The Bride's Prerogative (33 page)

“And the fires,” Emmaline said in her ear. “Don’t forget the fires.”

Gert nodded. “The fires at the Paragon Emporium and the Walker Feed Company, too.”

Morrell let out a short laugh. “Oh, ladies. How exactly do you intend to take me into custody?”

Gert put her hand to her jacket’s top button. She ought to have prepared for this before they set foot inside the Nugget. Seeing only the saloon girls and two customers inside had thrown her off her guard. She pulled in a deep breath as she quickly undid her jacket’s buttons and reached inside for the Peacemaker. Before she had the pistol out, Morrell had stooped behind the bar and straightened again with a double-barreled shotgun in his hands.

“All right, ladies. Don’t move. Miss Dooley, I suggest you put that thing on the bar and back up a few paces. This shotgun can kill you and three or four other women quicker than you can spit.” His gaze roved over the women. “Uh-uh.” He moved the shotgun a hair, so that his sights covered Goldie. “Just leave that peashooter alone. I must admit, that’s a shapely leg it’s strapped to. Maybe I
could
find a place for you here.”

Gert caught a glimpse of Goldie’s chagrined face as she let the flounce of skirt fall back over her garter with its little holster. She wouldn’t be able to use her weapon either. Libby’s gun was no doubt still in the bottom of her handbag. Gert doubted Emmaline or Isabel was armed tonight. It was up to her.

“I’m sure we can end this peaceably, Mr. Morrell,” she said. “Put the shotgun away.”

“You’re the sharpshooter, aren’t you? Put your gun on the bar, Miss Dooley. Let’s see your hands up high.”

Gert shot a sidelong glance at Libby. She stood still, her shoulders squared, but her lips trembled.

“Come on,” Morrell coaxed. “If I let loose with this load of buckshot, every one of you will be killed or maimed. You know what it can do. Now all of you get your hands up where I can see them.”

Gert couldn’t swallow the painful lump at the back of her throat. Libby raised her hands slowly. Others stirred behind her.
Oh, Lord, what have I gotten us into? We could have done this so much better
. “Couldn’t we sit down and talk about this?” Her voice quivered, and he smiled.

“I think we’re beyond chitchat. Hands up.”

Gert lifted her hands.

Without looking away, Morrell called, “Flora, take Miss Dooley’s weapon.”

The girl walked over hesitantly and squinted at Gert. She touched Gert’s dark jacket, found the pistol, and yanked it out. Stepping back, she laid it on the bar before Morrell.

“Thank you. And now the one this little dove has under her skirt.” He nodded toward Goldie. Flora lifted Goldie’s hem and retrieved the small pistol.

Morrell walked around the end of the bar and skirted the group, still holding the shotgun pointed at them. “Get out, Pan. The Nugget’s closed for the evening.”

Pan Rideout stared at him. “But I ain’t finished.”

“Get out!”

Pan’s face crumpled into his bushy beard. He slid out of the chair and staggered toward the door, muttering, “Man can’t have a few drinks …”

“You, too, Jake.”

The cowboy turned and stalked toward the door without another word.

“All right, now.” Morrell had worked his way around the group so that he stood between them and the door. He waved the gun’s barrel, indicating that the women should separate. “Mrs. Adams, please step over there, near that table.”

Libby hesitated and then took a few steps.

“Miss Fennel, you, too.”

Isabel stood rock still for a moment. Gert was afraid she would swoon, but she took three wooden steps and stopped next to Libby, who slipped her arm around Isabel’s shoulder.

“And I think I’ll keep Miss Shepard’s little spitfire, too. That woman’s done everything she could to keep my business from succeeding.” He winked at Goldie. “Over yonder, darlin’.”

Goldie swept past him, her head high, and turned to stand, arms akimbo, next to Libby and Isabel.

Morrell smiled. “Oh yes. That’s quite a tableau.” He glared at Gert and Emmaline. “You can go. I expect the sheriff will be gone all night out in those hills, but if you see him, tell him I’m square with Fergus now. I intended to bring Cyrus Fennel down, too, but I’ll take his daughter with me instead. If he comes after her, I’ll deliver what I’ve wanted to give him for years.”

Isabel’s cheeks flamed, and she wobbled. Libby tightened her hold on the young woman and leaned close to whisper in her ear.

“What are you going to do?” Gert determined not to leave the other women in his power.

