CHAPTER 8

Sammy sat at a table in the corner of the saloon. She was sipping a cup of coffee laced with whiskey that Ezra had brought to her. He and Buck – or as she was beginning to think of them, her babysitters of the moment – were busy playing a friendly game of poker. They seemed to understand that she wanted to be left alone with her thoughts.

The saloon was gradually filling up with men who had wondered in looking for news on the trial that was currently taking place in the back room. Many of the men present felt that a guilty verdict was a foregone conclusion and were expecting a triple hanging come dawn.

Sammy stood up from the table and moved toward the nearby piano. Buck started to protest, but Ezra motioned him to silence. The gambler sensed there was something drawing the girl toward the instrument, and decided to see what would happen. She sat on the piano bench, just staring at the keyboard. After several minutes, Sammy began playing. The music was tentative at first, but soon grew more confident. As music filled the room, all conversation seemed to stop. No one could believe the sound coming from the old piano. The music was heart wrenching. All of Sammy's sadness and grief seemed to pour itself out through her fingers onto the keys.

Ezra had never heard anything like it. He momentarily dreamed of the money he could make by acting as her manager should Sammy be persuaded to embark on a concert tour. However, as the intensity of the music increased, he knew that no matter how mercenary his mind might be, his heart would never allow him to exploit such grief. He and Buck exchanged a look, and he stood to go to Sammy and offer what comfort he could. Ezra no sooner turned toward the piano and the girl playing it than Chris entered the main room of the saloon. He nodded at his friends, indicating that the trial was over.

He approached the table as Ezra moved to rejoin them. "Judge found them guilty. We hang 'em tomorrow along with Slater."

Buck nodded. "Gonna be a mad house tomorrow." He tilted his head toward Sammy. "Ya' think the girl's right, that Slater's brother might come and rescue him?"

"I certainly think if Bart Slater has heard about the hanging and the gang's attempt to break Jed out of our jail, then he's gonna try an' succeed where the others failed."

Buck stood and stretched. Word of the verdict was making its way through the men in the saloon, and the noise level in the room rose toward more normal levels as exclamations of both agreement and surprise were combined with speculation about what might happen at the hanging. In a town the size of Four Corners, a hanging was almost a social event and many of the men were planning to stick around town until it was over – especially since it looked like it was turning into a triple event.

The other members of the seven and Judge Travis were taking care of escorting Macon and Lefty back to the jail. Chris had come to take Sammy over to the boarding house and get her set up in a room. He figured she had to be exhausted and could probably do with some rest. The room between his and J.D.'s was vacant, so he'd decided to arrange for that room to be assigned to Sammy. He watched and listened to Sammy playing for a moment or two before asking, "how long's she been at that?"

Ezra smiled. "Oh, I would estimate she had been serenading us for at least the last half an hour or so."

The men were silent while the music continued with no sign of it stopping. Chris shook his head. "I've never heard anything like it."

Ezra put his hand on his friend's shoulder. "Neither have I, my friend. That child has uncanny musical ability. I would swear that she had even the most hardened men in this room on the verge of tears." He smiled at the look Chris gave him. Ezra had come to know the black clad gunman so well, that he was able to read his thoughts on this particular matter. "I thought about it, but only for a very brief moment. Talent like that should be shared, but doing so by taking advantage of that girl's grief would be unworthy, even of me." What he didn't say was that if Sammy still played that way when she was no longer grieving, then he would explore the possibility of a concert tour. It always paid to keep your options open.

Buck's attention had turned toward two women who had entered the saloon. He looked momentarily puzzled at Ezra's words. Chris laughed at the look on his old friend's face. "He means he ain't gonna try an make money off 'a her piano playing." He looked in the direction of Buck's gaze. "Go on, but meet me back at the jail in an hour. I want to take Sammy over to the boarding house. If Nettie's still in town, I'm gonna ask her to stay with Sammy. Otherwise, I'll get Mary to do it." If she'll talk to me, he thought.

Chris moved to stand beside the piano. Not necessarily wanting to stop Sammy from playing, but wanting to let her know that her attention was needed elsewhere. He didn't know which surprised him more, that she immediately stopped or the tears streaming down her face. Chris pulled her up from the piano bench and stood holding her tightly as she sobbed into his chest. After standing that way for a minute or so, he guided her over to a chair. He sat and pulled her onto his lap, so he could cradle her against his chest while she cried out the grief and raw emotion that had suddenly overwhelmed her.

