Chapter 12

"May I speak with you for a moment?" Jean asked Shaylee.

She and Maeve were sitting at the kitchen table enjoying a coffee on a snowy afternoon.

"Of course."

"I believe that we have a problem that is about to get out of hand."

Shaylee, getting a sinking feeling in her stomach, asked, "What problem?"

"It has been three and one half weeks since the town meeting where these people tried to force you to be the Sheriff. Yes?"

"Yes."

"Since that time the attitude of many of the people ... not all, mind you, but many ... is souring. Each time Edmee and the girls go into town more and more people are ... ahrr ... what is the word? Ah, yes! Each time they go into town more and more people shun them. Today the woman at the general store refused to order some cloth for Cecile and then began to berate her as a dirty foreigner unwilling to help the town. I think that soon they will attack us. They now blame us for all of their troubles."

Shaylee looked at her sister and say bitterly, "I told you that the town folk would turn on us!"

Maeve nodded sadly and said, "I don't think it is a good idea to teach these traitorous bastards how to shoot then. Do you?"

"Of course not! Not that there is anyone to teach! Not one man has come forward to be the sheriff, let alone the thirteen it would take to make the police force."

Jean asked, "What do you think we should do? We still have two full months before spring."

"Actually, it isn't two months if we go south. Once we get off of this plateau, it gets a lot warmer. We have enough supplies to keep us going for a long, long time. We don't need to order anything from the general store. We just need a couple of weeks of clear weather," said Maeve, thinking out loud.

"Is that what you wish to do then, leave early?" asked Jean.

"Jean, we are just talking things out right now, looking at all of our options. By the way; you can jump in here with your own suggestions, anytime, too."

"Ah, I see. Well there will be a need for us to defend ourselves from those that come in from the ranches and the mines. It seems that they view your not taking the job of sheriff as cowardice. Just yesterday my friend at the livery stable told me that he overheard several young miners talking about baiting you, for fun. They no longer fear you."

"Damn and double damn," muttered Shaylee as she stood and headed for the door. "You two do all of the planning that you want. I'm going to get a drink, and change a few opinions."

Worried that Shaylee was acting rashly in her anger, Maeve said, "Wait I will join you.

After a moments thought, Jean rose to follow the two women. Night came early in this latitude and the darkness was fast approaching, therefore Jean had the forethought to bring three lanterns. Twenty minutes later the three entered the first saloon. They were armed to the teeth and bundled up against the weather. They scanned the crowd as they shook the snow off and loosened their outer garments; the crowd's hostility was obvious. Jean made as if to find a poker game. However, what he was really doing, was placing himself in such a position that he could back up the other two as they went to stand at the bar.

The two women stood about four feet apart as they ordered Mexican beers. Though they looked as if they were not paying any heed to the other people in the saloon, the reality was that by using the huge mirror behind the bar both women were fully aware of everything and everyone.

Sitting at a table in the center of the room were four young miners feeling full of themselves. One of the young fellows noticed Shaylee leaning against the bar nursing her beer. Because of all of the talk in town the young miner felt sure that Shaylee was a coward.

The young miner prodded his buddies in the ribs and said, "Watch this! I am gonna have some fun. I am gonna stick me the Spanish Kid"

By now Shaylee was as deep as she could get into her dark center and her eyes were now the obsidian black of a lizard. With her heightened senses she felt the changes in the current of the room before she saw the boy in the mirror. Knife in hand, he was moving toward her, intent on stabbing her with a large, wicked Bowie knife.

An instant before the boy was able to stab her Shaylee stepped to the left and drew her Le Mat from the cross-draw holster on her left hip. In one smooth swing she slammed the heavy weapon into the boy's mouth with such force that six teeth were knocked out, broken off at the gums!

Of course the blow stopped the miner dead in his tracks. Then before he could fall to the floor Shaylee grabbed him by his hair and slammed his face into the bar twice with such force that his nose was not just broken but smashed totally flat. Shaylee then just dropped the miner at her feet. He fell onto his back—with all of the blood that was spewing from his destroyed face there was a real danger of the boy drowning in his own blood.

Through all of this, though, the miner had yet to let go of his knife. Shaylee, aware of that fact lifted her foot and stomped her heel on the boy's hand with a grinding motion, crushing his fingers between the hilt of the knife and her heel fracturing most of the bones. Never again would that hand be used to hold a weapon!

All of that destruction took less than ten seconds, and stunned the crowd into silence by its sudden ferocity.

