Disclaimer I own very little, especially not CSI NY. But I wish I did.
Notes Thank you very much indeed for all the reviews, I love to receive them. Please continue! Thanks to everyone reading, everyone who has let me know, and everyone who has made this and me a favourite or an alert, much appreciated :D
This is Stella's chapter. Enjoy!
Where Have All the Cowboys Gone?
Chapter 8: Six Gun Legend
Stella:
So there we're all standin', lyin' rather, riddled with bullets and dripping pools of blood all over my nice, clean cellar floor.
Least that's what Mr Daniel Messer was expectin' to see, judging by the look of horror I see on his face as he comes tumbling down them stairs, once I manage to get another candle burning. I've seen less distress on the face of a grizzly at the wrong end of my rifle. Gotta admit though, I was more than surprised not to find myself with a few bullet holes piercing my new silk gown. But I'm more than a little full of admiration for Miss Lindsay Monroe. Never thought the girl had it in her. I give her a nice little colt not two hours ago, and already she's firin' bullets from it. Firin' 'em in all directions. She's got spirit all right. As Mr Messer's obviously noticed. Girl could do worse for a beau, but I'm not gonna let him know I think that in a hurry. Prefer to keep him on his toes, does the man good.
He's on his toes now, that's for sure. Standin' there, white as snow, lookin' as if he's seen our ghosts, and if he doesn't stop gapin', he's in danger of swallowin' us all.
"You… you… you all okay? Linds… Miss Monroe, you all right? Rest of you all okay? Heard shots, a scream, we thought…" He's down those stairs and at her side, and he thinks no one's seen his hand in hers.
"You thought the worst, huh? Thought maybe you'd find us all gonners down here? We're all fine and unharmed. Most of us anyhow. Seems someone's not having the best day of their life, or death though." Ain't that the truth.
Hammerback comes all the way down the stairs and I point him over to the reason for the bullets, "Believe this might be who you were searchin' for Hammerback?"
He leaps across to the body on the floor with glee. Find it kinda' disturbin' sometimes the enjoyment the man takes in his job.
"It certainly is. My missing customer!" Then his face falls. "You shot him? Again? But he was already dead! Very dead."
"I believe that was my fault, Mr Hammerback, I'm awful sorry."
Poor Lindsay's lookin' real distressed, I'd best step up and explain, "Fact is, Hammerback, he gave us something of a shock. We got down here, just the one lantern between us, and saw nothin' unusual. Then next thing we know, we hear something of a rustling noise, naturally we all pull out our weapons. Can't see no one though, just shadows and spirits, alcoholic ones that is. We tried calling out. Nothin'. So we crept forward. Seemed someone was lurking behind one of these heaps of barrels. Tried a few warning shots, next thing we know, a barrel's hit, the pile collapses and something, or someone comes falling out from behind. More gunshots ensued. Reason for it all was your missing corpse. Miss Monroe here was brave as anyone, pulling out her weapon and firing alongside the rest of us."
I refrain from mentioning that she ain't the best shot in the West. We're lucky the lantern and the corpse were the only casualties. Still, she's got real potential there, and it's my plan to be giving her a few sharp-shooting lessons soon. Again, something I ain't gonna let Daniel Messer know about just yet. Mac'll approve though, or if he don't, I'll persuade him to.
Time's flying past though, and we're all standin' around, not a whole lot happening. Time for someone to take charge, and I ain't ever shy of volunteering myself for that role.
"Reckon what we need now is a plan of action. First thing we need to do is get this man outta my cellar, then we find whoever put him here, and how. Whoever it was can't have got themselves too far. Who's gonna volunteer for corpse removal duty?"
It's maybe my eyes playing tricks on me in the darkness, but I could swear Don moves back a few steps, and he sure ain't opening his mouth in a hurry. Hawkes and Adam speak up, two fine gentleman, though two that would never brag about themselves as such.
"We'll take him, Stella." Hawkes says. "Might need Hammerback to give us a hand."
Adam's kinda' nodding eagerly alongside him, "We'll sort him out, Miss Stella."
Hammerback's got no hesitations either, "Glad to assist. My thanks are due to all of you for finding him. I suggest we take him back into my parlour, as indeed the spider said to the fly… or was it the garden and Maud? No matter, after you Doctor, Mr Ross. We will return in due course."
Yep, Don's definitely taken a few steps back outta sight. Wonder what's up with him? Even in this light, his face looks worse than a moose that's run out of pondweed, hope he ain't getting sick. A real hearty dose of brimstone and treacle might do him a power of good, always the thing for appetite disorders. Maybe I'll fetch some out for him later.
