Kiss of Death----8
Joseph Clark looked up as the door opened and his wife entered the room. Although she was much younger than he was, she loved him and for that he would do anything in his power to please her. He knew of her activities with Angela Tate, but was too lost in his own lust to do anything about them. He rose from his seat and walked over to greet her with open arms.
"Rosemary, are you all right?"
"I'm fine, Joseph, just tired is all."
"I made dinner for us," the older man said and took her hands to lead her into the kitchen.
"I'm not really hungry, Joseph, but I'll try. I'm so sorry I'm late."
"It's okay, honey. You're home now. Did you see Angela today? Is that why you're so tired?"
"I saw Angela this morning and spent last night there because of the storm. I hope you weren't too worried."
"I was, but I figured that's where you went after you left the hotel. Is everything all right over there?"
"Yes, she's fine and I met her fiancé. He seems very nice and well suited to Angela."
"I'm glad."
"Joseph, I need you to do something for me," Rosemary said as he held the chair out for her and took the seat across the table.
"Anything, Rosemary, my life is yours," the love struck man said and reached for her hand.
"I know you don't like it when I ask you to help me with something that might go against the law, but it's important to me."
"Are you in trouble?"
"No, but I might be if you don't help me. You know I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important."
"What do you need?"
"The man Angela is marrying loves her very much and would do anything for her, but his friend is a miserable lowlife who does not want to see his friend happy. He'll try anything to stop the wedding and I…I did something to see that he would not be able to hurt Angela and her fiancé."
"What have you done, Rosemary?" Joseph asked and wearily leaned back in his chair, the meal momentarily forgotten. The woman across from him was like an addiction and there was no way he could refuse her as tears came to her eyes.
"I had to, Joseph. Do you remember that man who came in and wanted to send a telegram?"
"The one you took care of…dressed all in black."
"Yes, that's him. He wanted me to send a telegram to St. Louis and you know what would've happened then. They'd come for me, Joseph, and we'd never be together again. I know I'm asking a lot from you, but I need you to help me stop that from happening. I love you so much and cannot bear the thought of not being with you!"
"I could not live without you, Rosemary. What do you need me to do?"
"I need you to make sure no one is suspicious of Chris Larabee's disappearance. All it takes is for you to deliver a telegram to Buck Wilmington at Angela's home…"
"What telegram?"
"One that I'll write. It will just say that he had to go back to Four Corners and that he'd return as soon as he took care of business there. It won't be very detailed, but it should stop Wilmington's suspicions for a while."
"Then what?"
"Tell Sheriff Rawlings that you saw Larabee leave shortly after they spoke in the saloon and that he said he was going back to Four Corners. Tomorrow you will send a telegram to Four Corners and tell them that their friends arrived safely. That should keep them off our trail for some time to come."
"All right, but there is something you have to promise me."
"Anything, Joseph," Rosemary said and came to kneel in front of her husband.
"Is Larabee alive?"
"Yes, but he's been hurt."
"Did you take care of him?"
"Yes, we need him in case Wilmington decides against a marriage to Angela."
"I want your promise that you will not kill Larabee!"
"I may not be able to stop it, Joseph, because if he lives then he's always going to be a threat to me…to us. Do you want to take that chance with our happiness?"
"I don't want you to kill him!"
"I promise I won't kill him," Rosemary stated as he hugged her to him. It was an easy promise, one she knew she could keep for she would not be the implement for Chris Larabee's death, but she would be there when he breathed his last.
"Thank you, Rosemary. I love you so much," the older man said as he drank in the scent of her and reveled once more in the love she had for him.
"I love you, Joseph, more than you'll ever know," the woman said as he held her close. She knew Joseph Clark would soon be disposable and at his age it would simply be explained as a weak heart or something similar. She snuggled against him and sighed contentedly as she waited for him to release her once more.
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Buck remained close to his fiancé as she cried out in pain and knew he could not leave her side. He'd slept off and on during the day, only leaving her side to eat and check on the ranch. Carmon had fed Angela and also insisted on her taking the powder Dr. Morton had left for her. Now the darkness beyond the window was sending a shard of fear through his body. Chris Larabee had failed to return to the ranch and now it seemed likely that something had happened to prevent his return.
