Professor Bones and Esmeralda

Victoria looked stunned. "What do you mean 'take the bounty' on you, Esme?" When Esmeralda said nothing and looked at the ground, Victoria turned on me. "What bounty on Esme?"

Esmeralda stood silently.

I sighed and waved a hand dismissively. "There is no bounty. There is no paper on Esmeralda de Moliere."

Esmeralda wouldn't let me get away with it. "But there is on Mabel Watkins. An escaped convicted murderess, sentenced to death in Pennsylvania for poisoning her monster of a husband, along with six of his foul friends." Esmeralda looked more at me than at Victoria. "Barnabas caught me working in a saloon outside of Dodge City. He just hasn't turned me in yet."

"You're not guilty are you?"

Esmeralda remained silent, so I answered for her. "Oh, she's guilty as sin. She even confessed to the murders. Prussic acid in the evening libation of whiskey. Unfortunately, she was afraid they'd notice the taste so she didn't use enough. While it killed his friends quickly enough, he was a very large man. There wasn't quite enough to finish him off quickly and he managed to accuse her. Prussic acid is very easy to detect if you are looking for it." I paused looking at the crow-speckled sky for a second, thoughtfully. "She should have used powdered poison mushroom. They'd have died later, and it would have been assumed to be liver failure from drinking bad whiskey."

I thought Victoria was going to faint, but she set her jaw, stayed on her feet and looked at Esmeralda. "She escaped from prison?" There was a faint bit of awe in her voice.

I smiled at that, arching an eyebrow. "She's quite clever...really quite, um, resourceful. I believe the story was that she 'overpowered' one of the guards. Maybe two. Or even three. Either one at a time or all at once. It's all very confused and their stories didn't quite match up."

Victoria turned red as that sunk in, but she stayed game for her newfound protector. "So when did you catch her?"

"Just about two-and-a-half years ago. For the life of me, I just can't seem to remember to turn her over to the authorities. I have a weak moral character and the little minx takes advantage of that. She keeps overpowering me, as it were." I could see a hint of a smile play on Esmeralda's lips.

Just one crow was still calling; occasional amused rasps.

"So if she's really named Mabel, I suppose you aren't really named 'Barnabas Bartleby Bones' either."

"On the soul of my poor dead Sainted Mother, that is my real name. My father and mother sold Patent Medicines as part of a much larger traveling show than ours. They assumed I would follow in their footsteps and gave me an appropriate moniker. As I grew up, I played my part as 'Kid Wonder,' marksman and trick shot artist for the show."

Esmeralda finally showed a real sign of life. "It's true, except his mother is alive and living in New Jersey."

"It's the same as being dead, Esmeralda." I looked to Heaven for guidance. "The same thing."

We stood quiet for a few seconds. The crows were slowly flittering away like black leaves in steady wind, strangely silent. "I suppose I could telegraph the State of Massachusetts to see if the paper is good. If Miss Vicky, here, agrees to being locked up in the jail until the answer comes back."

I watched both of them relax. Victoria smiled. "I will. You can lock me up." I knew what the answer from Massachusetts would be just from the look in her happily shining green eyes.

"You may well wish we'd dragged you back to your uncle though."

She looked puzzled. "Why...?"

"You get to explain all this to your husband, 'Kitty.' He'll be in the cell next to yours until the answer comes back."

###

After the message came back, saying what I knew it would, we sorted everything out.

They saw us to the edge of town. Jed, Kitty, the Sheriff, and a half dozen hastily deputized cowhands and farmers, carrying an assortment of shotguns and repeaters. One farmboy was gingerly carrying the Wells, Fargo stagecoach driver's gun that I'd last seen laying in the street. Mother Slade had come up with the money for the guns. She was determined not to lose her daughter-in-law or grandchild to any hired shooters.

I shook hands with the Sheriff. "Sir, our little subterfuge should keep you from any further trouble. All due apologies for all of the confusion."

