The harsh morning light filtered through the thin linen of the curtains and was a most unwelcome sight to Doc's tired, tear sore eyes. He despised the daylight that told him he could no longer stay beside her, her cold limp hand resting in his own warm palm. His mind tried to cling onto the last moments he had alone with her before the other people of the house would rise and the bustle of life would begin, sweeping his thoughts up into the turbulent whirlwind and taking him away from death, away from Ella.
He rubbed his eyes with his free hand before pushing himself up from the chair he had been sat upon for many long hours. His legs protested with a sensation of prickling pins and needles and he gently laid her hand back against her side, giving himself a moment to stretch his muscles. He glanced at Call who was asleep in a far corner and had been since soon after nightfall. Doc was glad that the old Ranger had sensed his need to be alone, in such a small house the only way that was possible is when everyone slept.
Doc walked slowly around the room until he came upon the pallet where the bandit Joey Garza lay. A blanket had been draped across him and covered his face. Doc reached out, hesitated and pulled the material slowly away revealing the young boy down to his torso. He felt like letting out a small sigh of relief, Joey was just a man... a boy... not the twisted monster Doc's imagination had slowly built the young bandit to be through the lonely hours of nightfall.
Doc's eyes were instantly drawn to a staining of red that had bloomed across the boy's clean shirt. It seemed the wound had been too large to be contained by a few bandages and a change of clothing. Doc eyed the stain, knowing that underneath the shirt would be a mess of mangled flesh, a gaping hole were the bullet had burst from, before the lump of metal had buried itself into Ella. Doc felt his composer fall, his face crumpled as grief threatened to overwhelm him once again. He gritted his teeth against the emotion, turning into a sorrowful anger.
"Damn you!" Doc hissed. "Damn you and damn myself." He shook his head and glanced at Joey's face. He seemed peaceful, innocent in the embrace of death and so young. "You can't be older than twenty" he scowled. "What made you go so bad?" he whispered into the silence before once again shaking his head. "You can't have been all bad, not if Ella saw somethin' good in you... but then she saw good in all the wrong places." He furrowed his brow. "I hope you're burnin' for what you did an' I hope it makes it worse when you find she ain't with you, cause she won't be!" He took in a deep breath and gave a small bitter laugh. It wasn't doing him any good to argue with a dead man and even if Joey had still been alive, Doc didn't think he'd be the type to listen anyway.
He covered up the dead outlaw without much more dwelling on the matter and turned back to Ella. He knew Maria would soon be waking up and that would start the day's events, Ella would be taken from him and put into the cold, dark ground. Doc ran the back of his hand tenderly across her cheek and bent, pressing a small, meaningful last kiss against her cool lips.
"I'm gonna miss you Ella." He again touched her face; the contact seemed to ease the feeling of loss he so sorely felt. "But I'm done with cryin' for one day, so I'm gonna be the strong man you always thought me t' be, I'll save my mournin' for another time." He gave a small smile knowing she would have smiled at his words.
He heard movement from behind the curtain that led to the bedroom and straightened up just as Maria pushed back the heavy material and entered the room. She gave Doc a knowing, understanding look and nodded her morning greeting.
"Mornin'" Doc replied, finding he was glad his mind could focus elsewhere for a while. He studied the woman before him as she began to find pans and food to begin making breakfast; she looked tired and emotionally spent. He wanted to ask how she was but he knew it was a pointless and foolish question. How could anyone feel anything but pain after losing not only a son but a surrogate daughter all in one day?
"Guess you slept as well as me?" Doc said, wanting to break the silence.
"Si, I was afraid to close my eyes." Maria's voice was stern.
"Me too" Doc said softly. They paused and looked at each other, sharing a moment of kindred sorrow.
"Life must go on" Maria said sadly, breaking the melancholy moment and returning to her chores. "My life has had many deaths in it... and time... the past... cannot be changed." She grasped a pan and stoked up the flames within the dying fire, prodding the wood until she had a heat she could cook over. "I know this too well, I hoped I would never have to live to see these days, although my heart knew it would come sooner rather than later for my son."
Doc gave a small nod but didn't reply.
