Chapter 11

It was the week after the Mercer shoot-out. Winter set in, in earnest, with a vicious storm. The snowfall was the worst in a decade, and people were imprisoned in their own homes for the duration.

Inside the big house things were not going well. Edmee was having a very bad time with survivor's guilt. For all of her life she had served the Dupuis family, and since she was a servant, she believed that her life was of lesser value than that of the family members. With the death of Madame Dupuis Edmee was second-guessing what she had done that fateful day.

She felt that if she had not run but, instead, had grabbed Boyd's gun and shot Ace Mercer that the Mistress would have lived.

The woman's grief was so profound that she didn't eat or sleep, she just wept wailed and whined continually. Jean and then Maeve had tried to tell her, over and over, that the mistress had surely died from the first blow of that heavy revolver, but still...

Shaylee on the other hand had not really left her dark core after the shoot out. Being forced yet again to take lives, no matter how evil, and living in a town while being pestered continually to take up the Sheriff's job; was wearing the woman out. Edmee's wailing added to those things, and Shaylee finally broke.

Totally fed up with the old woman's caterwauling, Shaylee walked in and smacked the old woman in the face! It was an open handed slap but it still carried quite a bit of force, in fact so much force that it knocked Edmee right out of her chair!

"If you think that you should have died with your Mistress then do us all a favor and end it now! Otherwise, get over it! This is a rough land. People die! But remember this: you still have two young women that are hurting as much as you are. They lost both their father and their mother. THEY NEED YOU! So, either go and blow your brains out, or start doing your job. I'M SICK TO DEATH OF YOUR SELF PITY! EVERYONE IN THIS HOUSE HAS LOST SOMEONE!"

Shaylee turned on her heel and walked out of the room leaving Edmee sprawled on the floor. An hour later Edmee exited her room—she had washed and dressed in clean clothes. She went into the kitchen and took over the noon meal preparation.

She was back!

As towns go this one was on the largish side. To be with out a Sheriff was truly a problem. Since everyone knew without a shadow of a doubt, that Shaylee was the best person for the job, no one else volunteered for the office. Conditions were again deteriorating.

Now that the storm was over and the streets had been rolled (in the past, because the people used sleighs, snow was not plowed away but rather compressed by huge horse drawn rollers), and the walkways shoveled, people began to move about.

Three days after the storm Mrs. White arrived at the big house in an ornate sleigh driven by an old man, her servant, Williams. It had taken that long to roll the road between her estate/ranch, and town. Old Williams helped Mrs. White to step out of the sleigh and walk to the door of the big city house. He then knocked on the door and waited patiently all the while giving support to his Mistress.

Jean answered the door and then directed the pair into the parlor. Once the pair were settled, Mrs. White on the settee and Williams discreetly standing in a corner of the room, Mrs. White got right down to business.

She asked Jean, "May I please speak to the person that they call 'The Spanish Kid?'"

Jean bowed, and left the room to find Shaylee.

Shaylee was not well pleased that the old woman was in the parlor. The young shootist knew quite well why the Grand Dame had come. They'd already had the same conversation several times.

As Shaylee entered the room the old woman spoke up.

"I know what you said before, but things are getting bad, again. Simply put, there is no one else that can do the job. I implore you to take the job as Sheriff!"

"Look I've already told you that we're not staying. As soon as spring comes we're leaving!" said Shaylee in anger and disgust.

"I know that, but that is months away. In that time, you could train a replacement."

"LOOK! MRS. WHITE, I'M NOT A LAWMAN! I'M A SHOOTIST! I KILL PEOPLE! I DON'T KNOW HOW TO BE A SHERIFF! I'VE SEEN HOW TOWNS TURN ON MEN LIKE ME, AS SOON AS THE BAD ELEMENT IS CLEARED OUT. I DON'T WANT TO BE ONE OF THOSE MEN," yelled Shaylee.

The old woman finally admitted defeat and asked, "What are we to do, then? The cowhands come into town, get drunk, and shoot everything to pieces. It will not be long before some innocent person is killed!"

"Why don't you gather a group of volunteers together and form a sort of police force, like they have in the big cities. The men can rotate the duty, often enough to prevent damage to their personal businesses. It is winter, after all. With three men on duty at any given time, I'm sure that whatever trouble occurs they'll be able to handle it."