Shaylee then bent and ripped the front of the boy's shirt off and calmly stood up again. Using the rag of shirt she wiped the blood, bits of flesh and teeth from her revolver as she looked around the room. She then holstered her weapon and bent down again to retrieve the Bowie knife. After wiping the blood and bits of torn flesh from the hilt she strolled over to the shocked miners and stabbed the knife into the table with great force.

"Is there anyone else that wants to try me? Anyone else that thinks I am a weak coward? Hmm? Anyone?" she hissed.

She stared into the eyes of each miner. The deadly darkness in her eyes put terror into the hearts of the miners. They all shook their heads in the negative and one of the younger miners actually pissed himself.

"Ok then ... go take your friend to the Doc."

The miners rushed to their friend, and carried him out as quickly as was humanly possible.

Again, Shaylee stood and walked slowly around the room making sure to make eye contact with each and every man there. Finally she stopped in front of the swamper. He was an old man and he was literally shaking in his boots.

"Sorry about the mess, Jim. Here is a two bit piece for your trouble," said Shaylee with a small smile. She had a soft spot for the old man, because he reminded her of her gentle grandfather.

Shaylee finally arrived back where she started, and took a sip of her beer.

Then she turned toward the crowd and hissed out in her rage, "Spread the word. Show disrespect to myself or any of my family, and suffer grave consequences!"

Shaylee then walked out of the saloon, and stood waiting on the boardwalk. Just as her gut was telling her that all was not right, a shot rang out. Thankfully the bullet only tore a hole in her heavy winter coat. The shot had come from the alley next to the saloon. Shaylee dropped to the ground, rolled off of the raised boardwalk onto the street for cover. She drew her sawed off shotgun just as another shot rang out. The bullet went wide but Shaylee had seen the muzzle flash. She returned fire and heard a scream of pain.

Meanwhile Jean and Maeve ran out the back door of the saloon and moved to the corner of the building in time to hear the retort of Shaylee's shotgun blast and resultant scream. Two men came running out of the alley dragging a third. They were no more than ten feet away from Maeve and Jean. Both groups fired, but the thrashing body of the wounded man hindered the aim of the attackers. Their shots went way wide of the mark. Not so for Maeve and Jean! The bullet from Maeve's large bore long gun entered the left side of the first man and quite nearly eviscerated him! He fell to the ground, screaming. The third man, pulled to a stop by the extra weight of his other friend falling on top of the first wounded man, was jerked around and presented Jean a perfect target. Jean shot twice and the man fell over backwards spewing blood from his mouth. He expired two minutes after he hit the ground. In minutes all three were dead!

The men in the saloon boiled out of both doors to see what was happening. Maeve turned to one of the new arrivals and said, "Go get some lanterns we need to identify these men."

The man just looked at her for a few seconds with an expression of utter contempt. However he did 'jump to' when he saw the muzzle of Maeve's rifle move up toward his belly. He returned with two lanterns.

Things had just gotten much, much worse! The three men lying on the ground were townies, sons of some of the most prominent families. Shaylee having reloaded her weapon, now, arrived from the front.

She looked down at the familiar faces and said in French, "I guess the decision has been taken out of our hands. Now we need to leave early! These deaths will surely fester into absolute hatred."

Jean spoke up, in French also, and said, "Was it not the manipulations of the terrible old woman that caused this?"

"Yes, of course it was." Shaylee answered.

"Well, why don't we bring home to her that there are always consequences? Why not take these bodies, and the troubles, into her home, for a change?" said Jean.

Shaylee got that evil, twisted smile that came from her darkness.

She drew her sawed off shotgun and said to the crowd, "Get a sleigh here! Now!"

Several men ran to the livery stable that was just down the street and returned quickly with a horse drawn work sledge.

"Jean, keep this bunch covered. Now you people, I want you, one at a time, to put your guns and any other weapon you may have onto the sledge. Maeve, check them as they leave the sledge."

Five minutes later, after all were disarmed, Shaylee had the bodies loaded onto the sledge—on top of the pile of weapons. She wanted to make it difficult for someone to change their mind and go for a gun during the trip.

"Right! Now you people get moving. We are going to call on Mrs. White. You Jim, you drive the sledge."

Soon the procession was moving down Main Street, and out of town toward the big house on the hill. Such was the frequency of gunplay lately, that the entire endeavor and its accompanying ruckus didn't draw one curious look from the other town folk. One and all had learned to stay away from the windows when gunplay was occurring.