Disclaimer I own very little, especially not CSI NY.
Notes Chapter 4: Thank you very much for the reviews for last chapter - please continue reviewing! I hope you're enjoying this.
Please let me know what you think, I'd really appreciate that - I got a bit worried about the last chapter : ( Please give my writing ego a boost! Thanks to: afrozenheart412 for extra thoughts; Miss Poisonous for conversation; and Blue Shadowdancer for reading, and putting up with unsubtle hints about updates XD
Once Upon A Time In the Old West
Chapter 4: A Fistful Of Deeds
Danny:
Gotta confess, I'm a little nervous. Somethin's up with this meetin' and I got a hunch the Sheriff aint' gonna be tellin' us we've all been given a gift o' dollar bills. Though that sure would be a sweet thing. 'Specially now as Lindsay and I have gotten ourselves engaged, and I gotta be thinking' 'bout all kinds o' things I ain't never had to think of before. Things like suits and chapels and flowers. Expensive things.
Still can't fully get my mind round it - me, Danny Messer, gettin' married. Never thought I'd see the day. Reckon no one else did neither, but two months from now, Miss Lindsay Monroe and me are gonna walk down the aisle in front of the whole town. It's the sorta' thought that brings a man out in a cold sweat even on these winter nights. Lindsay's got it all planned though - she and Miss Stella have been talkin' dresses and such, and she and Miss Angell have been talkin' 'bout everythin' else. Makes no sense to me; Lindsay's the one with the smart head on her shoulders, so I figure it's best leavin' arrangements to her.
She sure is a capable and organisin' woman, and I wouldn't have it any other way. Reckon she's done me a power o' good. Sure feel like a different man to the one that rode into Hattanville almost three years ago now. Time flies when you're with the woman of your dreams and she's walking at your side down Main Street. Feel sometimes like I want to jump up on the rooftops and shout out for the whole state to hear that I got me the best girl in the whole country. Miss Lindsay Monroe, soon to be Mrs Lindsay Messer. I'm a lucky man.
And a man who's bein' stared at by said Miss Monroe and gettin' a nudge in the ribs, no doubt to let me know my concentration's been wanderin'. Probably as well for her not to know exactly where it's been wanderin' to. Happens now and again when I get to thinkin' about my soon to be wife; find my mind goes to all kinds of places. Places my mind ain't officially allowed to be wanderin' to. Leastways, not till we're married…
The Sheriff's about to speak so I'd best be listenin', otherwise Lindsay ain't gonna be happy with me, and an unhappy Miss Monroe ain't somethin' I want. Already got Flack lookin' an unhappy man, despite him comin' in with Miss Jessica Angell. Gave me a look I don't rightly know how to interpret; seemed like he wanted to say somethin' to me, but there weren't time before the Sheriff stood up at the front. Guess I'll find out soon enough though.
Flack ain't the only one with somethin' on his mind; look on Miss Stella's face is enough to put fear in a man's bones. Grim don't even begin to describe it. Sometimes think every last one of us in town's more than a bit afraid of the Saloon owner, and I count even the Sheriff amongst us. Guess she don't discourage folks from thinkin' that neither. Gotta admire the woman though; she's braver than most men I know, and don't think twice about puttin' herself in danger to help folks and takin' on challenges that'd send others scuttlin'.
Same as my Lindsay. Now there's a woman who's brave too, only p'raps you wouldn't think it so much to look at her. Kinda' got a timid air about her, must be somethin' about those gentle brown eyes. But she ain't afraid to stand up for what she knows is right. Remember her layin' into big John James not so many months ago. James is a man who likes to throw his weight around the town. Considerable weight and height he is too - Lindsay don't even come up to his shoulders, and reckon she's less than half as wide as 'em. A big man, but one with a little heart, and not man enough to show much kindness to his motherless daughter, or send her to school for any learnin'. Well that was somethin' my Lindsay weren't gonna accept, so she challenged him right on his doorstep. Worked too - didn't take long before she got him to agree to send little Nellie to school.
