The red dust from the unpaved town streets kicked up, powdering Randall's legs and nearly dying Cin's midnight coat beneath his belly. She was well passed the tracks as he sped by the jail, but Randall knew he needn't rush as long as the mahogany fan of her horses tail was in his sights. As he barreled down the fast emptying street toward the depot, his eyes focused on nothing but Celina. Randall's face registered not a hint of menace or rage, though it was fueling up deep within him. Spooking that pony was no accident and he was set to put her to rights.
Clearing the tracks himself, Randall pursued her along the rough copse of straggly white oak branches, and high hanging canopies of draping eucalyptus leaves. He followed her along the narrow deer trails clearing the clover patches, and thorn brambles nesting at the roots of the trunks of elder oak trees, which reigned over the woods. Where was this viper leading him?
Finally, her horse slowed down along the creek, coming to a stop beside a fallen tree trunk. The trunk lay sturdy as a bridge across the shallow water, though it was rather slim and bent. The crimson sash of hair that had been artfully pinned over her hurt eye fell loose framing her flushed face. Celina's slender chest rose and fell as she twisted in her saddle to lay her murky emerald eyes on her pursuer. Her M-shaped pink lips parted as she breathed hard, watching him like cornered pray. She was beautiful, Randall thought. Very beautiful, even with that purple blossom around her eye…damn her.
"You're a new player," her mind seemed to be resetting itself.
"Only to you," he brought Cin' up close behind her and dismounted holding cautiously onto the bridle. Randall pointed at her accusingly with his finger, as his crystalline blue eyes narrowed under the ridge of his fawn brow. "You back that horse up again and I'll buck you right into the creek!"
"Again?" she feigned innocence with all the grace of a hack actress. "Sir, you appear flustered. Has something happened?"
Never taking his eyes off her face, Randall approached the head of her horse. Releasing Cin' he took hold of Celina's bridle and snapped the leather reins roughly from her hands. He enjoyed the way she flinched as the leather flicked the soft skin of her white palms. "You nearly killed that child. Hell, you nearly killed that man…"
"I don't know what you are talking about…Mister?" her chestnut brow arched over cynical hooded lids.
"McCoy. And I think you do," Randall pressed his chin down unable to hide the fury in the ice of his eyes, though he curved his closed mouth to one side. Then with all the civility of a gentleman to a lady, he tilted his head to her, "Pardon me, Ma'am."
"Pardon what?" she sniffed at him, suddenly thrown off by his gentle demeanor.
It didn't last long as Randall reached up, grasped her arm, and yanked her down off the horse's saddle with a clumsy thud onto the ground. Her green and blue gingham skirts ruffled up over her stocking knees, flashing Randall a nice sight of her garters. Blushing abhorrently, Celina hastily covered herself as Randall cuffed her up under her armpits and brought her to her feet.
"That's rich," he smiled at her sudden streak of propriety. "Or you only like showin' your goods off to married men?"
"Excuse me!" she flamed up jerking herself away from him. Turning haughtily, Celina pulled herself straight daring to stand toe to toe with the man that had chased her down.
He stood square for a moment drinking her in. The man wasn't smiling, but his mouth did curve pleasantly as he sized her up. Then as if to say she was nothing more than a passing breeze, Randall turned his back to her. He took Cin' and Celina's horse by their reins and began walking them away from the creeks edge only to halt at her infuriated growl. Releasing the horses, he half skipped back up to her, bringing his face inches from hers. "You wish to say something, Madame?"
Randall looked down his chest at her, as she cocked her sirens head to one side. How could something so beautiful, be so vicious, he wondered.
"Now, I know who you are," Celina smiled deceptively. "You're that man everyone says brought Mrs. Slicker home early."
"Guess that makes me your favorite person, huh," his light voice dropped into a harsh sarcastically hushed tone.
"You like her. Don't you," she pressed feeling him out. "What is it about her you two love so much? That's the one thing I can't quite figure out. How can you love mud more than milk?" Celina pressed the blades of her alabaster fingers to the soft creamy skin of her neck.
