Post by pagetwo on Nov 24, 2010 20:52:31 GMT -4
It seemed that those who could help solve the enigma of unsolved and accidental deaths had joined their maker as well. It was all so strange as Jarrod pondered the reason behind it all. A reason he wished he knew.
As the stage pulled into Tysonville, a light snow had begun to coat the road through town. As he stepped down from the stage, a cold stinging wind fell on him. He pulled up the collar on his coat, took his bag from the stage driver and began walking up the street.
As he walked, he knew there was one person who could possibly tell him the truth and clear Katherine of any wrongdoing. The very man who handed down her sentence. As he entered the dimly lit livery stable, a grizzled old stable hand squinted at him in the faint light.
"Can I help you?"
"I need a horse and buggy."
"Sure, sure thing but the snow is only going to get worse around here. My advice is to stay in town for the night."
"The horse and buggy?" The man nodded and obliged as he grabbed a nearby bridle.
Jack Kane was seldom happy when events and circumstances challenged his existence to thrive. He found no pleasure in any of the frivolous delights he had always found satisfying including his gourmet food and expensive wines. A fire raged beneath his stoic manner and calm disposition. He just glared at Marshall Brady as he blew smoke rings in the air.
"Dammit, Jack, say something."
"What is there to say? You made your bed and now you can lie in it."
"Everyone thinks I’m dead."
"Which is how you shall remain. Your services are no longer required. Perhaps you should go back east, start over, acquire a new name and identity."
"Are you serious?" He leaned forward on Jack’s desk.
"What choice do you have?"
"After everything I’ve done for you. We were there with Booth when he plotted the assassination."
"How well I remember. But you also know that Juliet became a liability and I had to arrange a little accident for her."
"You mean that wasn’t a stage robbery?"
"It was to cover up the actual crime, you know that Marshall. Surely, you know how I operate by now." Marshall gazed into the fire, leaning with both hands on the mantle.
"Barkley is responsible for all this. Because of his nosing around Su Ling is dead."
"Come, come Marshall, she had been dealing with illegal narcotics and the Tong. The outcome would have been the same. That’s why she died."
"Why are you defending Barkley?"
"He’s no closer to the truth, he’s reached a dead end therefore he is no longer a threat."
"Are you so sure of that?"
"Absolutely. Who will talk?"
"Try that idiot Tyson. He drinks himself to sleep every night now. Still suffering from a guilty conscious about killing his father." Jack remained silent, puffing on his cigar. "I’ll find him and when I do, I’ll kill him."
"That would be unwise. You’re not thinking straight Marshall. Suppose you kill him, then what? You’re supposed to have died with your wife in that fire. Why not pack up and just get out of town."
"That’s the way you’d like it Jack, all tied up in a pretty pink bow. Get me away from here just in case something happens to me and you are found out. Always, thinking of protecting your own hide first, huh Jack?"
"Why not? What’s wrong with it?"
"Nothing but you keep selling your friends down the river."
"There is no such thing as friendship in this business." Marhsall’s eyes widened as he looked down the barrel of Jack’s derringer.
"You shoot that thing off in here and people will hear it, Jack."
"Oh, you know I have a cover story and a very convincing one. I knew it would come to this."
"You’re crazy."
"You know I’m a very good shot."
"So am I Jack." Marshall threw himself onto the floor as Jack fired a shot. He whipped out his gun and both fired at the same time. Jack’s eyes widened with surprise. He then fell face forward onto his desk, knocking over his glass of sherry. The reddish brown liquid pooled, stretching outward and soaking his desk blotter. Marshall watched as Jack slid off the desk and fell to the floor, resting, silent and cold. Marshall waited a moment before rising. "I always was the better shot, you should have listened, Jack."
People heard the shots and came running. Fiona Lundee, pushed her way to the front of the crowd. Everyone was shouting and shoving to see what was happening.
