Professor Bones and Esmeralda

I could almost see the heat rising from her in waves.

Dancing always did this to her. Maybe it was the freedom, maybe it was the rows upon rows of men, watching her with only one thought. I don't know, but whatever it was, it was primal, almost savage.

"How was the evening?"

She closed her eyes for a second, trembling lightly. "The audience was packed in. So many men." Her eyes suddenly opened. "The other Starling brothers were there, along with maybe four of their Cowboys." She described the men she'd seen with them.

I nodded. "If we move quietly, we can get her out of here without them noticing. If they're looking for her."

Esme arched one eyebrow. She shivered. "A libation, I think." Her voice trailed off.

As she prepared our drinks, I thought I'd best settle the plan. "Tomorrow..."

She cut me off. "If tomorrow comes."

I smiled a bit. "If tomorrow comes, of course. I think, maybe, you should bring her in."

She arched her brow again. "Really?"

"It'd be for the best." I knew she was afraid for "Kitty" and the baby, afraid I would be what she knew I really was. But then, even I was afraid of that. "Esme, I think it'd be best if you brought her in. She trusts you. Maybe you could just use an excuse to get her back here, get her to the wagon and we can leave." Shackled, of course. "Jed lives, Victoria lives. They'll never execute her if she is with child."

She stared at me, her dark eyes afire. I watched her take two deep breaths. "I can do that. We can do that." I could see her worry and fear drop away, leaving only one emotion.

Esmeralda suddenly smiled, a sinful, leering smile, full of dark, hedonistic promise. She reached back for the whiskey glasses, but she was so distracted, so singularly focused, that her hand swept the glasses and her little bottle into the washstand.

For just a moment she gazed into the washstand, but then turned and stalked over to me, bending to kiss me slowly with near hellish heat.

"Never mind the libation, Barnabas. Never mind the damn boots. Just get this damn corset off me."

###

The next morning, Esmeralda was oddly soft, oddly quiet and oddly slow. She gave me a lingering kiss before she headed out to find Victoria and bring her back. The softness of the kiss left me uneasy; it was so unlike her.

I waited, making sure everything was ready to go twice over.

Esmeralda was almost thirty minutes overdue when I finally checked my pocket watch. I started pacing the room. The plan had been so simple, so easy. I glanced at the pocket watch again. Three more minutes, and a smudge on the watch crystal. I irritably walked over to the washstand and picked up the hand towel to clean the watch. A small bottle clattered to the floor.

I picked it up, catching the faint smell of bitter almonds.

Prussic acid.

I stared at the overturned shot glasses for a second, and then sprinted down the stairs. I glanced up at a smooth slate grey overcast sky, stormed over to the wagon and pulled myself inside.

I tossed my coat, letting it land on the floor wherever it would.

Taking a deep breath, I stabbed the silver key in and unlocked that single black lacquered drawer, raging mutely against Esmeralda as I pulled it open.

In the drawer, coiled like a nightmare venomous snake, lay my rig.

I hated it. The barest touch of it made my skin crawl. I hated wearing it; if that was even right. I was honestly never certain whether I wore it or the vile thing wore me. I hated what it did to me, what it bade me do. What it made me. The Reckoning that Esme so abhorred.

I could almost hear it hiss ecstatically as I buckled it on.

The rig, with its Cheyenne loop holster on the right hip, and the high riding cross-draw holster on the left, was undecorated. The oiled leather was every bit as black as the sin it reveled in. Matching dull black Colt 1878s with black bird's head handles sat quietly, but relentlessly hungry, in the holsters, like crows waiting to feed on the dead.

I silently checked the oil-smooth action of each revolver, wordlessly profaning the name of my personal Gypsy curse all the while.

I headed toward the one place that made sense: the stagecoach stop near the Sheriff's office. Esme had become fond of our quarry and wanted to get her out of town. That had to be why she'd delayed going to get her so late. Esmeralda had to be planning on putting Victoria on the coach out of town. If she got her on the spry, fast, Wells, Fargo & Co. stagecoach, our slow bulky wagon would never catch up.

A single crow eyed me with evil joy from a fence rail as I paced angrily past it.

I was crossing in front of the dry goods store when my spinster-in-blue popped out, batting her eyes almost frantically.

"Professor! I just have to say, your medicines are remarkably effective..."