Randall spun her around, bringing her to press into his body. Wantonly, she molded into him, imagining he was Jake. She closed her eyes pretending she could smell his mingled scent of leather, tonic, and cigars. This was how it would be…How it would feel with him at her back and Izzy in her arms. His hands cuffed around her shoulders, gingerly at first, and then roughly tightening. Heart pounding steadily through her back, Celina could feel his breath tickling at her ear.
"Milk spoils…mud nurtures every living thing," his fingers locked into her arms shoving her forward at arms length. Celina barely had a chance to register the situation, before she felt Randall's boot connect with her bottom, sending her sprawling over the shallows of the creek and into the cold waist deep water. Randall leaned on one hip as he swung his arms out in front of him and clapped his hands. He leaned into them with a devious smile. "I uh, think it goes without saying…but uh. You come around that family ever again, and I'll introduce my other boot to your backside," Randall winked into a slight nod, before turning on his heel.
The sounds of water splashing did not alarm him. Nor did the slogging slurp of, what had to be, her shoes clomping down in the mud of the creeks bank. He should have felt it coming…However, as the rock struck at the back of his head, all he could manage was a step towards Cin'. As Randall buckled to his knees, his vision blurred and his stomach rolled, while his brain struggled to shake off the sudden bout of confusion.
"Don't…you…hur–," he stammered as his face melded with the soft soil of the earth. "I'll…find you…find yo–" These were the last words he could spill before the brilliant blue light in his eyes died out.
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The clouds skittered and stretched along the growing dusk, with the hue of amber whiskey bottles. Seeming to sit atop this brilliance of citrine light, which muted and dimmed, the pitch of night crept further still. A dark moon was upon the town, about to cast its murky shroud of darkness over the sky. Even with the lamps lit on the outer sconces of every shop front and porch there stood an eerie hue. It was the hue of dungeons and the secrecy of night.
Jake paced uneasily before the front window of the barbershop. Though the framed panes were shielded by the pulled tawny shade, he still felt eyes upon him. The front of the shop was cast in a warm orange glow from the lit oil lamps. Even the embers from the furnace emanated their ruby gleam, from between the iron grate of the stoves belly. Unable to restrain himself, Jake crept towards the door and slipped his fingers between the drawn shade and the framed glass. Briefly, his skin came in contact with the cool condensation of the fogged pane, sending a chill throughout his body. The town had just begun to quiet. Just begun to lull itself into the warm serenity of families tucked tenderly about one another. The turbulence of the day was waning for those unattached to the spectacle at the livery. Yet, no matter the gentle ease of the street, Jake continued in his apprehensive watch for the others arrival.
Overhead Teresa's gentle footfalls drew his attention toward the top floor landing of the stairs. For passed the landing and into the first door to the right, was their bedroom. In this room was where, at Jake's request and Lucy's pleading, they were all to sleep – cozily packed into one bed. Teresa pulled the cream coverlet up to Lucy's chin, as the child yawned, stretching her arm out and around her slumbering baby sister. Her thick pitch lashes drifted down, only to shoot open again in defiance.
"Lucy," Teresa softly laughed caressing her daughters round cheek with her bent finger. "It will be a long while before your papa comes to bed."
"But…" she drifted yet again though she continued to fight. "I always kiss papa goodnight…before bed."
"Oh, my Heart…He will kiss you when he comes up to bed. And you will feel it in your sweet little dreams," Teresa assured her, planting a soft kiss to Lucy's cheek.
Maternally, Teresa's hand reached out and smoothed the auburn shock of Izzy's hair from her slumbering brow. Her cheeks ached with the soft smile that laced itself on her face. As Teresa watched Lucy give in to sleep, with a stubborn wrinkle to her eyebrows, she felt her heart wringing itself out as though to weep. She almost lost her daughter today. If it hadn't been for Robert E., she might have lost her child.
