I hope no-one thinks that by writing this, I'm trying to turn Emma Jane into some kind of Mary-Sue martyr who suffers. I'm not, I'm just trying to show how she would deal with something like this in the climate of the time.
All the usual disclaimers!
The day hadn't begun properly when Hank rode back into Colorado Springs. The shutters were still drawn, there was no sign of life. He liked it when it was quiet, nothing but the sound of his horse's hooves on the dusty ground. It was going to be a warm day, he could tell by the lack of breeze and the fact that he was sweating like a pig.
Drawing up outside the saloon, he looked up at the bedroom window, where the curtains were still drawn. If there was one thing he had missed most in the week since he had been away in Soda Springs, it was Emma Jane, and the first thing he was going to do was show her just how much he had missed her.
Hank jumped down and tied the horse to the post before mounting the porch and unlocking the front door of the saloon. Stepping inside, he surveyed the tidy bar and grinned to himself, He had to give his wife credit, the place was looking good. Glancing up, he made his way to the stairs and climbed them slowly, trying to avoid them creaking. When he reached the top, he made his way to Victoria's room and looked in on his sleeping daughter, his heart swelling just at the sight of her. She was so perfect, so precious. He would never have thought that he could have loved a child, that he could have been a good father. But whenever Victoria smiled at him or held out her chubby little arms, he was glad he had helped create her.
He closed the door and headed for his bedroom. Opening the door, he saw Emma Jane lying on her back in the middle of the bed, the sheet drawn right up to her neck. He smiled, closed the door and moved over to the bed, slowly climbing on it and crawling over to his wife. Her forehead was creased in anxiety and he kissed it gently. Then he kissed down her face to her mouth.
Somewhere, deep in her troubled sleep, Emma Jane felt something. Pressure on her body, on her face, and a smell, a smell of sweat, a smell that jumped out at her and assaulted her senses. It was him, it had to be him. Somehow he had gotten inside the saloon, he had come back to take her again. Summoning all her strength, she lashed out, catching whoever it was across the face, causing them to yelp. She dragged herself to the surface, swimming against the oppressing power of her foggy mind and suddenly, everything burst into reality and she could hear her own scream.
"Emma Jane!" she recognised Hank's voice and forced her eyes open. He was staring down at her, his expression one of concern combined with a trace of annoyance.
"Hank?" her voice was scratchy.
"The hell ya scratchin' me for?" he demanded.
"What?" her mind was still jumbled.
"Just got back, thought I'd come up and show ya how much I'd missed ya, and I git hit in the face for my troubles."
Emma Jane pulled herself into a sitting position, "I'm…I'm sorry," she said, "I guess I was dreaming."
"Yeah, well…" Hank sat back, "Saloon looks all right."
"Uh…yeah," Emma Jane replied, "It's…it's been busy, but we've…we've managed." She realised she was still gripping the bed sheet up around her body and she let it drop, exposing her bare shoulder.
"That's more like it," Hank grinned, dropping a kiss on her shoulder, "Missed ya. Soda Springs is awful lonely."
Emma Jane wanted to be sick. As his lips moved around her shoulder, she tried to stop herself from shaking, but an involuntary shiver passed through her body.
"Cold?" Hank asked, lifting his head to look at her.
She avoided his eyes, "Well, it is early."
"Gonna be a scorcher," he informed her, "but I guess ya could git cold bein' in this bed all by yerself," he kissed her neck, "I can warm ya up," he moved to push her back down into the bed, but she resisted.
"Hank…the girls might hear." She laughed nervously.
"Ain't never bothered ya before."
"Well…what about Vicky? She could wake up at any moment and you know how she fusses and cries. She'd wake the whole place."
"Was dead to the world when I looked in on her," he told her, refusing to be swayed, "Sides, I bin lookin' forward to this." He tried to kiss her on the mouth but she twisted away from him.
Angered at the thought he was going to be refused, Hank grabbed her chin and yanked her face around to his, "Ain't gonna refuse me, are ya?" She didn't reply, "I'm yer husband."
And that was the mentality of all married men. Their wives had no legal right to refuse them access to their bodies. A husband could be neither convicted of nor condemned for forcing his wife into intercourse. Emma Jane knew, that while in ten years of marriage Hank had never forced himself on her, he was savvy enough to claim his marital rights.
