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The Marksman
Chapter 5 – Mad As a Wet Hen
Devil's Fork AZ, May 1875
Before Isabella had even noticed the masculine brick wall that had suddenly appeared in the middle of the boardwalk, she felt herself falling backward. She threw her arms out, flailing about as she realized she had little hope of saving herself, bracing for the connection with the ground. Instead of the hard, dry dirt that made up the main street through town, she felt instead the tepid, stagnant water of the horse trough as she plunged into it.
Panic set in as she thrashed around, twisting her body as she tried to sit up. Breaking the surface of the water spluttering and gasping, Isabella was greeted by a large set of crooked teeth and the hairy nostrils of a brown horse. The next thing that registered in her mind was the roar of laughter surrounding her.
Embarrassment and rage flooded her cheeks and turned her face redder than a raw steak as she struggled to right herself and climb out of the trough. She was suddenly thankful that her long, now thoroughly sodden, hair was partially covering her face and therefore hiding most of her mortification from the laughing onlookers. Her legs were still dangling awkwardly over the tall wooden sides, and it didn't help one bit that blasts of disgusting, warm horse breath were being snuffed in her face.
Shaking her hair from one eye, Isabella took in the scene around her and it was apparent there had been some kind of confrontation, though the spectacle of seeing a woman drowning in the water trough quickly became the entertainment of choice. She hated being the center of attention, but it seemed to happen so often nowadays. Her defenses were up and she was ready to pound anyone that came near.
She felt a pair of strong hands reach under her arms and hoist her bodily out of the water. With her hair again streaming in her eyes, she failed to see who had lifted her from her predicament. She ignored the chivalry because she was mad and began twisting and screaming, fighting unsuccessfully to extricate herself from the strong steadying hands that gripped her underarms and held her effortlessly with her feet dangling inches above the ground. "Unhand me! Lemme go!"
"Settle down Iz, he's just helping you out," the low rumbling voice of her friend Emmett chided from behind her. She calmed down momentarily and felt herself being lowered until her feet touched the hard earth of the street below. Isabella wobbled; still somewhat unsteady from not being used to the new boots Alice had forced her into. And though her new boots hadn't been submerged in the trough, they were now getting a thorough drenching from the stale water streaming down her legs.
Her new dress was completely soaked and the thin taffeta clung to her body like a second skin. Ward couldn't help but appreciate the curve of the little lady's hips and the narrowing of her waist as he set her on her feet. His eyes roamed up lingering a moment longer than necessary on the pertness of her chest, the clinging sodden fabric making the outline of her breasts hard to miss. Ward's inner voice groaned as he looked her up and down surreptitiously. It had been too long since he'd last been in the company of a woman. He couldn't really see her face, as it was covered in wet hair, but he could see that she was fightin' mad and ready to pop. She was so tiny it was almost cute.
Isabella was agitated and quite conscious of her state of exposure and wrapped her arms around her torso protectively. Ward sighed quietly as the sight of her perfect chest was now obscured from his view. Shaking the dripping strands of hair from her eyes, Isabella scanned the crowd looking for the one deserving of her wrath and the sermon she was about to preach against idiots who push ladies into watering troughs. There were only two other people within the circle of activity besides her and Emmett. One was James Dunbar, a man about her age who worked for the Valentines. She narrowed her eyes in his direction. He had been after her in one way or another since he had come to town; it'd be just like him to push her into a watering trough.
The other was a stranger, the one who had lifted her from the trough. She could still feel the imprint of his strong hands under her arms and the brush of his thumbs against the sides of her breasts as he had lifted her with ease. She didn't think he'd ever been to Devil's fork before. She was sure she would have remembered him. He had the smoldering good looks and tall, lean body that were impossible to forget. But Isabella couldn't help but feel there was something familiar about him. His face was partially covered in the shadow of his black hat so it was hard to accurately make out his features, but the way his hand rested comfortably on his pistol grip made it clear he was a man of action. But right now Isabella was too riled up to care about how handsome he was or how good he was with that sidearm he was carrying. She wanted to find the culprit responsible for her current state of affairs.
James, who was well aware of the crazy that was about to be unleashed, was holding his hands up in a silent declaration of innocence as if to say 'it wasn't me'. She whirled in a circle feeling like a mouse trapped in a corner. "What are y'all staring at?" She hollered, trying to look menacing, but when you've got horse snot on your cheek and in your hair, it's quite hard for anyone to take you seriously.
