Yankton

Chapter 58

Chapter 58 Married Life, Western Justice, and Other Stories

When Montana and I made love that night, I noticed she seemed somewhat more relaxed than normal, I never asked her, but I suspected it was because her worries about me backing out of the marriage were gone. I also detected a "happiness" in her overall demeanor as well. Mark told me the same thing about Melonie.

"She only talked about it once, but Mel was always scared that she would get pregnant, and I would leave her, no matter how much I told her otherwise, the thought was always in the back of her mind."

The next item on the agenda was the trial of "Little Bob" Wilber, being held in Deadwood.

The day we all had to go down there it was snowing; I had previously sent Colin down there to rent a carriage since several of the ladies were required as witnesses. Narcissa, Sockie, Colin, Maggie, and Kitty. Montana, Melonie and even Annie and Wendy also went along, pretty much most of Purgatory. The women all rode in the carriage, while the rest of us rode. As we were rolling along in the blowing snow, Annie loudly exclaimed,

"What I wouldn't give to ride in that truck of your's Mr. Yankton." I could see that both Montana and Melonie snickering, they knew.

Even though it was crappy weather, there were a lot of people in town for the trial, (cheap entertainment) Judge Kuykendall was presiding, and with all of us, it ended up being a packed courtroom. Once we all got seated, I noticed we were drawing a lot of attention, probably due to the number of women. Narcissa, Sockie, Kitty, Maggie and Colin were asked to sit closer to the front since they were here as witnesses. Sheriff Bullock spoke with them although I couldn't hear what he was saying. A small group of what I assumed were some of the local bar sweeps were leering at Wendy, Montana, and Melonie. Mark noticed them as well, Gesturing with his head, I nodded, then together, both of us got up, and made our way over to where the young men were sitting. I had already picked out their "ringleader," and moved up next to him. Calmly, but firmly, I said,

"Do you shitstains have a death wish or something?"

"Sir, I resent you insulting us like that!" Came the reply.

"Oh Yeah? Well our ladies don't like you undressing them with your eyes. Now, my friend and I are willing to assume that you fellows just like to see good looking women here in this god-forsaken shithole, because if we even thought for a second you're leering was anything else, real bad things could very well happen. Now I'm not suggesting anything, but you wouldn't want to end up in the same condition as "Little Bob's" brothers would you?"

In the short time we had been here, the shot-up condition of the Wilber brothers seemed to be on everyone's lips, something I wasn't too crazy about, but that was all water under the bridge now. Mark and I both gave them the "stare down" along with the hope that they knew who we were, and people who got on our bad side often ended up dead.

Nervously swallowing, and tipping his hat, the ringleader apologized, and claimed they were merely admiring the ladies. With the problem seemingly taken care of, we returned to our seats, although we made sure they knew we were keeping an eye on them.

Bullock's deputies finally brought "Little Bob" in, and made him sit next to the defense attorney. He knew we were sitting behind him and it must have irked him, but he never turned around. The trial finally got underway after judge Kuykendall sat down after we all did the "All Rise" thing. The trial itself turned out to be a whole lot different than I thought it would. Mark, Wendy and my sister were equally surprised, but then we had been brought up on TV courtroom dramas, and modern jurisprudence. The defense and prosecution didn't ask the questions I thought they would, nor were Narcissa and the other witness's cross examined all that much either. There was an objection from the defense attorney when Kitty and Maggie were called to the witness chair, and even Narcissa's reputation was questioned as well. I glanced over at Wendy who was "steaming" and staring daggers at the attorney as he was questioning the testimony from mere whores. There was also no deliberation from the jury either, when the trial was over, the judge asked them right off the bat what their verdict was. Surprisingly, all voted guilty, but in the end Bob only got a month in jail, which really pissed off Narcissa. He was also ordered to pay one hundred dollars for damages, but since he was flat-ass broke, that wasn't going to happen.

As people were leaving, I made my way over to the sheriff, and with a smile said,

"You know sheriff, I guess I can see that piece of s**t only getting a month, but we had real damage, that's money out of our pocket twice. How 'bout you turn Bob over to Colin who's our acting sheriff. I promise no harm will come to Bob but there's a whole lot of some real heavy ass labor that needs doing, I think a month of working outside for sixteen hours a day would settle things." Bullock gave me one of his "stares," and replied,

"As much as I'd love to do that, I am an officer of the court, and as such, cannot subject my prisoners to such harsh conditions." With a shrug, I replied,

"They do it down south, ever hear of chain gangs?"

"I'm sorry Mr. Yankton, but the proper sentence will be carried out I knew all along Bullock wouldn't bend on something like that, but said it just to needle the sheriff.

"Well sheriff, I hope that in the month that Bob there is your guest, you will remind him daily that harboring any thoughts of trying to settle any scores real or imagined, will end very badly for him." Then loud enough fro Bob to hear me, I said,

"Best just to leave the black hills altogether, consider this reprieve as god giving you a second chance at life."

