8
Confession
Chapter 14
Disclaimers: Standard disclaimers apply.
Kate listened to the words Kitty said as she sat on the unmade bed, hands folded and ankles crossed. Safety procedures. Explained not once but three times and each time with increasing amplitude. It didn't take a lot of intelligence to hear that Kitty was worried.
"Was the whore a red head?" Kate asked only when Kitty paused to take a breath before beginning the fourth tirade.
Kitty must have thought the question a bit odd because she cocked her head to one side and knitted her thin red eyebrows together. "Ya, she was."
Kate resigned herself and said, "I need to talk to Daddy."
Kate, all auburn curls shiny and splashing down to the middle of her back, passed Kitty on the way to the door. She kicked the propped chair, the one underneath the doorknob, aside. She was happy that she'd chosen to put on shoes. She ignored her mother's cries as she rushed onto the balcony.
Newly was talking with Sam and both men looked up to see her. The young man had a warm smile and gleam in his dark eyes when he met her at the foot of the stairs.
"Miss Kate."
His smile was captivating.
"Didn't see you yesterday."
"I was busy." Those words were too sharp.
In truth, Newly did see her yesterday. He just didn't know it. She'd seen him scan the interior of the Long Branch, talk with Sam and Kitty, and have a beer. Newly O'Brian didn't gamble, didn't meet Sandy.
"I was wondering," he took his big tan hat off his dark head of hair and held it in his hands. "If you'd like to go on a picnic with me this afternoon. Know a place not far from here where we can catch some fish."
He was a very nice young man. Very unusual among the many she'd met in the last few months. He wasn't interested in getting her clothes off.
"And we could take Lilith for a run."
"I'm sorry, Newly." She had to say it. "I've got other plans."
She watched him shrink then slowly recover.
"Maybe tomorrow? Right now I need to see the marshal."
"I'll walk with you."
The smile crept back into the deputy's lips as she grasped his arm with her hands.
There she was! His elusive prize. Still so pretty, that long luscious red hair that he wanted to put his face into, have drape over his naked body.
He clenched his teeth and pounded on the windowsill with a balled fist to see her on the arm of another man. Smiling. Talking.
He felt great sadness when she went out of his view.
Zach's mind rambled. At first they seemed like random thoughts. The two women, embracing in the upstairs bedroom of the Long Branch; Kate coming out of the Long Branch; the vivacious owner of the Long Branch with that rich head of hair and those deep blue eyes; and Sandy, the young gambler with red eyebrows and deep blue eyes.
"Newly…."
"I know, you need to talk to the Marshal alone."
"You're not very nice to him, Kate," Matt Dillon stood in the middle of his office with his hands in his pockets.
She acknowledged her guilt by staring at the floor for a second.
"Momma says that beat up whore was a red head."
"Ya." He held the same knitted eyebrows and cocked head as her mother.
She ran toward the Marshal and jumped to wrap her arms around his neck, leaving her feet to dangle a foot off the floor. For a short bit of time only her arms kept her from plunging down to the floor.
"I'm the reason she got beat up."
The little missy spent forty long minutes in the marshal's office. He followed her and that impudent young man until they disappeared inside the brick building. The young man came out quickly, not a happy expression on his boyish face.
His lucre agonizingly out of sight, he walked at a discreet distance behind the dark haired boy until he, too, disappeared behind a door.
Newly O'Brian, GunsmithThe letters, carved neatly into a light colored solid plank of oak, were stained a darker shade to stand out. A great amount of meticulous effort went into the making of that sign.
"Can I help you?"
This Newly O'Brian was standing behind the counter with a spread of firing pins and cleaning oil.
"Are you the owner?" Zach forced himself to be polite. He really wanted to slit this man's throat but not before cutting off the offensive hands that had touched his Kate. But that wouldn't be wise. In broad daylight.
"Yes, sir. I'm Newly O'Brian."
The upstart had the audacity to expect him to shake his repulsive hand.
"I'd like to purchase a small weapon, a Derringer."
Zach didn't need another gun but he did need an excuse for being in O'Brian's gun shop. Pity, he looked around the small room, seeing the small kegs of gunpowder and boxes of various sized bullets, if all this would accidentally catch fire……
His transaction complete, he went back to his hotel room and watched as a few minutes later, the lofty giant of a marshal escorted Kate back to the saloon. These two touched. It angered him at first until he saw that it was not like the touch of lovers; not like that other young Newly with the dark hair who played a subtle game of seduction.
The image of the saloon owner, red headed Kitty Russell, popped back into his head. She and Kate could be sisters……..or……….mother and daughter.
The eyes of the young gambler.
Another plan, even more enticing than his original one, began to take shape. It was going to be a very good night and he had a lot of work to do to get ready for it.
Zach pranced through the solid paneled doors of the Long Branch at close to 9 p.m. He made eye contact with each of the bar maids, confident with his earlier decision to omit these ladies from his plan of keeping the best dang marshal and his hillbilly deputy busy until the women he wanted were safely in his hands. He didn't pity the erring sisters, chosen from the cheap saloons on the opposite side of the tracks. He'd always found that shiftless bums with access to ardent spirits and wanton women were a great combination for trouble. And trouble was exactly what he needed. Lots of it.
