Chapter 6
Buck and JD spent a few hours helping remove things from the house for airing out. It was late afternoon when they returned to the hotel to look for Chris, and when they didn't find him there, went to check the saloon and a cafe next door. He wasn't either place, but they took a table, ordered supper, and rested up as evening began to set in.
"I have a bad feelin' ," Buck said as he attacked his dessert of apple Betty. When JD turned curious eyes to him, Buck continued. "I think he went to find your fortune teller, and if he did, he could still be there."
"He didn't say he would go."
"No, he didn't. But she's a con artist, somehow knew things about you, and about him too, anglin' how she did to make him go see her. He would've taken what she said as a challenge, and besides, he's not gonna let her get away with stealing from you." Buck lifted his cup of coffee, took a long swallow, then added, "Chris takes care of his own."
JD ducked his head to hide a flush of embarrassment. He felt ridiculous for having told Chris the woman asked for him specifically. Of course it was all a con. Surely she wouldn't simply give the necklace back. Sorry he'd made a fuss over it, he changed the subject. "Think they'll find that woman who set the fire?"
Buck shrugged. "Glory described her. Five foot, slender, jet black hair but fair skinned. Might be noticeable enough."
"She might have even been in that crowd of people across the street," JD said eagerly. "I read how arsonists will stick around to watch the commotion, or return later to the scene of the crime. When we go back tomorrow we could knock on some doors. Ask people in the area if they saw her."
"Learn all that from one of your dime novels?" Buck teased, glad to see the return of JD's spark.
"No." JD was defensive. "I bought some books about the Pinkertons and how they investigate crimes."
"Good job," Buck allowed. "Maybe she will turn up. 'Course there's no proof she's the one who did it. And once we leave town, it'll be left to the law here. Miss Peony said she's on good terms with the local boys. Anyway, let's find Chris. I wanta talk to him about what's happened." Buck scraped his bowl clean, licked the spoon, and stacked his dishes for the waitress. "Ready to go?"
-o-
Outside the cafe, JD indicated the direction where the teashop was located, again describing its appearance. Falling silent, he ducked his head and rubbed the back of his neck. The mannerism caught Buck's notice, and he looked thoughtfully down the street. There were several saloons along the way. "Maybe you should keep checking these joints, while I go on to the shop."
JD's head snapped up, red-faced. "You don't think I'm fit to go back there."
"Not what I meant." Buck held up placating hands. "Just think if we split up we can save time."
"I should be the one to go," JD declared. "I'm the one who knows where it's at."
Buck moved closer to JD, towered over him, and pointed a finger. "Down this way, colorful sign, 'fortunes told'. Think I can find it, kid. I don't know what this woman's motives are, or why she had it in for you, so we're doin' this my way."
"I'm fine! I'm not scared of any crackpot character!"
"I know," Buck said with good humor. "If you were, could I send you into all these saloons and think you'd be okay? You're sure to find Chris around here anyway. No sense in us both taking on the weird lady." He didn't add that he was dying to see the woman.
JD glared at him, let out an exasperated huff, whirled and sauntered through the closest doorway.
"See ya later!" Buck called out.
-o-
"There it is," Buck muttered to himself. Though not far from the bustling area where he'd left JD, there was far less foot traffic in front of the teashop and its neighboring stores. In the waning light, he edged up to the front window of the shop and peered in. The front room was empty, dark, a couple of candles still burning but drowned down to low points of flame. The place appeared deserted. Buck pounded on the door. "Anybody here?!" Some nearby pedestrians threw him curious looks. There was no response from inside.
He moved closer to the glass, squinting, trying to see more. Was there a light, some faint glow from farther back, coming from another room maybe? Quickly, he walked around the side of the next building. Yes, there was a shadowed alley behind. Buck hastened his steps to the back door of the teashop. This door too was locked, but there was a tiny window set into the wall beside it. Rubbing at the grime encrusted glass, Buck was rewarded with a small smeary view into the room. He was right; there was a faint glow within. Nothing else could be made out though, and he returned his attention to the door.
Grasping the latch, he rattled the door violently. "Hey! Open up!" he bellowed. "Chris, you in there?" When he thought he heard an answering cry, he stepped back, pulled his revolver, and fired into the wood around the latch. Two shots splintered the wood handily. Buck flung the door open. In the small room, behind a table, a chair lay on its side on the floor, and bound to the chair was Chris Larabee. Buck rushed forward, threw himself down beside him. In the lampglow, Chris's face shone with sweat; his eyes looked strange. "You hurt?" Buck yelled.
"No, dammit! Get these ropes offa me!"
"Chris, what the hell?" Buck, on his knees, had already pulled his belt knife from its sheath and was cutting the rope from one ankle. "What happened?"