Mrs. White saw the wisdom of the proposal but asked, "Would you be willing to teach our people to shoot?"

"I guess so," Shaylee said slowly. She didn't trust this manipulative old woman.

"Good, you can assign your deputies to their rotations, and then teach the off duty men to shoot."

"NO!"

"Er, excuse me?"

"I said, 'no.' You will not push me through the back door, and into the Sheriff's office. I said that I would teach the men to shoot, but that is the only thing that I will do. You and your council will form the police force, and assign the duties. Take it or leave it."

The old Grand Dame tilted her head to the side and looked at Shaylee with begrudging respect.

"I don't often meet someone that I can not bend to my wishes! If that is your last word, then so be it!"

"That is my last word."

The old woman nodded and then rose to her feet. Her manservant was immediately at her side, to offer assistance as they left the room.

"The old woman isn't finished yet. I bet she tries something else at the town meeting. I think that I'll be there and I'll take that double-barreled shotgun-pistol along. In the shoot out earlier that month Shaylee had taken a weapon from one of Mercer's men. He had cut off the stock and shortened the barrels of a fourteen gauge double-barreled shotgun, thus forming a formidable handgun. Shaylee had become fond of the thing.

Two days later, the call for the town meeting went out. It was to be held on Saturday, in the church/schoolhouse, at one in the afternoon. Shaylee and Maeve had bundled up. They made short work of the walk into town. The roads had been rolled, and the footing was good. It felt good to be outside of the house and away from the people.

"Damn! I think that I'm turning into a hermit, Maeve! The more I'm around people the more I get antsy. Shit and damnation!" she said in disgust.

She was starting to wonder if all that had happened to her had twisted her mind.

"Well, I can't say but that we need to deal with this damnable old woman, first," answered Maeve as they entered the church. They removed coats, hats and gloves, and hung them on one of the pegs that ran along the wall in the entryway with the garments of the other people. As usual, they were armed but today, Shaylee also had the sawed off shotgun hanging on a lanyard from her shoulder. The wicked weapon hung with its handgrip precisely at the level of her right hand.

Shaylee knew the fix was in when several people passed her by and greeted her with smiles as they said, "Good afternoon, Sheriff."

Shaylee began to move into her 'dark space', as her anger grew.

"That old witch is trying to force me into office. Well, we will just have to see about that!" thought Shaylee.

She moved right up to the front of the room, and stood off to the left of the council table. By then everyone was seated, and the meeting was called to order. The new Mayor rose.

He said, "Mrs. White has informed me that the Spanish Kid has accepted our offer of the job of Sheriff."

The crowd cheered and applauded! At least they did, until Shaylee fired her sawed-off into the ceiling.

Women screamed, and men roared!

"FIRST LET ME TELL YOU THAT I DID NOT ACCEPT THE JOB OF SHERIFF! AS I TOLD THAT OLD WOMAN, I'M NOT A PEACEKEEPER I'M A KILLER! IS THAT WHAT YOU REALLY WANT?"

The Mayor sputtered, Mrs. White was purple with rage, and the citizens looked askance at the Spanish Kid. One and all were very nervous after the roar of that shotgun.

"NOW, WHAT I DID AGREE TO, WAS TO TEACH THE PEOPLE THAT YOU HIRE HOW TO SHOOT. I ALSO MADE A COUPLE OF SUGGESTIONS AS TO HOW YOU SHOULD ORGANIZE YOUR POLICE FORCE. THAT IS THE SUM TOTAL OF WHAT I'M WILLING TO DO. BESIDES, COME SPRING, ME AND MINE WILL BE LEAVING TOWN TO CONTINUE OUR JOURNEY."

Shaylee then pulled a chair from the front row and moved it to where she had been standing, and then sat down. During this maneuver she never let go of the shotgun and never took her eyes off of the crowd. As she sat she down she broke open the shotgun, reloaded it and then laid it across her lap for the remainder of the meeting. A lot can be said about how Robert's rules of order expedite the procedures of a meeting but Shaylee sitting there in the corner with a sawed off shotgun across her lap did have quite an effect on the tempo of the meeting, too.