Taking a deep breath, she turned back to him, "You're right," she forced a smile, "And I have missed you."
Hank grinned and pushed her back onto the bed. Closing her eyes, Emma Jane tried to focus on something, anything, to stop the feeling of panic which threatened to rise within her. She mentally rewound her memory back to the last time Hank had made love to her, before he left for Soda Springs. Then, she had been willing and eager, her body responding to his touch, arching herself against him, drowning in the sheer ecstasy of the act. Now, she bit her lip, unable to think of anything but her attacker bearing down on her, grunting in her ear.
SSSSS
Hank had been right, it was a scorcher of a day and as Emma Jane carried Victoria out into the morning sunshine, she tried to banish all thoughts of what had happened from her mind. Around her, Colorado Springs was coming to life. Loren was sweeping his porch across from her and he looked up as she emerged. Their relationship was still slightly strained. Even after two years, he still partly blamed her for Abigail's death and while he served her in his store, there was a barrier between them which, for all her attempts over the years, she had never been able to break.
Today, however, her relationship with Loren was the last thing on her mind. She scanned the streets, wondering if she would see him coming towards her. Every time she closed her eyes, all she could see was his face and all she could hear was his voice. She had cried off working that morning, claiming fatigue. Hank, believing it was due to the welcome home she had given him had grinned and agreed, pulling her to him before she left, whispering in her ear that he would ready for another round whenever she was. She had smiled at him, but her insides had churned at the very prospect.
Glancing towards the boarding house, she felt a sudden ache for Charlotte. Her dear friend had passed away from a snake bite three months earlier. Their new arrival, Doctor Michaela Quinn, had done everything she could, but Charlotte had still died, leaving Matthew, Colleen and Brian in Dr Quinn's care. It was still the talk of the town. The boarding house now housed Dr Quinn's medical clinic, however many locals were still sceptical.
As if by magic, the door to the clinic opened and Dr Quinn appeared. Upon catching sight of Emma Jane, she waved and called to her.
"Emma Jane!"
Emma Jane forced a smile on her face and walked forward to greet her, "Good morning Doctor Quinn."
"Oh, Michaela, please. I mean, it's nice to be recognised for your profession, especially as a woman, but it's so much nicer if people…I'm sorry, I'm babbling."
"No, no," Emma Jane reassured her, "Michaela. It's a pretty name."
"Yes, well, my father was expecting a boy," Michaela smiled at Victoria, "She's so beautiful."
Emma Jane looked at her daughter, "Yes, she is," she replied quietly.
"She's very fair."
"Takes after her father."
"Has she had a proper medical check?" Michaela asked.
The tone of her words forced Emma Jane to put the incident temporarily out of her head. Any query as to her child's health took precedence, "Well, Charlotte checked her after she was born, I…she hasn't had any illnesses since. Well, apart from the occasional cold, but I didn't think that was anything to be concerned about."
"Oh it isn't, I'm sorry if I alarmed you," Michaela said, "When babies reach the age of two years, it always good to give them a check, just to make sure everything's progressing as it should. I could see her now, if you're not busy."
"Well…" Emma Jane glanced back over to the saloon. Hank was still wary of the whole 'woman doctor' thing and she knew he would be less than impressed.
"To be honest, you'd be doing me the favour," Michaela continued, "If people see that you've brought your daughter to me, they might be more encouraged to come themselves."
"Ok," Emma Jane said, "What harm can it do?"
"Great!" Michaela led her into the clinic and gestured to her to put Victoria on the bed.
Emma Jane glanced around at the room, surprised at how different it looked, "I don't recognise the place."
"It took a while to get everything into order," Michaela replied, "but I think I've finally got it sorted." She looked in Victoria's eyes, "Take a seat."
Emma Jane moved and sat down in one of the available seats, wincing as pain shot through her abdomen. Michaela caught sight of her discomfort.
"Are you all right?"
"I'm fine," she reassured her.
"You look as though you're in pain."
"I'm fine," Emma Jane said again, more firmly.
"It would be no problem for me to take a look."
