Chapter Three
“Would you mind if I took a few things over to the McGillicuddy’s?” Emmie looked at Silas over dinner the next evening.
“A few things like what?” Silas looked over at his daughter.
“I don’t know,” Emmie pushed at a lump of stewed vegetables across her plate. “I thought I saw an extra apple custard pie in the larder.” Emmie looked away from her father. Silas might have been immune to Martha’s attentions but he was not immune to her apple custard pie, something she only made twice a year.
Silas took an audible intake of breath then sighed it out, “Fine.”
Emmie smiled up at her father.
“I’ll go take it to them now,” Emmie stood abruptly as her chair scratched back over the floor. She’d been unable to think of anything but Kate since she’d seen her the other day. Well, that and the men in the town square. Since she’d left Kate, Emmie had been brainstorming ways for Kate’s family to get through the year without Kate’s having to work at The Little Bird saloon.
“But you haven’t finished dinner yet,” Silas looked at Emmie’s plate which she quickly removed from the table.
“I’m full,” She was out of the door before Silas could say anything else. She’d packed up the extra pie before dinner—knowing Silas would give in and wanting to get over to the McGillicuddy house as soon as possible.
The neighboring ranch wasn’t far and Emmie was hopping off of Red probably before Silas had even finished his supper. Emmie didn’t want to interrupt dinner but she was anxious to see Kate.
As she walked up the front steps Emmie felt like something was wrong. It wasn’t a sound so much as a lack of sound. There were no voices at all. The McGillicuddy’s were a large family, seven children and every one of them louder than the last.
Emmie hesitated for only the briefest of moments before raising her hand and knocking on the door. There was still no sign of life from inside so she knocked again louder.
Pierson, the youngest McGillicuddy opened the door and stared out at Emmie.
“Hi Pierson, it’s me…Emmie.” Emmie studied the child’s face for a long moment but he didn’t say anything. “I brought an apple custard pie,” Emmie held the pie up and Pierson’s face began to relax. “Where is Kate?” He reached two dirty hands for the package and Emmie decided to trust the boy with it even though it would be much safer with his mother.
“She’s upstairs,” His attention was already absorbed in the contents of the package. He turned away from Emmie without another word and walked the pie back toward the kitchen. Emmie shook her head and let herself inside, quietly closing the door behind her. She made her way up the creaky old stairs and knocked on Kate’s closed door.
There was a muffled sound from inside. Emmie waited another moment then opened the door. Kate shared a room with two sisters but only Kate’s bed was inhabited.
Emmie stopped when she saw Kate.
A large blue and black knot had grown over Kate's right eye, forcing the eye closed. Three intersecting cuts ran across her cheek and part of her upper lip was double its normal size. Emmie felt immediately that there must be more broken and bruised than just Kate's face. Her body was stiff and Kate lay unmoving.
“Kate?” Emmie walked until she stood over her friend. She was afraid to touch her, that anything comforting would hurt the broken body beneath the bed linens.
“Oh,” The sound of a woman’s voice came from behind her and Emmie turned to see Kate’s mother behind her. Her face was pinched and pale. “Emmie?”
"I'm sorry, I brought a pie over, Pierson told me Kate was up here." Emmie felt guilty like she was walking into a private scene that might somehow embarrass this fragile looking woman.
Mrs. McGillicuddy looked at her daughter lying still, her upper lip and forehead beading with sweat. She sat a bowl of clean water and strips of cloth down on one of the empty beds and held out her hands for Emmie to follow her out of the room.
“Kate’s not up to seeing anyone right now,” Mrs. McGillicuddy said as she closed the door to the bedroom.
“What happened?” Emmie dropped her voice and took the older woman’s hands in her own.
“But…I thought that was why you came.”
“No,” Emmie shook her head and pressed silent encouragement into the hands she now held.
“You know that she took a job with Birdie?”
Emmie nodded trying to affix some sort of meaning to the older woman’s words. Mrs. McGillicuddy’s eyes filled.
“I’m sorry, I don’t understand. Did, did Mr. McGillicuddy—”
“No,” Mrs. McGillicuddy’s eyes grew large. “He would never.”
“Someone at Birdie’s saloon?” Emmie couldn’t imagine anyone doing something so violent to Kate. Then suddenly her mind rolled back to the day before. “The red-haired man. The men in town yesterday?”
Tears leaked out of Mrs. McGillicuddy’s eyes and Emmie understood exactly what had happened.
Emmie’s body went rigid with rage at the man she’d seen the day before. Of course, no one from this town would ever do something like that to a woman. To anyone. She released Mrs. McGillicuddy’s hands and turned flying down the stairs.