Emmett caught Isabella's glance and motioned to his cheek with a brushing action. She raised her fingers, touching the mucous and screeched in horror. "Uuugghhhh, why?! Today of all days why?" The crowd of onlookers once again erupted into derisive laughter. "Why don'ch'all just go on home? There ain't nothin' to see here." She waved her arms wildly trying to shoo the onlookers away.
Isabella spun around the still chuckling crowd and asked, "Who pushed me in?" As if it was orchestrated, all eyes shifted to the man in the center of the circle. She turned her glare to the stranger, eyes narrowed, lips set in a severe line. "YOU!" She walked right up to the handsome stranger and wiped the horse snot from her cheek on the front of his fancy coat and looked up at him with blazing fury in her eyes. She even stamped her foot. "I'll have you know this dress is brand new. Why don'tcha watch where you're going?"
Ward had met his fair share of people along his travels, and he thoroughly appreciated the beauty and shapeliness of the woman before him, but then she had to go and open her mouth, speak, and ruin the entire image. Worse still, she had sullied his favorite coat. He'd never met a woman so quick to fly into a rage at a complete stranger. Though he was rougher around the edges than when he left Philadelphia, he was still a gentleman at heart, and it bristled him to be subjected to this woman's hypocrisy.
"I could ask you the same thing, little lady. I don't know where you got your manners, but it ain't right to go accusing a man of a crime that you're guilty of yourself," he responded with an edge to his civility.
"Arrgh! Don't you dare try and turn this around on me! I'm the one standing here soaking wet."
James then stepped back into the middle of the circle and walked slowly toward Isabella. "Come on down to Miss Vicky's and I'd be happy to help you out of them wet clothes there IzzyB." His voice was thick with want and innuendo making Isabella sick to her stomach. She was about to answer with a slap to his face, but he was already on the ground with blood pouring from his nose.
Ward shook out his fist, towering over the cowering James. "Don't you ever talk to another lady like that again," he growled.
James started chuckling as he adjusted his nose with a sickening crunch and wiped the blood with the back of his hand, smearing it over his cheek. "She ain't no lady; it's just Crazy Izzy."
"I warned you once cuz," he adjusted his gun belt just enough to catch James' eye, and from his position on the ground, he was smart enough to get the point. "Now, I suggest you apologize to the lady." Had it been possible, the look Ward gave to James would've turned him to dust. James nodded sheepishly and pulled himself upright.
He turned in Isabella's direction, opened his mouth to apologize, only to have his words cut off smartly. "Don't bother with the forced apology, James Dunbar! I don't need it!"
Isabella had momentarily been struck dumb by the stranger's unusual display of chivalry, but had quickly regained her senses and cut James off before he could speak. She wouldn't show it, but having the stranger defend her honor had struck a cord deep inside her. No one but her father had ever taken up for her like that before. She was touched by the gesture until she felt the squishy, wet book in her hand. She'd been so excited about reading it and now it too was soaked to the spine and ruined for good.
As she turned once more to look at the stranger, she saw that his face was still hidden in shadows underneath his hat and that put her at a distinct disadvantage. She was keen to other's facial expressions and could usually read a person pretty well. She was still confused by the feelings of gratitude and frustration that swirled around in her head, not to mention the way her heart skipped a few beats every time she looked at him. She certainly didn't want any more attention and the need to flee was swiftly winning out over any other feelings she was having.
She tried bending over to see under his hat brim, wanting to see his face. At the same time she had to keep her arms crossed in front of her to preserve her modesty. The awkward position only succeeded in causing her to stumble and she would have tumbled right into him if his hand hadn't shot out to catch her arm and steady her. The sudden pressure sent a tingling feeling up her arm and it took her a moment to find her voice.
"You ruined my book," she said, hating the slight quiver in her voice. He pushed his hat back a little and suddenly his eyes were piercing into hers. The gaze of those clear green eyes caused her stomach to flutter and that, in turn, caused the blood to rush to her cheeks yet again. The feeling of embarrassment quickly turned to confusion and anger, and suddenly she was madder than a rattlesnake. She tossed the book at his feet, shrugged her arm out of his grasp and trudged off in the direction of Emmett, who easily cleared a path out of the circle of Nosy Nellies that had surrounded them.
Isabella walked with as much dignity as she could muster, given her current circumstances, to where her horse was still tied up, passing Alice's shop along the way. As she stomped along the boardwalk, she didn't even pause in front of the opened door of the dress shop but shouted inside, "Worst day ever Alice! Put that one on your list of bad predictions."