Courage ain't somethin' Lindsay's lackin'. Many things she ain't lackin o' course; beauty, brains and love for a poor city boy like me, which is somethin' a lot of people find most surprisin', me included. Lucky I got me a good buddy in Flack who reminds me now and again to buy flowers and candies for Lindsay. He's a straight talkin' man is Flack, keeps a man like me on his toes, even though I reckon Miss Jessica Angell's swept him off his feet. It ain't escaped my notice, the two of 'em sittin' there at the back, sharin' a small space. Sharin' the same expression, and knowledge too I'm thinkin'. Same knowledge Sheriff Taylor's about to share with the rest of us…
Only takes a few minutes for him to tell us what he knows and for the whole of the saloon to fall as silent as the grave. Lindsay's grabbed a hold of my hand, and truth be told, if I didn't have the warmth of her fingers in mine, I could scarcely believe this is all real. Hattanville destroyed? No way. This is some kinda' weird, twisted story made up by someone to befuddle us poor folks. It's gotta be. This can't be real.
Can it?
Everyone's sorta' sittin' and gapin'. Reckon my mouth musta' dropped open like a goldfish, and Lindsay's eyes are almost poppin' outta her head. Then everything erupts and it seems like the whole town's jumped to its feet. Makes a hell of a racket, more than two hundred pairs o' boots clatterin' on the floor. Even old Mr Stonebridge has heaved himself outta his bath chair and is wavin' his walkin' sticks in the air, yellin' and shoutin'.
Hattanville ain't gonna be destroyed! If I'm the last man standin' in this town, it ain't gonna happen. Lindsay and me are gonna make this our home for the rest of our lives. Get ourselves our own little piece of the American dream, raise a livin', maybe even raise a few kids. Long way off though that might be…
Lindsay's turned to me, horror in her face, "Danny, this can't happen! This ain't right!"
"You're damn right it ain't right!" I'm shoutin' but I'll be darned if I'm gonna stop now. This calls for shoutin' real loud. Got folks all around me doin' the same, and somethin' sorta' takes hold o' me. Next thing I know, Lindsay's face is below me and I'm standin' on a table shoutin' to the whole saloon.
"Who's with me on this, huh? Who's gonna join me in takin' on these low lives? You all gonna let these outlaws take away our town?"
There's a roar from the crowd and it kinda' gets into my blood; feels as if it's fizzin' like the sherbet I used to buy when I was a kid. My fist punches the air. "I say we show these folks of the railroad company we mean business! We wait for 'em to get their no-good asses down here and then we show 'em Hattanville's citizens don't go down without fightin'! What d'you say to that, huh?"
There's cheers and shouts and I don't hear nothin' else but them and my blood sorta' poundin' in my ears. Don't see nothin' else but faces with mouths open, all cheerin' and agreein' with what I'm sayin. Me, Danny Messer, talkin' and a whole town listenin' to me! It's a powerful thing for a man to feel. So I keep goin, "I say every last one of us who can hold a pistol should be holdin' it to meet those railroad folks off of their train when they come to town!"
I'm gettin' carried away with myself, but seems like I can't stop, and don't want to stop. Seems like other folks don't want me to stop either. Got my fist raised in the air, and my other hand's reachin' for my pistol; reckon I got an idea of firin' it into the air, but then I look down and catch sight of Lindsay's face again.
And it's the way she's lookin' at me that stops me dead in my tracks. A look that fair blows my heart to pieces. Boom. That's it. I come back to my senses. Messer, what in hell d'you think you're doin? Hits me then that I'm in the saloon, standin' on one of Miss Stella's tables and I got the whole darn town lookin' at me. Includin' Miss Stella herself. She looks more angry than a nest o' hornets someone's rattled with a stick. This is bad. Real bad. Everyone's lookin' at me, and it ain't a good feelin' anymore. 'Cause the only person I really care about's lookin' at me with a look I don't care to see.
Lindsay's ashamed o' me. Can tell by the way her cheeks are pink in the middle and her eyebrows have kinda' crashed together, and even over the shouts of the crowd goin' mad for shootin' up those railroad folks, I can hear what she says.
"Oh, Danny!"
Nothin' else matters then other than the fact I've made her ashamed of me. My knees weaken and I slide off of that table and back down to the floor beside my girl.
"Lindsay…"
I try takin' hold of her hand, but she's havin' none of it, and then the Sheriff's bangin' on the bar, "Quiet everyone! There'll be no more talk of weapons until there has to be!"