He only smiled, but his expression quickly turned to a snarl. “I’m going to finish what started almost twenty years ago. The men who ruined my family won’t be laughing up their sleeves anymore. Now get out!”

Gert could see that standing toe to toe with him would do no good. She grabbed Emmaline’s arm and pulled her toward the door.

“We can’t—” Emmaline began.

“We have to,” Gert hissed as she practically tossed the woman through the double door.

Emmaline caught her balance and narrowly avoided pitching down the steps into the street. Gert seized her hand and drew her down and away from the light. Pan Rideout sat on the edge of the bottom step muttering, “I didn’t finish my drink yet.”

“What are we going to do?” Emmaline wailed.

Gert swallowed hard. “I’m thinking. If the men come back …” She glanced futilely toward the smithy and Mountain Road.

“What if they don’t? We can’t wait.”

“You’re right. It sounded like he’s going somewhere. He might force them to leave town with him.”

“Yes, or he might abuse them.”

Gert winced. She didn’t like to think that, but Emmaline was right. Every minute counted. “Come on, let’s get some help.”

Emmaline ran with her down the street toward the Walkers’ house.

Across the way, the front door of the Spur & Saddle opened. Bitsy came out carrying a lantern. Vashti followed bearing a basket over her arm. Bitsy closed the door behind them, leaving her saloon dark and silent on a Saturday night for the first time in more than twenty years.

Gert pulled up in the middle of Main Street, panting.

“Well, Gert,” Bitsy said pleasantly, walking toward her. “What are you doing out? When Goldie didn’t come back, Vashti and I decided to go over to the Walkers’ house and see if there’s anything we can do.”

“We need your help,” Gert said.

Bitsy’s brow wrinkled so deeply that she looked her age despite her cosmetics. “What is it?”

“Jamin Morrell is the killer, and he’s holding Goldie and Isabel and Libby inside the Nugget.”

“He threw Gert and me out,” Emmaline said. “He says to tell the sheriff he’s square with the town now.”

“What did he mean by that?” Bitsy asked.

Emmaline sniffed. “He said his parents died after they left here. He blames the town of Fergus.”

“I’ll explain it all later,” Gert said. “Right now we need to help those women.”

Bitsy looked down the street, where light spilled out of the Nugget. “Yes. You can count on me.”

“I don’t know what he aims to do,” Gert admitted. “I suspect he’ll pack up and skip town before the posse gets back.”

“But … will he take the women with him?”

“I don’t know. He said to tell Cyrus they were even now. Cyrus was one of the men who cheated his father, and I’m afraid he might do something horrible to Isabel. I’m not sure about Libby and Goldie.”

“We’ve got to act quickly; that’s certain.” Bitsy turned to Vashti. “Here, take the lantern and the food to the mayor’s house. I’m going with Gert.”

“Can’t I come?” Vashti asked. “Goldie’s in there.”

Gert touched the girl’s arm. “Go to the Walkers’ and tell Mrs. Benton and the others what happened. Tell as many as have weapons to meet us down near the Nugget. But everyone has to be careful and keep quiet.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Vashti hurried across the street toward the mayor’s house.

Bitsy turned around, hiked her skirt up, and removed her Deringer from her garter. She tucked it beneath the folds of her shawl. “Ready, Deputy Dooley.”

Gert smiled grimly and nodded at her, wishing she hadn’t lost Libby’s pistol. “Let’s go then.” Her voice cracked a little, and she cleared her throat.

CHAPTER 36

J
amin Morrell watched Gert push Emmaline out the door, then swung the shotgun barrel back toward the other women. Isabel sobbed, and Libby pulled her closer.

“God is in control,” she whispered to Isabel.

“Flora,” Jamin said.

“Yes, Mr. Morrell?”

“You and Opal go on upstairs and pack my things for me. There’s a bag in my wardrobe. I’ve got the wagon ready out back.”

“We’re leaving?” Flora asked. “Where are we going?”

“Just go do it.”

The two girls hurried past him and up the stairs. Halfway up, Opal caught Libby’s eye. Her face held such distress that Libby began praying silently for her. She wondered if they could somehow distract Morrell long enough for her to get her pistol out of her handbag.

Morrell laughed. “Oh yes, indeed. You ladies don’t need to worry about your baggage. I’ll outfit you when we reach our destination.”

“Where are you taking us?” Goldie asked.