I was almost unspeakably grateful for the thundering dull boom of a shotgun followed by a rolling burst of gunfire that cut her off before she could start talking about "hysteria oils." She started, looking first towards the street where the sounds had come from, then back at me, suddenly noticing my lack of coat and the addition of the dead black gun belt buckled around me. She took an uncertain half step back.

"Professor...?" Her voice squeaked and trailed away weakly.

"Dear lady, do find yourself something solid to get behind. If you can find one, it would, perhaps, be best to remove yourself to a cellar for some little time." I gave her my most charming smile, though it seemed to be lost on her this time. Her mouth opened and closed wordlessly.

"Good day, Madame." I reflexively touched my hat brim and pushed past her, pulling the revolver from the right holster and cocking it.

There was only one possible reason for the continuing gun fire. We'd guessed right and the Starling brothers and their men must have been here for Victoria, as well, although for the life of me, I couldn't figure why they hadn't taken Esme down quickly. She'd only taken her two shot derringer.

Then it dawned on me. The coach stop was so very near the Sheriff's office. There was a chance my quick-thinking Esmeralda might survive after all.

As I came up on Main Street, I found a man with his back towards me, firing steadily around the corner, aiming rounds at the Sheriff's office. I recognized him as one of the Starling brothers' Cowboys from Esme's description of his coat.

It was like watching myself from a great distance. It always felt that way. I strode forward without pause, firing one .44-40 round into the back of his skull from inches away. I didn't slow at all as I stepped past his collapsing body, thumbing the hammer back again. My carrion birds were double action, but single action use is always more accurate, if one has the time.

In gunfights you should always take the time to do what you need to do. You have the rest of your life, after all, to do it right.

Two of the Starling men were hunched behind the stagecoach further down the street, trading shots with someone in the Sheriff's office. Neither was particularly brave; they were holding their pistols up to fire around the coach without looking. The driver's body was hanging half off the driver's box, his double-barrel messenger gun lying on the street beneath one dangling hand.

Over us, against the steel grey sky, the black forms of crows were starting to swirl and dodge in the sky.

A crumpled form a bit further down the street had obviously been the target of the driver's ire; only a double-barrel would be so profoundly destructive to a man's features. At least the driver had gotten one of them.

To my deep relief I didn't see Esmeralda's red and black dress anywhere.

I quickened my pace to close with the remaining gunmen. I could see both of them had taken pellets from the scatter gun.

Perhaps sensing his doom, or perhaps just wondering why their compatriot had ceased firing, one of the men, the middle Starling brother, Custis, turned to look back. His face barely had time to register panic and confusion at my approach before I placed two rounds through the bridge of his nose. The remaining man looked startled, as Custis sagged sideways against him.

That last man spun faster than I expected, his wounds slowing him only a tiny bit. I doubt he realized fully what was happening before two rounds through his temple permanently ended any wondering he'd been doing.

Not before a single shot from his revolver burned a path along the skin of my thigh. Whatever the Starling brothers had been paying him, he'd been worth more.

I staggered back a step, and then looked around carefully. For a moment, there was a heavy, overwhelming silence, but that was broken by the raucous sound of crows calling to each other as they settled on rooftops along the street.

One glance told me the stagecoach driver was quite dead. I glanced down at his gun, a 10 gauge Wm. Moore & Co double. I left it; it just wasn't my style.

I edged around the stagecoach with my gun raised over my head and called to the Sheriff's office. "It's all over out here, Gentlemen."

"Professor?" It was Jed's voice, hesitant and nervous.

"Yes, it's me." I edged into full view, and then limped slowly into the office, sliding my empty revolver back into the hip holster and drawing the other.

Jed sighed with relief, and I could see why. He was crouched next to the Sheriff, who'd obviously been hit in the right arm and in the side, high up on the rib cage. He'd probably live, since he was still conscious and the blood was oozing slowly rather than flowing bright red.

The Sheriff silently looked me over, taking in the rig, his face darkening.

The office was empty except for the two of them. "Where are the ladies?"

Jed shook his head. "Your gypsy took Katherine and ran south while we tried to hold them here. She had some crazy story and was dragging her to the coach when these men showed up. Let me reload..."

I leveled the gun in his general direction, but didn't quite aim it at him. "Slide the gun over to me, Jed."

