Title: Stone Soup
Author: Aimee DuPré, copyright January, 2006
Chapter: Act One
Comments to: feedback to the list or to my email address, new scenes, new story, new characters
Rating: PG -- This story may contain some mild violence.
Pairing: none (of original series' characters)
Spoilers: The story contains references to another short story by the author, Stone Cold Heart.
Archive: Yes, at http/ http/tv.groups. and at author's website, http/aimee-dupre. NOTE: Author's website includes pictures from the original series.
Summary: How can a collectible pistol and a calculating invention bring two distrustful conspirators together? The lawyer with a swindler's past could give the passionate widow everything – his hopes, his dreams, his secret thoughts. But could she trust him? Only U. S. Marshal Jared Stone can show them they are after the same things: justice . . . and love.
Warnings: This story contains some mild violence and veiled references to sex.
Disclaimer: The characters in the story (with the exception of new characters created by Aimee DuPré) are the sole property of Peacemakers, USA Networks, and in association with Michael R. Joyce Production. This is a work of fan fiction that intends no infringement on copyright or trademark.
New Characters: New characters created by Aimee DuPré include Mrs. Emily Jordan (Katie Owens' aunt), Mr. Elliott Stone (Jared Stone's cousin), and Tevis Carver, Bank President, and are the sole property of Aimee DuPré, copyright January, 2006.
Author's Notes: The banker's phrase "lock, stock, and barrel" meaning "the whole thing," originated with the invention of the standardized manufacturing production of guns and refers to the three major parts needed to construct a muzzle-loading rifle or pistol.
Stone's recollection of Emily baking cookies is a reference to Aimee Dupré's short story, Stone Cold Heart, archived at the usual archives (listed above).
The "San Patricios" or Saint Patrick's Brigade have a somewhat cloudy early history. Very little is known for certain regarding their recruitment. One popular tale (portrayed in the 1999 film One Man's Hero, produced by and starring Tom Berenger) states that the nucleus of the unit was formed following the severe prejudice against and punishment of Roman Catholic soldiers who had attempted to sneak into Mexican territory and attend Mass. It is known that the Mexican army actively recruited Catholic Americans by characterizing the war as one of Protestant versus Catholic, and by offering sizable land grants to those who left the American ranks to join the Mexican army.
Robert Ryal Miller, author of "Shamrock and Sword," discovered Riley's death certificate. Like Riley's Mexican army records, it used the name "Juan Reley." It read: "In the illustrious city of Veracruz, on Aug. 31, 1850, I, Don Ignacio Jose Jimenez, curate of the parish church of the Assumption of Our Lady, buried in the general cemetery the body of Juan Reley, 45 years old, a native of Ireland, unmarried, parents unknown."
Stone Soup
By Aimee DuPré
Copyright January, 2006
Act OneMarshal Stone pushed his way through the crowded lobby to the Silver City Bank & Title president's office. Painted in large gold letters onto the frosted glass panel in the door were the words: Tevis Carver, President. Carver had taken over when Horace Trico had been transferred to the Denver branch. The door was opening when Stone reached it, and Mr. Carver ran right into him.
"My God, Marshal Stone! Arrest that woman! She tried to kill me!" His straight black hair was slicked straight back, and his black eyes, which could usually be described as beady, were so large that Stone could see the whites all the way around them. The banker was shaken but not wounded.
The marshal attempted to calm the panicked banker. Under other circumstances, Carver would have been appalled at clinging to him like a scared child. Now he had turned as pale as a ghost. Something must be terribly wrong. Stone still couldn't bring himself to believe that Emily Jordan posed a danger to anyone.
Stone grabbed Carver's shoulders and pushed him back into his office, kicking the door shut behind him with his foot. He hoped Chipper could get that crowd under control by himself.
Stone immediately took in the situation. Mrs. Jordan stood in the left corner, a Whitneyville Walker in her hand, pointed at the floor. Plaster from the ceiling was scattered on the carpet in front of her. Rain dripped at a fairly good rate through the hole in the ceiling.
"Emily," Stone gently spoke, knowing she was upset and liable to be unpredictable. "Put the pistol down, on Mr. Carver's desk."
Katie's aunt focused on him for the first time. She stood calm and collected as she shook her head in the negative.
"That animal attacked me. I want him arrested."
"That woman tried to kill me! She's the one who needs to be jailed." Carver pushed Stone away and started towards his desk, but when Mrs. Jordan pulled herself upright -- though the gun was still pointed at the floor -- the banker had a change of heart. He positioned the marshal between himself and the woman.
"Emily," Stone said in exasperation. "I won't be able to help you till you put down that gun. Do it now!" he commanded.
To his surprise, she walked to the desk and gently laid the pistol on the corner, then backed away from it.
"I was not going to kill him, Jared."
"Yes she was!" Carver yelled from behind Stone.
"No," Mrs. Jordan asserted. "If so, they'd be carrying your dead carcass out of here in a pine box to the Owens' Mortuary."