“To a new town. I’ve had enough of Fergus. I’ve purchased a business in another place, and I expect to have a much nicer saloon than this one. Better than that place down the street. And I’ll have you three ladies to help me run it.”

Goldie scowled at him. “You can’t make us go and work for you.”

“I can’t?” Jamin shrugged. “In your case, I’d think you’d be glad. It will be an improvement in your station.”

“I doubt it.” Goldie looked about the Nugget. “This place is a pigpen.”

“Oh, but I’ll have a lot more to invest in the new one,” Morrell said. “Mrs. Adams and Mr. Fennel are both going to kick in a significant investment in my new enterprise.”

Libby found her voice at last. “You’ll let us go if we do?”

“Did I say that?” He looked her over and smiled in a way that made Libby feel like a mouse that stumbled into a fox den. “Fennel will give me every cent he’s got in hopes of getting his daughter back.” He glanced at Isabel, and his smile faded. “Maybe I will give her back. She hasn’t got the looks or the carriage you have. But you, Mrs. Adams …” He eyed her figure again, and Libby shuddered. “Yes, I think you’ll be a nice addition to the place.”

“Then why should I pay you?” she gasped.

“You don’t have a choice. We’ll visit the bank you patronize in Boise before we head for the new location.”

Goldie tossed her head. “I ain’t going with you.”

He threw his head back in a laugh. “Tell me that in six months.”

“The people of this town won’t let you carry us away,” Libby said.

“Oh, you mean the good sheriff and his friends?” Morrell scratched his head and drew his eyebrows together as though thinking hard. “Let me see, didn’t every man in town ride out a couple of hours ago, looking for a phantom killer? I doubt we’ll see them before morning. But just in case, we’ll get moving.”

Flora came down the stairs dragging a large portmanteau.

“Where’s Opal?” Morrell asked.

“She’s packing away a few things for her and me.” When she reached the bottom of the stairs, Flora straightened. “What now,

Mr. Morrell?”

“Leave that there. You get out of here, Flora.”

“What … what do you mean?”

The double doors swung open. “Hey, what’s a man gotta do to—”

Morrell swung around and fired the shotgun without hesitation. Pan Rideout flew backward out the doors.

Gert, Bitsy, and Emmaline stopped when the report of a gun echoed down the street. Pan Rideout’s body catapulted off the steps of the Nugget and several yards beyond, into the dirt.

Without a word, Gert picked up her skirt and ran to the old man. Tears streamed down her face as she knelt beside him.

“Mr. Rideout! Pan!”

His eyelids lifted slowly, and he frowned up at her. “I ain’t even finished my drink yet.”

Emmaline slid to the ground on the other side of the miner. Bitsy stood at Gert’s shoulder, aiming her Deringer at the doors of the Nugget.

“How bad is it?” Bitsy asked.

“Hit him in the leg,” Gert said. “Maybe the stomach, too. There’s some blood on his shirt. But I’d say two or three pellets got his leg.”

Pan’s mouth opened wide. He stared up at her for a moment in silence then howled. His eerie shriek reverberated off the storefronts. “Owww! He done shot me! Owww!”

Emmaline put her hands to her ears. Gert leaned over the old man and grasped his shoulders firmly. “Hush, Mr. Rideout. We’ll help you, but you’ve got to keep quiet.”

“Am I killed?”

“Not yet. Now let us get you over to my house. It isn’t far.” Gert looked up at Bitsy. “Think we can carry him over there?”

Bitsy nodded up the street. “Help’s coming. I’ll send Vashti for some blankets, and we’ll get a bunch of women to lug him.”

The yellow gleam of a lantern approached from the far end of Main Street. Gert peered into the dimness and made out a dozen women hurrying toward them, their skirts swirling.

Florence and Vashti reached them first, with Vashti bearing the lantern.

“What happened?” Florence asked.

“That snake Morrell shot Pan Rideout for no reason at all,” Bitsy said. “He’s got Mrs. Adams, Miss Fennel, and Goldie in the Nugget. Says he’s keeping them.”

“Not Mrs. Adams!” Florence’s face paled, and the flock of women behind her erupted in shocked exclamations.

Gert stood. “We’ve got to help Mr. Rideout first. He’s bleeding a lot. Morrell was loaded with buckshot.” She spotted Apphia in the group. “Mrs. Benton, will you take charge of him, please?”

“Of course.” Apphia stepped forward.