"Where the hell are you, Chris?" he whispered and felt the warm body shift up against him once more.
"Buck?"
"I'm right here, Angela. You okay?"
"I think so. Did I hear you say something about Chris? Is he back yet?"
"No…no he's not and I'm worried, Angela. Chris' got a lot of enemies and some of 'em wouldn't think twice about putting a bullet in his back. I need to find him."
"I know, Buck, and I'm sorry."
"You got nothing to be sorry for, Darlin'."
"Yes," she softly sobbed as she turned towards him. "If I hadn't gotten hurt you would already have gone to check on Chris and you wouldn't be so worried right now."
"Angela, look at me!" Wilmington ordered and waited for her to open her eyes. "You're not to blame for any of this. You were hurt and Chris'd understand why I stayed with you. Hell, he'd never forgive me if I left you because of him. If you're feeling better in the morning I'll leave for town and probably find Chris having a few drinks and talking about old times with Ethan."
"I hope so, Buck, because I can't stand the idea that Chris is hurt and I'm keeping you from helping your best friend," Tate said, laughing inwardly as she felt his arms tighten around her. She felt safe and cocooned in his hold and knew she would do anything to keep him in her bed.
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Chris struggled against the darkness surrounding him, but there was so much pain he wasn't sure he could avoid it by staying where he was. He could hear someone moving around in his vicinity, but did not want to acknowledge the person as muffled curses reached his ears. He licked at dry lips and didn't realize he'd moaned until a hand clamped onto his chin. Forcing his eyes open he realized that his nightmare had followed him into the real world as he looked into the baby face of his tormentor.
"It's 'bout fuckin' time you woke up! I'm getting' mighty sick of cleanin' up after ya! Ain't getting' paid 'nough ta do this kinda woman's work!"
"G…go…ta…hell!"
"Don't ya know you're already there, Larabee, and I'm your very own devil!"
"Bastard!" Larabee cursed as Turner grabbed a handful of his hair and pulled his head backwards. The sickly odor of stale beer and tobacco assaulted his senses and he spit in the man's face.
"Sonofabitch! You'll pay for that!"
Chris gasped as his nemesis placed his hand on the bullet wound in his left side and waited for the pressure to be released. He could hardly breathe, as the pain became a constant heaviness that would not let go. He sucked in a shallow breath and fought down the urge to be sick as Turner's mocking laughter reached his ears.
"Let that be a lesson to ya. Miss Rosemary doesn't want me to mark ya anymore, but she didn't say nothin' about making ya uncomfortable! I figure I ain't adding injuries, just playing with the ones ya already got! Now she also wants me ta make sure you're eating, but if ya don't want anything just say so 'cause I'd just love ta see her put that tube down your fucking throat! Got it?"
"Y…yeah!" Larabee spat and groaned as the man released his grip on the raw wound.
"Good, now I ain't much on what someone hurt liken you should eat, but I got some liquefied beans and sopped 'em up with bread. Yer gonna eat it or Miss Rosemary's gonna force it on ya!"
Chris watched through hooded eyes as his tormentor turned away from him. He knew he had to choose the lesser of two evils and eat whatever Turner gave him, because he did not relish the idea of something being shoved down his throat. It was bad enough to have to lie here, helplessly, but to have to let this man feed him was a lesson in his own humility and one he was hard pressed to win. The smell of the beans was nauseating and he wondered if he could manage to eat it without being sick. He closed his eyes and fought to concentrate as Turner came back to the bed.
"Ain't bad 'nough I gotta let ya have my bed and my beans and bread, but I gotta feed ya too! Open your fuckin' mouth and eat this shit before I change my mind and let Miss Rosemary do what she's talkin' about!"
Chris knew there was no choice and opened his mouth. The liquefied beans and clumps of stale bread threatened to make him sick, but he fought to keep his churning stomach from making a return trip. He had no idea how many times the noxious stuff was placed at his mouth or how often he was forced to swallow, but was finally rewarded when Turner stood and walked over to the table. Chris closed his eyes and tried to curl into a ball as his stomach cramped and pain traveled from one end of his body to the other, but it was impossible to move with the restraints holding him to the bed.