"So, we got the corpse sorted, what's next on our list?"
"Don't tell me you've forgotten about the treasure, Stella?"
Trust Mac Taylor to catch me on that, I can see the sparkle in his eyes from here, and it ain't just the candle light. Damn, the way that man looks sometimes… but it ain't just the looks, it's the man himself. I know, even if he don't know that I know, that he's outside the saloon most nights, even when he ain't in there officially. I don't need Don to tell me that. And I ain't deaf to what folks say. I don't need him to be doing that, but I gotta admit, it's a nice feelin' to know someone's looking out for me. First person who ever did. Wouldn't have it any other way though, I've made my own way in the world, haven't needed anyone's hand to keep a hold of mine. Any mistakes have been my own. There've been a few, but I've sent them into the sunset, and survived. Not an easy life for a woman out here, especially doing what I do, but when I need to be I can be deaf to what some folks say. Ones that don't matter. I know what's right and wrong.
"I ain't forgotten Mac, just gettin' everything sorted out good and proper first. Suggest we start digging in a few separate places, given as we don't have an exact spot."
"We got a pretty fair idea though, Miss Stella, thanks to L… Miss Monroe here." Mighta' known Daniel Messer would be sticking up for her, gotta admire that in him though.
"We do, that's true enough, but it's still gonna take a fair bit of diggin' to find it, got a lot of cellar to cover. Got plenty of digging implements though."
Messer gives me a grin that I could fairly describe as mischievous, "You'll also be wantin' some o' that dynamite that Hammerback and I brought over?"
Hell. I do, I really do, but common sense takes over much to my disappointment, and annoyance, "You know, I hate to say it, but I reckon we've not got enough space down here, don't want to blow up the bar or anythin'…"
Then one of the most surprising things that's ever happened to me happens. Mac Taylor persuades me to be using dynamite in a less than cautious way, "I been doing a bit of scientific thinking, Stella, and I'd judge we got about enough space to do it safely, plant a coupla' sticks, stand well back, and we'll get away with it. What do you say? It's your cellar."
What do I say? He's rendered me near enough speechless, and ain't that something. Everyone's kinda looking at me, so guess I'd better come up with something sharp and clever to say.
"Uh, sure, why not? If you think so, uh, real good idea. Just try not to do too much damage." Sharp and clever, huh? This is all Mac's fault. Suddenly the tables are turned. Better turn 'em back real quick, "Bring it on down, Messer, whatever you got, and let's find this treasure." Suddenly, I want to find this, more than anything almost. After all, it belongs to the town, guess we owe it to ourselves to get it back. And I feel like we owe it to Mac too. I know he ain't never forgiven himself for that gang of no good low lives gettin' away from him and Don. That sonofabitch Gerrard too, wouldn't I just like to wipe that smile off of his face. Reckon he likes seeing Mac's conscience suffering. He'll get what's due to him. I'm willin' to wait a little while, but I'll do it, sure as hell.
Messer's raced back up those stairs faster than a gazelle, and he's soon back down carrying more than two sticks of dynamite.
"Brought a couple spare, just in case, ya know. We ready to go?"
Hell, yes. He, Mac and Don scrape away a good sized hole in the ground, I offer advice. Good thing I've never gotten around to having it other than a dirt floor. We toss the sticks in, cover them back over, then haul out the fuse and get ready to find our positions.
I'm noticin' at this point that someone is moving on up those stairs, "Some place you gotta be, Don?"
Messer turns round at that, "Ya scared, Flack? Don't tell me a coupla' sticks o' dynamite got the deputy of Hattanville quaking in his boots."
The look Don gives him oughta' have stretched him out stone dead, "You all want to blow yourselves up, that's fine by me, go right ahead, but I ain't gonna be the one picking up your pieces. 'Sides, I got a deputy's duty to be thinkin' of, we still have some investigatin' to be done down at Novak's drugstore. I'm gonna head on over there, pickin' up Ross on my way. Same time as I do that, I can send the Doc on down to be useful here."
"Sure you don't wanna stay for the fireworks?"
He gives Mac a killer of a look as well, sweeping it past me first, "Nope. Gotta say it, Mac, I'm surprised at you. Other people, no, but you of all people." Can't think who he might mean by that.
Mac shrugs, "Sorry, Don. Had no choice in the matter." Did Mac just wink at me? Coulda' sworn he did. Turning out to be a surprising day, in more ways than one.
"Just be careful then, I ain't ready to be Sheriff yet."