Stone could stand it no longer. "Carver, go sit down over there. You pawin' on me is irritatin' me to no end."
"It irritated me, too," Mrs. Jordan said as Carver cowered across the room to a chair on the right side, opposite his accuser.
Stone motioned for her to sit in the banker's chair behind the desk as he picked up the Colt pistol and looked at it. It was an 1847 Army pistol, 15 inches long with a 9-inch long barrel. The grip was polished walnut.
"I fired into the ceiling, Marshal," she calmly told him, watching him as he intently examined the gun.
Stone looked up at the damaged plaster overhead. Amazing what a .44 caliber bullet with 50 grains of black powder will do to a ceiling, he thought. He unloaded the remaining five bullets and put them in his coat pocket.
Carver nervously piped up. "I felt the wind from that bullet graze my ear." He put his hand to the left side of his head. "I'm surprised I'm not bleeding. That's how close it was."
"Carver," Stone gave him a cold-eyed stare. "Shut up."
The man clamped his mouth so fast that his false teeth audibly clicked together. Jared almost laughed when he thought about how everyone accused Carver's dentist of using horse teeth for his dentures. Such things were often done, even the use of cadavers' teeth.
"Go on, Emily," Jared prodded as gently as he could. He kept looking at the weapon as she spoke, and he turned it over in his hand.
"When Mr. Carver telephoned to inform me that he had called the loan on the Owens' Funeral Parlor, knowing that we had no funds to pay it off, I came directly over here . . . "
". . . with a gun to shoot me!" Carver interrupted.
Stone glared at him, and he shut up.
"I came over here," she continued, "with Father's old Mexican War pistol to see if Mr. Carver would take it as four months' payment on the mortgage. I reckoned as it might be worth a hundred dollars or so."
Stone looked surprised and commented, "I reckon it just might at that." It was in fine shape for a forty-one-year-old Colt Walker, a beautiful weapon, well-oiled, well-kept.
"Mr. Carver refused. He said there was something else he would take as payment, . . . " She began but paused. "Then he made a lewd suggestion and attacked me."
"She threw herself at me and when I refused her advances, she threatened to shoot me!" Carver yelled.
"I shot at you," she yelled back, "because you were trying to have your way with me." She rose to her feet. "If I'd aimed at you, I would have killed you."
"She's right," Stone agreed. "This 'hand cannon' would have put a hole in you like it did the ceiling."
Everyone was quiet for a while, and Stone could tell the crowd outside the door had dissipated. Chipper was getting to be quite the accomplished deputy.
"Carver," Stone finally said. "You can press charges against Mrs. Jordan, for brandishing a weapon and assault."
Carver grinned wickedly at her, almost as if he would stick out his tongue in derision, until Stone continued.
"But . . . Mrs. Jordan can press charges against you for assault and battery."
"What's the difference?" Carver nervously asked.
"You see, if the victim has actually been touched by the person committing the crime, then battery has occurred. If the victim hasn't been touched, only threatened, then the crime is assault." Stone didn't want Carver to know that aggravated assault with a deadly weapon, or assault with intent to kill was considered much more serious than simple assault. No need to fan the flames.
"She touched me," Carver said. "But I can see you don't believe me."
Stone looked at each of them in turn. "I suggest we let this whole matter drop and say the weapon was fired accidentally. What do you think?"
"I think that I am closing my personal account with this bank immediately," Emily Jordan said.
"No great loss," Carver answered. "Miss Owens' loan is due the end of the month or I take the mortuary property. Lock, stock, and barrel."
Stone stuck the unloaded pistol down his waistband and had a crazy thought: I sure hope my pants stay up! It's got quite a heft to it; must weigh almost five pounds.
"Mrs. Jordan, may I escort you out?" Stone asked and gave her his arm.
"I shall never set foot in this bank again!" she called over her shoulder on her way out in front of the marshal.
Stone tipped his hat to Carver. "Hope the rest of your morning goes smoother."
Carver shut the door to his office and smiled with glee, realizing he had raised no suspicions.
Back in his office, Stone studied the pistol he confiscated from Mrs. Jordan. She had not asked him to return it to her when he escorted her to the mortuary, and Katie and Amy had been so glad to see their aunt safe and sound that he hadn't pushed the matter.
He gathered from their talk that there was some surprise on Katie's part about the mortgaged loan, but he had quickly and quietly taken his leave. He had been acutely aware of feeling excluded from their family discussion. He realized it was unintentional, of course. Yet the distance was evident to an old coot like himself.
Now he held the greatest prize for Colt collectors -- the renowned 1847 Whitneyville-Walker. This was the legendary revolver that got Sam Colt back into the gun business with a government contract. The Walker was the first repeating revolver purchased by the Army Ordnance Department.
Stone checked the markings on the gun's barrel: SAML COLT NEW YORK CITY. Near the trigger guard, initials were neatly scratched in the surface.
He looked up at a soft knock at his door. He stashed the weapon in his middle desk drawer then arose to admit Mrs. Jordan.
