The Librarian

Episode 1

Aaron Trenholme stepped out of his small printing shop onto the wooden sidewalk of the main street, and consulted his pocket watch as he looked up the street to the hotel. Half an hour late! He thought, rubbing his thumb over the crystal surface. The stage was never late. He frowned, knowing that was not true, it was just his impatience. The special type fonts he'd ordered from Idaho were expected to be on today's stage and he couldn't wait to get them into use.

He watched for a few moments more then went back inside to help his assistant get the press ready. They had acquired a new batch of advertisers for the upcoming, first cattle auction held in Tuckerville, and Aaron wanted to impress them with the new type fonts he'd purchased.

"Nothing yet?" John, his helper asked.

"Nothing. Wouldn't you know, the one time punctuality is necessary."

"Pretty exciting stuff though, all those cattlemen driving herds here for auction."

"Yep, it's a big event that's for sure. The Chicago buyers are here. The railroad representative. All we need are the cows . . . and our ads if that darn—"

"It'll be along, sir, the stage always comes."

As if prophetic, no sooner had the words been spoken than there was anxious shouting from the street and Aaron rushed out the door, seeing the stage brake to a swaying halt, the lathered horses prancing nervously in the traces. He joined a crowd hurrying up toward the hotel, sensing immediately that something was very wrong.

"Get the Doc and the undertaker! We got two dead and one wounded!" The grizzled driver jumped down from his seat and began wrestling with the frightened horses. Aaron could hear the shouted questions and the stunning answers as the driver, cursing, finally settled the team down.

"Ambushed at Black Creek station." He croaked, his breath coming in short gasps. "Six of 'em started shooting the minute the stage stopped." The driver pushed his way through the milling crowd and yanked open the stage door. A head and one arm dangled out, and a woman screamed over the collective cries of shock.

"Gimme a hand here. These two is dead, the wounded one is up top with the luggage."

Several men crowded around the stage, dragging the bodies off and helping the injured man down onto the street. The Doc arrived, coattails flapping and his black bag bouncing against his chubby leg. While he looked the wounded man over, and ordered a bystander to get him down to his office, there was a loud gasp from the crowd.

Aaron looked up to see a young woman, dress torn, hair in disarray, and carrying a rifle, climb down from the stage and stare at the two bodies. When nobody moved, He stepped forward and took her arm gently.

"Are you alright, ma'am? Do you need the doctor?"

"This here's Miss Harriet, fella, and the only reason we made it here." The driver pulled off his hat and slapped it against his leg. "Ma'am, I don't know what to say. The stage company is sure gonna hear about this and you are gonna get a reward by jiggity."

The woman moved away from Aaron and looked up at the stage. "I'd like my trunks brought to the hotel, please." She gathered the torn dress and walked unsteadily around the stage, dragging the rifle, and up the steps to the hotel entrance.

"What the heck was all that about?" Aaron asked.

"You wouldn't believe it if I told yuh."

"Wouldn't believe what?" The sheriff finally arrived, out of breath, wiping at the shaving soap sticking to part of his chin.

"Let me get the team watered and wiped down and then I need a drink . . . a big drink. I'll tell yuh all about it then."

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