"We will bury them today. The priest has already been told and will come when we send for him; he will bury my son even knowing what he has done." Maria began to cook eggs and bacon using a little bacon grease in the pan. "I will dress her, but you must go to her old house, bring back her clothes so I can pick what she would like, she was not taking her good clothe or belongings on your journey, she was going to send for them later."
Doc couldn't help but notice the fact Maria seemed to avoid using any names. Ella and Joey both seemed to have become nameless entities as Maria spoke of them. Doc found he wanted to correct her, say Ella's name to bring her memory back into the room by summoning her... but Doc knew all too well, this was Maria's way of dealing with her own grief and the use of any names would make it harder for her to carry on today.
"I'll go now" Doc said and Maria turned, pressing a cold, hard key into his palm. "Gordo gave this to me when she left, the door does not have a good lock, but it is still a lock."
Doc nodded his thanks. "I won't be long."
He walked to the door and opened it before stepping outside into the brisk early morning. Soon the sun would warm the area with a mild winter heat and the chill would be chased away until late evening. He took in a deep breath, grateful for the freshness that greeted his lungs and the change of air. The air within Maria's home had seemed stale, stagnant and full of the cloying presence of death. He didn't allow his thoughts to drift but kept them focused, knowing, for now at least, he had tasks to accomplish. Doc made his way through the sleepy village, people were only just beginning to rise from their beds and it all seemed so quiet, so peaceful. It almost seemed absurd to think that the occurrences of the day before had even happened in this sleepy little place. Finally the small shack Ella had once called home came into view and he paused at the door, his mind reluctantly recalling the last time he had stood here talking to Ella, if only he'd been more open, more demanding, perhaps things would not have gone down this path of loss and death. If only he taken her with him that night he visited Dave, perhaps he could have persuaded her to leave in a moment of weakness over her situation and unhappiness... if only he'd tried...
He slid the key into the crude lock and turned it, the door creaked open reminding him of just what a shabby and undeserving home this had been for her. He stepped inside and took in the various sparse furniture and objects. An old table and chairs, and the smut smudged hearth, a few jugs, pans and mugs but nothing of great importance. Doc quickly made his way to the small bedroom. The bed was still crumpled from the last time they had both rested here together and he forced his gaze away knowing that to dwell on such things would make it impossible for him to get through the next hour never mind the entire day.
He searched the rickety old cupboard and found a makeshift sack, things that Ella had been willing to leave behind for now. He pulled the bag out out and rested it carefully upon the bed before opening it. Inside were skirts, blouses, bodices, undergarments and other personal items. He removed each article, folding the clothing with great care and placing any trinkets upon the bed. At the bottom of the bag were a few photographs and a dark leather box, he picked them up and studied the still images for a moment. One featured Ella and Dave, newly married and serious. Dave looked clean and well kempt while Ella looked young, naive and nervous, sitting in her fancy clothing. The next photograph Doc could only assume was of Ella's mother, a stern, weathered looking woman, her eyes and mouth bore a striking resemblance to Ella's own. Finally there was a group photograph taken at Jane's. Jane stood in the middle surrounded by her girls, each wearing their fanciest, smartest clothing. Ella stood to the right looking slightly uncomfortable at what must have been a formal occasion for all involved. Doc slipped all three pictures carefully into his breast pocket before turning his attention to the little box. He prised the lid open and his eyes fell upon a dainty gold necklace set with shining rubies. He absently ran his fingers across it, wondering what meaning it had to her and why she had been willing to leave it behind. Had it been her Mother's? Perhaps it had been a gift from Jane or an admirer... perhaps it had been from Joey Garza himself. Doc had learned enough about the Garza boy to know he'd taken many trinkets from rich passengers on the trains he had robbed. He studied it with an accusing eye but finally relented and saw it for what it was, a pretty necklace and nothing more. Ella had kept it for whatever purpose and that meant it had some meaning to her at one point and for that reason he would take it back with him. By the time he had carefully packed all of her small possessions away back into the bag, Doc had decided upon a pretty dark blue cotton bodice and skirt that looked very similar to the ensemble in her wedding photo.
When he was finally finished he picked up the bundle and giving the house once last glance he left to return to Maria's.