They sat that way for several minutes, oblivious to the other men in the room who were surprised to see the hard-edged gunman so tenderly holding the young girl as she cried. Speculation was rampant through among the onlookers as to the identity of the girl, as no one had seen her in town before.

Finally, Sammy managed to get her emotions under control. As she sat up and wiped at her tear-streaked face, she was slightly embarrassed at having lost control in such a public manner and at finding herself being cradled in Chris' lap like a young child. Chris looked at her intently, and she dropped her gaze to her lap. He placed a finger under her chin and raised it so he could look in her face.

"You ready to go over to the boarding house and lay down for a while."

Sammy nodded, not yet trusting her voice. Chris helped her standing and asked if she thought she could walk to the boarding house. Sammy was too embarrassed at the thought of being carried through town that she was determined she would walk there on her own, even if it killed her. Chris seemed to sense Sammy's mood and, with a hand on her elbow for support and guidance, led her out of the saloon and down the street to the boarding house where he and several of the other peacekeepers had rooms as part of their pay.

Once at the boarding house, Chris confirmed with Mrs. Patterson, the widowed lady who operated the establishment, that the room between the rooms belonging to him and J.D. was available for Sammy's use. He explained to the proprietress that Sammy was new in town, and having recently lost her parents, was placed in his custody by Judge Travis. Mrs. Patterson exclaimed her sympathy and offered to fix the poor child a hot meal. Chris declined the offer, stating that she needed rest more than anything, but they would be there for supper.

Having excused themselves from Mrs. Patterson, Chris showed Sammy upstairs to her room. He couldn't help but notice the spark of interest that crossed her face when she spotted the piano in the parlor. Once in the room, Sammy only glanced at the bed before going to stand in front of the window. Chris pulled a straight-back chair away from the small desk in the corner of the room and straddled it, giving Sammy a minute to gather her thoughts before he voiced the question that had been burning the tip of this tongue.

"Where'd you learn to play the piano like that? I never heard anything like that before."

Sammy turned from the window to glance in his direction. She shrugged and turned back to stare out at the street below. "Don't know. I've always been able to do it." She gave a short laugh. "Mamma used to call me her little prodigy." Sammy didn't see the activity that was taking place on the street below. Rather, she was lost in her memories of happier times.

A few minutes passed before she forced her thoughts back to the present. Earlier while her mind was lost in her music, her subconscious had come up with a plan. She only had to get Chris and the other men to leave her alone for a while so that she could put it into motion. She turned to look at Chris.

"I'm the reason Mamma was on that stagecoach." She flinched at her own words. Sammy had had no intention of revealing those very private thoughts to the black-clad man. He intimidated the hell out of her, but he had been so gentle and kind to her the last few minutes that she could help but talk to him.

Chris tilted his head slightly and gave the girl an inquisitive look. He knew there was something more to the story than Sammy had let on, and he was sure he was about to find out what that was. "What do you mean?"

Sammy turned back to the window and crossed her arms over her chest, hugging herself in an attempt to ward off the unwanted memories. "I told you she stayed behind in Eagle Bend while Daddy and I came ahead to open the apothecary and set up housekeeping."

"Yeah," Chris answered her softly, encouraging her to continue.

"My piano was one of the few items of furniture we brought with us from Iowa when we came out here. Mamma had stayed behind to make sure it was properly loaded onto a wagon to be brought over here a few days later." She turned back to the room. The anguish on her face was evident as she continued, "if it weren't for that stupid piano, she wouldn't a' been on that stagecoach." Sammy began crying again. "She would have come to Four Corners with me and Daddy. It's all my fault she'd dead. Daddy, too. So I have ta make sure their killers are punished."

Sammy was crying so hard that Chris barely understood her last words. He rose from the chair and moved to pull Sammy into his arms. He knew his presence was little comfort to the girl, especially since he was going to do his level best to put an end to any further plans for revenge that she might be hatching. He made soothing nonsense sounds and gently rocked her back and forth until she calmed down. When Sammy stopped sobbing, he led her to sit on the bed. He turned his chair around and sat facing her, cradling her small hands in his large callused ones.

"Sammy, I know it's hard right now, but you cain't blame yerself for what happened. Maybe if she hadn't been on that stagecoach that day, she wouldn't have gotten killed. Something else might 'a happened instead." He paused, dropping one of her hands to raise her chin up so he could look into her tear filled eyes. "Would your mamma have wanted you to blame yourself for something you had no control over?"