As gingerly as she could manage, Teresa lay down on her side, propping her head up on her hand. She could feel Izzy's warm short little breaths as the babe snuggled closer to Teresa's body for warmth. With a sigh, Teresa ran her fingers through Izzy's autumn waves, before reaching over her to soothe Lucy's back – as she had rolled over onto her stomach to sleep.
Teresa closed her eyes, recalling the unsettled way Jake had refused to put Lucy down. How once the chaos of what had happened at the livery stables calmed, Jake had herded them into the barbershop and immediately closed up. He'd sat in the barber chair, with Lucy cradled in his lap until Michaela had appeared at the door. Her lovely face was beset with worry, as she'd assured Jake that Robert E. was unscathed…that Katie was fine… and that Randall had taken off after Ms. Marrow. Then it had taken much convincing from both Michaela and herself to get Jake to release Lucy into their care.
"Where's Isabelle?" Jake had shot up looking about the room.
Michaela and Teresa exchanged distraught glances.
"Izzy is in her crib, Jake," Teresa pointed to the cherry wood stained rocking cradle, sitting between the threshold of the back room and the front of the shop. Izzy had been sitting up, completely absorb in the movements of the frightened adults in the next room.
"You need to calm yourself, Jake," Michaela insisted attempting to take Jake's pulse at his wrist.
But he'd swatted her away. "Don't you tell me tah calm down! I can't fight this woman away! What am I suppose tah do, Dr. Mike? I've gone your way, and it ain't workin'! She's gone after my girls! MY GIRLS!"
Michaela took a step back, falling deep in thought. She'd been wrestling with this decision for sometime now. However, as she looked from Lucy's shaken form reaching again towards her father, to Izzy's trembling lips, she knew… "Jake…call an official council meeting."
Teresa sucked in her breath not daring to hope.
"Something like this is gonna have tah take place in front of the whole town," Jake sunk further down into the barbers chair. As Lucy crawled back up into his lap, he'd adjusted so she could rest her head on his chest. His finger twirled a fat onyx ringlet about as he forced a smile for Izzy, which she returned with an infantile chortle.
"Not necessarily," Michaela clasped her hands in the lap of her skirts. "Celina's … behavior… is affecting you and your family. Not the town. It is a private matter, to be dealt with among the council."
"Oh," Teresa felt a weight momentarily lift from her shoulders. "Do you truly believe this will work?"
Michaela paused tilting her head, in her usual intellectual contemplations. "Well, even if Loren opposes his vote, between myself, Jake, Hank, and now Robert E….she could be voted out of town. And with, Mr. McCoy as a witness to the fact that she is a danger to the children. I don't see why it shouldn't work. I'm sure that there will be something in the town charter which will help our case."
Jake released an exasperated huff. With his chin pressed down into his neck, he seemed to be sulking, as he observed his fingers combing through Lucy's hair. "Loren's got the charter."
With a determined air, Michaela straighten herself up like a bow, "Leave it to me. We'll meet back here…tonight."
So now they sat, behind locked doors and windows, with every ounce of tension mounting. Jake was below, determined to stand sentinel over his family, and she a bundle of nerves–awaiting an outcome that would free them from the venom of Ms. Marrow.
So deep in thought was Teresa that she hadn't heard Jake unlock the shop door below. Hadn't heard him climb the stairs, or lean in the doorway of the bedroom. She didn't know how long he'd been standing there watching them, his girls, cuddled close together on their bed. As Teresa peered up into her husbands face, she caught some glimmer in the sudden deep blue of his eyes. Something warm and powerful that pooled deep inside him. Something in the way he was looking at them that made Teresa sit up suddenly.
"They're here," was all he said before skirting the bed to get to her. Jake took hold of his wife's hand and pressed it to his lips. He pulled Teresa closer, entwining her in his embrace. She always smelled of roses, he thought as he released her and made his way down to the shop front. Down where the others were waiting.