Chris lifted his head, his neck muscles straining. His voice sounded hoarse. "Pull this chair up. Shit! Fought it so damn hard I fell over."
"Hang on a minute. I'll cut these, and you can get up." Buck didn't see any point in righting the chair. The first rope was cut through and he started on the next as Chris went on a rambling rant, using every swear word he knew and, strangely to Buck, cursing the name of Ella Gaines. "She's here," Chris spat out at last.
"Who? Ella?"
"Yes! The bitch! She's the fortune teller!"
"Lord." Things made more sense now – the fortune teller's insistence on JD sending Chris to her. Finished with the ankle bindings, Buck moved on to one wrist, sawing at the tough rope till it snapped free.
Chris's arm shot out and he grabbed a fistful of Buck's shirt, wrenching him close. "Ella's a witch." His eyes were wild, his voice seething. "She can do things. Cast love spells. She can play with your mind."
"Yeahhh, I can see that." Buck pulled the knife away. If Chris was going to thrash around, cutting by his arm wasn't a very good idea.
Abruptly, Chris blinked and recoiled. "Why ya smell like smoke, Buck?"
"Uh." Buck hesitated, sat back on his heels. "There was a fire at the Palace."
"Fire." Horror bloomed over Chris's face. The realization came – Ella's errand. "Oh my God – Tell me she didn't get Marigold!"
"No!" Buck rushed to say. "No, Chris, she's alive. It started in her room, she breathed some smoke, but they got her out. She'll be all right. Everyone's all right."
Chris took unsteady breaths, then spoke low. "It was Ella. She tried to kill her on account of me, I know it. Get me outta here."
"Workin' on it, pal."
Suddenly, loud flapping sounds filled the room and the air was shattered by ear-splitting caws. "Buck, look out!"
Buck jerked his head up, twisting in time to see a blur of black hurtling toward him. What the hell! Instinctively, he ducked. The bird swooped over him with a rush of air.
Buck's heart raced from the unexpected attack, but after all, it was only a bird. Crouched low, he checked around. The broken door stood wide open; maybe the damn thing had flown back out. But no, it was still here, flying in circles near the ceiling. On the floor, wide-eyed, Chris rolled his head as he followed its flight. Roughly he said, "Get that crow outta here."
"It's just a bird." Buck went for Chris's other wrist.
"Leave it." Chris was breathless. He pushed Buck away. "Get her out of here."
Surprised at the edge of panic in Chris's voice, Buck looked up. The crow had settled on top of a cabinet. "Her" Chris had called it, oddly, and Buck saw how the bird was glossy and sleek, striking even, but – "her?" As he stared, its keen eyes locked with his, and in that moment, Buck would have sworn he saw in them human malice, meant just for him. With a cry, the crow swooped rapidly, and its talons raked his hair. Immediately it circled to attack again, slammed into him from behind, and beat its wings at his shoulders. Buck whirled, flinging his arms up. The knife clattered to the floor and skittered away. The crow flew an erratic course throughout the room and Buck went for his revolver. Not a good idea. The shot he fired missed, ricocheted, hit the stove with a shrill ping, and slammed into one of the cupboards. That gave Buck pause, but it didn't scare the crow any. In pass after pass, with piercing caws, it kept up the assault, always from behind. It pecked at Buck's head, beat him furiously. Buck reeled and flailed his arms.
Buck, get out!" Chris yelled.
Buck stumbled, slammed blindly against the table, and his hand fell on the handle of a knife. His eyes flicked toward it, taking in the long blade. It would do. Grabbing it up, he pivoted and stood wary as the crow wheeled menacingly over him. Again Buck had the uncanny feeling that its spite was personal, that it was out for blood. He raised the knife defensively. Swung experimental slices through the air.
Chris gaped at all this in horror. Still on the floor, helpless, he tugged with his free hand at the uncut ropes. Could this be any crazier? The vicious bird was targeting Buck. A thought struck – Only him. It won't harm you. And Chris realized that moments ago, unthinkingly he'd called the crow "she". It didn't matter if it made no sense. This was evil. "Kill her!" he screamed.
Enraged, the bird launched another attack. Buck slashed wildly with the knife, missed, swung, slashed and missed again. The bird circled swiftly, its eyes intent on Buck. He forced himself to stand still, moving only his head as far as he could to track the crow. He held steady, ready, and when it came from behind, hearing it, he spun suddenly. A savage swing of the knife connected. Blood sprayed into the air. Flung to the floor, the bird landed at Chris's feet. In seconds, Buck was at his side, severing the last ropes with the bloody blade.
Chris lurched up to stand dizzily over the bird. The spectacle of Buck's battle had given him fleeting energy that overrode the drug in his body. Now, that energy was gone, drained away. He nudged the motionless crow with the toe of his boot.