"Stop," someone yelled as a shadow shot across the street and disappeared into an alley. Fiona, followed. She hung onto the corner of the building, listening. It was difficult with the snow muffling any sounds of footsteps. She turned and saw footprints in the dim lamplight leading down the alleyway. She crouched down, her rifle aimed in the direction of the foot tracks and calmly walked toward a stack of crates. Suddenly, the crates gave way, toppling down as she jumped back out of the way. The figure began scaling the fence at the back of the alley. But before Fiona could grab him, he disappeared. She leaped over some crates and hopped up on another, looking over the fence, the figure was no longer where she could see him. Next she felt a stinging blow to the back of her head and passed out, falling into the snow as her rifle discharged.
As the stage pulled into Tysonville, a light snow had begun to coat the road through town. As he stepped down from the stage, a cold stinging wind fell on him. He pulled up the collar on his coat, took his bag from the stage driver and began walking up the street.
As he walked, he knew there was one person who could possibly tell him the truth and clear Katherine of any wrongdoing. The very man who handed down her sentence. As he entered the dimly lit livery stable, a grizzled old stable hand squinted at him in the faint light.
"Can I help you?"
"I need a horse and buggy."
"Sure, sure thing but the snow is only going to get worse around here. My advice is to stay in town for the night."
"The horse and buggy?" The man nodded and obliged as he grabbed a nearby bridle.
Jack Kane was seldom happy when events and circumstances challenged his existence to thrive. He found no pleasure in any of the frivolous delights he had always found satisfying including his gourmet food and expensive wines. A fire raged beneath his stoic manner and calm disposition. He just glared at Marshall Brady as he blew smoke rings in the air.
"Dammit, Jack, say something."
"What is there to say? You made your bed and now you can lie in it."
"Everyone thinks I’m dead."
"Which is how you shall remain. Your services are no longer required. Perhaps you should go back east, start over, acquire a new name and identity."
"Are you serious?" He leaned forward on Jack’s desk.
"What choice do you have?"
"After everything I’ve done for you. We were there with Booth when he plotted the assassination."
"How well I remember. But you also know that Juliet became a liability and I had to arrange a little accident for her."
"You mean that wasn’t a stage robbery?"
"It was to cover up the actual crime, you know that Marshall. Surely, you know how I operate by now." Marshall gazed into the fire, leaning with both hands on the mantle.
"Barkley is responsible for all this. Because of his nosing around Su Ling is dead."
"Come, come Marshall, she had been dealing with illegal narcotics and the Tong. The outcome would have been the same. That’s why she died."
"Why are you defending Barkley?"
"He’s no closer to the truth, he’s reached a dead end therefore he is no longer a threat."
"Are you so sure of that?"
"Absolutely. Who will talk?"
"Try that idiot Tyson. He drinks himself to sleep every night now. Still suffering from a guilty conscious about killing his father." Jack remained silent, puffing on his cigar. "I’ll find him and when I do, I’ll kill him."
"That would be unwise. You’re not thinking straight Marshall. Suppose you kill him, then what? You’re supposed to have died with your wife in that fire. Why not pack up and just get out of town."
"That’s the way you’d like it Jack, all tied up in a pretty pink bow. Get me away from here just in case something happens to me and you are found out. Always, thinking of protecting your own hide first, huh Jack?"
"Why not? What’s wrong with it?"
"Nothing but you keep selling your friends down the river."
"There is no such thing as friendship in this business." Marhsall’s eyes widened as he looked down the barrel of Jack’s derringer.
"You shoot that thing off in here and people will hear it, Jack."
"Oh, you know I have a cover story and a very convincing one. I knew it would come to this."
"You’re crazy."
"You know I’m a very good shot."
"So am I Jack." Marshall threw himself onto the floor as Jack fired a shot. He whipped out his gun and both fired at the same time. Jack’s eyes widened with surprise. He then fell face forward onto his desk, knocking over his glass of sherry. The reddish brown liquid pooled, stretching outward and soaking his desk blotter. Marshall watched as Jack slid off the desk and fell to the floor, resting, silent and cold. Marshall waited a moment before rising. "I always was the better shot, you should have listened, Jack."
People heard the shots and came running. