The long awaited (maybe) prequel to Charade of Youth featuring Hattie Clark and her mad crush on one James Butler Hickok. In loving tribute to George and Ira Gershwin.
Hattie knew the very moment when she fell head over heels in love with Jimmy Hickok. There was not a doubt in her mind. It was the moment when her feelings and the fact that he didn't return them didn't matter anymore.
She'd seen him around before that day and found him very intriguing. She watched him go about his business, laugh with his friends, flirt with young ladies on the street, face down any and all who called him out and get into fights defending those he cared for. But she wouldn't actually call it love until the moment when hope was gone entirely.
He was being marched onto the gallows to hang.
He could not have done what they said. He just couldn't have. Hattie and her sisters had talked long into the night after the verdict was read.
"How could they find him guilty if he's not?" Nellie asked. "I mean, there was a trial and everything."
"Hush, Nellie," Winnie had chastised. "Can't you see you're upsetting dear Hattie?"
"Well, I don't want to believe it any more than either of you but I don't see how the jury could find him guilty if he's not."
"It's that woman," Hattie whispered. "Somehow…she's part of this. It has to be an error…or maybe someone framed him."
"Oh Hattie, what a wild imagination you have," Nellie said. "This is Sweetwater. Nothing that intriguing could happen here."
"And why not?" Hattie asked pointedly. "He's famous, Nellie. Notorious pistoleers come for him, to kill him in the street. Why wouldn't you think he could be mixed up in some devious plot?"
Nellie remained silent, awkwardly so. It wasn't common for Hattie to be so outspoken, even among her sisters.
"Honestly," Winnie finally said to break the tension. "I can't see any of the young men from the Pony Express doing what they say Mr. Hickok did. Can you? I mean, Mrs. Shannon is such a nice lady. She'd never stand beside a murderer like she is standing by him. Really, Nellie, you can't truly think any of those young men could be so barbarous?"
Nellie shook her head.
"No, I can't," Nellie admitted. "Even that Indian that everyone said would be so wild and dangerous is always polite and quiet. He almost even seems shy."
"Jimmy is the least likely," Hattie asserted softly. "He only acts tough and scary and fearless but he's not. He's soft and tender underneath. I can see it. He could never, ever do what they say he did. He just couldn't."
Hattie still felt that strong conviction. He simply could not have killed that poor man in cold blood like that.
What was more; Hattie held a deep distrust for that Sarah Downs woman that she couldn't quite explain. Winnie voiced the thought that it was just jealousy but it wasn't that simple. Hattie was accustomed to seeing the boys and young men she fancied with other women. She wished she could be those women but she would never accuse anyone of something so nefarious just for being prettier or more appealing to men.
Something just didn't seem right about that woman. It was in the little things that no one else noticed.
No one else would have noticed them. But Hattie was watching always. It was one of the good things about being the ugly girl. Once everyone had tired of teasing her, they left her alone. She'd become nearly invisible, a ghost for all intents and purposes.
It was how she'd been able to watch and study Jimmy Hickok and his friends all this time. Since the murder and arrest, it was how she'd been able to watch that Downs woman.
Jimmy professed his love for that sour looking woman and that she couldn't possibly have anything to do with the murder of her husband. But Mr. Downs' foreman seemed strange, like he was always watching around him. Hattie began to watch him closely after he brought Jimmy and the dead man into town and had seen that woman act more familiar with him than she ought. Of course, if she was married and getting other men to fall in love with her, something was off with her already.
Perhaps that really was sour grapes. Hattie had no idea how she would be if she had the power—the looks and the personality—to make men fall for her. Maybe she would be the better person and do what was right. But maybe she would take advantage of being able to make men do her bidding. It's not like it mattered. She'd never know for sure.
Hattie had been sure that something would come out at the trial that would clear him. He was just too perfect, too beautiful to be destroyed. When the verdict had come in, Hattie had gone home and cried. Winnie and Nellie both tried to console her but it was no use. There was no consolation, no comfort to be had for something this tragic.
Hattie thought to her conversation with her older sister, Winnie this morning.
"I have to go, Win," Hattie insisted. "I can't let him be alone…I know that's silly."
"You have such a big heart, Hattie. You always have. But I wish you wouldn't go. I worry for you, dear," her sister replied. "I know you care for him. You'll be watching him die. I don't think you know what you're about to do."