"Chris?" In the sudden quiet, Buck's tone was hushed. He thought he saw Chris shudder. "You all right?"
"What the hell went on here?" JD said from the doorway. He stared at the bird on the floor, at Buck still holding the long, stained knife, and finally at a shaken Chris who let out a weak laugh and flipped one hand out. "What's it look like, JD? It's a winged dragon. Dead."
-o-
Arriving on the scene, JD had been dumbfounded at the sight of both Chris and Buck, hair wild, shirts askew and spattered with blood. Buck even appeared to have holes in his shirt. There was, weirdly, a dead crow, leaking blood on the floor from a slash wound to its body. And Chris was definitely not himself. Open mouthed, JD turned to Buck.
"Drugged," said Buck. Pulling up the chair, he righted it and pushed Chris into it. "Sit down. JD, toss that thing outside." He strode to a cupboard and threw open the doors. "I wonder what this fortune teller gave you two to get you both so addled."
Gingerly, JD picked the crow up by one foot. The other two didn't believe him, but he hadn't forgotten that a bird like this was in his room last night. He tossed it onto a pile of refuse in the alley and went back inside where the cupboard doors, still open, displayed rows of containers on the shelves, some clearly marked Poison.
Buck was examining the jewelry filled jars. Tapping his finger against one, he opined, "The lady seems to have an eye for pretty things. Appears she's been servin' up drugs to her customers to steal from them. Probably weaseled a lot of personal information outta folks, too."
JD let his sight wander over the glass jars, wondering if his silver medal was in one of them. He didn't say anything, though.
Across the room, Chris slumped in the chair. Wearily, he gazed at the kid. He would tell JD he'd recovered his necklace, but not yet. It was still around his own neck, hidden beneath his shirt, and would need to be thoroughly cleaned. The medal had lain against Ella's skin, rested in the shimmer of her sweat. The thought of it now touching JD made Chris sick to his stomach.
"Theft, kidnapping, arson," Buck listed. "We'll put the law wise to her." He indicated the jewelry. "Some of these have inscriptions. They can find the owners, get statements. They'll catch her."
"We could hang around and wait, catch her ourselves," JD suggested.
Buck considered that and shrugged. "If she came anywhere near durin' this little fracas we just had, she's already headed for cover. And if not, she's too smart to walk into a trap."
For half a second Chris almost wished they wouldn't find her. He wanted instead to believe Ella could actually turn into a bird and was now dead, lying on a pile of trash in an alley. He shook his head. Even muddled as he felt right now, he couldn't believe that. No one would.
Well, Vin might.
"Let's go, boys." Buck steered JD toward the door.
Ella's trinket box was still on the table. Chris's eyes landed on it as soon as he stood up from the chair. Without a thought, he grabbed it, crossed to the stove, and threw it in. In seconds, the colorful painted box caught fire.
-o-
EPILOGUE
Early next morning, the men helped Peony and her ladies carry their aired out belongings back into the Palace. Marigold had not yet returned when it was time for them to leave, but they had a train to catch. Chris didn't know what he would have said to her anyway.
At the station, JD looked far down the track, searching eagerly for sight of the train. "Long week," he said.
"I'm more than happy to put this city behind us," Chris agreed, and abruptly added, "Here, take this." Without ceremony he dropped something into the unsuspecting kid's hand. The now cleaned necklace had soaked in a glass of whiskey all night.
Astonished, JD stared up at Chris, then back to the necklace in his palm. He hadn't expected to ever see it again. "Uh – thanks," he stammered. "It means a lot. It – all – means a lot to me." The necklace meant a lot, yes, but knowing what Chris had gone through to get it, that meant even more. Silently, Chris nodded his understanding.
Buck came up from behind to find JD gazing down at the medal. "Well, I see Chris got your doo-dad charm back. What'd you say it's for again? Good luck?"
JD rubbed a finger over the embossed image. "Protection."
Buck laughed. "Protection from what?"
Somber eyes raised to Buck's face, JD answered in all seriousness. "Evil."
Ella's still out there. The thought whispered through Chris's mind. He aimed a guarded look JD's way. "Best keep it close," he murmured.
"By the way." Buck reached into a pocket. "I have somethin' else of yours." The thing he pulled out was a small flat package, wrapped in tan paper and secured with red cord. "Found this left behind in the room."
Frowning a little, JD reached for it. "Um." Curiously, he turned the object in his hand, then his face brightened. "Oh, yeah." He slipped the slim package into his coat pocket. "It's a gift. For Casey."
End
Author's Note: Dear Readers, if anyone has a minute, I would really appreciate comments about the Buck versus bird thing. Was it okay? Too ridiculous? Anything in between? Pro or con welcome. (Promise I won't get mad :)
