Hugh Fontaine

When Hugh woke, the quilt was wrapped around his legs. His restless dreams had that little lady next to him, her warmth running along the side of him as the moon ticked from horizon to horizon.

There had been little sleep for a man in his condition. Instead, he stared at the darkness, planned his future, built a house, and said “I do.” He even had a mess of kids with apricot-colored hair all in his imagination before the roosters called for morning.

Last night as he and Julianne shared a bench, Hugh thought they’d come to an understanding. He claimed he was a changed man, and Julianne accepted him. That sweet kiss on his cheek seemed just the signal he needed.

After shaving and dressing in a black suit, Hugh readied his wagon and set out. He got as far as the road and stopped cold. If he turned right, he’d go straight to the church and beg Julianne’s father to have mercy on him and allow him to court his daughter. Reluctantly, he tugged the reins to the left and went toward Creede instead. It was time to sell his business.

His horses seemed jittery. When Hugh came out of his reverie about his future with Julianne, he could smell smoke. He wondered if a mine had caught fire, but most of the mines were in the canyon behind him or farther away to the east. The hazy sky was in front of him.

He could see wafts of smoke as he topped the ridge and headed up another slope that would eventually go down toward Creede. When he rounded the corner at the bottom of the canyon, black smoke and orange flames rose from the Waterin’ Hole Saloon on the northern-most end of town.

Hugh assessed the wind, realizing that the fire would move away from the road to Bachelor and away from his saloon. His business was safely tucked away—for now—up West Willow Creek Canyon. If Creede burned to the ground as it had twice before, his saloon just got a whole lot more valuable with the destruction of so many others. The tragedy before him would create a small fortune of profits at his saloon in just a few days.

Greed tickled his thoughts. If he hung onto his saloon for a couple more months, he would also sell it at an unusually high price later.

He shoved his left hand into his pocket and felt the playing card he kept there. That ace of spades marked his day of decision. Temptation melted away from him and held no sway. Someone else might get a large profit that could have been his, but he’d have his soul pointed in the right direction.

His gaze once again went to the conflagration before him. There were holes in the roof of the saloon, with flames shooting high above them. The rear windows belched sooty smoke. Men were passing buckets of water along a line, and horses pulled several pumpers into position beside the Bonanza Claim Mine’s pumper to douse the flames.

Mr. Anders waved wildly to Hugh. “Get your wagon over here. We’ve got to pull down that saloon. If we don’t, it’s going to torch my place next door.”

Hugh looked at the Silver Stag. He wasn’t sure, but he thought it might be burning already. This little bit of wind would send sparks south in a hurry. He pulled his wagon as close as he dared. The front porch was not yet on fire, and men tied ropes around the structure and then to the wagons. On Mr. Anders’ signal, the wagons pulled the front of the building down. However, it revealed the next saloon was also already burning from the back.

Both buildings crashed and settled, sending a cascade of sparks into the gentle breeze and onto the roof of several nearby buildings. The fire leaped as if set free, gorging itself on the clapboard town.

Mr. Anders climbed into Hugh’s wagon. “We’re going to lose this whole town. Take me to my other saloon.” The Nugget Saloon sat near the southern end and was the finest with expensive trimmings, but like every other building, it was all wood. Wooden bar with intricate moldings and medallions. Wooden tables and chairs with fine padded seats. Wood flooring. It was easy prey for the growing monster behind them, and Mr. Anders looked desperate to save it.

As they traveled to the far end of town, Hugh maneuvered through the crowd that was gathered on the road. Up and down the street, merchants were removing as much inventory as they could stack into a wagon to take to the rail station.

“The way this is spreading, I could lose the Nugget too within the hour. I’ve got Archie bringing some black powder.” Mr. Anders jumped from Hugh’s wagon.

Reverend Bing drove his own wagon next to Hugh’s. Before Callum’s boots hit the ground, he said, “Julianne’s missing. She’s been taken, and we think she came this way.”

Hugh’s heart stopped. His whole world stopped.

When he found his voice, he muttered two words. “What happened?” A secondary thought rose unbidden—he’d kill the man who’d done this. “Tell me!” The suddenly turbulent blood pumping behind his ears muffled the pandemonium around him.

Callum stood beside Reverend Parker as he related the evidence they had—Julianne’s footprints going to the henhouse, a set of much larger prints joining them, scuffling marks in the mud, the basket of eggs spilled, the large footprints walking toward a set of horse and wagon tracks that led toward Creede.

“We just came from the train station. Millie and Mrs. Parker are waiting there to make sure she isn’t taken from town that way,” Reverend Parker added.

There weren’t many men in town who were ignorant about the recently arrived beauty. She would have been noticed for sure. Hugh also knew other women had gone missing and hadn’t been found yet. “Let’s spread out and ask.”

Hugh approached the Nugget to look around. The door was shut tight, so Hugh moved to go around toward the back and enter that way.

As he passed a window, he heard two men talking on the balcony above him. “We’re going to use black powder to blow up Edwin’s restaurant next door and hope that stops the fire before it can lay waste to the Nugget.”

He recognized that nasally voice—Little Archie. Hugh figured they were strategizing about how to save the town, and he was going to continue on when he heard Archie say, “If that doesn’t work, the women will die in the fire, and we’ll have to find new ones. Throw the last woman in there and hope the powder will work.”

The other man answered, “They’s one of those preacher women at the train. I cain’t get our women past ’em into your boxcar in broad daylight.”

“Just dump the woman in the cellar, and I’ll set the charges. We’ll move them tonight.”

“If they live.”

Hugh ran into the street to see who Grady had been talking to, but they’d already left the balcony. Where were the women? He needed to follow whoever that was.

In the reflection of a window, Hugh saw the cowpoke walk past him. He turned just in time to see him walk around the other side of the Nugget. When Hugh rounded the same corner, he ran into the fist of a huge man. Dougal had been waiting for him. Maybe, they’d seen him listening to their conversation. Pain exploded in his jaw, flashes of light stunned his vision, and he dropped to his knees before blacking out.

Hugh’s eyes peeped open, and his head whirled in circles. Above him stood the cowpoke. Hugh saw the shadowy figure of Death too and wondered how badly he’d been hurt.

The cowboy pointed to the other angel. “Don’t mind him. Death is just going to loll about this town for a space. Might get busy. Might not.” He nudged Hugh’s ribs with the tip of his boot. “Get up. My job was officially over with your change of heart, so I think I’ll just sit a spell over by that root cellar.”

Hugh rolled to his hands and knees, then slowly rose to his feet.

“I said by that root cellar!” The cowpoke stalked off. When Hugh called out to him, he paused and turned, but he didn’t wait. He just waved his hand for Hugh to follow.