The Right Thing To Do

Chapter 9

The home cooked meal, and easing of emotions made for a pleasant evening that finished on the porch swing, with Lois telling Galen about Caleb, and their plans. She kept folding and unfolding the letter he had brought, as she talked, her eyes glistening in the dying light.

"He sounds like he was a fine young man." Galen said, when she fell silent.

"He was a gentle soul, Mr. Helliwell, a gentle soul and - and . . ."

He stood and took her hand. "It's okay to cry, Miss Connor. Maybe go inside and see if you can help your mom - wrangle them thoughts some."

Galen thanked the family again and took his leave. At the hotel in town, he stabled his horse and took a room for the night. Lying on the bed, he stared out at the night sky, wondering what his next move would be. Delivering the money to the Connor girl had been his focus for some time and now it was over. There was no plan. He was a tumbleweed, going where the wind blew. There was still the possibility of an encounter with Preston's men; the man seemed built for revenge. Would they have followed him here? The question played in his mind until he drifted into sleep.

➰➰➰➰➰

"Seth told me to tell you they looked like trouble."

Sheriff Abner Freeman listened patiently to the young man from the saloon. Five men had arrived early that morning and were asking all kinds of questions about folks passin' through and even some that lived right here in Barrow Falls.

"Slow down a bit, Horace. Have they caused any trouble?"

"No, Sir, but Seth says--"

"Seth say he wanted me there?"

"Well . . . not exactly. But he was a mite stirred about their questions."

Abner sighed and dragged himself up from his chair, one eyebrow lifting in resignation. He lifted his gun belt from the hook by the door and strapped it on, resettling the large Peacemaker in its holster. Middle-aged, and tough as burned beef, Abner Freeman had spent a lifetime with confrontation. Being black, and fighting his way up from a perceived lower class, he had proven himself more than worthy time and again, finally achieving a status where his colour was his badge.

"Okay, Horace, show me these villains you're so worried about."

"It ain't really me, Sheriff, It's--"

"Okay, Son," he patted the young man on the back and steered him out the door.

The minute he walked through the door, Abner could see why Seth was concerned - the men did look like trouble.

"Early for you, isn't it Abner?" Seth polished his way along the bar, looking relieved as he feigned surprise.

"Saw a number of horses at the rail and wondered what might be drawin' a crowd." He leaned comfortably on the bar and watched the table of men through the mirror.

"Just business. Most of the regulars, and some fellers passin' through." Abner could hear the tremor in Seth's voice.

He straightened up and walked to their table. "Howdy, Boys, been ridin' far?"

"Far enough." Rory answered.

"Where you headin'?" Abner relaxed his stance and smiled.

"You figure that's your business?" Rance's surly question brought a silence to the room.

"Just makin' conversation."

"Yeah, well I don't converse with coloureds."

"Really? Not very sociable are you?"

"Why don't you just go back to your cotton patch and leave us men alone."

"Well, Mister, why don't I just punch you black and blue, and then we'll be the same colour, and able to converse just fine about your manners."

Rance's chair tipped back and his hand flew to his gun. Abner's boot came up under the rung and flipped the chair right over, sending Rance head over heels into a tangle of table and chair legs. When he started to rise, the barrel of the large Peacemaker was level with his face. The others at the table hadn't moved. One reason was the double barrels resting on the bar and aimed their way.

"Reckon you boys best consider finishing your drinks and then leavin' our town the way you found it - peaceful . . . and sociable." Abner kept his gun on Rance until he was on his feet and snarling his way to the door.

Seth wiped his brow with the bar rag and shook his head. "I knew they were trouble, Abner."

"Yeah, well, maybe they wouldn't have been, but I know the type, and while I'm Sheriff of Barrow Falls, that type ain't welcome"

"Listen, uh- I- before you came they were askin' all kinds of questions. Some about the Connor family."

"What did you tell them, Seth?"

"At first it seemed innocent enough--"

"What did you tell them?"

Seth's face collapsed in a kind of rueful regret. "I, uh - I said they lived just out of town."

Abner nodded and strode quickly out of the saloon. The men were gone, and he ran to the jail for his own horse.

➰➰➰➰➰

June Connor turned from the window and called to her husband. The riders sitting out on the street in front of their home bothered her.

"What do you think they want?"

"No idea. But they seem to be looking at our house." James went to the fireplace and took down his rifle from the mount above it.

"Don't go out, James!" She grabbed his arm.

"I'm not. Just being cautious, hon."

"They're coming in here!"

"Just two of them, stopping fretting. Maybe they just want directions or something."

"I don't like the look of them."

"Go and see to your daughter, I'll handle this."

James opened the door, his rifle hanging down behind his leg. "Howdy. Can I help you fellas?"

"You Connor?"

"James Connor, why?"

"You got a daughter, Lois?"

James squeezed the rifle nervously. "What's this about?"

"It's about us wantin' to talk with her." Rance suddenly pushed James back and the rifle swung out as he lost his balance. "Lookit here! James Connor was holdin' a rifle." The fist hit James in the face, and he crashed down, hitting his head on the floor.

June screamed his name from the doorway and rushed into the room, arms flailing as Rory grappled with her, wrestling her to the pillow covered bench by the stove.

"Get off me! let me go!' Clawed fingers raked Rory's face, and he backed off a little in shock, then smacked her hard. June lost focus and her head fell back. Tears poured down her face but she couldn't move with the man sitting on her stomach.

"Real mustang this one," Rory felt the side of his face, wincing.

"Where's her daughter?" Rance spat, toeing James' shoulder, "this one ain't goin' to answer for a while."

June heard the question, and fear coursed through her stomach like a flaming arrow. Lois had been in the garden picking some vegetables. Don't come in darling! Please don't come in!