"I do though. I know he doesn't notice me and he's in love with her…but…I just know I have to."
"Please forgive me for not coming with you. You shouldn't be there alone…but…I can't watch an innocent man killed. I just can't, Hattie."
"Of course you can't, Winnie," Hattie told her giving a squeeze around the shoulders. "But I must."
Maybe Hattie should have listened to her big sister. It was painful to see him led out of the jail with his hands bound like some common criminal, like he hadn't helped Marshal Cain catch criminals in the past. He looked around almost helplessly as if in some hope that someone was going to pop up and say how this had been an elaborate joke at his expense.
For just a moment, as he was led past her, his eyes met hers. They were breathtakingly beautiful and filled with hurt and fear. He was pleading even to her, a total stranger, to help him. If only she could. If only she had the boldness to grab a gun from one of the men standing near her and challenge Marshal Cain. He'd notice her then and be so grateful.
But she lacked the skill and the courage and there was nothing she could do for him. She could only stand there and watch as he slowly walked up the steps. Hattie did not have to look around to know she wasn't the only one whose heart was breaking. Hattie could tell that Mrs. Shannon was very upset although she was a stoic sort and wasn't showing it outwardly. Hattie wished she had that strength. Her own upset was certainly written all over her face.
So much Hattie did not have—courage, boldness, skill at anything useful…his love—but as she watched his eyes squint against the early morning sun, she cataloged all she did have. She had her memories. And she had her feelings. This was the moment she knew, without a doubt, she was completely and totally in love with James Butler Hickok. And no one—no judge, no marshal, no woman whose motives she suspected—would take that from her.
Just the way he stood there. She knew he had to be scared but he didn't beg or blubber or weep. He held his head high in the knowledge that he hadn't done anything wrong even if no one else believed him.
She'd seen this look before on him. She'd seen him face down terrifying gunmen in the street. And there'd been so many other times when he had every reason to fear but he did what he had to do as a man and held his head high.
Mostly she'd observed him with friends during the time he'd been in town. Those were the times when a girl could really fall in love with him. He always had time for his friends. He joked with them but he also cared deeply for them. Oh, the care he could show someone he loved.
But then she was already getting a glimpse of that, wasn't she? The way he defended that vile woman who didn't look in the least upset by his imminent death…why, if he could be that devoted to a woman who was so clearly using him for something—even though Hattie did not know what—then a woman who truly loved him could have his heart, his soul…and those lovely eyes to herself forever.
The rope was placed around the long, perfect column of his smooth, bronzed neck and Hattie mentally held tightly to every smile she'd seen grace his boyish face. He had such a lovely smile. It could light the world.
Hattie couldn't help but notice how edgy his friends were as they stood behind her. Two were missing. Perhaps Lou and the one they just called Kid couldn't bear to watch their friend die. The others were pacing and shifting behind her as if waiting for something. She couldn't imagine what though. Aside from God himself descending to the gallows and pardoning her love, there didn't seem a way the judge wasn't going to see this sentence carried.
It was all she could do to not openly weep at the thought that she would never again see him ride past her father's business on that lovely palomino of his with his hair flying out behind him in the wind, never see the way he sometimes just flung himself into the saddle, never see how his muscles rippled under his shirt as he carried something heavy from Mr. Tompkins' store to Mrs. Shannon's buckboard. It wouldn't do to cry like that. But she wanted to.
She wanted to scream at the judge that there was a mistake. But no words would come. Instead she just stood there and wrung her hands. It was a mistake though. There had been a terrible, terrible mistake. She just knew it. He had faced John Longley and come out the winner. If he had wanted Randall Downs dead, James Hickok would have faced him like a man.
And besides, Hattie knew he didn't like to kill. She'd seen when he had to face off against Gabe Colter. He could have killed that man. In fact, Colter had begged Jimmy to finish him off and he wouldn't. When he'd had to kill that young man…Hattie's heart had broken for him. He was so despondent after that. It pained him to have taken that life. He hadn't wanted to kill that boy and it was only for his own self preservation that he had.
No. There was simply no other explanation. Someone had framed him. This was a terrible mistake—or an outright malicious act—and, unless something happened very soon, all she would have of the man who held her heart in his gloved hands would be the memories.
