New in Town, Chapter 5
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"I said I'd walk the lady back, Adams."
"Al told me to—"
"Fuck Swearengen and fuck whatever he told you to do. My wife's new associate is not going to be squired around town by one of his men."
The clench-jawed rangy man on the school steps jutted his chin towards Mr. Adams, right hand closing into a fist. Looks like the teacher had married a real hot-head, Laura thought to herself.
"Excuse me…is there a problem?" Laura had no shortage of experience with hot-heads, but that had not increased her patience with them.
He turned towards the cool voice. He hadn't been sure what to expect when he saw Swearengen's man on the front steps, but this sedately dressed woman with flashy red hair had been a surprise. Her calm green-eyed direct look had an uncomfortable lack of decorum…almost held a challenge.
She didn't look like any of the teachers he'd ever had.
"I'm Seth Bullock. Mrs. Bullock's husband. This man here says you're looking to help my wife teach."
"We've been discussing my teaching here, yes."
"I'd walk you back to your husband, then. Wouldn't want the children's parents in town getting the wrong idea, you being with one of his men."
Closer now, Laura could see the thin tracery of red in the whites of the man's eyes, smelled a hint of last night's whiskey coming from his pores. She tensed until she felt a steadying presence at her back.
"Mr. Bullock, this is Mrs. Adama. I'm sure she'd welcome your accompanying her back to the Gem along with Mr. Adams." Laura stiffened at the tone, icy courtesy with an undercurrent of disappointment.
"You're on your way back to…the Gem?"
"My husband is working with the owner. We plan to rent quarters from him."
The flush in his cheeks reminded her of Col. Tigh after a bender with Ellen's name on it. He seemed an odd match for the strong, sedate Martha, who was growing less sedate by the second.
"I'm sure her husband must be wondering what's keeping her. I'll see you at dinner." She turned her back to the open door, looking over her shoulder. "Perhaps you can point out some of the local luminaries on your walk back. I imagine the President of Deadwood Bank is still hard at work."
She shut the door behind her with a sharp final click.
Silas Adams looked between Bullock and Mrs. Adama, suppressing a grin. Served Bullock right; if he was determined to keep going around with a stick up his ass over Mrs. Ellsworth, he shouldn't be surprised that his wife would yank on it from time to time.
"Mrs. Adama, why don't you walk with Sheriff—sorry-Mr. Bullock, and I'll trail behind." He offered a wry smile. "I've gotten good at that."
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The late afternoon sun cast the town in a forgiving golden glow, although it did nothing to help the smell. The hills surrounding the basin of the town were already black with shadows. Laura would have liked to have asked question after question about the side streets, the open-air businesses on the wooden sidewalk, the stands selling fresh meat and hot bread, but her escort walked like a man on his way to a fistfight. She braced herself and called on her inner politician.
"Mr. Bullock, what's that over there?"
He slowed his pace. "The cemetery."
"I see…and that building?"
"Theater."
"Ah. And what's down that alley? It looks quite busy."
"Chink Alley. That's where the Chinese live. I don't see Mr. Wu around, but if your husband's working for Swearengen, I'm sure you'll be meetin' him before long."
She thought she heard a snort behind them, but when she turned, Silas' face was composed.
"Over there is the Number 10 Saloon, where the town's Sheriff works as a second-rate barman. The democratic process at work," he sneered.
Seeing Laura's expression, Silas leaned forward to flesh out the bitter remark. "Crooked election last year, got a less-than-ideal candidate elected to the position over Bullock here. Shame for the town…Bullock was the better man but not to the likin' of him who had money enough to fix the vote."
Bullock turned to Silas with an angry puzzled look.
"That some kind of back-handed compliment?"
"For the man you were then? One who wrote the letter to Pasco's family…that stood with us when Hearst came with his hired guns? Yeah. You were the better man."
Bullock closed in enough so Silas could hear his bitten-off words through gritted teeth.
"I don't need to be that man anymore. And Mrs. Adama doesn't need to hear our ancient fucking history."
"Bullock…."
"Excuse my language, Mrs. Adama, " he grumbled.
She tried to see behind the angry, disgusted words. He reminded her of some of the walking wounded on Galactica, full of self-hatred and fury at their impotence to keep others from harm. Tigh, after New Caprica. The Chief, after…after so many disasters large and small. There was something else, though...something that reminded her of how Lee could get after being around Kara and Sam, even after he had put a ring on Dee's finger.
Gods, she thought. It's like there's only a handful of stories in the universe, and we just keep living them out over and over.
The jangling music of the piano player got louder as they walked towards the Gem. She stepped around a disheveled man yelling "Soap! Soap with a prize inside!" A sudden longing hit her for a quiet tent, a bedroll, and Bill, warm and solid in the dark.
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