Bob just glared at me, but as we were leaving the courthouse, I had my back turned as I was talking to Jessup Beckworth, one of our regulars, I heard a woman scream, then Beckworth violently shoved me out of the way, just as a shot was fired. He started to go down, as I drew my .45, charging it as I dropped and turned. Bob was pointing a pistol right at me drawing back the hammer. Everything happened so fast, even now I still can't recall all the details; everything seemed to be in slow motion. I do know that Bob fired again, and I felt something brush the top of my shoulder, I had three rounds into him before he could re-c**k his pistol.

I then became vaguely aware of a lot of shouting, and Mark and Melonie bending over Jessup, Montana was grabbing at me crying hysterically.

They carried Jessup back into the courtroom where Mark and Melonie, along with Wendy went to work on him. Montana wouldn't let go hugging me as hard as she could, while her girls and the sheriff were trying to calm her. We all went back inside, where I sat down while Bullock explained what had happened.

"Bob grabbed my deputy's gun, and before we could do a thing, turned and shot at you. Well you must realize he's dead, you hit him all three times, rather amazing shooting Mr. Yankton, that's some fancy pistol you have there." I looked at him,

Well sheriff, you know what it is, I showed it to you." Thankfully interest in my pistol was quickly overshadowed by Jessup's amazing luck. He had a metal eyeglass case in his coat pocket which stopped Wilber's bullet. The impact of the round knocked the wind out of him, and except for a large black and blue mark on his chest he was all right. I shook his hand, and said,

"I thank you, Montana thanks you, everyone thanks you Jessup. By the way, when's your birthday?"

"Uhh April tenth, I believe."

"Well every April tenth, you show up at Purgatory and everything we have to offer is on the house, that's how we show our appreciation Mr. Beckworth."

"Well thank you very much," He replied, "But I couldn't let that coward take you down Mr. Yankton." Montana was still shaken up, and even a long kiss and hug didn't help.

"Oh merciful god in heaven you're unhurt," she gasped, "I was so frightened."

"It's all right Abbie, just calm down, when my number's up…It's up, there's nothing you or anybody can do about it, now let's get ready to head on home. They had laid poor Bob out on the wooden sidewalk prior to the undertaker arriving with a coffin; a small crowd was standing there watching me as I approached. The guy I had spoken to earlier about staring at our women was there as well. Our eyes connected, he looked down at Bob's lifeless body, then back at me, then just turned and walked away. I looked at Bob for a moment, then said to no one in particular,

"You should have listened to me Bob…You should have damn well listened." No one said much as we rode back north, the snow had stopped, and the sun had come out, although it remained cold. After the horses were taken care of, I met the others who were gathered around the employee table drinking whatever adult beverage they preferred.

Narcissa was still fuming about the way her reputation had been brought into question, and Wendy was still upset over the way all the women were treated.

"I can't get over the way they treated you women!" Railed Wendy, "Especially you Narcissa, where I come from, being treated the way you, Kitty and Maggie were would have been grounds for dismissal." Narcissa gave Wendy a curious look, then glanced at Mark and I. Then grimacing, she replied,

"It's just the way things are that's all Wendy." There was a time…" She looked at me again, then went forward.

"Those men were simply uncouth ruffians, and reivers, I can assure you good Southern gentlemen would not have behaved in that way." She had left herself wide open, and being who I am couldn't resist.

"How about Southern ladies, Narcissa, I have a sneaking suspicion they would have turned up their noses to the likes of Maggie and Kitty."

Narcissa glared at me but said nothing, for what could she say, I was right, and she knew it.

"Don't concern yourself about it Wendy," replied Kitty,

"When you're in the profession Maggie and I are, it's just something you have to accept. You wish it was different, but you know it will never change."

"You're wrong Kitty," replied Wendy, it does, and will eventually change."

Tomorrow Wendy and Melinda would be returning to the future, Annie would be going as well, she had managed to convince Montana to let her take three days off, however, her actual time in the future would be about two weeks. Jake would also not be returning, as he was swamped with work. Between his woodworking, and helping Craig and I with the boarding house he was swamped. I would not be returning either, although I was confident in Melinda's abilities, I wrote out a careful set of instructions dealing with the shutdown, and regeneration of the wayback machine.

I also spoke with her and Annie about responsibility.

"I won't be there to keep an eye on you Annie, I know you are curious but society has changed so much since 1877. I can't even tell you all the s**t that's illegal now, then there are identification cards, and for god's sake don't think you can get away with whoring, the cops will pick you up in a New York minute. Do as Melinda asks you, she's aware of things you aren't. If at all possible, try to read some of those books in the library, you've got a century of history to catch up on." Annie promised to behave herself, discovering what life is like in the future was her goal. I carefully walked Melinda through the process of activating the wayback machine, the proper computer settings, and anything else I could think of. With a quick hug for luck I stood outside the time machine and watched as the machine began to hum wind up then suddenly drop to nothing. Making sure the re-charge was working at this end, I prepared to spend the night.

