All the usual disclaimers!
Sylve, glad you're not bothered about the differences with the original series. I'm trying to keep it as faithful as possible, but it's difficult obviously when you introduce a new character and try to get them to fit in. So I apologise if anyone doesn't like the fact that I'm not being completely faithful, but I hope you'll all continue to read and review!
The Indian camp was silent as the posse approached. A few fires still smouldered, remnants of that evening's cooking, casting shadows on the various teepees littered around the area. It had been agreed amongst the men that they would approach silently, take the Indians by surprise and then attack. That way, they were more likely to kill more of them.
Alan Lawrence led the group, his anger barely contained beneath the surface. Hank rode directly behind him, noticing the stiffness in the other man's body, recognising the hate and vengeance ready to be unleashed. He wholeheartedly supported him in this quest. No man, savage or otherwise, should escape punishment for the most heinous of crimes.
Alan held up his hand, indicating they should stop. He turned in his saddle, "Some of you go round the back," he directed, "Come at 'em from all sides, won't know what hit 'em."
A few of the men urged their horses forward and manoeuvred around to the back of the camp. They all drew their guns from their holsters and were prepared to storm in and shed blood, when Sully appeared out of the darkness, yelling at the top of his voice. The racket caused some of the horses to spook and roused several of the Indians from their teepees. In a mad scramble, Indian faced white man, weapons drawn, each prepared to defend to the death.
"The hell you doin', Sully?" Hank demanded, as Sully positioned himself between both camps.
"Stopping you from making a big mistake," Sully replied.
"Ain't no mistake!" Alan declared, "Them savages raped my Martha and they gotta pay!"
"You don't know that!" Sully shouted back, "You got no evidence!"
"Evidence? Who needs evidence?" Jake said, "No-one else but them would do this kinda thing. Gotta be punished for their crimes just like everybody else."
Cloud Dancing stepped forward and conversed briefly with Sully who then turned back to the others, "Cloud Dancing says none of his tribe left the camp today."
"He would say that!" Alan replied, "He wants to protect 'em."
"Dr Mike and I were here today too," Sully continued, "Looking after some of the sick. We didn't see no-one leave."
"Cause you git eyes in the back of yer head, right?" Hank pointed his gun at Sully, "It was them."
"You have no proof."
"Jake's right, we don't need proof," Alan said, "Now git out of the way so we can finish this!"
Cloud Dancing stepped forward, "Please. I assure you, that none of my people would be capable of this."
"Oh yeah? Well who was it then?" Hank asked.
"I do not know, but I promise, if I find out that it was one of my people, they will be dealt with."
"How?" Jake asked, "One less feather in their hair?" the men snickered, "They gotta face our punishment."
"Ya take a woman 'gainst her will, ya hang," Hank spelt it out.
Sully turned reluctantly to Cloud Dancing, "Could one of your people have done this?"
"I do not think so, but I am prepared to ask," he replied, "and if I find they did, I will deal with them."
"Our way or nothing." Alan said.
"We do not support the white man's justice."
"Our way, or we burn this camp to the ground and kill all of ya," Hank said.
Cloud Dancing paused and then nodded, "Your way."
"How we gonna know you're gonna do this?" Jake asked.
"I'll be here," Sully replied, "I'll help Cloud Dancing and I'll tell you the truth."
Cloud Dancing turned to Alan, "I am sorry for your wife's pain."
Alan pointed his gun in the Indian's face, "I find out it was one of yer savages, you will be."
"Go back to town!" Sully said, "There's nothing to be done here now."
The men exchanged glances and on Alan's nod, they turned their horses and headed away from the camp. Hank paused and gave both Sully and Cloud Dancing a hard look.
"Yer lucky Alan's a reasonable man," he said, "If it had been my wife, you'd all be dead," he looked meaningfully at Sully, "All of ya."
SSSSSS
Back in town, Emma Jane paced nervously behind the bar. Checking the clock, she saw it had been over an hour since the posse had ridden out. She was terrified that at any minute, someone would come racing into town yelling that everyone was dead. The few customers that remained in the saloon talked quietly amongst themselves and the girls stood idle. No-one appeared to be in the mood for the pleasures of the flesh.