"You wanted to examine Victoria, and I brought her here, don't start on me!" the harsh words were out before she could stop them. Michaela said nothing, instead turning back to Victoria and looking in her ears. "I'm sorry," Emma Jane said, "that was rude and uncalled for."
"It's all right," Michaela replied, "I had no right to push, I'm sorry."
"No, I…" Emma Jane sighed heavily, "I'm just having a bad morning, that's all."
"You must be relieved Hank's back," Michaela said.
"Why would you say that?"
"Well, from what I understand, the saloon's a busy place to be running on your own."
"Oh," Emma Jane smiled wanly, "Well, the girls help. We've managed to keep the place ticking over." She changed direction, "How are the children?"
Michaela sighed, "Missing their mother terribly. I'm trying my best to get them to open up to me and trust me, but it's not easy. I'm not a mother and now I have three children."
"It's been hard for them," Emma Jane said, "they loved Charlotte very much."
"You were close to her?" Michaela asked, listening to Victoria's chest.
"We were good friends. She always gave me sound advice and she delivered Victoria."
"Well…" Michaela straightened up and lifted Victoria off of the bed, "Everything here looks fine." She handed her back to Emma Jane, "She's in perfect health."
"Thank you," Emma Jane felt for her purse, "How much do I owe you?"
"Oh, nothing. It was a pleasure."
Thank you," Emma Jane opened the door, "I'm sorry I snapped at you earlier."
"Don't worry about it. We all get stressed sometime," Michaela walked her out onto the porch, "Perhaps we could have lunch sometime?"
"I'd like that," Emma Jane replied, "I know what it's like to be the new girl in town."
Michaela opened her mouth to respond when, all of a sudden, Sully came running up towards the clinic looking harassed, "Doctor Mike!"
"Sully?" Michaela replied.
"There's sickness on the reservation. Cloud Dancing says his medicine's not working. Can you come take a look?"
"Of course," Michaela hurried back into the clinic to get her bag.
"Emma Jane," Sully nodded to her.
"Sully," she replied. So far, their relationship had never recovered from Abigail's death either, but she wasn't in the frame of mind to try and repair it now, "I hope things aren't too bad at the reservation."
"What do you care?" he asked, "You don't know or understand the Indians. You spend too much time listening to Hank's poison."
"You're right," she replied, moving past him, "I don't."
SSSSS
"Whatcha thinkin' bout?" Hank murmured in her ear that evening as she served behind the bar. The saloon was busy as usual, and Emma Jane had been serving relentlessly for what seemed like hours.
"Nothing," she replied.
"Don't believe ya," he leaned across the bar in front of her, "Somethin' botherin' ya?"
"No," she replied quickly, "I…Sully came to the clinic today to ask Michaela to go to the reservation with him."
"The hell for?"
"Apparently some of the Indians were sick. He thought Michaela could maybe help."
"Yeah, well, Sully does seem to love them Injuns," Hank mused. Then a thought struck him, "What were ya doin' in the clinic anyhow?"
Emma Jane wiped up some beer with a bar cloth, "She offered to give Vicky a check-up."
"And ya took her?"
"She's a doctor, Hank. Anyway, everything was fine."
"And how much did that cost?" he demanded.
"Nothing, she did it for free."
"Don't get nothin' fer free, Emma Jane. Ya know that."
"Sure, Hank," she replied wearily, turning to serve another customer. Just as she was finishing serving, the door to the saloon flew open and a man she recognised as Alan Lawrence stumbled in. He looked angry, furious even and he lurched to the bar.
"Need a drink," he demanded.
"Sure," Emma Jane poured him a whisky, which he downed in one gulp and gestured for another. She poured it and again he drank it down and asked for another.
Hank, watching the scenario unfold, took a long drag on his cigarette and ambled lazily over, "Knockin' em back there Alan."
"So would you," Alan replied gruffly, but his voice shook, "What they did to her…"
"Did to who?" Hank asked.
Alan raised his eyes, "My wife, my Martha…" his voice broke, "Savages! Damn savages!" He thumped the bar for emphasis, and the room fell silent. "They just took her!"
"Who did?" Emma Jane asked.
"Them Injuns. They just came right in…and took her!"