"You don't have to knock. Just walk right in," he told her.
"Just like heaven," she quipped as she stepped inside. Seeing his blank expression, she added, "Never mind. It's just a song I once heard. I came to ask you something, Marshal."
"Jared," he replied, and motioned her to be seated. He went behind his desk and sat. "We've known each other long enough to be on a first name basis."
"Jared, would you really have arrested me in the bank this morning?"
"Yes, ma'am, if Carver had forced me by demanding it." Stone's expression grew stern. "You did a terrible thing, Emily. Assault with a deadly weapon is a serious offense."
She lowered her eyes. "I know," she softly said.
"But, if it's any consolation, I knew you were telling the truth and he was lying."
She looked up. "How did you know?"
Stone grinned. "What woman in her right mind would try to seduce Tevis Carver, even if he is one of the wealthiest men in Silver City? Besides, even if you did, a man would hafta be a fool to refuse the advances of such an attractive woman."
"Oh, I don't know about that," she said. "You do pretty well."
She grinned back at him in a friendly way, but he grimaced as he recalled the time he led her to believe he would stay and listen to her play the piano. He had interrupted her while she was baking – cookies, if he remembered correctly. She had gone off all excited and almost burned her hand. She had flour all over herself and her clothes. Then, when she went upstairs to change . . . he ducked out. Well, he had left her a note. Still he had run away from . . .
"The Bible tells us to run away from temptation, Jared." She interrupted his thoughts. "I think you did the right thing that evening. You saved me from making a complete fool of myself."
"Miz Emily . . . "
She held up her hand to stop him. "That's water under the bridge."
"There's a lot under there what with this deluge," he commented. "Any idea why Carver picked this morning to actively pursue you?
She smiled. "Yes, but first I have another question for you," she said.
He held up his hand to stop her as he opened his middle desk drawer and removed her father's pistol.
"You came for this," he said as he handed it to her.
"Yes. But my question is, why were you studying it so carefully back there at the bank?"
He pursed his lips.
"I'm a student of history, Emily. I do a lot of reading about battles and wars. Your pistol dates from Mr. Polk's War that grew out of unresolved conflicts between Mexico and Texas. The U.S. wanted to expand, so fightin' began in April 1846 when Mexican cavalry attacked and captured an American detachments near the Rio Grande. After the border clash and two battles, Polk requested a declaration of war. He said Mexicans had invaded our territory and shed American blood on American soil, so Congress declared war in May. The Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo, signed in February of '48, ended the war and we were given undisputed control of Texas, California, Nevada, Utah, and parts of Arizona, New Mexico, Wyoming and our own state of Colorado. This gun right here helped us win that war."
Stone held it up and turned it in his hands. "You the one keepin' it so clean?"
"Yes. Father taught me that it's important to keep a weapon clean, especially after it's fired."
"He taught you well. I took the liberty of cleaning it for you this time." He laid it on the desk in front of her. "I'm hopin' there won't be any more weapons discharged, 'specially not inside, and most 'specially not in banks. I don't want to have to have this conversation with you again, Emily. You might be facin' me behind bars instead of behind a desk."
"No, Jared. You won't need to chastise me again. I supposed it would only be right for me to offer to make restitution to the bank for the damaged ceiling."
"I figure Carver's gonna file suit against you for that anyway. Maybe I can talk him into settling out of court."
"I would appreciate that, Jared."
He slid the gun towards her.
"Since your grandfather's name was Asa Owens, whose initials are J.R.?"
"I noticed that engraving. Father never told me much about the gun, except that he got it from a soldier named Juan Reley. Not a Mexican, though he took on a Spanish name."
"I believe this was John Riley's weapon. He was a lieutenant, one of several hundred immigrant Irishmen who deserted the US Army to fight for Mexico in the war. Riley deserted before war was declared, so he avoided being executed after his court martial in Mexico City in '47. He formed the Batallón de San Patricio. You ever hear of it?"
"The Saint Patrick's Battalion. Yes. Those captured by the U.S. Army suffered harsh reprisals. Those who deserted before the declaration of war on Mexico were branded with the letter 'D' as deserters and sentenced to the stockade at hard labor. Those who deserted after the war were hanged for treason."
"I heard they branded Riley on his face instead of his buttocks," Stone commented, then turned red-faced when he realized what he'd said. He quickly changed the subject. "This pistol could be quite valuable to a collector."
"I'm sure it is valuable, Jared. The Smithsonian Institute in Washington, DC has expressed interest in examining it for authenticity. I have their letter."
"Why don't you have it appraised?"
"It's too expensive for me to travel to Washington, and I don't trust the postal service. Whatever would I do if it were lost? After all, even if it isn't valuable, it is an heirloom."
"I wish I could do somethin' to help you, Emily. It's a shame to owe that money to the bank and have such a valuable treasure sittin' right here."
"That's why Carver was after me – not really me, but the pistol. But I have an idea."
"An idea?"
She marveled at his excited expression and the way his blue eyes shone.
"Tell me," he said, leaning closer.