Alice raced to the door and managed to catch a glimpse of her friend as she was galloping down the street. She couldn't understand what had happened. She'd had such a good feeling about today for Isabella. Shaking her head she turned and glanced in the direction of the saloon. Emmett had just reached the swinging batwing doors when he caught sight of Alice. He shrugged his shoulders, completely bewildered at the exchange he'd just witnessed first hand, before turning back into the bar. She resolved to pay her friend a visit and try to make amends for her apparently false prediction.
Ward bent down and picked up the book that Izzy had cast at his feet. He brushed off some of the dirt that had caked on the dampened cover and glanced at the title. His first thought was that it figured just about right that she'd be reading some fanciful classic full of girly romance, but she'd seemed awful disappointed that it had gotten wet. And Ward wasn't one to go around destroying other's property. The slight tremble in her voice before she threw the book down hadn't escaped him either and he had an almost irresistible urge to comfort her.
Ward didn't know what it was about the woman, but the minute he had seen her fight her way to the surface of the water in that trough, he had the uncontrollable need to help her. He couldn't even remember jumping from the boardwalk to the street in his haste to rescue her. He hated to admit it, but his thumbs still itched from the feel of her full curves when he lifted her up. He caught himself about to rub his hands against his pant leg to dispel the feeling, and then decided that he didn't want to forget.
She didn't even glance his way as she tore out of town at a full gallop, leaving Ward in her dust, reeling with all the events that had just occurred. Women, he thought ruefully, especially those who managed to still be beautiful even soaking wet and spittin' mad, were hard to understand. He shook his head a little as he walked back into the saloon to finish his drink.
"So 'keep, what's the story with her?" Ward jerked his thumb toward the street, indicating the one he'd just watched high tail it out of town and that everybody called Crazy Izzy. His mouth twisted as he thought of the disparaging name. Ward just could not abide being disrespectful of women. It went against his upbringing.
"Aw, she's alright, just had a rough go of things this past year." Emmett looked genuinely concerned about the woman and Ward felt his initial assessment of the man had been correct.
"Sheee's crrrranzy." James had his swollen, purple, nose plugged up with cotton rags to soak up the blood. He slunk in to stand at the bar and his mumbled declaration unlocked an undefined emotion within Ward. He wondered for a moment what it would take to get this guy to learn some respect for women. Apparently a broken nose wasn't enough to do the trick! With an air of annoyance, Ward turned in his direction. At the same moment, a flurry of white--a hand towel-- flashed and snapped on the side of James head.
"Ouch!" James grabbed at his neck and rubbed the fast blooming welt.
"James, shut yer yapper. You don't know spit about what yer sayin'." Emmett growled, tucking the towel back into his apron.
"Tell the truth Emmen. You saw 'ow differen' she wad when she came back." James' nasally voice, made so by his newly broken nose, grated on Ward's nerves. Though it was his own fault for punching James in the nose to begin with, the sound still bothered him. Then something James said caught his attention.
"Back from where?" Ward was most definitely curious about this woman that had garnered such negative attention from the townsfolk and who had sparked such an unfamiliar feeling deep inside him. There was something about her that drew him in, made him feel protective of her somehow.
"From the Injuns. They put some kind of magic curse on her or somethin'."
Emmett's hand slapped down with a loud bang on the counter, "ENOUGH James! It's not your business to say, especially when you ain't got yer facts straight."
James shrunk down low to the bar and said, "Well, Em, you know that's what people say about her."
"Well, people're stupid and I don't wanna hear you repeatin' that stuff. Not around me!" Emmett told him sternly then he looked over at Ward. "You want another?"
Ward glanced down at his nearly empty glass of sasparilla and shook his head no. "Could you point me in the direction of the Smithy? My horse threw a shoe just outside of town."
"Rosalita's the one you want to see. She's down to the south, east of Main Street. Tell her I sent'cha and she'll take good care of ya."
"Much obliged Emmett." Ward tossed back the last swallow of his drink, tipped his hat and walked out of the bar, spurs jingling. Much to his dismay, James followed him out and trailed after him like a lost puppy. "Cuz, ain't you got anyplace better to be?" Ward was used to these types always following him around, but he was still more than a little mad at James.
"Naw, I figured I'd offer my services as guide. Just 'til you get the lay o' the land, that is."
"I'm sure I can figure my way around without your help."
"S'no trouble a'tall."
Ward realized giving him a broken nose hadn't dissuaded James from volunteering to be his personal guide so he stopped wasting his breath. He untied his horse and began leading him down Main Street. James followed behind with his hands shoved in his pockets. Still exasperated at being unable to shake his newest admirer, Ward growled at the young man, "Just stay outta my way!"