Don leaves, shaking his head and we get ourselves ready. For an instant, a moment of doubt creeps its way into my mind, is this really sane? Well, hey, it's too late now. Messer's already handing the fuse to me, and I've lit the end. Strikes me in that instant that we're short of another face too. Not a pretty one either. The fuse is hissing away merrily. I can see all of our faces in the glow.
"Anyone see where Gerrard's gone? Crept away without even sayin' goodbye has he?" No sign of him, no one seems too bothered, and that's fine and dandy by me.
Only a meter or so of fuse left. Damn, this is going to be a big bang. Hope we haven't misjudged the amount. Could prove interestin'. Give the folks of the town plenty to talk about in years to come if the Sheriff and several of his population disappear in a cloud of smoke.
Few more centimetres. Messer's got his arm around Lindsay, and looks like he couldn't care less who sees it. Someone's got their hand on my arm. Only one person it could be. Real glad about that, truth be told, if these are gonna be our last few moments, I could think of plenty worse people to have close to me.
End of the fuse. Now my hand's being held tightly. A second when the spark seems to kind of wobble on the edge and then there's a near blindin' flash, everythin' goes white, then yellow, then black. Feels like someone's kinda punched me in the stomach. Can hear myself saying words that Mac's tried to convince himself in the past I don't know. I'm a lady when I need to be, but it don't mean I can't cuss like a cowboy when I need to either…Can't hear any screams, gotta be a good thing. And I seem to be in one piece, just hope everyone else is…
"Mac? Lindsay? Messer? Everyone still good and alive?" I get up from the floor, yep, I'm still intact, not too much damage. This dress ain't never gonna be the same again though.
"We're okay, Linds… Miss Monroe and I are still here. You okay, Miss Stella? Sheriff?"
There's a strange sort of groan from beside me, "Mac? Mac, you okay? Messer, grab a hold of that candle and light it up. Mac, are you hurt? Talk to me."
More groans, and then finally my heart starts beating again when he speaks, "I think… I'm okay, Stella. Still breathin'. Something … seems to have landed on top of me though, somethin' kinda heavy…"
"Little help, Messer, get yourself over here with that candle."
He's over in a second, I seem to have that effect on him, and finally we can see what's weighing Mac down.
"Well, well Sheriff, looks like you caught yourself a box of treasure!"
Sitting on top of his chest is nothin' less than an iron bound casket, and if it don't contain the missing treasure, my name ain't Stella Bonasera.
Messer and I lift it off of him, and I give him a hand up, dust him down, whilst Lindsay and Messer start trying to pry it open.
"Might need another stick o' dynamite for this, Miss Stella, Sheriff…" He begins hopefully. Nice try. No chance, I've had my fill of dynamite. For today anyway.
"Count yourselves lucky, Mr Messer, that you ain't picking up sticks of dynamite up in heaven right now. That was pretty damn close. I for one, ain't gonna be using any more today. Besides, we've run out of fuse. Old fashioned methods might be called for here." It almost pains me to disappoint him. Almost. "Let's take it outta here."
Mac's recovered his breath by now, "We'll take it over to my office, open it up safely there, I got tools we can use." Now that causes me to be raising my eyebrows. What kind of tools has Taylor got that I haven't?
"What?" He protests, "You work as Sheriff for a long time, you get to be confiscatin' a few tools of the robbery trade. Don and I keep them out of interest, and security."
Uh huh. Sure he does. That knowledge is sure being kept for future use. Still, he's got a point, and there's something about being down in these cellars makes me kinda uneasy. Just a feelin' I got, but it's one I don't like. We carry on up the box between us, seems mighty heavy, hopin' it's full of what we want it to be. At the top of the stairs, I don't think I've ever been so glad to see daylight in my saloon. Late afternoon, and the sun's streamin' in through the windows. Messer seems to be strugglin' a bit, looks like he's got a bit of damage to his arm, hadn't mentioned it though.
"Put it down for a moment everyone, we'll take a breather, could sure do with it myself, this is real heavy."
We rest it up on the bar, and lean on it for a second, none of us saying a word. Then a voice we recognise, one I've grown to hate, speaks out of the gloom at the far end of the room where the sun don't reach, "So, you went ahead and found it. Big mistake, all of you, but one you're not gonna be regretting for very long."
As we turn around, there's a click, and we find ourselves facing Stan Gerrard and the mean end of his gun. And he ain't alone.
Well, I resolved the last cliff-hanger, so had to have another one in here XD the next chapter I plan to be the last one I'm afraid, but I may do a sequel? Let me know what you think, please review! Thank you, Lily x