The morning was wearing on and soon everyone in the house was awake and preparing for the day ahead. With Teresa's help Maria dressed Ella in the expensive looking clothing Doc had brought back with him and fastened the pretty golden trinket about her neck before brushing out her long chestnut coloured hair and securing it into a style they knew Ella would have liked. Maria then left the house in search of the priest and enlisting some drunkards to dig the two graves that would be needed. Doc slumped down at the table, feeling exhausted. He slowly raised his eyes to meet Call's who was studying him intently.
"How ya doin' Doc?" he asked in his usual drawl.
"I'm okay," Doc lied, "I just feel tired."
Call nodded and glanced down at Teresa who, as normal, was not far from his side. "Days like this are the hardest on a man's soul." Call offered what he hoped were words of comfort.
"I know that too well Captain."
The conversation was cut short as the door opened and Billy appeared carrying the wounded deputy Plunkitt. The young man's ashen face seemed to gain some colour back to its cheeks as he saw his fellow companions. "Hallo Captain, Doc!" he called cheerily.
Doc suddenly found he violently wanted to wipe the goofy smile off Ted's face but managed only a glare.
"He was looking mighty sick when I came across him but once he was on a horse he picked up some in spirits" Billy said, helping Ted into a chair.
Billy's eyes flew to Doc's, sensing a disquiet with the people in the room. "Where's Mary?"
Doc was glad that Call decided to take up the conversation. "She's gone to fetch the Priest."
"The Priest?" Billy gave a laugh. "Why, who died?" It had half been in jest but as Billy took in the sullen expressions his own face became pale. "So... who died?" he asked again, nervous and fearful to hear the answer.
Call nodded in the direction of Joey's body. Billy took a few steps forward and pulled back the blanket.
"Joey!" Billy cried in disbelief. "Who finally got him?"
"Doc" Call said, reaching out to take Teresa's hand and comfort the young girl as she once again began to cry.
"Well now, ain't that a turn up for events." Billy scratched his chin. "Knew someone'd get him sooner or later." He turned back to Call. "How's Mary takin' the news?"
"As well as can be expected."
Billy nodded, his eyes coming to rest upon Teresa. "Hey now Tessie, why you sobbin' so?" Billy knew all too well that there would be no love lost between the siblings.
Call patted Teresa's shoulder. "Joey ain't the only one that got shot." He hesitated, his eyes flicking to Doc. "Young Miss Stella..."
"Ella!" Billy interrupted. "Well, is she okay?" He followed Call's gaze to the other covered body in the room that he had failed to notice upon arrival. His eyes widened. "She... no, it... she can't have..." Billy stuttered. He began to walk over to where Ella lay, wanting to see the truth for himself, but Call held up a hand, halting the old man's steps.
"We can fill you in later, maybe now ain't the best time" Call said, giving Billy a stern look he knew the old scout would understand.
"Yeah, that'd be... best" Billy said slowly, his look stunned and his eyes fixed to the covered outline of the young girl.
Silence fell over the small room, permeated by soft bird song and distant chatter from outside.
"Glad to see you're none the worse for wear." Call finally broke the silence, his statement directed at Ted.
The young deputy had removed his hat and was fingering the brim nervously; he gave a small nod in reply, afraid to speak in the current climate.
All eyes were suddenly drawn to the open doorway as the distant, usual village chatter had seemed to steadily grow accompanied by the sound of footfalls. Billy moved towards the door, his brow furrowed in annoyance.
"Looks like we got company" he said in a voice that told all too clearly the occurrence was unwelcome.
Doc abruptly stood from his seat and went to Billy's side. For a moment he stared unbelieving at the sight that awaited him. A large crowd was slowly beginning to gather near the house, many of the men that made up the rabble had already been drinking at the cantina and their intoxicated voices rose and fell, grins upon their faces as they discussed the happenings of the day before. It seemed some of the people of the village had sent word to another nearby town and a neatly dressed man was in the throng of the group, setting up his large camera.
"We've come to see Joey!" Gordo shouted up to the two men, noticing they had come to the doorway. "The photographer will pay Maria to take Joey's picture." He grinned as if this news was to be celebrated.