He looked confused but gripped the gun a little tighter. "What? But you're with us...?"

"Not precisely."

The Sheriff reached over and gently pulled the Peacemaker out of Jed's hand with his good hand, keeping it carefully pointed away from me. "Jed. Look at his rig. He's a professional shootist." He looked at me from under his brows. "I should have figured that after your little show in the saloon. What are you after?"

"Bounty. I have paper on one Victoria Lodge. Murder of her brother for an inheritance. That's what the Starling brothers are after, too, I think. It's a rather large bounty."

Light dawned in the Sheriff's eyes, but Jed remained in the dark. "What does that have to do with us?"

"You know her as Katherine Slade."

Jed looked lost as ever, but now he looked like I'd kicked him in the stomach. The Sheriff shook his head, slow and angry. "Damn it. You're sure Kitty is the one you're looking for?"

"Sure as I can be. You know she showed up out of nowhere a year ago with that ridiculous story of how she ended up here. Red hair, green eyes, there's a V-shaped scar on her right forearm. That's from a riding accident she had as a child." I looked down at Jed. He was still mired in disbelief, but I was sure anger and desperation would kick in soon. "You'd better put him in a cell. If he gets in the way..." I didn't finish.

The Sheriff nodded, and then slowly pushed himself up the wall until he managed to stand. Corralling Jed into the cell was easier than I'd expected, though how much was from the Sheriff's influence and how much was simple shock was uncertain.

I reloaded the empty revolver before heading out; flipped the loading gate open and replaced the rounds one at a time. No point in rushing. Load one, skip one, load four. That leaves the hammer down on that empty chamber so a bad jump or even stumble won't trigger an accidental round and blow your foot off.

With the stagecoach driver dead, there was no easy way for Esmeralda to get her out of town, anyway; I couldn't really picture her grabbing a couple of horses and riding out. Besides, there were at least two more Starling brothers out there somewhere.

I glanced at the Sheriff. "She isn't harmless, the want is 'Dead or Alive,' Massachusetts doesn't do that for no reason."

"I can't see it. Not her."

"If it's a mistake, the courts can sort it out. She's with child, so they will likely show leniency in any case. She'll live, as long she doesn't force me." I added to myself that Esmeralda had already proven herself unreasonable about this. She'd obviously been willing to sacrifice both our lives for a woman she'd just met. The only reason we were still breathing was that my decision to let her bring Victoria in alone had given her other options. I suspected more than anything else, Esme was trying to protect the baby.

He grunted, an assent of sorts. I stopped for a second before heading out the door. "I have paper out of the Wyoming Territory on Custis Starling out there, too, and his brothers if I can catch them."

Another wordless grunt answered me.

Catching the Starling brothers did not exactly prove to be a problem. Nor did catching up with Esmeralda and her erstwhile charge.

I ran into the bunch of them almost as soon as I turned right out of the door of the Sheriff's office.

Lucius Starling was gripping Esmeralda's hair in one hand and a tarnished revolver against her head with the other. Victoria was in a similar position with the Damon Starling. Their remaining Cowboy stood by Damon with a gap-tooth grin and a shotgun leveled at me.

I silently reflected that both Lucius and Damon would most likely blow their own hands off if they shot their hostages. Not that either lady would be around to appreciate the irony of it.

"Where's Custis? He in the jail?" Lucius wrenched Esme's hair as he said it. Her expression didn't change at all. Where Victoria looked understandably terrified, Esme looked darkly defiant. But that defiance was aimed at me rather than at her captors. She knew all too well what my black rig signified. Knew that people were dying now.

I shook my head, keeping my hands away from my guns, trying to look reserved and harmless. "He was hiding over behind the stagecoach, kind of lost his head during the fracas."

A fair piece of it anyway.

Lucius called over to the stagecoach. "Custis, get yer ass over here, we gotta go!"

No answer, just the restless gathering of crows calling quietly from the rooftops. Some of them seemed to be falling upward into the sky. At first just a few, but then more of them ascending, forming into a dark pulsing cloud.

He yelled again. "Dammit, Custis, get over here!"

I looked Esme in the eye, but spoke to Lucius. "It was fair thundering loud out here for a while. I don't believe he can hear so well right now."

Lucius looked irritated. "Cody, go get him."

