Sorry for the delay folks, been a busy bee! Please read and enjoy!
Magistrate Claggett's reappearance in the Gem caused little interruption to the activities of most of the patrons that evening, who clearly saw him as nothing more than another fairly well-dressed gentleman come to partake of the available pleasures. But for those to whom it mattered, the sight of him walking through the front door caused a ripple of tension that only they could sense.
Catherine was standing on the balcony, looking down at the main bar, when he made his entrance. Almost immediately, she felt her heart start to beat harder and faster in her chest, she felt her palms grow damp and her stomach turn over as though she was about to be sick. Her last hope, that he wouldn't return, died in that moment. He looked up, caught her gaze and touched his hat lightly, an action that caused her to turn away. Even though she wasn't to sleep with him, the thought of what might happen was still almost too much to bear.
She pushed open the office door and stepped inside, closing it behind her. Al, sat at his desk, looked up at her entrance.
"He's here," she said, trying and failing to keep her voice steady. Lord only knew why she was so scared, why she couldn't trust that everything would be all right. But a part of her couldn't help but feel that all of their luck was due to run out.
"Right on cue as expected," he replied, putting down his pen and getting to his feet. "Nothing if not punctual is our Magistrate."
Catherine hovered as he pulled on his jacket, then opened the lower drawer and took out his knife. She drew her breath in sharply, causing him to pause and look at her. "I'm sorry," she said quickly. "I didn't mean…" She waited as he secreted it in the waistband of his pants. "I trust you."
"Glad to fucking hear it." Al slammed the drawer closed and walked around the desk towards her. "Shall we greet our guest?"
She nodded wordlessly and stepped out of the room, allowing him to close and lock the door behind them. Then she followed him, along the balcony and down the stairs to where Claggett was standing at the bar, keeping slightly behind.
"Magistrate Claggett," Al said, stepping forward and extending his hand.
"Mr Swearengen," Claggett replied, meeting it with his own.
"How nice of you to call on us again."
"I had every intention of so doing, as you are perfectly well aware." Claggett glanced past him towards Catherine. "Miss McCord looks as alluring as ever."
"Of course she does," Al replied, half turning and gesturing for her to join them. "Though I do believe she'd prefer to be referred to by her proper name."
Claggett frowned. "Proper name?"
"Mrs Swearengen," Catherine said, taking a deep breath and stepping forwards. "A pleasure to make your acquaintance again, Magistrate."
Surprise crossed the other man's face, but he accepted her proffered hand and kissed it gently. "Mrs Swearengen," he echoed. "I confess I did not realise on my last visit that this lovely creature was betrothed to you, Al. May I say she looks all the lovelier for it."
Catherine fought down a rising wave of nausea as she firmly retrieved her hand from his grip.
"Oh she's seen a fair few things these last days I'll grant you. Will you have a drink?" Al asked.
"That would be most welcome, thank you," Claggett replied. "It was a long ride from Cheyenne."
"Perhaps you'd like to take a seat. Catherine, would you mind?"
"Of course not," she replied, grateful to be out of the other man's airspace. She made her way over to the bar, where Dan was waiting with a bottle of whisky and two glasses, whilst Al guided Claggett to a discreet table. "I feel like my heart's going to beat right out of my fucking chest," she said, resting her hands on the bar for support.
"Al can handle this," Dan reassured her. "You think he ain't never cut a throat before?"
"I know full fucking well he has," Catherine glared at him, "I just don't want him to have to do it now."
XXXX
Across the room, Al couldn't help but notice that Claggett's gaze never left Catherine as they sat down at the table to await their drinks. He watched the other man's eyes flicker as he took her in. He recognised the sentiment behind the look. Claggett was thinking about how many ways he could fuck her, where he would hold her, what he would say to her. It was a familiar ritual undertaken by most men in those moments before lying with a whore, or at least those who still had their faculties about them at the given moment.
"Congratulations on your match," Claggett said.
"Thank you."
"Interesting that you didn't mention your intentions last week when I explained mine."