Doc felt his temper bristle and he clutched his hands into fists by his side. Thankfully Billy took charge of the situation.
"You ain't comin up in here Gordo, Mary don't want no money for the death of Joey."
Gordo looked affronted. "Joey is famous in the newspapers, the photographer says many people from the East will buy copies of his photograph, Maria will make good money." He paused, his dislike for the old man shining within his eyes. "She should thank me; I am doing her a favour, old gringo."
"Don't be tryin' to get me into a fight now you old butcher!" Billy said, taking a step outside, his hand resting on his pistol as a firm warning. "I may be old but I can still shoot your damn nose off yer ugly face before you take one more step." He paused, letting his words sink in. "Mary won't be grateful for nothin' you do, let her bury her boy in peace, I don't want t' have t' tell you again now."
Gordo threw up is hands in irate defeat and stormed back through the crowd, unwilling to take on the once famous scout who was still a fair shot. It seemed none of the other people in the mob had bothered to take any real heed of Billy's words and the photographer was currently picking out a few of the drunkards to stand in front of the 'infamous bandit's house'.
Billy glowered and took in a deep breath. "Damn windbag gettin' everyone barkin' at a knot." He turned to Doc, squinting slightly in the harsh sunlight. "You might have t' back me up here, make sure we disband this lot and get this lobo outta here."
Doc gave a small nod in agreement. "Reckon you're right, have t' move on that photographer t' calm everyone down, he's fixin' t' get everyone riled up."
"Yep, can't let that happen." Billy began to make his way down the stone steps, Doc close on his heels. "Hey there!" Billy called out to the man in the suit. At the sound the man looked up from tinkering with his camera.
"Well, hey there yerself" he greeted, his manner unwelcoming. "I ain't doin' no harm now, just takin' pictures that folks will want t' see." He gave an unsettling, wide grin.
"An' we say ya can't take them here, best you be movin' on." Doc said sternly, backing up Billy's words. "You ain't needed nor wanted, we just want to have a quiet burial and you ain't makin' that easy."
The photographer looked thoughtful a moment. "A photograph won't hurt no one." He studied the two men before him, his eyes grazing the guns at their hips. "Besides it's a good tale, I even hear tell the train bandit had an accomplice who was a woman no less!" He gave a giggle of laughter. "Imagine that! But it makes a damn good tale."
Doc's calm expression had stiffened at the mention of a woman. "You shouldn't listen to village talk..." The man cut him off before he could continue.
"I heard tell from some men at the cantina that she was white too!" He giggled his irritating laugh once more. "Quite a looker they said, folks will lap this tale up, beautiful woman helpin' an outlaw, the tenderfoots love that kinda stuff." He paused studying the two men. "Is it true she's in the house to? Some say she is, others that she ain't... I'll pay extra for a photograph on her."
Doc took a menacing step forward. "If you don't leave quick, you ain't gonna have no tale to tell folks back east."
The photographer gave an insolent look. "You can't run me outta town, I ain't doin' nothin' wrong."
Something within Doc seemed to snap. He'd been so intent on keeping his wits together, on not remembering that the woman he loved was now lying dead that the anger crept up upon him, bursting forth in an unstoppable torrent.
"You son-of-a-bitch!" Doc rushed forward, his fist flew and connected harshly with the man's jaw, knocking him off balance and sending him sprawling to the ground. Doc didn't pause as the rage burned through him and turned his attention to the wooden camera. In mere moments the contraption was no more than splinters and broken glass. He gave it once last determined stamp. "You go tell your tale and see who believes you without your god damn proof!" Doc kicked at the dusty ground, sending a cloud of dirt and sand towards the now cowering man who wore a look of horror that he had been assaulted and now his livelihood was destroyed and in pieces before his very eyes. "Now you best get off your prissy ass and send these people back t' where they came from and then you best get, if I see your damn face when I come out that door I'll be likely to do somethin' that I'll regret."
With those words Doc turned and made his way back into the house. Billy stared down at the man who still sat upon the ground, running a hand across his sore face. Billy then turned to watch Doc, feeling pity for the young man and all the sorrowful and grief the next few weeks would force him to live through. "Best do as he says, a grievin' man is keen to stick t' his word."