While I was outside chopping wood for the stove, I noticed a man coming up the hill in a buckboard. c*****g my .45, I placed it back in its holster, and continued working. The man pulled up in front of the small stable, and got off the wagon. Dressed in black with the typical derby hat, I had him pegged for a salesman. Walking over to me, and holding out his hand, he introduced himself.

"Good afternoon sir, names Ellis Blake, Mr. Ellsworth kept badgering me to stop by, said you wanted to see me."

"Are you a gun salesman?" I asked

"Yes, I work for Mr. Colt."

"Well the last I heard, old Sam passed away back in '62," I replied. Blake gave a nervous chuckle,

"Well that is true it's just a term of endearment many of us use in reference to the company." I stopped chopping, and gave Blake another going over,

"Well Mr. Blake, We might be able to do business after all, come on inside…"

"Care for some coffee, I've got a pot on the stove?"

"Yes please, that would be refreshing. As I was getting mugs out of the cabinet, and poring the coffee, I could see him eyeing my .45 out of the corner of my eye.

"I hope I don't seem presumptuous sir, but I happened to be in town, when you…Ah, confronted that fellow who grabbed the deputy's pistol, they said you got him with three shots, but quite frankly sir, I find that hard to believe , I've never heard of anyone c*****g and firing a single action that fast." I stopped and grinned at him.

"What makes you think I was using a single action?" My question caught him off guard causing him to fumble for a reply.

"Well it's true we are introducing a new double…" I quickly cut him off,

"The new Colt model 1878 Frontier model, which is a large frame double action pistol, yeah I know all about that, but again I ask you Mr. Blake, why do you assume my pistol is double action, Seems to me Smith and Wesson and Remington have double actions on the market."

Now Blake was really flustered, I sat down next to him, took a sip of coffee and looked him in the eye.

"Mr. Blake, I'd like to show you something, but it's going to require your complete silence, no talking out of school, or gossiping, otherwise we can't do business. Now, you can go for the short term and tell all your friends, and get nothing, or keep your mouth shut and make money not only for Colt, but yourself as well on top of getting to shoot …Shall we say weapons not yet available to the general public, which is it going to be?" His answer came immediately,

"I think I would prefer to do business with you good sir." I smiled and shook his hand,

"That's what I like to hear. I noticed that you're interested in my pistol, well have a closer look." Taking it out of my holster, I carefully laid it on the table so he could see "Colt Firearms, Hartford Connecticut, Model of 1911. Pointing to the logo I said,

"What's that say Mr. Blake?" I could see him mouthing the words, then he looked up at me with a very puzzled look on his face.

"But…But, how can this be?" Without saying a word, I picked the gun up and removed the magazine, placing it back on the table, and then preceded to field strip the weapon laying each piece back down on the table.

I could tell Blake had a thousand questions crowding his brain but he just couldn't decide which one to ask first.

"Yes Mr. Blake, this was made by your firm, it fires what is called a .45 ACP cartridge, which by the way is not black powder, but smokeless, those are 185 grain jacketed hollow-points with a velocity of around 1,102 feet per second. It fires as fast as you can pull the trigger. This pistol was developed by a genius by the name of John Browning, it has served the United States Military through five major wars and untold number of smaller engagements, next to the model 1873 army Colt, it is the most popular sidearm in this country's history, everyone in the world knows about this guy."

"Who are you, where are you from Mr. Yankton?" I grinned at him and replied,

"Well perhaps after we've developed a close business relationship, I'll tell you, Bullock knows but don't you go pestering him or you just might kill the golden goose, here's my offer."

It was clear Mr. Blake wasn't prepared for this, but either his greed or plain curiosity overruled him and he nervously swallowed and said,

"Very well, Mr. Yankton, I'm interested."

"Good," I replied, "Here's the deal, I'm interested in anything with low serial numbers, the lower the better, engraved weapons, one-of-a-kind weapons, engraved one-of-a-kinds, prototypes, for example, that new double action you're company is coming out with, I'm mighty interested in one with a low serial number, can you get your hands on any engraved ones? My offer also extends to anything Colt is making or has made, what you see on the table is an example of what Colt WILL make. Now let's be clear, I fully intend to pay for everything you can get me, oh yeah, I almost forgot, any and all advertising items you can lay your hands on as well. Like I said, I will pay for everything. In exchange, you will get to examine and actually shoot firearms that are thirty-five to a hundred years into the future."

He sat there drinking his coffee and thinking, finally Blake said,

"The advertising I can get, the rest…Let me see what I can do, I must remind you much of this will be quite costly."

"I'm aware of that Mr. Blake, how about you write me whenever you get a line on something, let me know what it is and the cost, I'll send you a prompt reply."