Might be just me tryin' to cover up my own blushes at his words, but I swear there's a look of disappointment on Miss Stella's face soon as he's said that… One o' these days I'll collect on that bet I got with Adam Ross as to how many pistols Hattanville's saloon owner carries about with her. Ross has bet ten, but he don't know the half of it. My money's on twenty, and I'll get my winnings one day; even if I have to ask her myself. Or maybe not. She's caught my eye, and if looks could kill I'd be stone cold dead. Best be keepin' a low profile, in case she has somethin' to say or do to me for gettin' my boots all over her table.
Whilst the Sheriff's calmin' folks down and answerin' questions bein' shouted out to him, I risk a glance at Lindsay. And wish I hadn't, "Danny Messer, sit down like a gentleman and behave yourself! Don't you dare be showin' yourself up again by jumpin' on tables and shoutin' like a heathen! Why, the little ones in my schoolroom know better than to behave like that! Don't you be lettin' your hot temper be gettin' the better of you. There's always other plans to be puttin' into action before we start usin' pistols."
Wise words, and I know she's right, but I'm still rebellin' inside. Guess I'd best do as Lindsay tells me though. She may have gentle brown eyes a man could lose himself in and honey coloured hair a man could lose his hands in, but she's got a will of iron when she needs it. Still catches me by surprise when I catch sight of myself in the mirror and realise that Miss Lindsay Monroe is gonna be marryin' me. Just hope I don't wake up and find it's all been a sweet dream…
I'm headin' off on another daydream. Good thing I got Lindsay to bring me back down to earth by givin' me a nudge in the ribs.
"Danny! You ain't listenin' to the Sheriff!"
Got an iron elbow as well as an iron will has Lindsay.
"I'm listenin'! I'm listenin'!" I hiss, and rub my side.
Now Hammerback's walkin' up to the front of the crowd with a mighty great book in his hands. Taylor bangs on the bar again and everyone falls silent, "Mr Hammerback has somethin' to tell us all, so listen up good!"
Hammerback peers over his spectacles at us all, "Thank you Sheriff, thank you fellow citizens. Now, I must tell you that, with Miss Jessica Angell's help, I've spent a most interesting afternoon undertaking a search for information."
'Undertaking' Ha. Who'd've thought Hammerback had it in him for a humorous remark such as that. I'm sniggering; quietly o' course…
Ow! Man, Lindsay sure does have a solid elbow.
"And I certainly found plenty of interesting information in relation to our current difficulty…"
Come on Hammerback, don't keep us waitin' here. Strikes me that the man goes at a slower pace than the rest of us over many things. Maybe it's 'cause he's a thinkin' man. Or maybe it's to do with him spendin' so much time around those who ain't ever goin' to be hurryin' again. Either way, I see the Sheriff startin' to tap his foot whilst Hammerback flips over a few pages in the book he's got propped up on the bar.
"The land Hattanville is built on, and the surrounding acres, all belonged to a Mr Isaac Stephenson, a prospector who made his fortune in the Gold Rush of '49 and settled out here in the wilderness. He used his fortune to build Hattanville for himself and his wife, a Native American Indian who he called Jenny - the lake below Mount Moran is named for her. As well as the town, he established the gunpowder works, which fell into disrepair some years ago…"
"All good information, Hammerback, but how does that help us?"
The Sheriff's asked what I was about to; if I hadn't been bruised from Miss Monroe's elbow and afraid o' more assault.
"Well now, Taylor…" Hammerback removes his spectacles and polishes them on his sleeve. The Sheriff has a pained look on his face, and folks around me are kinda' leanin' forward in their chairs.
"The truth is…"
He replaces his spectacles. Miss Stella has her hand on the Sheriff's arm, and Hammerback might be well advised to hurry on up with his talkin'. The Sheriff's a man not known for violence, but even so…
The Town Undertaker and Historian clears his throat and continues, "Stephenson's wife died very young, and they had no family. He died a lonely widower. A sad tale indeed…"
He shakes his head. Sheriff looks about ready to shake him by the shoulders. Miss Stella's got a real strong hold on his arm though. Bet she's got an elbow of iron as well…
But Hammerback seems to have picked up the hint and continues, "Yes, very sad. He's buried on the shore of Jenny Lake, next to his wife…" He pauses again, seeming about to reminisce, then he catches Taylor's eye and continues, "But most importantly, poor Stephenson passed on to the next world leaving deeds and a will behind. Most unfortunately, these have since been lost. But according to records, he left Hattanville and its land to the residents of the town; to be managed by whoever is Sheriff." He peers over his glasses at Taylor, "Which at present is yourself."