Emma Jane had never had any particular love for the Indians. Sully was right, Hank's poison had affected her reasoning. He had wound her up so much about the prospect of them riding into town, kidnapping all the women and savaging them that they had formed the basis of her nightmares. Not goblins or monsters for her, but Indians, with their faces painted and their feathers blowing as they pulled her onto their horses and sped off with her. She had become so fixated on them that she had forgotten that the white man was capable of pain and violence too.
Maybe she should have said something. If she had cast doubt on the Indians guilt, it might have been enough to stop the posse in their tracks. But then, Hank would demand to know why she was sure it wasn't them and, faced with his questioning, she wasn't sure she could have maintained her silence.
As these thoughts swirled around in her head, she heard the sound of horses approaching and, darting out from behind the bar, she threw open the doors of the saloon in time to see the posse riding back up the street. To her relief, she saw Hank and she let out a long shuddering breath, not even realising that she had been holding it.
"What happened?" she asked as he dismounted in front of the saloon.
"Made a deal," he replied.
"With the Indians?"
"Sully convinced Alan to let him find out if any of 'em did it," he explained sourly, "if they did, we can hang 'em."
Emma Jane shivered, "You don't look pleased."
"That's cause I ain't!" he said, "Shoulda just killed 'em all then and there. Wouldn't have to wait."
"Well, if Sully's going to take care of it…"
"Cover it up more like," Hank grumbled, "Ya know what he's like. Loves 'em like his own family. Think he'll turn any of 'em in?"
"Sully's got integrity," Emma Jane said, "He'll do the right thing."
Hank studied her face, "Ya look pale. Ya all right?"
She nodded, "Of course. I was just worried about you, that's all."
He grinned and pulled her against him, resting his chin on the top of her head, "That's what I like to hear."
At that moment, Michaela came hurrying out of the clinic, "Is anybody hurt?"
"All accounted for," Jake replied, "Might not stay that way, mind."
"What do you mean?" she asked.
"Once we find out which Injun it was…" Jake let his words trail off.
"I don't understand."
"Oh we'll hang 'im all right, once we show 'im exactly how we feel bout rapists in our town," Jake raised his eyebrows at her.
Michaela turned to where Emma Jane was still standing in Hank's embrace. The latter turned her face away and allowed her husband to lead her back into the saloon, Jake's words resonating in her head.
SSSSS
Emma Jane spent another restless night, tossing and turning this way and that, until eventually Hank demanded she either lie still or 'git the hell out.' Eventually, she got out of bed as dawn was breaking and made herself a strong cup of coffee. She poured in a shot of whisky for good measure just as Hank appeared in the kitchen.
"Feelin' poorly?" he asked, catching sight of the bottle.
"Bit of an unsettled stomach," she lied, gulping down the coffee.
"Just don't go gettin' drunk on me," he said, pouring a cup for himself, "Gotta lotta work to do today."
"We do?"
"Sure. Got the big poker game this afternoon. Gotta get everythin' ready."
Emma Jane had forgotten about the poker game. She hated it whenever a big game was planned because it meant the saloon was even more crowded and more smoky than usual. Not to mention the fact that games could last for hours upon end and there was nothing more mind-numbing than watching men look at playing cards. Besides, her tossing and turning had thrown up a different way to spend the afternoon.
"I was thinking I might go over and see Martha Lawrence this afternoon," she said cautiously.
"What for?" Hank asked, lighting up a cigarette.
"Well…everyone's talking about her, I thought it might be nice if someone actually paid her a visit."
"Alan says she's pretty upset."
"Of course she is. It's a horrible thing that's happened to her," Emma Jane replied, understanding all too well how the woman would be feeling, "I just thought I would go and show her my support."
Hank looked at her for a moment, as if he didn't quite believe her, but he eventually merely shrugged, "Whatever you want. Guess she's gonna need all the friends she can git."
"Why do you say that?"
"Woman gits raped, ain't never gonna be seen by anybody as anythin' other than a victim."
Emma Jane stared after him as he left the kitchen. What he had said was true. Martha Lawrence's name would forever be linked with what happened to her. If she admitted what had happened, Emma Jane could picture her own life. Stared at in the street, looks of pity mingled with the gossip. She knew she couldn't bear it.
The morning seemed to drag, the way time always does whenever someone has something important planned. Emma Jane had no idea what she was going to say to Martha Lawrence but inside, she knew she had to find out if it had been the same man. Her mind was so firmly focused on the task that she accidentally knocked a full glass of whisky all over a customer.