Al shrugged carelessly, "Sometimes things have a way of sneaking up on you." Catherine chose that moment to arrive at the table with the drinks. As she set the glasses down, opened the bottle and poured from it, he could see that her hand was shaking. A quick glance at Claggett confirmed he had seen it too.
"Won't you join us as you did before?" Claggett asked as she made to move away from the table.
Catherine glanced quickly at Al, "No, thank you. My other duties command my attention." Before the words had barely left her mouth, she turned and walked smartly back over to the bar.
"Fine woman," Claggett said.
"Indeed she is."
"You've considered my proposal I assume."
Al nodded. "Five thousand dollars and the pussy of your choice in exchange for the warrant. I assume you now have it?"
"I do," Claggett tapped his top pocket. "I must say I'm glad you're amenable to my terms."
"Money's money."
"I meant my other term."
"The pussy of your choice, as requested."
"Define pussy."
"One of my whores."
Claggett sat back in his chair, "You know that's not what I asked for."
"That's all I'm prepared to offer you, Magistrate. I know my reputation precedes me but I would be no husband at all if I allowed you to fuck my new wife, now would I?" He held Claggett's gaze. "And I'm doubtful that your gaining such a reputation yourself for coveting thy neighbour's wife would be looked upon too kindly if you were to seek further office in Yankton."
"I thought your freedom and, indeed your life, were worth more to you, Al. Your wife is hardly going to find herself in a fortuitous position if you were to find yourself on the end of a rope, now is she?"
"Fortuitous enough," Al replied calmly.
"I assure you I wouldn't hurt her. A little...light relief is all I seek."
"You can have that with any one of my whores, them being all the more practised for it."
Claggett shook his head, "I'm not sure you fully comprehend what I'm saying, Al."
"Oh I do, Magistrate, I do," Al assured him. "Will you excuse me one very brief moment whilst I consult with my wife?" The other man nodded and Al got up from the table and moved over to the bar where Dan and Catherine were standing. "Man's determined," he relayed to them. "No doubt he believes I've excused myself from the table to order you to bend to his will."
"Then let me do it," Catherine said, "please. If that's all he wants, let me do it."
"No," he replied forcefully. "I'm going to take him upstairs to the office, give him his money and make one final attempt to appeal to his sense of reasonableness. If that fails..."
"You want me in there with my knife?" Dan asked.
"No," Al said, "I handle this one alone."
Catherine put her hand on his arm, "Al..."
"Not...another...word," he told her. She quietened, but he could see the fear in her eyes. "If blood must be shed let it be shed on my conscience and mine alone. If I'm still standing by the end of the evening I'll expect you to be amenable to an ass fuck tonight by way of thanks. If not, then I die unfulfilled." Before she could respond, he moved away from them back over to where Claggett sat watching. "Won't you accompany me upstairs to my office, Magistrate, in order that I can present you with your money and we can discuss the other terms further?"
Claggett paused for a brief moment, "All right." He rose to his feet and followed his host towards the stairs. As he passed Catherine, he nodded at her, "Mrs Swearengen."
Catherine felt bile rise in her throat, but she fought it down and nodded in return. Her eyes never left Al's form as he led Claggett up the stairs and along the balcony to the office. As he unlocked the door and opened it for the visitor to pass through first, he looked down at where she was standing and inclined his head ever so slightly. Then he was gone, the door closed firmly behind him.
Almost instinctively, Catherine ran her hand along her waistband, relieved to feel the hardness of her own blade secreted under her skirts.
XXXX
"A most charming office," Claggett observed as he stepped inside. "Well proportioned for all aspects of business." Al watched as his gaze fell on the bedroom. "Very well apportioned. I'm sure you and your wife make good use of the facilities."
Without speaking, Al moved over to the safe, unlocked it and pulled out two bags. Locking the safe again, he moved back to the desk and opened them so that Claggett could see the contents. "Five thousand dollars. Count it if you like."
Claggett smiled appreciatively, "I don't believe that will be necessary and I thank you for your prompt payment." Al gestured to the chair in front of the desk and he sat down. "Despite assertions to the contrary, Al, I've seen nothing but honour from you in our dealings so far."
"You flatter me."