"Need ta make sure ya drink this too!" Turner didn't wait for an answer as he lifted his captive's head and placed the cup of warm liquid against his mouth. "Now ya drink it all or I'll just have to make you another one!"
Chris glared at his captor as he opened his lips and tasted the bitter brew. There was nothing he could do to stop the onslaught of liquid and he was forced to swallow again and again until the cup was empty and Turner once more left him alone. He searched his memory for the events that had led him to this point in his life and knew his only way out for now was Buck Wilmington. He wondered if his long time friend even knew he was missing and whether he was looking for him.
'Buck, don't marry that bitch!' he thought as he struggled with the pain. His mind began to wander and he quickly realized there'd been something added to the drink he'd been given.
"Fuckin' bastard," he cursed as the laudanum and his own exhaustion worked to pull him under once more.
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Joseph Clark watched as the sheriff and another man came towards the hotel. He felt his stomach flip as he realized the man had to be Angela Tate's fiancé. Forcing a smile to his face and straightening his suit he greeted the newcomers.
"Hello, Sheriff, how are you today?"
"Hello, Joseph, I'm fine thank you. This man is looking for a friend of his and I believe he was in here day before yesterday."
"Rosie was here that day, but she's not here today. Not feeling very well I'm afraid."
"Damn, hope it's nothing serious, Joseph."
"I don't think so, Sheriff, but I insisted she stay home and get some rest."
"Were you here at all, Joseph?" Rawlings asked.
"As a matter of fact I was. The hotel can't run itself now can it," Clark answered.
"Guess not. Look we're looking for a man named Chris Larabee…"
"The gunslinger…so that's where I know him from."
"You know Chris?" Wilmington asked hopefully.
"Not really, just spoke to him the other day when he came in to send a message."
"What did he say? Where is he?"
"Now, just hold on a minute there, Mister…"
"Wilmington…Buck Wilmington. Look Chris is a good friend of mine and I've been trying to find him. Did he say anything when he left?"
"As a matter of fact, yes, he did. He had Rosemary send a message to someplace…can't rightly remember what it was."
"Four Corners?" Wilmington asked.
"That's it. He said he wanted to let them know you both made it here."
"Did she send it?"
"Of course she did. That was just before he went to the saloon and had a drink with you, Sheriff."
"We were there an hour or more and he said he was headed back to the Tate place, but he never made it…"
"No, don't expect he would," Clark advised.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Wilmington spat.
"Well Mr. Larabee was on his way out of town when the message came in. Can't rightly remember who it was from…sheriff or something like that, but it asked that Mr. Larabee come back because he was needed to testify or something. Now unless I miss my guess he gave Rosemary a message to send back that said he was coming straight back because he wasn't letting the 'scumbag' as he called him get away with murder. He told me and Rosemary to let you know he'd contact you when he got back home and that he didn't want you to follow him so he left from here instead of going out to the Tate place."
"So why the hell didn't you come out and tell me?" the angry rogue asked.
"Well Mister, it's like this. We have a business to run and sometimes we just don't have time to take care of other people's problems. Rosemary was going to Angela's place to let you know," Clark informed him.
"She was there the day of the storm and didn't say anything!"
"She probably forgot because, well, see we had this little disagreement and she took off. We're okay now though and she'll tell you what Larabee said to her when she's up to it."
"What really happened to her? Did you hit her and that's why she's at home?" Wilmington spat and reached for the older man.
"Wait a minute, Buck, Joseph has never hit Rosemary in his life and I can vouch for that. Hell, they hardly even argue and when they do, it's Rosemary's voice and anger that gets raised!"
"I'm sorry, Ethan, but that's not how I see it. Rosemary came out to the ranch because she'd had some kind of argument with her husband. She was upset and stayed the night!"
"Angela is Rosemary's confidante and they talk about every little upset. If you're Angela's fiancé then you'd best get used to it!" Clark warned.
"At least she won't have to run to anyone when she's upset. I'm the kind of man who listens."
"All right, Buck, back off. I know you're upset about Chris, but that's no reason to take it out on Joseph. Come on and I'll buy you a drink and I'll let you buy me two."
"Yeah right! Guess I do owe you a few, but first let me send a telegram to Four Corners."