James nodded, but didn't have the sense to keep his mouth shut, and spoke up, "I guess I shouldn' a said anyfing to Crazy…" he broke off as Ward cut him a warning look, then continued with more caution. "To Izzy. But I was just repeatin' what all the other folk say about her."
Ward didn't say anything but the tight set of his mouth and the hardness of his clenched jaw were enough to make James keep his mouth shut the rest of the way to Rosalita's.
As they approached the Blacksmith's shop, the resounding crack of a whip and sharp clinking of glass shattering could be heard over any other sound. Ward tied his horse to the hitching post in front of the shop and followed James to the back of the building.
A tall woman with billowy blond hair stood with her back to the two men. She wore a long, ruffled black skirt and a white blouse that hung dangerously on the edges of her shoulders. Her waist was cinched with a bright red corset that augmented her ample curves and narrowed her middle so much that Ward was sure he could encircle it with his two hands. She circled the long, braided leather whip around her head and snapped it forward with stunning precision, breaking the last bottle that had been sitting on the fence.
James let out a pitiful whimper at the sound, causing the woman to turn around. Though her hair was blond her eyebrows were much darker, matching the rest of her Mediterranean features. Her lips curled into a dangerous blood-red smile as she slowly coiled her whip and came toward the two men.
"Mi Querido," she said with a heavy Spanish accent, "are you here for another love bite?" She stroked the end of her whip seductively along James' cheek, eliciting another whimper. "Quién es esto diablo muy guapo? Who are you stranger?" She looked over James' shoulder directly at Ward.
"The name's Ward Masen, I just got into town. My horse threw a shoe. Emmett said you were the lady for the job." Ward cleared his throat of the slight tremor this woman had caused by her boldness, and stood up straighter hooking his thumbs into his belt.
"Welcome to Devil's Fork Ward Masen, I am Rosalita, and Emmett is right. I will have your horse ready tomorrow morning." She drew her long, pointed fingernail down the center of Ward's chest all the way to his belt, where he forcefully grabbed her wrist.
"Only thing I'm needin' is the horseshoe," he hissed, adding respectfully, "ma'am."
"Very well." She looked down at his waist where he still had her wrist in a tight grip and took note of his gun belt. "I also do ammunition if you need anything special. Hasta mañana." She inclined her head as Ward released her wrist and tipped his hat to her. He heard James yelp as she planted a firm smack on his backside. Ward chuckled to himself as he gathered his rifle and saddlebags from his horse and took off in search of the town hotel.
Devil's Fork was proving to be a very interesting little town to stop over in.
Arrow and Cassius were bent over the table poring over maps and land deeds. The window of opportunity to begin construction was closing quickly. This railroad would open the area to the transport and trade of goods, and it would all funnel right through Devil's Fork. The Valentines currently owned nearly half the town, including almost all of the land surrounding the town; all but one parcel.
The other investors were getting antsy and threatening to pull their funds from the project if it didn't get started with in the next six weeks.
Cassius slammed his hand down on the table and flung the stack of maps and papers to the floor. "Why can't we just do this MY way, Arrow? Why all the pretenses and chicanery? Why not just go in there and shoot her like you did her father?" His voice was cold and rang darkly through the large ranch house, reverberating off the ruddy Saltillo tiles.
"You know why Cassius," grumbled Marcus in a disinterested voice from his seat next to the fire.
"Ah brother, you can't deprive me of my fun. It has been so exciting to play this game of cat and mouse with such a spitfire." Arrow certainly enjoyed the show he was putting on, always a sucker for dramatics.
"What I am the most interested in is how she's affording to pay the note on the land. She should've been underwater within months of Swan's death," hissed Cassius.
"You reckon Charlie squirreled away enough money for her to pay the bank off?" Arrow countered.
Marcus sat idly ignoring his brothers almost entirely. Almost. "It wouldn't be a surprise knowing how much he loved her," he interjected.
"Well, that would be a right pickle then wouldn't it. She needs to disappear, it's as simple as that. And when she does, it can't have any trace of us. She's already thrown around enough suspicion about her father's death." Arrow ran his hand down his face trying to rub away the frustration that Isabella Swan was causing him. "I need some target practice, come on brothers."
The three men walked on to the large covered porch, Arrow picking up his bow and quiver. Cassius chuckled at his brother's need to perfect his technique with such a primitive weapon. Guns were so much more powerful and accurate. Arrow argued that to hit one's intended target with an arrow was the most graceful way one could eliminate their opponent.