O'Brian proved a much easier target than he'd expected. This philanderer was bound and gagged and securely hidden in the storage room of his poor excuse for a shop. He did allow a candle with about two and a half hours of burn time to light the man's fate. When the candle melted to nothing it would ignite a pile of gunpowder, enough to cause a stir and get rid of that man for good. And best of all, Newly O'Brian would have all that time to reflect on who and why it was he had to die.
He was looking forward to that sound. Even better, he would make a point of telling Kate all about it.
Sandy, as per the previous night, warmed the seat next to the stairs. But this time four men, each wearing Levi's with turned up pant legs and rough spun, colorless shirts, sat with the young gambler. All wore gun belts.
Zach idly chatted with a girl or two as he worked his way to the bar. A glass of whiskey in his hand, he finally sat on the only empty chair at Sandy's table.
He made sure to look extra closely into those dazzling night blue eyes of Sandy the Gambler. But it was Kate's immaculate features that were marred by a muscle spasm just under her right eye.
Good.
Very good.
Shortly after 10 p.m. a silver haired man walked through the entry of the saloon.
The noisy men and women fell into an eerie and sudden hush.
Kitty slipped in front of the man before he could put a foot on the main floor.
"Been wonderin when you were gonna show up." Kitty stood straight, looked up at him with a steady and unblinking stare.
Samuel Emerson Wentworth was an imposing man. Once. But years of letting his son, Jake, do the physical labor of the Lucky Sue Ranch took its tole. No one could ever take old man Wentworth for a violent soul. His body and rounded calf eyes were just too soft.
"Been a shock to me, Miss Russell, loosin my boy Jake."
Kitty's stance softened a bit. "I really am sorry about that, Sam."
Two younger men crowded behind him on the landing. One whispered in Sam's ear and gestured with a pointed finger toward the young gambler with the big hat and solid blue shirt.
"Miss Kitty," Sam took off his sweat-stained hat and held it in his hands, "I don't mean to start any trouble, just want to talk to that young fella what killed my boy."
There wasn't a trace of anger in the words Wentworth spoke but they still carried to every nook and cranny of the saloon.
"You looking for me?" Sandy stood up.
Just a hint of perplexity passed over Sam's well-fleshed face.
"I am, son."
Wentworth's two cohorts made a show of putting their hands inside their gun belts.
"You took my boy's life." Sam's voice cracked and a pregnant moment of silence passed by.
"Those boys tell you what happened?" Sandy nodded to the two cowpokes as he worked his way between tables crowded with men, closer to Sam. He kept his hands wrapped around the glossy black leather belt buckled around his waist.
"They did. But I want to," he took another shaky breath, "I need to hear it from you."
"Your boy was full as a tick and on the shoot. This place was a lot more crowded that night and that wasn't a good thing. Not for me, anyway." Sandy kept her voice low and calm. "A drunk on my right stumbled into me, I lost my balance and my beer spilled on Jake."
There wasn't a clang of glass or the slapping of cards to compete with the sound of Kate's rapid breathing.
"Then he grabbed me by the shirt and threatened to knock the piss out of me. I said I was sorry, even offered to buy him a drink or two."
"And I ordered him out of the place," Kitty interrupted, her bar owner voice sharp and overly loud. "Told him to sleep it off."
Then Kitty looked accusingly at the sidemen. "But your boys here couldn't keep him out of trouble either."
"He came back later," Sandy continued, "I didn't have time to duck or run. He called me out and his hand was goin for his gun. I didn't have a choice, mister."
Wentworth studied a speck of errant brown spittle on the gritty floor with his head just high enough so everyone could see the sorrow reflected in his face.
"That's the way I heard it," his brown calf eyes were watery when he looked at Sandy again. "My boy, he was a nasty drunk, saw it in him from early on."
Sam put his hat on and was turning to leave but paused midway to look at Sandy.
"Sorry about your getting shot."
"And I'm really sorry about Jake."
"So am I, boy, so am I. Thanks for your time."
Everyone inside the saloon breathed a collective sigh of relief when Wentworth and his side kicks where on the other side of the swinging doors.
The noise of men, the clanking of glasses, and the laughing of the girls returned to full volume just as suddenly as it had disappeared.
Life went on.
"So," Zach Slaughter snickered when Sandy returned to the table, "that thing's not just for decoration."
The vixen was creative. Not only could she disguise herself as a man, she was also quite handy with a man's weapon.
Sandy picked up his winnings. "Just don't feel like playin any more."
"Understandable, young man. Perhaps tomorrow night?"
Zach watched Sandy leave then got up himself with the excuse to the remaining card players that he needed to talk with Sandy for a moment.
He followed, turned three hard lefts to see sandy climbing the narrow back staircase of the Long Branch. She'd outsmarted him more than once and he wasn't about to let that happen again. Right now he wanted her safely tucked away in her room.