shoulder, and grinned like a cat.
"Ah, thank you…but I need you to provide certain items for," and here he paused, for just a beat. "For my fiancé. We are scheduled to marry this evening at the courthouse, and I am afraid we have had no time to purchase her the appropriate…attire."
At this, Schultz handed Devine several large bills.
"She'll need, I think, a good dress for the ceremony…and perhaps a day dress she can ride in. A traveling trunk should also be provided? I will leave the rest of the items up to you. I assure you, she has been traveling with only the most basic of necessities."
Before he could be scalded by Devine's glare, the doctor tipped his hat, bid her a fond 'Auf Wiedersehen' and headed to the livery stable where Fritz was waiting.
After that, it had all come down to a hunch that had worked out, and magnificently so.
The farmer who had purchased the Widow Stoddard's horse had been a fugitive worth three hundred dollars. It was a small thing to go back and collect the now cold, dead corpse of Franklin O'Hare, but it would pay for food and camping gear that he and the Norcross woman would need to get to Ohio.
There was also the fact that Bess would be glad to see Jake again.
He wrinkled his brow at that thought. Schultz considered himself an amiable man, but not overly sentimental. What did it matter what made that woman happy? It was as much for his own consciousness as for the money that Schultz had decided to help transport her, but certainly nothing else.
America, while a more promising landscape than his homeland, was not good to those trapped in the unending immorality of the slave trade – well, except for the slavers themselves.
It was odd, then, that women were sometimes trapped in a kind of servitude themselves. Not that it had been all that different in Dusseldorf, but it seemed that there was a specifically belligerent clinging to certain ugly ideals in his new country that he could simply not make sense of.
So instead he'd learned to make the system where those ideals ruled work to his advantage. It was clear that Bess had not been afforded the same opportunity. He'd set it right, then be on his way – and a richer man for it!
Of course, when he'd gone to collect on the bill for O'Hare, he found that the price on Elizabeth Norcross' head had been raised to a whole two thousand dollars by a magistrate in Boston. He shook his head slightly at the thought of it now, and shrugged slightly.
"Natürlich," he exclaimed sarcastically to Fritz as he made his way back to The Nugget, and towards the next great ruse.
Bess would have to shoot the doctor. That was all there was to it. She was upset at this realization – he'd been kind to her when she'd woken up screaming. He'd saved her life, and given her food, but there was this whole play-acting to get her into Ohio…and being someone's wife again, with all of the lack of power that went with it, was not acceptable. She decided she'd aim for his legs. That way, he'd still be able to carry on with his profession.
After he healed up, maybe he'd forget about her and move along to the next criminal. Surely she could find a way to find Sarah and Nattie by then.
She was cleaning the gun, and considering what corner of the room to hide in when she looked out the window and saw Dr. Schultz' wagon bounding down the road that The Nugget faced. It took her a second to register that Jake was being led behind the wagon itself.
Bess' face suddenly lit up into an ear-splitting grin.
It was so silly, but to see Sarah's horse was the happiest thing to happen to her in days. She carelessly threw the six-shooter onto the middle of the bed and quickly made her way down the staircase. Darling Devine glowered from behind the bar as Bess nearly flew out of the hotel's front entrance.
"She's got another thing coming if she thinks he's her prince charming," Devine said to no one in particular. Still, part of her hoped the young woman – whomever she was – would be alright.
The clientele gathering there in the late afternoon hours gave a moment of attention to tight-buttoned, proper-looking woman flying past them.
For a second, some of them wondered what such a pretty, wholesome looking thing was doing in The Nugget at all.
Schultz was unhooking Jake from his place behind the wagon when a blur of blue shot towards the wagon. Taken off-guard, the older man stiffened a little before realizing that the blur had only been a young woman who was approaching his cart.
"Good evening, ah - can I help you with something? I'm afraid I'm not currently in the dentistry business, but if you'd like me to take a look..."
"I'm hardly here for an examination, you silly man – I'm here to see…oh, Jake,"
King realized he recognized the voice of the blue blur that was now fondly stroking the large horse's neck, and cooing niceties into the poor beast's mane. He took stock of this new version of the fugitive girl…no, not girl. Woman.
A bit of shine had been added to her visage, and she had an air about her that was tangibly different. She smelled like magnolia blossoms, and looked like a summer afternoon. Checking himself, Schultz squinted his eyes and opened them wide, trying to wrap his head around what he was seeing.
"The only trouble with looking quite beautiful, fraulein, is that you are going to be… more conspicuous."
"My God, Doctor," Bess looked up over Jake's nose from the other side of the horse's head. "Be careful with all those compliments. I wouldn't want you to strain yourself."
Schultz chuckled good-naturedly despite her cheek, and immediately chided himself.
He was in trouble.
"So, have you thought of a name for yourself?"
"I hadn't thought of one yet…" the young woman kept his gaze, her eyes dulling a bit as she was reminded of the business at hand. "The thing is, I've imagined myself as thousands of different people during my life…but I have never had to choose one of those people to be."
He nodded, a little exasperated.
"Well, we have to tell the judge something before the ceremony. Illustrious illusions rely on finely attended-to details. And, I can't have a red-headed woman named Elizabeth Norcross riding with me. We'll be caught for sure. Perhaps it would be sensible for you to just pick one of those many identities you've tried on over the years? At least the name, hmmm?"
"I've never had to name myself or anyone else," she sighed. "Doctor, why don't you pick something? My mother named me, and if I can't be Elizabeth, I don't see why I shouldn't be something nice that someone likes."
"Names are important – are you certain you want me to simply pick something that I think is…nice?"
"Well," the woman shifted a bit before nodding slightly. "I think if I'm going to trust you enough to get me to Ohio, I can trust you with a little thing like this."
"But it's no small thing…."Schultz trailed off for a moment, walking around to Fritz. He paused, looking out into the oncoming dusk of evening.
"In the town I come from, there was a particularly popular actress who was very talented, very good. Her name was Paula. Paula von Hagn. Of course, you'd be a Schultz…or you will be as long as you want to. How do you like that…Paula Schultz?"
The woman who would never be Elizabeth Norcross again smiled slightly, and nodded.
"Paula. PAUL-ah. I…I think I could like that very much."