Chapter 9

Caroline watched Chuck and Dale carry the Doctor’s trunk towards Doc Holywell’s offices, above the Chinese laundry. She was curious about the Doctor, but didn’t feel it prudent for a lady, of some considerable standing in these parts, to display her curiosity.

“Howdy, Miss Caroline, how are yah today?”

She turned to see that Marshal Tom Denton had walked down from his office to meet her as she arrived on the Stagecoach.

“I am very well, thank you, Marshal. What about you?”

“Why Ah’m fine, considerin’ Ah wus out on the range fer more’n a week, tryin’ ta track down them pesky rustlers.”

“Poor man, you must be exhausted. Did you make any progress with your investigations?”

“Ah’m a mite bit tired, but that comes with the job, Ah guess. Kin Ah have a quiet word with ya Miss Caroline?” the Marshal bowed his head, leaned in and whispered, “in mah office where we cain’t be overheard?”

“Why of course, Marshal,” she smiled, “lead the way and I’ll surely follow.”

She held out her arm for him and the Marshal took it before they moved off towards the Marshal’s office.

Their boots clumped crisply upon the wooden sidewalk, the Marshal’s silver spurs jangling in addition. She had to take two steps for his every one, but he slowed the progress of his stride to a funereal pace, so she did not have to increase her normal walking pace. She had already noticed how well suited he was turned out, as usual, in his official capacity as the lawman and peacekeeper in the Sweetwater Valley territory. Tall and lean, the Marshal was resplendent in his dress, from his polished black boots up to his tall black hat and silver band, with silver-buckled gun belt and twin pearl handled Colt 45s, black string tie, white starched collar shirt, grey waistcoat with watch and chain, and long black coat. Caroline thought that he looked every inch the township’s protector of the peace, a catch for any self-respecting woman looking to carving a life out of a growing community on the very edge of civilisation.

The Marshal turned the handle and swung the door open to usher the lady into his office. She had never been in here before. It looked quite typical, the unpainted wooden walls the same as all the walls in town were. There were a few wanted posters on one wall, a map of Sweetwater Valley Territory on another wall. An ornate wooden desk, clearly shipped in from Back East, with a captains chair on castors behind it and a couple of plain wooden chairs set in front. A few drawers behind the desk and against the wall, were no doubt for file storage. A closed door on the back wall must lead through to the single cell in the jail. She remembered Judge Justice Makepeace saying that Sweetwater was too small for much of a jail, so it was impossible to lock the three desperadoes who gunned down her father separately; it gave them opportunities to agree their stories before questioning and again before the actual trial.

“Would yah like ta take a seat, Miss Caroline?” The Marshal asked, scraping back a chair and indicating that she take a seat. The words shook her out of her momentary reverie.

“Thank, you, Marshal,” she sat in the chair, while he moved around to the other side of the desk, while throwing his black hat onto the hatstand in the corner.

“Please call me Tom, when we are on our own, Miss Caroline, like ya’ll did a couple o’ times last week back at the Lazy C. Ah would like us ta be friendly.”

“All right, Tom. Now, what is it you wanted to speak to me about?”

He eased himself into his chair, “Ya half-brother, now, Samuel “Red Coyote” Pinner Junior, do ya know how often he visits the Injun Reservation?”

“No, not exactly, maybe a couple of times a week?”

“Don’t ya think that that’s excessive, fer someone with a huge ranch to run?”

“Well, other then the mountain being in the way, they are the ranch’s closest neighbours, and both his mother and grandfather live there. I would have thought it natural to maintain contact with his family. Other than myself, they are all the family he has. So what are you getting at, with this line of conversation, Tom?”

“Ah believe that Sam is involved in this rustlin’ business, replacing the cows he’s given to the Injuns with cows from other ranches. The Lazy C has so many cows he can easily hide fifty more on the ranch.”

“You can’t be serious, Tom, Sam has plenty of cows as you know, he loves the ranch and he wouldn’t do anything to—”

“Yeah, a ranch that he would’ve expected to have bin all his outright, if’n it weren’t fer ya’ll comin’ here from Back East.”

“He’s my brother. As far as I am concerned he could have the whole ranch. He’s worked all his life for my father and he’s earned every penny that the ranch is worth. I have done nothing to deserve a penny. Now, if we’re talking Marshal business here about my family members, then I’m back to calling you Marshal. Now what grounds do you have for these scurrilous suspicions?”

“Why, ain’t it obvious?” the Marshal spat, “it’s because he ain’t nothin’ more than a damned Injun!”

Caroline was fuming as she stomped from Marshal Tom Denton’s office. ‘How dare he cast such accusations on my brother,’ she thought, ‘all based on the Marshal’s prejudices against Native Americans. And, as for our Injuns, they’re not even proper Indians!’

Gripping her valise tightly, she stormed down the sidewalk, but being early afternoon, and the Stagecoach no doubt bringing back packages for various citizens, as well as the good Doctor’s trunks, the sidewalk was crowded with townsfolk, and she was forced to slow down.

Then everyone was being so polite to her, nodding their heads to her, or doffing caps, smiling nervously at her, that her foul mood couldn’t help but change for the better. Her frown unfurled and this made her more approachable. One lady, who Caroline didn’t know, asked her if the rumours about the school house opening up were true. Caroline stopped to reply.

“I hope so, ma’am. My father built that school house to be used and, until we can find a qualified teacher, I will be holding classes for children from five through to thirteen.”

The woman began crying and, with all the other women around, took it in turns to embrace Caroline. Soon a crowd of women and children thronged around her, introducing themselves and their children. The general storekeeper came out onto the sidewalk too, holding a two page list, covered in names scrawled in pencil, which he handed to Caroline.

“It’s a list o’ children who want ta come ter study in yah school, Miss Bradshawh,” said Baker, the shopkeeper, “folk have bin askin’ ‘bout it all week, an’ a few of the common folk would like ta learn ta read’n’write, too.”

“I will post on the door of the school house, the date when I will be starting classes,” asserted Caroline, “we’ll probably start next week.”

“Straight after Christmas, then!” they all chorused.

“Yes! Straight after Christmas!” Caroline agreed, to more cheers.

Her next call was the Liberty Livery Stables and Jerome Maclean, who ran the stables.

“Howdy, Miss Bradshawh,” said Jerome, “I take it ya’ll want Dotty an’ the gig agin?”

“Please, Mr Maclean.”

“Joshua an’ his boys, they should be back in Sweetwater Valley by the end o’ the week, in plen’y o’ time fer the start o’ school lessons.”

Caroline shook her head and laughed, “Does everyone know my business?”

“Ain’t nothin’ else ta talk about round here, Miss Bradshawh,” he laughed, which only made the very last tooth in his jaw wobble even more.