I'd sent a telegram to the law office of Mister Graham and informed him that we'd found out she wasn't here after all, but we'd heard rumors and were following her to San Francisco.

The Sheriff shook his head. "If not you, it'd have been somebody, maybe somebody less reasonable." He glanced back at the graveyard with its sudden crop of new graves. "Although I'm not sure you're exactly reasonable."

Kitty pushed forward and hugged Esme. She'd come down with a terrible case of admiration for my companion, though she still had trouble meeting my eyes. Whatever they said was lost in the sound of the wind, but I was certain they meant it.

As they walked back into town, we climbed aboard our wagon.

Esmeralda pulled her dust cloak a little closer as I guided our wagon onto the easterly road. "I hear they have the latest fashions in corsets and petticoats in Boston. They use new types of silk from all over the Orient in all kinds of lovely colors. I would dearly love to purchase some."

I twisted the tip of my mustache a little tighter. "We really could use a little time to relax, Esme. And I do so hate being played for a fool." I glanced up at the sky and watched a lone crow heading slowly towards the rising sun. "I believe we could start our journey by train from Saint Louis. I have a small matter to discuss with an attorney there."

###

WESTERN UNION

TO: VICTORIA LODGE C/O KATHERINE SLADE

REGRET TO INFORM YOU OF DEATH OF ARTEMIS LODGE FROM LIVER FAILURE STOP REQUEST YOUR IMMEDIATE RETURN TO BOSTON TO DETERMINE DISPOSITION OF ESTATE STOP

Finis

###

Post Production Notes:

A few possibly unfamiliar terms:

Canary cage: Technically a slang term for a bustle on a dress, but occasionally used for one's behind.

Colt 1878 Bird's Head Revolver: The bigger, better sequel to the much more famous, but very unreliable, 1877 "Thunderer." It's probably worth noting that while Doc Holiday carried an 1877, he tended to beat rather than shoot people with it.

Cowpuncher/Cowhand: What we would call a Cowboy now -- the term Cowboy actually had a negative slant to it in many areas, such as Tombstone where it was synonymous with lawlessness.

Hysteria: A supposed broad-ranging affliction of women with a huge array of symptoms; could be minor, could be serious. Overactive libido was one "symptom." Treatment of hysteria did, according to some historians, lead to the invention of the electronic vibrator.

Messenger gun: In modern terms this would be referred to as a coach gun, a short barrel side-by side-shotgun. Wells, Fargo & Co. used variety of large bore double barrel guns to guard the messages.

Nevermind: Anything unmentionable in mixed company, context is usually obvious.

Prussic Acid: Hydrogen cyanide

Rusty: From 'cut rusty': to court or go calling on. To be romantically interested in.

Soiled Dove: One of many terms for prostitute. Out west, the profession was not as frowned on in the East or as it is today.

Various mushrooms in the Amanita family, such as the Death Cap and Destroying Angel cause death by liver failure.

Special Thanks:

Special thanks to blackrandi for top of the mark line and content editing on this story; to sbrooks103x and No1specific for their amazing line editing and beta reading. I can't thank them enough -- the sheer number of corrections is always mind-boggling. Any remaining errors are entirely mine - probably added after their assistance.

I have some special thanks to a few people in addition to the editors and beta readers. As I said, the Old West is not my usual hang-out and I needed some help on various subjects: Pop Hadn of the School for Scoundrels, for advice on magicians, the history of the shell game, and the words to Umbrella Jim's patter. Mike, of the Duelist Den, and Corsair for support and advice on firearms and usage in the Old West. I'm pretty experienced with modern weapons, but wanted to make sure I had this era right.

I really need to express my appreciation for my wife; she's the one who encouraged me to pick up writing. She also helps me talk through plots and characters, especially female characters and their motivations. It's not always a comfortable process as some scenes and some character strike very close to home, but she does it anyway. She loved the idea of a Western and was a very strong influence on Esme and Kitty in this story.