Marcus slumped listlessly into one of the chairs on the deck and pulled his hat over his eyes, guns, arrows, he didn't care. He was the least interested in Arrow's games and intrigue. The only reason he stayed was out of loyalty and respect to their dead father, Liam Valentine. On his deathbed, he made all three brothers swear a solemn oath that they'd stick together no matter what. That 'no matter what', was starting to grate on his last nerve. Arrow knew that still waters ran deep and he was noticing that Marcus was getting more and more withdrawn.
When his wife, Dotty, succumbed to the consumption, Marcus was ready to follow her into the next life, but Arrow threw their father's words back in his grief-stricken face. Since then, Marcus had played his part in all of Arrow's land-grabbing schemes and power plays, if only in body. This move against the Swan girl was no different.
"Come on and take a shot Marcus; stop withering in self-pity already." Cassius was holding out a rifle to Marcus.
He reluctantly got up from his chair and took aim at the cans perched on the rail of the fence. With one eye squinted shut he fired the gun sending the first can flying. Pulling the slide bolt and loading another round into the chamber, he fired off another shot and grunted in satisfaction as the second can pinged and jumped into the air. Without another word he pushed the rifle back into Cassius' hands and stalked back into the ranch house.
Cassius shouldered the weapon and quickly dispatched the remaining cans and smiled grimly at the carnage of twisted and punctured metal strewn behind the fence. He retreated back under the shade of the covered porch as the remaining brother drew a pointed arrow from his quiver. He rested the shaft on his index finger and placed the feathered end on the gut string. With the tip of the drawn arrow by the side of his check he sighted the bullseye painted on the leather skin pulled taut over a bail of hay and took in a short breath.
With a gleam in his eye he winked at Cassius and let the arrow fly. It whizzed though the air and pierced the center of the target with a dull thud.
"Ain't lost yer touch Arrow, but can ye do it again?"
"You doubtin' me Cash?"
"I'll wager fifty, you miss the next."
"You're on."
Arrow lined himself up with the target and placed another projectile against the string of the bow. With the same measure of concentration and calm, he pulled the string back, pinching the end of the arrow. The split second before it's release, Rufus and Hank came barreling around the house flailing their arms and shouting.
"Boss! Boss!" hollered Hank. "You ain't never gonna believe what we seen in town!"
The arrow swerved wildly and zinged past the target, lodging itself into the dirt.
"BLAST IT ALL TO KINGDOM COME!" Arrow shouted as he snatched up the shirtfront of a heavy breathing Hank, pushing him forcefully to one of the posts holding up the porch roof. "You ninnies better have some mighty important news to tell otherwise you owe Cassius fifty dollars."
"We just saw a man by the name o' Ward Masen down to the Devil's Luck," wheezed Rufus, his hands braced on his knees, trying to catch his breath as he eyed his friend being rough handled by the boss.
"And that should matter to me why?" Arrow asked Hank, pressing his forearm more fully into the neck of his hapless ranch hand.
"'Cause...he...the..." Hank was beginning to turn blue.
"Because he's the best shot I ever seen, and is exactly what yer lookin' for." James walked casually around the porch, rolling a piece of hay between his fingers before sticking it in his mouth.
Arrow released Hank, who collapsed in a gasping heap on the ground in front of the porch. "So you say?"
"I reckon if Ed Cullen was still around, Masen'd give him a run for his money," James drawled.
Arrow's eyes rose in sudden interest; he looked over at his brother. Everyone knew Ed Cullen was the fastest gun around, but he'd disappeared after a run in with the law in Phoenix. "Well, perhaps we ought to show this Mr. Masen some friendly hospitality. Don't you agree Cash?"
"I certainly do Brother," Cassius nodded, his interest piqued.
"If Mr. Masen is agreeable, perhaps we can move ahead with our plans on schedule."
Cassius clapped his hands, rubbing them together nefariously and turned inside to pen a cordial invite to the newest visitor to Devil's Fork.
Ward had been more than ready to bid James farewell, after he was pointed in the direction of the only hotel in town. Sauntering up Main Street with all his personal effects draped over his shoulder, he took in the sights of the little community. Seemed to him like the name Valentine was slapped up on near half the businesses. He wasn't surprised really; most of the towns like this had one or two families that seemed to own the whole place.
He readjusted his saddlebags and looked up to see a man leaning against one of the posts on the boardwalk. His hat was pulled low, and his stance--while relaxed--was filled with presence. As Ward moved closer to the man, his position shifted, revealing the shining silver badge. Ward slowed his gait as the Sheriff lifted his head in acknowledgment and took one step down off the boardwalk.
"How' do stranger." The Sheriff looked Ward straight in the eye, though it took him standing two steps above where Ward was standing to do so.