She would never forget the way he sat a saddle. His back was straight and he seemed one with the horse. When he was astride that majestic yellow horse, he seemed to own the very world. It was the only time when she didn't see the ghost of something unsure in haunting the depths of his warm amber eyes. The rest of the time…he almost seemed like he was looking for confirmation that he was doing right. She wanted to give it. So badly she did but it wasn't her he was seeking it from. It might not be anyone who was actually still around him anymore.
The affect he bore of bravery and fearlessness was, at times, a thin façade. His bluster seemed to Hattie as false as that of Mr. Cody. She supposed that Jimmy's fearsome exterior protected a warm and tender heart.
Behind her, she heard Jimmy's friends talking. Well, the two that could at any rate. And she could even see Mr. Hunter step away from Mrs. Shannon as he looked out to the horizon as if begging for some savior to come.
"What do you think?" one of the young men asked.
"I think we're out of time to wait," replied another and there was the rustling of cloth that indicated the one called Ike was signing.
"So, are you ready then?" the first one asked again. She was sure it was the Indian speaking.
"As I'll ever be," came the reply that must have been from Billy Cody.
Before she knew it, the other riders and Mr. Hunter were holding guns on Marshal Cain. The marshal didn't even look upset. He couldn't have really wanted to hang Jimmy. Hattie suspected he held a fondness for the young men who worked out at Mrs. Shannon's place. But even if he didn't, it was no secret at all that he was sweet on Mrs. Shannon and she was most certainly fond of her boys.
Marshal Cain actually looked relieved to be held at gunpoint. But not as relieved as Jimmy looked or Hattie felt. She thought the strength might just leave her legs entirely.
Before Hattie, or anyone else really, could fully comprehend what was happening, the other two riders came riding in full out with news that the foreman, Gentry, was working with that awful woman. Things got chaotic after that as the riders and the marshal had to chase them down.
Just as the shock and the after-effects of nearly seeing the love of her life hanged threatened to rob her of her consciousness, she felt arms around her.
"This is wonderful news, dear Hattie," Winnie's voice nearly sang in her ear. "I should have been here beside you but I'm here now. Come on home with me and I'll get you something cold to drink. You should maybe lie down."
Hattie allowed her sister to lead her away from the ghastly sight of the gallows that had almost taken so much from her.
In the end, not a lot was different for Hattie. She really would only ever have her memories and daydreams about Jimmy Hickok. He would eventually move along and find a nice girl who was pretty and didn't try to get him killed.
But no one would ever take from her the memories of his smile, his grace…the way his eyes met hers as he walked to what he thought would be his death. Now she could accumulate even more memories to last her through the years.
Someday the children her sisters would have might ask her about love and had she ever been in it. She would answer quite honestly that she had and would tell them of this day and how she knew, just as he was about to be taken from the world, that she loved this young man with every ounce of the very life's blood that coursed through her young body.
So...when I first introduced Hattie Clark in Charade of Youth, I wasn't sure if there would be more stories with her or not. But then dear Ethel (you know her as SeGate) decided to issue a challenge based around the collection of songs known as "The Great American Songbook" Needless to say, with all of that great music, the bunnies started hopping like mad. I decided to go with the prequel to Charade. There will eventually be sequels to Charade.
I can only hope that George and Ira Gershwin would approve of my little offering here.
Due to my laziness, I did not copy and paste the lyrics to the song here but I will trust that, at leas the Americans out there already know it. If you don't, please look it up. Music is by George and lyrics by his brother Ira. Really nearly any version of it you find on youtube is probably wonderful but I really recommend finding some Tony Bennett or Harry Connick, Jr. Or Michael Feinstein. It's such a classic that most versions are lovely.
So, hopefully Hattie continues to be someone that you all can relate to. I know she received some very positive feedback from Charade. I really love her and I understand how she feels about Jimmy. And yeah I found the picture on the graphic in that episode...this one girl looked so distraught about his heading to the gallows that I knew she must be Hattie.
Profuse thanks to Beulah for putting eyes on this and making sure I stayed true to Hattie's voice. You are the best, doll!
Also...in addition to looking forward to more Hattie stories, I also have more than will be inspired by the Great American Songbook. Let me know what you think about this story.-J