Once Reuben no less than politely shut the door after him, Abigail remained waiting on the bed for him to return for the bottle he’d left behind. Surprisingly, only a little time passed before she heard Reuben ridding himself of the whore in his room in a not so pleasant manner. Thin walls. A minute or two after that, she heard the whore tramping past her own door on rout back down to the saloon.
“He ain’t coming back for his bottle….” She uttered with the forming of a grin and the narrowing of her eyes, fixated curiosly on the friend he’d so easily forsaken. It was surprising just how many discrepancies came to the mind from this one act alone; one minute he’s given to drink and whoring, next minute he’s the preacher’s son. Now Abigail didn’t mind the prospect of a man giving up his sordid ways for a noble cause, of sorts, but she hadn’t come down in the last rainfall either. She was more than well aware of the grip the bottle can have on a man, far be it the man on the bottle. Given this unstable behavior, which may have very well been a common and repeated practice for a man of weak will, it was all very likely a sobering sleep would have him thinking twice about the decision he made tonight. But then… maybe he’d manage to surprise her once again. Either way it didn’t really matter none, if he succeeded in letting her down, she could always just go on ahead and find someone with more of a stable inclination to fill his boots.
As for Abigail, well, sleeping wasn’t on the agenda for the time being. She’d done enough of that in the wilderness two miles out of town earlier that day. Right now she had herself some further business to conduct. Kicking her feet from the bed she sat up, holstering her colt, rubbing her legs, gazing out at the darkness through the open shutter of the window, giving careful foresight to her next due course of action. …Things were gonna get dirty.
She slipped on her black leather gloves.
Audrey Springs. Higgins General Store, 10:45 PM.
“We’re closed!"
John Higgins was a little more than startled at the thumping on his door. He stood stricken for a moment, one arm stacked with packaged beef jerky he’d been replenishing the rack on his service counter with. He had to consider his situation for a moment, confirming in his own mind that it was, indeed, well past the hours of trading.
“You’ll have to come back in the morning! You hear?”
A second, louder rapping at the door did not cease to alarm John, this time causing the cradled jerky to loose from his arm. The packaged meat was still settling in a scattered mess on the floor when he turned and unhooked the rifle from the wall. Kicking the jerky from his path, he edged his way to the end of the counter, crouching in the shadow of the rack he had been aiming to replenish.
“I told you already!” He hollered, unable to hide his trembles. “Trading Post is closed for this day. We will be open again at eight in the AM. I would be much obliged if you were kind enough to return at that time!”
A third procession of heavy rapping rattled the door in its frame, but this time the knocking was followed up by a females voice calling in at him –
“Mr. I need your help! Please open this door – I’m in a desperate situation out here!”
John was not good at determining a person’s age by their voice alone, but this particular voice had no doubt been born of a lady in her youth. Despite its nonthreatening appeal, he did not recognize the voice as any of his many acquaintances in the town Audrey Springs. Still, the age and gender of the visitor was enough have him loosen his grip on the rifle, just a smidgen, as his posture straightened some as well. He stepped out from the shadow, angling his head to stare curiously down the aisle. Unfortunately, the nightlight lantern dangling from the ceiling did not prove successful in illuminating any image beyond the upper glass fixture of the doorframe.
“Desperate or no, Miss….” John took two paces toward the door; “You will need to return in the morning or go seek assistance at the saloon across the way.”
“I can’t do that!” She replied, her voice distinct with panic. “I’m just a young girl – I be scared of them folks! Please, Mr. I need your help right straight! Me and my parents were attacked by bandits some distance out of town. I’ve ran all this way. My daddy be dead. My mamma be wounded and bleed’n bad. I do not expect you to leave the safety of your home, but I would be in your debt if you allowed me take some supplies. I need be tending to my mother’s wounds.”
“This is a trading post, Miss! It is not my duty to be tending to such drama. You will be needing to see the sheriff about that!”
“I have already attempted to do just that!” The girl paused before commencing, the anxiety in her voice rising a considerable amount; “But the sheriff did not answer my calling. I do believe he’s otherwise occupied at this time, which is why I am at your very door – I am asking for your help, Mr. Please have mercy. My mother does not have all night. If you could please just find in your heart to help.”
John continued to edge ever closer to the door, one finger tapping the forestock of his riffle in careful deliberation. “How do I know you’re not accompanied by others, little Miss? I’ve been beguiled before on none too few occasions. Now be gone with ya! Return in the morning or head on over to the saloon. I’m confident you’d find a man or two there willing to help a young lady like yourself.”
At the closing of his words, John could hear the girl beginning to cry, her tone breaking with emotion and sniffling back a breath between each pleading phrase she spoke; "I-I’m just s-so scared right now, Mr. …My daddy always told me not to enter them s-saloons alone…. But he’s all dead now, he is…. I’m really, really scared – please…. All I need is a little help. ….Please don’t let my mamma die as well.”
“Shit…” John completed his creeping to the door, bringing his face right close to the glass as to take a good look outside. He couldn’t view anything at first, not until he rolled his eyes down to see just one small person standing there. She had her head hung low, the top of her hat being all he could see, that, and a portion of her shoulder, which faintly displayed the shrugs of her continued sobbing. “You sure you’re all alone, little Miss?”
Th-that I am…. Please just help me, Mr…. My daddy be dead….”