“Emeline,” Mrs. McGillicuddy’s voice echoed behind her but Emmie only heard the roar of blood in her ears.
She ran from the house and Red immediately came to attention. With a quick swing, she was on Red's back and galloping off on the road to town.
Had that man-made advances that Kate turned down? What sort of thing would make a man do something like that to a woman? Why hadn’t she done something yesterday? She could have enlisted help, forced the men out of town. She could have… but there was no good answer. How could she have known?
It was completely dark out by the time Emmie made it to the Little Bird Saloon. She gave Red a reassuring pat as she tied him up outside of the only lit building on the square.
Emmie walked straight inside without thinking of what she would actually do when she got inside.
“Emeline?” Birdie’s robust voice came from across the room. Emmie gave Birdie a fleeting look as her eyes roved over the scattered heads. Not many customers tonight.
The group was easy to spot. They sat in the corner with a plume of smoke hovering over them.
Emmie’s body was trembling with rage.
They were drinking heavily, empty mugs were littered around them on the table.
The fact that none of them even took the time to look at her, enraged her even more and Emmie stepped forward dropping both her hands heavily on the table.
The table shook with the force of her body and a glass close to the edge fell and shattered. All three looked at her. The man with the red hair smiled. Smiled at her.
“You,” She said pointedly, making eye contact with the man. “You did that to Kate.”
The man put his drink down and sat back in his chair. He looked Emmie over as her fingers gripped the table so tightly her knuckles turned white.
“Kate?” The man had a thick lazy draw.
"The girl who I assume was working here last night? The one you gave a black eye too?" Her voice was a low growl. She was trying hard not to yell, not to jump over the table and scratch his face the way Kate's had been cut.
“Now, why would I do something like that?” The man smiled again, showing off a missing tooth.
“Tomorrow morning. At dawn. I hope you can use a pistol,” Emmie was already having visions of herself shooting the man right through his smug face.
The saloon had gone quiet and there was a pause of motion around the table followed by a loud howl of laughter. The other two men began laughing with the first. The red-haired man turned and spit on the floor mid-laugh.
“Virgil, did you hear this little runt? I think she just challenged me to a quick draw.” The red-haired man was talking beyond Emmie to someone behind her but Emmie didn't turn from the ugly red face.
“Emeline,” Two firm hands were on her shoulders and she felt Birdie pulling on her body. “You need to get out of here. You hear me?” Emmie’s gaze broke from the man at the table and she turned. As soon as she began back toward the main entrance Birdie let go of her.
As she walked to the door her eyes moved across a familiar face. The man with the gray eyes. The man she'd seen the day before. He was staring at her with a deep intensity and Emmie paused for a moment, startled.
Of course, there had been four men the day before. His face was so different from that of his companion. The gray eyes connected with her in a visceral way.
Shaking herself back into action Emmie walked straight out to Red’s saddle, released her rifle, and loaded it. Her hands were sweaty as she gripped the familiar object and walked it back into the saloon.
“No,” Birdie’s voice was a loud crack this time. “Get her out of here.”
Emmie lifted the rifle up as her body was moved from the side. A shot rang out as the rifle lifted high. A smattering of dust and wood rained down on the men from the ceiling where the bullet had found a home.
Emmie had been lifted by one of the townsmen and Birdie's hands were clutching at the rifle.
“I’m keeping this for the night,” Birdie pried the rifle from Emmie’s hands. “You can have it back when you’ve calmed down.”
“How could you? How could you let them in again after what that man did to Kate?” Emmie was put back on her feet but the man stood large in front of her, blocking her from going back into the saloon.
“They’ll be gone in a day or two and I don’t need any more trouble,” Birdie’s voice was firm. “You hear me?”
Emmie stood staring at the other woman, unable to understand what she’d just heard.
“Go home, Emeline. Go home now.” Birdie pointed a finger in the vague direction of the Ward Ranch.
Emmie stood staring for a long time, then slowly turned, not sure what to do. She released Red who seemed just as ready as Emmie for action. She slowly mounted him. Birdie stood with hands on hips and watched until Emmie had begun moving through the town square.
Her mind was moving fast. Flitting from images of the man to images of Kate. The sound of her rifle shot was still ringing in her ears. Moving slowly, she was thinking of ways to go back, thinking of waiting for the group, but now she was without a rifle. Without a means of doing anything.
She rounded the small faded church building as her mind kept trying for solutions. There on the other side, standing in a beam of moonlight, stood the man with the red hair.