"All right, Buck, but hurry up. A man can die of thirst and boredom here, but hell if I suffer both then you're to blame."
"Don't go getting' your knickers in a knot, Evan. I'll be right there!" Wilmington said and wrote a short message that he slid across the desk. "Send that and get the answer to me as quick as you can! I'll pay whoever comes out to the Tate place for their troubles."
"Sure thing, Mr. Wilmington. I'm sorry about the mix up with your friend."
"Thanks, send that right away."
"I will," Clark said and began sending the message. He could feel Wilmington's eyes on him and was glad he'd had the fortitude to make sure the message would not go through. He finished what he was doing and then handed the paper back to Wilmington and watched as the man left the hotel.
"What have you gotten us in to, Rosemary?" he whispered before making sure everything was back in working order.
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Evan Rawlings looked up from his drink as Buck Wilmington entered the busy saloon. The man looked worried and Rawlings wondered if he had good reason to be. Chris and Buck had always been close and somehow he didn't believe that Larabee would ride out without making sure Wilmington knew where he was going.
"Over here, Buck!" Rawlings called and waited for the ladies' man to join him.
Buck eyed the glass of beer and nodded his gratitude as he lifted it and drank half the contents in an effort to rid his throat of the dust he'd inhaled during his ride to Midfield. "Thanks, I needed that!"
"I'm sure you did."
"It's dustier here than I remembered."
"Sure is. So you're really going through with this."
"With what?"
"You're really going to get married and disappoint all those ladies who have their eyes on you."
"A man needs to settle down sometime."
"Yeah, he does, but I never thought I'd see the day you'd be tied down to one lady. Must be love," Rawlings said and saw the frown on Wilmington's face. "You do love her?"
"I…yes. No, hell I don't know," Wilmington said and realized the words were the truth. He didn't know if he loved Angela Tate anymore. He liked her…liked being with her and enjoyed their sexual prowess together, but was he in love with her?
"Well, shit, Buck, you're supposed to be marrying her and you don't even know if you love her anymore. Could be a cold marriage made in hell."
"No, don't think I'd say marriage made in hell, but I'm thinking maybe I need to talk to Angela. Maybe we're rushing things a bit. Hell we haven't seen each other in ten, twelve years. Jesus, I don't even know exactly how long it's been, but people change and I'm just starting to think maybe it was the excitement of seeing her again that got me thinking marriage."
"I'd say you'd best tell Miss Tate how you feel and give yourself time to look at things, before you say I do," Rawlings suggested.
"Hell of a thing coming in here and facing the truth, because you still ask questions that make a man think too hard. I don't know whether to thank you or shoot you!"
"I'd rather you said thank you. Been on the receiving end of a bullet more often than I'd like to think about," the sheriff said with a grin.
Wilmington ran his fingers through his disheveled hair and reached for the glass of beer once more. He downed the contents and ordered two more before shaking his head and looking at the other man once more.
"Damn, thought this was right, but now I ain't so sure. Thanks, Evan," the gentle rogue said as he took the second glass of beer.
"Hey, wasn't me. You must've been thinking about it yourself."
"Not until you asked me if I loved her."
"Well, maybe it's a good thing. I can tell you one thing though."
"What's that?"
"I'd be ready to take off as soon as you talk to Miss Tate. That woman has a temper that's as fiery as her hair!"
"Yeah, I remember," Wilmington said smiling as he sipped from the glass. "Guess nothing's ever easy."
"Not when there's a woman involved. Are you gonna stick around after you tell her?"
"I don't know, Evan. Guess it all depends on her and if I hear from Chris. Like I said I just don't know if I still love her or if I'm just trying to get back something I lost long ago."
"I think we're always trying to get back our youth, Buck, but I can safely say there's no way of doing that without being hurt. Maybe you'll find that you really do love her, but you owe it to yourself to think things through first."
"Guess so," Wilmington said and took a deep breath. He'd have a few more drinks and then head for the ranch, but he was not in a hurry to get there anymore. The thrill and excitement were not as enticing as they once were and he knew Evan Rawlings had opened his eyes to a truth about himself. He wasn't in love with Angela Tate anymore; he was in love with the idea of being in love.
TBC