Saving the Gunslinger

Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven

          Three days passed before Samantha's head stopped spinning and aching. She knew that the blow she'd taken during her fall had been a bad one and it was nothing more than luck that she still had all her wits about her—she'd heard that head injuries could sometimes do strange things to people.

          After slipping into her clean black skirt and red blouse, Samantha styled her wild red curls the best she could upon her head and left the hotel. The doctor had given her two options for work in the town that wouldn't involve being near the saloon and she was going to take those opportunities. Hackney was going to be home—Samantha was determined to finally put down roots and make a new life for herself. Two and a half years of running had been long enough.

          As she made her way down the boardwalk toward the doctor's two story house that also served as his office, Samantha attempted to look at the farm and cattle town through fresh eyes. Eyes that weren't scanning for dangers or watching for evil men lurking in shadows and behind corners.

          Hackney wasn't so bad, she supposed. It was home to three saloons—though only the Hackney Saloon and Brothel served women as well as alcohol and it was the more popular drinking establishment because of that. There was a schoolhouse upon a hill behind a small sawmill. There was the hotel of course, but also a general store, a bakery, community center, butcher, tailor shop, laundry service, bath house, farrier, blacksmith, bank, two hotels, two diners, and a dry goods store.  The church was just outside of town but plenty close enough to hear the bells ring bright and early every Sunday morning.

          Down by the train station and post office stood several barns and corrals that filled the air with the scent of cattle twice a year when the auctions and cattle sales were held.

          Chickens and dogs milled around the town while Children laughed as they headed up the hill toward the white schoolhouse with their lunchboxes in hand. Men and women bustled up and down the street going about their days while wagons and folks on horseback splashed mud upon the edges of the boardwalk.

          Samantha worked hard to meet any gaze sent her way and return any smile or friendly greeting. She'd been living so long keeping everyone at arm's length that it would take some time for her to let those walls back down. She could remember the woman she'd once been—someone vibrant and happy and full of life. She'd been quick to laugh and strike up conversation. Clinton Matthews had done away with that woman when he had shot her papa in the head and sent her on the run. Samantha wanted desperately to be that way again.

          Piano music coming from across the street had Samantha glancing toward the Hackney Saloon and Brothel. They weren't doing much business this early on a Wednesday morning but she could tell by the tune playing that Elmer Poke was sitting at the piano. An image of the kind colored man's face entered Samantha's mind. He was quiet and didn't say much but he could play a piano better than anyone Samantha had ever heard.

          She thought of Caroline, Eleanor, and the other women still working there with Thomas Williamson and his temper. She had begged Caroline and Eleanor to quit the saloon but they had declined. Caroline said all she'd been her whole life was a whore and she didn't know how to be anything different—and she was getting too old to make a new start at a new brothel somewhere else. Eleanor had said no one in this town would look her in the eye, walk near her on the street, or sit at a table close to her in the diners—she wasn't permitted to enter the church or the community center due to her line of work. What else was there for her to do in Hackney other than what she had always done?