"Sheriff," Ward returned the greeting with a nod and a tip of his hat.
"Don't expect we'll be havin' any more tomfoolery the likes of what we saw this afternoon will we?" His tone was calm, but had that edge of authority that can only come from a law man. Even if that law man was a good five years his junior, Ward always tried to respect the badge, until, that is, he had reason to lose that respect.
"No sir, I reckon not. Apologies for the disturbance." The Sheriff gave one curt nod and turned strode into the jail house, which was conveniently located at the end of the row of buildings just across from the Hotel, if that's what you could call it.
The two story building stood by itself, its windows and doors thrown wide open, allowing the loud, jaunty, piano music and general ruckus to spill into the dimming street. Ward cringed at the low class of the establishment as soon as he walked inside. He was used to places like this, but he would never learn to like it.
There were several tables, each occupied by a single man, and each had at least one, if not more, painted ladies draped around him. Liquor was flowing freely, and the noise and debauchery were disturbing even to his hardened sensibilities.
He was two shakes away from turning around and bunking down on his bedroll under a tree, when a buxom red headed, two-bit harlot sashayed right up to him with a gleam in her eye. She had a feather in her hair and was clad in the corseted ruffles and lace, customary of a burly-q gal. She grabbed the lapels of his duster pulling him down to her level, planting a sloppy kiss on his unwelcoming lips. Her wanton mouth tasted of alcohol and tobacco and seemed to have taken on a mind of its own. He placed his one free hand on her bare shoulder and smoothly, but forcefully pushed her away, ending the kiss with a wet sucking sound.
"Well ain't you a sight for sore eyes handsome. Name's Vicky, what can I do ya for? Or can I just do ya?" She purred, running her spider-like fingers up and down his chest as she reached up on her tiptoes to try and assault his mouth again. He grabbed hold of her wrist and pushed her away, holding her at arms length. She pushed her red painted lips out in a childish pout, but quickly shook off Ward's refusal. A few of the other girls had noticed the handsome new comer and his refusal of Vicky and they were making their way over to see if they might get his business.
"Just a room for the night," he ground out, "by myself." Ward could feel his deeply ingrained need to respect women being strained to the limit.
"Well, now that ain't any kind of fun, we got anything you might be wantin' to satisfy your needs. I'd be happy to see to it personally..." she trailed off suggestively.
"Only thing I'm wantin' is a bed and a room...with a lock."
Twice rebuffed, Vicky's demeanor changed from flirtatious to ferocious in an instant. "Fine. It's three dollars a night, upfront," she growled. Her haggard appearance was multiplied by the gruff tone of her voice.
Ward looked around one more time and plunked down two dollars. "I think that's more than enough considerin' the accommodations." She huffed ferociously and grabbed up the cash. He followed his now irritated hostess up to his room. Ward thanked her quickly and thanked heaven in the same breath that she chose not to linger by his door. After making sure the door was securely locked, he unbuckled his gun belt and hung it, along with his jacket, on the lone chair in the room. He took care to slide one of his Colts under the pillow on the rickety iron bed and empty the bullets out of the other.
With a heavy sigh he collapsed on the bed and quickly fell into a deep sleep. Some time later a sharp knock on his door roused him from sleep. He picked up his gun and walked quietly to the door, wary of the shenanigans Miss Vicky might try and pull.
After turning the key and cracking the door open, he peered out to spy a different girl, this one with dirty blond hair and a greedy smile staring expectantly at him. She was a bit younger than Vicky, but worn looking nonetheless. She thrust an envelope towards him saying, "One of the boys from the Valentine outfit dropped this off for you. Said to make sure you got it right away." She leaned forward slightly, offering an unobstructed view of her cleavage, though Ward had already taken the letter and had the door nearly closed. Her foot was stuck in the door, "Perhaps you could be a little grateful the letter made it all the way upstairs?" He fished a coin from his vest pocket and handed it over to her grubby hand and slammed the door shut.
After setting the lock once more he considered the two women he'd wholly turned down. At one time he would've welcomed the advances, but for some reason unknown to him, he was repulsed by the mere idea of bedding one of these women. Besides, he much preferred brunettes. He stuffed that last thought away into the dark recesses of his mind. He didn't need complications in his life, and the particular brunette that filled his memory, all soaking wet with soft curves, was a complication of the worst kind; the female kind.
Ward set the letter on the bed and stripped off his vest and shirt. He poured some water in the basin on the small dressing table and proceeded to wash the dust and grime from his skin. It wasn't nearly as nice as a bath, but he wasn't about to try and procure one at this particular establishment. Once he was clean, or as clean as he would get from a bowl of water and a rag, he laid himself out on the bed and tore open the missive from the Valentines.