"Now, as to the second order of our business…"
"Drink?" Al opened the desk drawer and pulled out a bottle and glasses. Uncapping it, he poured one and slid it towards his guest. "Perhaps, before we go any further, I may be allowed to see the warrant now?"
"Of course," Claggett reached into his top inside pocket, pulled out a piece of paper and slid it across the table.
Al lifted it, perused it and put it back down. "Who else knows of its existence?"
"A few others. But that being the original, even if others were minded to act on it, they would have nothing to act on. Now…" Claggett drained his glass. "Your wife…"
"Is not open to sale or bribe."
Claggett sighed and, reaching over, retrieved the warrant, "You disappoint me, Al."
"No, Magistrate, you disappoint me," Al said, getting to his feet. "You come into my joint telling tales of a murder warrant, demand not only five thousand dollars of my…hard earned revenue, but the pleasure of my wife's embraces in addition and then see fit to chastise me when I refuse to accede to you…" he tutted. "That isn't the sort of behaviour one might expect from a man in judicial office."
"I'm sorry you feel that way," Claggett replied, in a tone that indicated he was anything but sorry.
"So am I," Al said, walking slowly around the chair where Claggett sat. "You must believe me when I tell you…" carefully, he pulled his knife from his waistband, "…that this gives me no pleasure."
Claggett frowned, "What gives you no pleasure…."
Al would never really know what went wrong. Whether he simply caught his foot as he lunged forwards, or whether the image of Catherine, desperate for there to be no more death, caused him to pause mid-action. But rather than his arm snaking around Claggett's neck and the blade sliding neatly across his throat, the other man had cause to realise what was happening before it did and he jerked off the chair, the blade simply nicking him.
Al lunged forward towards him again, sending the chair hurtling to one side and, as the two men took hold of each other, one in desperate surprise, the other in desperate determination, they both fell back against the desk, sending the whisky bottle crashing onto the floor.
XXXX
Catherine had been pacing nervously ever since Al and Claggett had disappeared into the former's office. Upon hearing the crashing sound, she felt her worst fears realised and she ran, without cause for hesitation, for the stairs, screaming Dan's name in the process. She knew he was only a few paces behind her as she pounded up the stairs and along the balcony and, when she threw open the door, saw to her horror that Claggett had Al in a headlock from behind. She could see her husband's face turning an explosive shade of puce, even in the few seconds it took her to register what was going on, and his arm plunging uselessly backwards in an attempt to strike Claggett with the knife.
"Stop it!" she screamed, rushing forwards in an attempt to get between them, but Claggett swung Al away from her violently and used his own weight to push her back towards the door, whereupon she crashed into Dan, causing him to stumble back out onto the balcony. Managing to stay on her feet, Catherine pulled out the knife from her waistband and was about to rush forward again, and hopefully kill the cocksucker, when Claggett suddenly released his grip on Al and sent him hurtling towards her.
In the days and weeks afterwards, she would relive the incident in her mind and always wonder if there had been anything she could have done differently. Could she have moved out of the way? Could she have dropped the knife? But there was no time. No time to think. No time to react. The speed and force of Al coming towards her, and the knife already outstretched in her hand, meant there could only ever be one, horrific outcome.
Silently, the knife slid into Al's stomach like it was sliding through butter. His shocked face was only inches from her own and the sheer weight of him caused them both to crash backwards against the far wall.
"Oh fuck, no…" she slid down the wall, taking him with her. "No, no…Al…" It was only as they hit the floor that she realised the knife was embedded and that she was still rigidly holding the handle. "Al? AL!" She screamed his name, pushing him gently away from her so that he rolled over onto his back on the floor. She let go of the knife, though she imagined she could still feel the hard wood in her hand. "No…no…NO!" she drew herself up on her knees above him, feeling her whole body start to shake uncontrollably. "Al…oh Jesus, NO!"
As she reached again for the handle, ostensibly to pull the offending article from her husband's chest, she heard Dan scream at her to stop and, looking up, saw him draw his blade swiftly across Claggett's throat. The Magistrate let out a gargled cry and then sank to the floor.