There's silence for a moment, then the Sheriff bangs his fist on the bar, "We need those deeds and that will!"
Man speaks sense, I gotta say. Where there's a will, there's a way…That rhymes! Wonder if I should tell Lindsay? Nah, she might be usin' that elbow of hers again…
"If we can prove Stephenson left the land and the town to the town, then we got what we need to stop the railroad company. They can't take what's rightfully ours!"
You tell 'em Sheriff! Everyone's on their feet, Lindsay included, so I figure I'm allowed as well. The whole town's cheerin', and Miss Stella's givin' Taylor a kiss on the cheek. Now there's a thing; who woulda' thought the Sheriff of Hattanville a blushin' man? Hammerback's lookin' pleased as punch up at the front of the saloon; he might be a mighty strange man, but he never lets a man or a town down… town and down; maybe I oughtta be writin' a bit o' poetry one of these days. Reckon it's a thing a woman likes… But I got plenty o' time to be thinkin' o' poetry and such when this meetin's over and I'm escortin' Lindsay back home.
Now Hammerback's askin' Miss Angell to come up and join him. She's holdin' back, but Flack's leadin' her up to the front - back and Flack, hmm, might be kinda' hard to work that into a romantic sort of poem… geez, I gotta get a hold of myself, folks might start lookin' at me funny. Specially Flack. Wonder if he writes Miss Angell poetry?
But Taylor ain't finished speakin' yet and for the third time this night, he bangs on the bar for our attention, "Before we all get too excited and start celebratin', I'm gonna have to remind you folks of a soberin' fact. Grateful as we are to Mr Hammerback and Miss Angell, we still don't know where that will is, and without it we ain't got much hope against the railroad. So we got a lot more work to do to find it."
Reckon I hear a few groans of disappointment, and some of 'em might've come from me. Quiet ones though, don't want no more digs in my ribs from Lindsay.
Miss Stella ain't easily defeated though, "Whatever it takes, we'll find it, Mac! And we gotta be the ones findin' it before anyone from the railroad company does!"
I mightn't have the brains and learnin' of certain other folks in town, but I ain't a man to give up when somethin' needs fixin', "You can count on us, Sheriff, Miss Stella!" I yell out.
"Thank you, Mr Messer. I had no doubt of that." The Sheriff answers, and even Miss Stella has a smile for me. Reckon Lindsay gives me the best smile of all though.
We're all fired up and willin' to be findin' wills, when the door of the saloon bursts open and a man falls through, gaspin' and whiter than the snow that falls in with him. Recognise him as workin' on the ranch by the old gunpowder works…
"Help! Help! You gotta help, Sheriff!"
With Miss Stella close behind him, Taylor's pushin' his way through the crowd. The man grabs a hold of the Sheriff's waistcoat, "Bad things happenin'… real strange noises… seen real strange things…"
"Where? What've you seen?"
"Haunting's! Hauntings in the old gunpowder works! Things that oughtn't to be there…ghosts…"
"Ghosts? Ain't no such thing!" Flack snorts. Gotta commend him for his plain speakin'.
But the man don't reply. Instead, he gives a horrible kinda' chokin' sound and falls face down to the floor. There's a rattle o' breath in his chest and then it stops.
Lindsay clutches hold of my arm, and there's gasps of horror from folks as Taylor bends down and turns the man onto his back. It's all too plain he ain't gonna be gettin' up again.
Ever.
"Whether there are or there aren't such things as ghosts." The Sheriff says, "Ain't important right now…"
He stands up and looks round at all of us, "Because it sure weren't a ghost that put a bullet in this man's chest."
Reckon you could hear a pin drop in the saloon as we all take in what he's sayin'. So now it ain't just a will we gotta find.
Seems there's a killer out there needs findin' too.
Hope you liked it! Please review, and Happy Christmas and New Year :D Thanks, Lily x