Dear Mr. Masen,
We've heard great things about you and would love the opportunity to discuss a business arrangement that could be mutually beneficial.
We are prepared to offer you fifty dollars in gold coin just to join us tomorrow morning for a parlance here at The Valle Verde Ranch. If you are agreeable to our terms, it will be financially worth your while.
We look forward to meeting you tomorrow should you accept our offer. .
Sincerely,
The Valentine Brothers
Well shoot. Fifty bucks in gold just for showing up? It'd take a week shilling miners and Joe Shmoe's to make that kind of laid the letter down and smiled at the thought of being able to indulge in the finer things again. He'd been on a tight stretch, which was why he was headed to Carson City in the first place, so the opportunity that now presented itself was a welcome one indeed.
The next morning, he gathered his belongings and headed to the Smithy. He could hear the repetitive clang of hammer and anvil as he neared the shop. As promised, his horse was waiting on the side of the building. He smoothed his hand over the animal's withers and down his foreleg gently coaxing up the newly shod hoof. As Ward inspected Rosalita's work, he could feel a penetrating gaze on his back. Call it intuition, or a sixth sense, but he always new when he was being watched.
"Es aceptable, querido? Do you approve?" sarcasm dripping from her words as freely as the sweat on her face. The woman strolled out of the atelier holding a handkerchief. She wiped the sweat from her brow and tucked the square of cloth neatly into her cleavage. Ward quirked his eye at the boldness of her actions, but brushed it off as he had with every other female in this town. Every one but the fiery brunette who both irritated and mesmerized him at the same time; maybe the townspeople were right. Maybe Izzy did have some kind of magic about her. In the few moments they'd spent in the same general vicinity, she seemed to have bewitched him. He'd thought of nothing but her nearly the entire evening, he dreamt of her, and now, darn near everything he looked at brought some thought of her to the forefront of his mind.
"Yes it's fine, how much?" Rosalita rattled off the amount and Ward settled his bill with her and asked for general directions to the Valentines station. Rosalita frowned and began ranting in her native tongue. Ward didn't catch much because of how fast she was speaking and every word seemed to be coated in venom. As she paced back and forth gesticulating energetically with her hands, Ward set to securing his gear back on the horse. When she finished, she looked at him like the matter was settled.
"Well then, I guess I'll just ask somewhere else." He swung up into the saddle and gave a gentle nudge to the horse's flank.
"You mark my words Ward Masen. The Valentines are no good." He nodded as he urged the horse into a brisk trot. On his way out of town, a local wordlessly pointed him in the direction of the Valle Verde, but was hesitant to do more than that. He didn't even offer a reply to Ward's "thanks".
He rode for the better part of the morning until he saw in the distance a sprawling ranch house and several corrals. Ward could see the two buffoons that had been with James, shooting darts on the porch of one of the smaller buildings on the property. One of them must've seen him coming because as he approached the outer fence, the one called Hank had run to the gate and thrown it open for him.
A trickle of people filtered into the large dusty courtyard that fell between the main house, the bunkhouse and the barn. Ward lifted his chin only slightly when James stepped on to the porch and raised his hand in greeting.
Everyone's focus shifted, though, when the three Valentine brothers stepped out of the main house. All three smartly dressed in tailored britches, finely embroidered vests, and fine black riding boots, polished to a high shine. They looked more like dandies than true cattlemen. The dark one who stood in the middle jogged down the steps to where Ward was dismounting, his hand extended and a broad smile stretching over his face.
"Mr. Masen I presume. Glad to have you. I'm Arrow, these here are my brothers Marcus," he gestured to the other dark haired man, "and Cassius," the other brother stepped forward and nodded. Despite his smile, Ward was momentarily put off by the demonic red eyes and deathly pallor of the man.
He cleared his throat, looking back at Arrow and replied, "The pleasure's all mine, what with such a generous offer simply to hear your proposal."
Arrow chuckled and patted Ward on the back. "Of course, of course. Cash, you've got that covered don'tcha?"
"Sure do." He reached into his long coat and pulled out a small leather purse, tossing it casually to Ward.
"I thank you kindly," said Ward judging the weight of the coins before tucking it into his saddlebag.
"I do hope you're prepared to give us a little show. James spoke so highly of your marksmanship yesterday. Said you even rivaled Ed Cullen in your accuracy and speed." At the mention of his former moniker, Ward stiffened ever so slightly.
He took a slow breath in, settling his nerves, before turning back around to face Arrow's scrutiny. "I'd be more than happy to demonstrate my skills, though I can't say as I'm familiar with this Cullen fella."