Taking a step back, John lowered his rifle in one hand and fished the key from his pant pocket with the other. With the key in hand, he paused for an instant, calming his nerves before unlocking the door, leaving the key in the hole as he turned the handle. The door swung open in a hurry as the young lady rushed her way through the threshold, head still lowered as she passed him by. He swiftly shut the door behind her, locked it, and then turned around to meet the barrel of a gun staring him dead in the eye.
John let out a long, shaken sigh as he just then realized he’d been beguiled once again. That was the third time this month someone had managed to get the better of his bleeding heart in some manner or another. As his eyes shifted from the barrel in his face, he took focus on the girl. She was standing side-on, feet apart, face covered by a neckerchief, dry eyes barely visible in the shadow of her hat.
“Well, God damn it all to hell, you shifty bitch….”
“To be perfectly honest with ya…” She replied, her softly rasped voice no longer exhibiting the vaguest hint of emotion; “…getting past your door was harder than I had anticipated. So Kudos to you, Mr.” Her gloved finger gently caressed the trigger, barrel steady as any man could hold on target. “Now listen real close to my words. You attempt make’n a peep or raise that there rifle against me, and I’ll decorate your shop with them brains of yours. Now here’s what I want you to do….. You’re gonna extend that arm real slow and place that weapon on the counter. Then, without even so much as one word from your mouth, you’re gonna take two steps to your left and lay yourself face down on the floor. After that, you’re gonna place your hands behind your back and bend them knees of yours. Give me a nod of that ugly head if you understand.”
Johns face had become pale, a tickle of sweat was beading its way down his forehead, a tear of humility in his eye as he regrettably nodded confirmation. Following this, he did just as she had suggested. She may have just been a young woman, and none one too big a girl at that, but her unprecedented whit and cold words had him taking no chances with his life. This clearly wasn’t her first armed holdup.
Abigail kept her colt steadily aimed until John had laid himself down as specified. She then fetched a length of rope, made herself a double noose knot, and thread both of his hands through the nooses before tying the loose ends to his ankles.
“More ya struggle the tighter them knots’ll get.” She tells him, commencing her prowling of the store. “Now just hold tight and quiet like. I’ll be gone before you know it.”
The only utterings John made were a few little grunting sobs while Abigail took her pick of certain foodstuffs and other essentials, including a pretty sum of dollars from the cash drawer. She stuffed most of the contents in a cloth sack and, as a last little spoil, grabbed a handful of lemon flavored penny candy from a jar on the service counter. She shoved the candy in her trouser pocket.
Before leaving she stood above John, boots almost touching his face as she peered down at him. “Thank you for your hospitality, Mr. Rest assured, I‘ll be reimburse’n everything I owe at some point in the future. I’m a woman of my word – Now don’t go get'n it your head to be blabber'n about all this to any lawman at all. If you do that, the only reason I’ll be return'n is to put a slug in your head. Do I make myself perfectly clear?”
“Wait on just a minute….” John finally found the audacity to speak again, given he figured that one last question wouldn’t be any real issue; “Who in the hell are you, anyway?”
Abigail let out a tiny laugh, though more of mocking one as she stooped down to gag him with a rolled up sock and a cut of cloth. “Wouldn’t be none too sharp of me to be share'n my name with ya, would it, Mr?” Standing up, and since the dirty job of contact was now well and truly over with, she tugged her gloves from her hands and let herself out.
A short time before sunrise.
While Reuben was reacquainting himself with his horse, he heard the trot of hooves come to a halt in the doorway of the stable behind him. The identity of the horse and its rider were not evident, silhouetted by the flame of a lamppost outside. Regardless of their details being completely hidden in the black of their profile, it was clear by their size and proportions that the rider was not Kate. They were certainly a man, slouched in his saddle and wearing a broken down broad brim hat, handle of a riffle jotting up from his back, quietly staring long enough for Reuben to understand he was being inspected. Once Reuben had become aware of this, the dark rider continued his eerie watch for a while longer before straightening in his saddle, turned his horse around, and then rode off slowly into what was left of the night.
Less than a mile out of town, Abigail was stationary, nestled in her saddle upon the first crest of the southbound track, watching the initial gray tint of dawn beyond the hills to the east of town.
-It was a tad funny in a cute kind of way, being such a small rider on that large, Thoroughbred stallion. Most folk might be inclined to say that Jack was too much horse for a girl like her, but she didn’t give god damn what people thought about it. She loved that horse more than life itself, and the horse loved her just as much straight back. Gender and species aside, Jack and Abigail had a great deal in common – two peas in a pod, one might say; they both had an attitude, they were both very smart, neither of them really trusted anybody, and they both had a certain disdain toward men. Truth is, Abigail was the first person he had ever let ride him. He was a loyal beast, following her everywhere, heeded without prompting and obeyed her every command. In a sense, their relationship was the darnedest thing, magical in a certain way of thinking-
When the sun at last peaked over the eastern hills, she was gently stroking Jack’s mane and talking real soft, relaying her doubts about Reuben ever actually turning up like he said he would. She had decided not to wait around in town, of course, since she didn’t feel it too wise to be hanging around in the morning after robbing the trading post, but she also didn’t see it as much of an issue – If Reuben was just a smidgen of the tracker he claimed to be, there wouldn’t be a problem locating her current position.
Saddlebags fat with provisions, the fresh scent of honeysuckle in the air, and the smallest little welling of a tear in her eye, Abigail waited as long as she was willing before giving up on Reuben – that being until the sun had revealed its whole body in the sky - then took to commencing her journey south…. Just herself and Jack alone, trotting on their way at a brisk, steady pace.
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