Gert’s spirits lifted. The Ladies’ Shooting Club would work together as a team. “Get five or six women to help you carry him to my house and care for him there.” Apphia nodded. “And Myra—”

“Yes’m?” Myra said eagerly.

“Run ahead to my house. Go in the back door. It’s not locked. There’s a lantern on the kitchen table with a box of lucifers beside it.”

“Here, take this lantern,” Vashti said.

“Good. Bring back the quilt off my bed.” As Myra dashed off toward the Dooley house, Gert scanned the group. “Who can run back to the Walkers’ and fetch bandages?”

“I can,” said Vashti.

“All right. Ask Mrs. Harper if she can leave the mayor in the reverend’s care long enough to examine Mr. Rideout. Go.”

Vashti dashed off the way she had come.

“The rest of you, listen up,” Gert said. “How many of you ladies of the shooting club have your weapons?”

Several said, “I do.”

“Good. I’ll need you. We’re not letting Morrell take Libby or Isabel or Goldie out of the Nugget. That means we need to cover the front and back doors.”

“What’s the plan, Gert?” Starr asked.

Gert frowned. “Mostly to keep him from leaving. If he steps foot outside, we arrest him. If he resists …” She hesitated, wondering how it would end and what evil Morrell might do before then. Reason told her he wouldn’t stay long for fear the posse would return and trap him. Blocking his flight seemed the only good option.

Bitsy cleared her throat. “We all know that Gertrude Dooley is the best shot in the Idaho Territory.” The others murmured their assent.

Bitsy looked down at the Deringer in her hand. “My little gun isn’t very good in this situation, but it’s better then nothing. Gert, I suppose your brother took his Sharps rifle with him?”

“Yes, he did,” Gert said.

“Who here has a rifle?”

A dark-clad figure eased through the crowd, and Gert recognized Orissa Walker.

“Mrs. Walker! I didn’t realize you were here.”

Orissa held out a rifle to her. “When the girl from the … when Miss Vashti told us there was trouble, I figured you might be needing this. My husband can’t wield it tonight, but there’s no one else who can use it as well as you, Miss Dooley. I’d be honored if you’d take it to defend our town.”

Gert reached out and took the rifle and a box of ammunition from her. The mayor’s Winchester wasn’t as fine as Cyrus’s Spencer rifle, but she knew she could use it to advantage. Her brother mounted a new sight on it for Walker just weeks ago. If she remembered right, it fired a little right of center.

“Thank you, ma’am.” The tears rose in her eyes once more. “I appreciate it.”

Orissa nodded. “Unless you feel I can be of assistance, I believe I’ll go back to my husband now.”

“You do that,” Gert said. “Ask Mr. Benton to pray for a peaceful resolution to this.”

She and Bitsy divided the armed women into two companies. Bitsy took her group around to the back of the Nugget. Gert and her troop stayed out front, aiming their weapons at the doors while Apphia and her contingent carried Pan Rideout away.

Stillness descended on Fergus. In the starlight, Gert stared at the saloon’s windows. Now and then she saw movement within. What was Morrell doing? A dim light in an upstairs window went out. She moved to where she could see the stairway inside. Opal came down carrying a carpet bag, with several smaller bags slung over her shoulders.

Morrell handed the Colt Peacemaker to Flora and lowered his shotgun. He laid it on the bar and walked deliberately over to the three captives. Libby shuddered and tried not to think about what he had just done. She had no doubt he would kill her and her two companions if they made him angry. She tried to pray, but her pleas felt more like inward screams.

He stopped in front of her and studied her face for a long moment then smiled. “Oh yes, we’ll have some good times together. I think you’ll like California.”

Libby returned his gaze with a stony glare. Isaac had told her once that her eyes could freeze the Snake River when she was angry, which wasn’t often.

Morrell turned to Isabel. His expression turned thoughtful as he reached out to push back a strand of her brown hair. “Not too attractive, but I daresay with the right clothes and some lip rouge, you’ll do.” He laughed. “Your father is so arrogant, I think this may be the best revenge after all. I had planned to pay him one more visit before I left town, but this is much better. I can’t thank you enough for coming to me tonight. He’ll be so humiliated when he learns you decided to go with me.”

He ran his finger down Isabel’s cheek, and she cringed against Libby.

“Leave her alone,” Libby said. A rush of anger crashed through her.

“Oh no. It’s time for us to leave. We want to put a lot of miles between us and the men of Fergus before morning. This way, ladies.” He gestured toward the curtained doorway.