"Your wife's been kidnapped?" Emma Jane was horrified.
Alan shook his head sorrowfully, "No, she's at home, but…they left her…bleedin' and everythin'!" He took another long drink of whisky, "I gotta find em. I gotta kill em all!"
"Ain't makin' much sense," Hank said, "What happened?"
"They raped my Martha!" Alan declared.
Emma Jane felt her breath catch in her throat and she gripped onto the bar for support. There was that word, the one that had been resounding in her head but which she had so far refused to give voice to.
"You…saw them?" she asked, her voice sounding as if from far away.
Alan shook his head, "No, but it had to be them. Who else would do this?" he appealed to the room and there was a murmur of agreement, "Martha won't talk, she won't say nothin', but I know it was them."
"Reckon we oughta go git em," Hank said, "Show em they can't come in here and do this." He looked at Emma Jane, expecting her resistance, but she said nothing. "Emma Jane?"
"What?" she looked up quickly.
"You agree we can't let them Injuns git away with this, dontcha?"
She paused. It was awful convenient, she herself to be attacked and then another woman within such a short space of time. What if it had been the same man? But another part of her reasoned that it could well have been Indians. Who was she to say it wasn't?
"Yes," she said, "we can't let them get away with it."
SSSSS
A few hours later, the town was assembled in the street, Alan Lawrence rallying the cry for men to ride with him to the reservation and get the Indians. Emma Jane stood on the fringes of the crowd, watching as they all wholeheartedly agreed that this sort of thing could not go unpunished. She saw the anger, the pain on Alan's face, and the indignation of the other menfolk. She saw the women pulling their shawls closer around their bodies, mumbling that it was a miracle this sort of thing hadn't happened sooner. Martha Lawrence was apparently not in a good way and was refusing to speak.
"We got now we can catch em unawares," Hank said loudly.
"Shocking, just shocking," Loren declared, "Women can't even feel safe in their own homes!"
A shiver passed through Emma Jane and she touched her husband's arm, "Maybe you shouldn't go, Hank."
He looked at her, "Why not?"
"Well…you don't know for sure it was the Indians?"
"Alan's right, Emma Jane, who else could it have bin?" he kissed her forehead affectionately, "Don't worry, once we git done they won't be comin' near this town again. I'll keep you safe, I promise."
Emma Jane closed her eyes. It was already too late for that.
At that moment, Sully and Michaela came riding up, seemingly surprised at the crowd of people.
"What's going on?" Michaela asked Emma Jane, dismounting from her horse.
"Martha Lawrence was…raped," Emma Jane replied, "they think it was the Indians."
"That's ain't possible!" Sully said, "The Cheyenne are peaceful people!"
"They bin hangin' around here way too much," Jake spoke up, "Bin bidin' their time and now they've done it."
"That's ridiculous," Sully said.
"We gotta protect our women, Sully," Hank said, "You know that same as I do."
"Not like this," Sully protested, "None of you even know if it was the Indians. It could have been anybody."
"Nobody in this town is a rapist," Alan said, "it was them Injuns. Now, who's ridin' with me?" There were a number of voices in agreement.
"Please don't do this!" Michaela shouted, "Sully's right, there has to be a better way!"
"You gotta better idea, Michaela?" Hank asked, climbing onto his horse, "Ain't havin' this, none of us is. Sooner we git rid of all them Injuns, better we can all sleep at night." He bent and kissed his wife quickly before the posse turned and started to ride out of town.
Michaela turned to Emma Jane, "We can't let them do this. They'll massacre the tribe!"
Emma Jane turned slowly to face her. In her heart, she knew she should say something, but found she couldn't. To admit what had happened, to say the words…she just couldn't. "Best to let the men sort it out."
"I'll ride out, see what I can do," Sully turned his horse and galloped off in the same direction.
"But this is wrong!" Michaela said, to Emma Jane and the rest of the people slowly beginning to walk away.
"Maybe," Emma Jane replied, her voice quiet, "But that's the way it is, Michaela." With that, she walked back over to the saloon and back inside where there were still customers to be served. She knew there could be trouble, knew the Indians might even be innocent, but this was a moment for self preservation and, selfish or not, she had to keep the truth from Hank.
TBC