The smiling lackey frowned and started walking slowly over towards the coach, nudging the body of the man the coach driver had killed and shaking his head.

I put on my most reasonable smile. "I'm certain we can work something out here."

Lucius shook his head. "We're taking the bounty. And her." He tugged Esmeralda's hair with a nasty snicker that Damon immediately echoed. Her face went grim and cold. She knew what that meant. They wanted her for the same reason Victoria was still alive, even though the bounty said, "Dead or Alive."

Cody finally reached the coach and looked behind it. "Hey! Custis is dead."

Lucius looked at me in surprise. "I thought you said..."

In the sky over us and along the rooftops, crows began to joyously croak and caw to each other.

"Oh, I know he's dead. I killed him. He was hiding there. Yellow, through and through."

"Damn your eyes!" Lucius' face twisted in fury as he pulled his gun away from Esmeralda's head to aim it at me. She wrenched herself towards him, almost like she was trying to embrace him. A loud but weirdly muffled thump sounded from between them, answered by a single round from his revolver into the dirt at his feet. Lucius staggered back a step with a look of shock, still trying to hold on to his gun as a red stain spread across his shirtfront.

Damon finally realized what was happening, but not in time to do anything. Victoria had already started to cringe downward from the gunfire, pulling him a bit off balance, and I'd already started my draw. There's little faster on God's Green Earth than the hand of a man who makes a living with magic tricks. Damon certainly wasn't.

My carrion bird added its booming call to the ecstatically rising chorus from the black-feathered storm overhead. Damon's eyes rolled back, looking absurdly as if he was trying to examine the bullet hole in his forehead.

I twisted, wincing at the pain in my thigh, and then hammered three rounds into Cody. He dropped where he stood, still trying to bring his scatter gun to bear, and still trying to understand the turn of events as he passed on.

More and more crows rose into the churning mass above us, their cries ever more strident.

Lucius fell to his knees, still struggling to bring his revolver up, but it seemed to have grown heavy, almost infinitely heavy, in his hand. Esmeralda was slightly crouched, looking into his unfocused eyes, watching him fade with a hunger and wild-eyed fascination.

The calls of the crows above us had grown to an almost deafening, rapturous cacophony.

She was whispering to him, something soft and sibilant. I couldn't make out what she said to him, and if the Almighty God has any Mercy left for me at all, I will never know.

I couldn't let that go on, I couldn't let her enjoy this too much.

I cocked the hammer on my weapon and placed the last round between Lucius' eyes.

Esmeralda twisted her head and glared, blackly furious at me for ending that precious moment.

"Enough, Esmeralda. Enough." I said it softly, apologetically.

I slid my revolver back into the cross draw holster. Esmeralda spun toward me as she stood straight and leveled her derringer at me, steady, unwavering. "You're not taking her."

"Esmeralda. Dear. Whatever are you doing?"

Her dark eyes flashed. "She's innocent. I talked to her, I have the whole story. There is no dead brother; she never even had a brother. Just an uncle who wants her money. She was the heir, but he was supposed to manage her fortune until she reached twenty five. She overheard him planning to have her killed before she reached her majority so he could keep the money. She couldn't get anyone to believe her, and she didn't know what else to do, so she ran."

"There's rather a lot of money at stake here Esmeralda. That bounty is quite large. And please, do put your gun away. You're more likely to hurt me by throwing it at this distance anyway. I'd rather you not kill me on accident."

The crows began to quiet, a little at a time, their cries falling and fading.

She hesitated, eyeing my hands for minute, then uncocked her little gun and tucked it away. "They played us, Barnabas, they played us for fools." Her lip curled in disgust. "The paper on her is no good. If we kill her, they deny everything and you hang for murder. You know what will happen to me. If we try to bring her in, we all end up murdered, as soon as he can locate us. Why do you think the Starling brothers were here? How else would they know? I'm sure they have other hired guns. So many that even you couldn't kill them all."

"Esme, murderers can lie, you know." Still, her point about the Starling brothers made sense. They couldn't have shown up on their own. I could well imagine Mr. Graham cheerfully sending them our updates.

She pushed Victoria behind her. "I believe her. Take the paper on the Starling brothers. Take the bounty on me if you have to. It isn't as much as her uncle promised, but it is money." She glared at me furiously as she spit that out. "If that's all you want."