Sammy shook her head.

"I didn't think so. Sometimes things happen to those we love, but we cain't stop living just because they've been taken from us. After that happens, the bravest thing we can do is to keep on living." He'd said those same words not too long before to a frightened young boy. He only hoped they would be as comforting to this girl as they had been to him.

"Sammy, you don't know this, but a few years back I lost my wife and son in a fire. They were killed, and the crazy woman who paid to have it done is still out there somewhere." He smiled slightly at the look of surprise and sympathy that momentarily crossed Sammy's face. "You might think that goin' after the men who killed your mamma and caused your daddy to be killed might make you feel better, but it won't. Revenge just turns you into somebody you probably won't like too well." He stood and gently guided Sammy over until she lay on the bed. "Take it from me, its best to put those thoughts behind you and start tryin' to move on with your life."

When Sammy didn't respond, Chris sighed and walked toward the door. "Why don't you try and take a nap. It'll probably help you feel better."

Sammy nodded.

Chris opened the door and stepped out into the hallway. "Good. I've got to go meet the guys over at the jail, but I'll be back to take you down to supper in an hour or so. In the meantime, I'm gonna see if Nettie is still in town and will come sit with you." He closed the door and leaned against it. He didn't know if he could go through this again. Shaking off the thought, he straightened and headed for the stairs. That little girl was depending on him to be strong and help her get her life back together.

He reached the foot of the staircase and stepped into the parlor on his way to the kitchen to speak with Mrs. Patterson when the sound of his name stopped him.

"Chris?"

He turned to see Mary standing near the front door. Chris definitely hadn't expected to see her. Heck, he was surprised that she was even speaking with him after what had happened that morning.

"Mary."

Mary moved forward. "Judge Travis told me about Sammy. I thought I'd come over and see if there was anything I could do to help."

Chris nodded. "Thanks, Mary. She's upstairs takin' a nap. I gotta go meet the others over at the jail and make plans for tonight and tomorrow mornin'. I have a really bad feeling about what's gonna happen." He tilted his head toward the staircase. "Sammy's upstairs takin' a nap. I don't want her left alone. She might get some fool idea in her head to try an' take off again. I was gonna go get Nettie to stay with her. But, since yer here, maybe you can sit with her."

Mary nodded. "That poor child. I'd be more than happy to help out and stay here."

"Thanks, Mary. I'll probably send J.D. over here to help you in a bit, but until then, you can send Mrs. Patterson if you need me." Chris moved toward the door. But Mary stopped him again before he could open it and step out.

"Chris, about this morning." Chris looked at her sharply, not quite sure where Mary was going with this.

"Yeah?"

"I just wanted to say I'm sorry. You were right. I shouldn't have disobeyed you." Mary looked expectantly at him, awaiting his reaction.

Not one to be overly vocal, Chris smiled warmly at her and nodded his acceptance of her apology. He then stepped out onto the porch, closing the door softly behind him. At least one thing had turned around and was starting to go his way.

Upstairs, Sammy was quietly stewing. Laying on her bed, she listened to the distant murmur of voices drifting up from below. She couldn't hear what was being said or tell who was talking. When she was certain she had heard Chris' footsteps and the front door open and close, she walked softly to her door and opened it slightly. Not hearing any sounds from below, she crept out the door and down the hall to the bedroom that Chris had identified as belonging to J.D. Sammy figured that as the youngest and least experienced of the peacekeepers, he was the most likely to have left his bedroom door unlocked.

She was in luck, and his door opened with ease. Sammy stepped into the room and quickly made her way over the dresser. She searched through the drawers until she found a pair of pants and shirt. Since J.D. was also the smallest of the peacekeepers, his clothes would come the closest to fitting her. They would still be a mile to big on her small frame, but they wouldn't be anywhere near as big on her as the others' clothing would have been. Sammy couldn't help the smile that crossed her face as she found an extra gun and box of ammunition in one of the dresser drawers.

Despite Chris' words of caution, she had no intentions of giving up her quest to avenge her parents' deaths. To her mind, Chris Larabee might be able to live with not seeking revenge on the woman who'd killed his family, but she wasn't willing to do that.

Sammy listened at the door to make sure no one was in the hallway. After making her way back to her room, she stashed the change of clothing and gun in her own dresser and laid back down on her bed. Chris had been right about one thing, she need to rest. She'd need all of her wits about her if she expected to be able to carry out her plan.

TBC