"Don't touch it," Dan said, his voice shaking, "You can't…you can't pull it out or he'll fucking bleed to death…"
"Get Doc!" Catherine screamed at Johnny, who was standing motionless with shock in the doorway. "Johnny, go now!" He darted out of the door. "God, I'm sorry…please…please I'm sorry!" She pulled Al's head into her lap, cradling it as he struggled for breath. "Please Al I'm sorry…I didn't mean…!" she looked up at Dan who was staring in horror at the scene unfolding before him. "Dan…"
"It'll be all right," he said unconvincingly, "it'll be…it'll be all right…"
"Please…" she sobbed, as Al lay looking up at her, her body shaking, only breathless, gargled sounds coming forth from him, "please don't die….please don't leave me…I'm sorry…"
"Where the hell is Doc?" Dan declared, running from the room as though he could no longer bear to watch.
"I'm sorry…you were right. I should have…listened to you…" Catherine cried, "please….please Al…" The sound of running feet made her look up and, seconds later, Doc burst rushed into the room followed closely by Johnny and Dan. "Doc…Doc, I killed him!"
"You did nothing of the kind," Doc said with distracted comfort. He put his bag down and knelt down beside her. "Let go of his head, Catherine. Let it fall back…all right…" He looked from Al's tortured face to the blade in his chest and back again. "Fuck me."
Catherine got to her feet. "I didn't mean it…I was just trying…"
"Dan, Johnny, we need to get him on the bed, now!" The boys hurried forward on Doc's order. "Ok, we're going to have to lift him as gently as we can so we don't dislodge the fucking knife, all right?"
Catherine moved out of the way towards the door, holding onto the frame for support as, on Doc's count, they lifted Al from the floor and carried him across to the bed. He let out long moans of pain with sporadic bursts of bloody coughing.
"I'm sorry," she heard herself say again, "I'm sorry Al…" Then, she could bear it no more and, without looking back, turned on her heel and fled from the room.
"Cathy…" Al gargled, blood spilling from his mouth as he caught a glimpse of her fleeing from his new position on the bed.
"Don't talk, Al," Doc said as he listened to his friend's chest.
"She's…she's just gone downstairs," Dan said with faux reassurance, "don't worry, she'll be back."
"Cathy…"
"Al, you got to keep quiet," Doc said, lifting his head, "You got to let me take care of you!"
Al shook his head viciously knowing, even in his own desperate state, that by blaming herself, she had to know the truth. "Cathy…tell her…" he coughed and more blood spilled out.
"Get him to shut up while I prepare for surgery," Doc said to Dan. As he turned to move away from the bed, however, Al's hand shot out and grabbed his arm. "Al! You're going to be fine, but you need to let me do my work here!"
"Cathy…"
"Dan told you she'll be back!"
"Die…" Al spluttered.
"You ain't going to die! In a minute, I'm going to give you something to knock you out and then I'm going to remove this blade, fix your insides and get you stitched up. I promise you, you are not going to die!"
"Maybe he could write something down?" Johnny suggested from the foot of the bed.
"Shut the fuck up, Johnny," Dan said uneasily. "Just…just let Doc do his work."
"If it'll shut him up, give him paper and a pencil," Doc said, releasing Al's grip on his arm. He moved over to the desk and started laying out his instruments. "And get a good hit of dope ready!"
Johnny grabbed paper and a pencil from Al's desk and hurried back over to the bed where he handed it to him. The convulsions of pain and the continual spitting of blood meant that Al could barely write but he knew that Doc was the one person he trusted with the information he was about to reveal. Determination won out and, moments later, Al held out the paper to him between shaking fingers.
"Maybe…maybe I should take it," Dan said.
Al ignored him. Loyal as he was, Dan was the only other person who knew his secret and he couldn't trust him to pass it on to the person who needed to know it.
Doc took the sheet from him. "You want me to give this to Cathy?"
Al shook his head and coughed again, "Read…"
Doc looked down at the scrawled words. The handwriting was almost illegible and the sheet was peppered with blood spots but finally, he was able to make out the words.
IF I DIE TELL CATHY THE ATTACK ON HER WAS MY IDEA.