"Look what you've done, woman!" the man shouted.
"I'm sorry," she said, grabbing a handy bar cloth, "Here, let me…" she reached over to wipe his jacket, but he pulled back from her.
"Get off me!" he complained.
"What's goin' on?" Hank asked, coming over.
"She spilled whisky all over me!" the man said.
"It was an accident," Emma Jane protested.
"This is a new jacket! I just got it delivered from Denver!"
"I'm sorry," she said again.
"Have a drink on the house to make up," Hank offered, pouring him another, "And you," he turned to his wife, "Keep yer mind on the job. Ain't off yet."
"Sorry," she mumbled, turning to serve the next customer. But this sale went no better, as he complained she had short changed him.
Hank pulled her to one side, "What's yer problem?"
"I'm sorry," she repeated, "I'm not sure what's wrong with me today. My head seems to be all over the place," she laughed nervously to cover up her anxiety.
"Yer gonna be costin' me custom," he said, "Go on, git out."
Emma Jane looked at him, "Are you sure?"
"Sure I'm sure. With ya gone, might be able to serve some folks properly." He grinned at her, "Git lost."
"Thank you," she replied genuinely, taking off her apron and dashing up the stairs to get herself ready. She changed into one of her better dresses, fixed her hair and then headed back down to the bar. She waved to her husband briefly before disappearing outside to where her horse was tied up. As she climbed on, the door to the clinic opened and Michaela appeared.
"Emma Jane," she greeted her, "Can we talk?"
"I'm a bit busy right now," Emma Jane replied, "Maybe later."
"It's important," Michaela came over to her, "I need to speak to you about what's happening with the Indians."
"What about it?"
"It's not right."
Emma Jane sighed, "Michaela…I told you, that's how things are around here."
"You're not from this town originally, any more than I am. You know there are better ways."
"I've lived here ten years," Emma Jane told her, "and believe me, there is no other way."
"But to accuse people without proof…"
"A woman was raped!" Emma Jane addressed her angrily, "Whoever did it has to be made to pay!"
"You know as well as I do, Emma Jane, that any Indian won't get a fair trial," Michaela beseeched her.
"I'm sorry," Emma Jane interrupted her, "but I have things to do." With that, she spurred her horse onwards past Michaela and out of town in the direction of the Lawrence ranch.
The town gossips were right, Martha Lawrence was not in a good way. When she had opened the door, Emma Jane had been stunned by her pale complexion and unkempt appearance. After identifying herself and asking if she could come in, Martha opened the door wider and allowed her visitor to enter.
"You're…Hank's wife?" she asked quietly as she closed the door.
"Yes, yes I am," Emma Jane said, "I just wanted to come and see if you were all right." Martha walked in front of her into the living area and sat down in one of the large chairs, "Everyone's…very concerned about you."
Martha looked at her, her eyes huge and pained, "Folks are…talking about me?"
"Only out of concern," Emma Jane reassured her, sitting down opposite her, "Everyone's horrified about what happened." She paused, "Have you…spoken to anyone?"
"Such as?"
Emma Jane was lost for an idea, "The Reverend?"
Martha seemed horrified by the prospect and pulled her shawl closer around her thin frame, "I couldn't."
"It might help, to speak to someone," Emma Jane pushed, knowing that she was most likely being deeply insensitive to this woman's preference to remain silent on the subject. But she needed to know, "About…what the Indians did to you."
Martha looked up at her, her forehead creased with confusion, "Indians?"
Emma Jane nodded, "Alan said it was Indians who…" she didn't want to say the word. Martha didn't reply. She looked down at her hands. "It wasn't Indians, was it?"
"Alan came to that conclusion all by himself."
Emma Jane felt her heart beat faster, "Was it a white man? Tall with dark hair…and blue eyes?" she could vividly remember his eyes as he bore down on top of her.
Martha looked up quickly, "How did you…?"
Emma Jane took a deep breath, "Because it happened to me too." Martha stared at her. "The night before it happened to you. I just needed to know if…"
"He…he hurt you too?"
Emma Jane nodded, "Yes. He was drinking in the saloon and…" she didn't want to relive the whole sordid episode, "When I heard that you had been attacked, I wondered if it was the same person. But when Alan said it was the Indians…well, I had to find out for myself."