"Ah well, no matter. Where would you like to start?" Ward had already done a brief survey of the property and had noticed Arrow's archery target. He turned back to his rig and slid the rifle from the scabbard, checked to see that it was loaded, and made his way to where Arrow had been standing just the day before. On his way, he snatched the dart that Rufus had been clutching in his hand, smirking at the startled expression on the numbskull's face.
With out a word, he pinched the shaft of the small projectile, pumped his arm a few times to true up his aim, and launched the dart piercing the direct center of the target. A small murmur of approval spread through the brothers and other ranch hands on site.
Ward then turned around began pacing off in a straight line away from the target. After a good fifty yards or so, Arrow piped up. "You planning on walking back to Devil's Fork son?"
No response came from the marksman as he continued his march toward the outer fence he'd ridden though only moments before. Ward's mind was now focused on one thing and one thing only. The tiny feathers on the end of that dart.
Once he'd walked nearly a hundred and fifty yards from the target he turned and eyed the goal. There wasn't more than a tiny speck that could be seen from where he was. He squatted down and let a pinch full of dust trickle from his fingertips, taking careful note of the direction and force of the wind. At this distance any number of variables could change the trajectory of a bullet. It was his skill that allowed him to make adjustments to his aim, ensuring that he never missed. Ever.
Ward flipped up the sight and shouldered his weapon, squinting one eye closed. The only sound to be heard was the gentle rustle of the tumbleweed scuttling behind him. The sun was nearing its peak in the sky and the heat radiated in waves off the parched ground, distorting his view. And while this was bothersome, Ward had figured out long ago how to account for the shimmering thermal waves and adjust accordingly.
Rufus called out, "Quit beatin' the devil around the stump and fire already!"
Ward pushed down the urge to change his aim to the knothead who didn't know his right from his left. He also refrained from wiping the trickle of sweat that stung in the corner of his closed eye, but he'd need to fire and soon, as he could feel another rivulet of moisture coming down his brow. With one last check of his aim he breathed in and pulled the trigger.
It was several seconds before Ward heard Hank shout, "Well I'll be a monkey's uncle!" The barest hint of a smile graced Ward's features as he sauntered back to the waiting group of people. The three brothers were convened in a tight huddle around the target, whispering back and forth. As Ward walked past the other ranch hands, James looked on him with almost devout admiration. The brothers separated and sure as shoot, the dart was split clean down the middle with the bullet buried in the center.
Arrow was practically giddy as he shook Ward's hand. "Mighty fine shootin' there young man. Mighty fine." Out of the corner of his eye, Ward saw Marcus, who'd been strangely silent the entire time, brush his nose ever so slightly.
In almost the same second, James shouted, "HO!" Ward turned and saw the can spinning up in the air, promptly dropped his rifle, grabbed his pistols and popped off three shots sending the can bouncing in a different direction with each hit. And simply to play to the crowd, though he figured Arrow would like the show too, he spun the pistols a few times on his index fingers before holstering them.
Ward threw a satisfied smirk in Marcus's direction and then turned to face Arrow.
"Boys, I think we've found our man!"
Mel: Hey Belly.
Bel: Yeah Melly?
Mel: So you're selling yourself?
Bel: Well, I wouldn't put it like that, but... yeah... I guess I am. But if you win me, you get your choice of Edwards in the bargain!
Mel: At least it's for a good cause.
Bel: For sure! Just think, you can have "WestWard"; "SpaceWard"; "SWATward"; or "TeenWard". Or the "Ward" of your choice! And help fight childhood cancer at the same time.
Mel: So many to choose from. So do you think any of our readers thew up a little in their mouths when they read about nasty Vicky? I know I did when I wrote it...
Bel: I know I did when I read it! I'm looking forward to the day that Rosalita gives her a taste of that whip! Hey, would somebody pay to read that...?
Mel: I know if I had some spare cash and wasn't already helping write this story, I'd want to get a peek at that scene.
Bel: Well, if someone wants it, all they have to do is bid. What about Rosalita? That woman is deadly with that whip! Who out there would like to know why she makes James whimper???
Mel:I can't wait for that part. But it's getting late, what's say we get this baby posted and then we can dream of our true vampire desire Robward Cullenson, on screens in just days...
Bel: I'll be at the midnight show! Can't wait! There's just something about a 20-foot tall Robward Cullenson....
Mel&Bel: * Sigh *
Translations:
Mi Querido: My Darling/Beloved
Quién es esto diablo muy guapo: Who is this handsome devil?