Martha stood up and walked to the window. She didn't say anything for a long moment, "I've never known anybody else who's been…violated."
"Me neither," Emma Jane said, "It's been going around and around in my head since it happened. It's all I can think about…"
"Alan's just…shut himself off from me," Martha confessed, "He's so desperate to just kill whoever he thinks did this…"
"…and I can't bring myself to tell Hank because I know what he'll do it he ever finds out…"
"…he won't even look at me…
"…and I was worried about coming here in case I upset you more…"
"…but now that there's two of us, we can tell everyone and make sure the right man pays for what he did…"
"No!" Emma Jane picked up on Martha's last words and responded sharply, causing the other woman to start, "I'm sorry," she backtracked, "but…I can't…I can't tell my husband."
"But…" Martha was confused, "But if you don't…"
"I can't tell him," Emma Jane repeated, "I just wanted to come here and see if the man who raped me was the same man who raped you."
"But Alan thinks it was the Indians!" Martha objected, renewed vigour in her expression, "And it wasn't. We both know it wasn't."
"It doesn't matter."
"I know my husband. He'll kill whoever he thinks it was."
Emma Jane took a deep breath, "Does it really matter if he thinks it's the Indians? They'll never be able to find proof on any one Indian because it wasn't them. They won't be able to hang anybody. This will all eventually…go away."
"Alan won't stop until someone pays," Martha said, "He won't care if there's proof!"
"Sully won't let anyone do anything without proof," Emma Jane continued, "Trust me, if we just keep quiet, it'll all go away." Her voice shook as she spoke, knowing that she didn't fully believe what she was saying.
"You mean lie."
"It's not lying, it's just…not…saying."
"Don't you want him to be punished for what he did?" Martha asked.
"I just want it all to go away."
"So you come to my door, tell me that you experience what I did and now you're saying you don't want to do anything about it?" Martha was indignant.
"I'm asking you to keep quiet! I'm asking you to allow your husband to carry on thinking what he thinks. Please," Emma Jane stood up and walked over to stand in front of Martha, "Please."
"Why can't you tell Hank?" Martha asked, "He's your husband, he'll want to support you. I know that, once he's over his anger, Alan'll comfort me."
"Wish I could say the same," Emma Jane replied, "But I can't tell Hank, Martha. Please, I'm begging you. Keep to the story."
Martha paused for a long moment, looking into Emma Jane's pleading face. After a while, she nodded, "All right. If you're sure that no Indian is going to be hanged for it."
"There won't be any hanging," Emma Jane reassured her, "They won't find any evidence against any Indian. This will all just go away."
"For the townsfolk maybe, but what about for us?" Martha asked her, her eyes filling with tears, "When do we forget?"
Emma Jane thought about her question as she rode back to town. Martha had a point. When would they forget about what that man had done to them? Would there ever be a time when she didn't see his face, or smell him? She felt a strange sense of relief knowing that it was the same man who had violated Martha, but she wasn't sure why. Maybe because it showed that she hadn't done anything to provoke him specifically, that it wasn't her fault. She also felt better knowing that Martha was going to keep the secret. What did it really matter if the Indians were blamed? They were blamed for everything else that went wrong in the town. And she was sure that things would never go any further.
When she stepped back into the saloon, however, she was surprised to see that the poker game was not going ahead as planned, but that the customers were all standing around talking in hushed voices, concerned expressions on their faces.
"What's happening?" she asked Hank.
"Got one of them Injuns fer the rape," he told her.
Emma Jane's stomach dropped, "What?"
He nodded, "Looks like some Injun did it. Sully and Cloud Dancing said he wasn't at the camp and he ain't got no alibi. Mustav snuck out to the ranch." Emma Jane didn't say anything, "How's Martha?"
"Uh…still upset," she replied, "What happens now?"
Hank blew out smoke and grinned, "It's like I said. Ya take a woman 'gainst her will, ya hang. Town's gonna enjoy this one." He leaned over and kissed her, "Told ya I'd keep ya safe."
Emma Jane stood rooted to the spot watching as he turned to serve another customer. She knew for a fact that this Indian, whoever he was, had to be innocent and suddenly she realised that no matter how hard she tried, it wasn't going to go away.
Will Emma Jane tell Hank? Can she keep it a secret? Can she let an innocent Indian take the fall? Find out soon!
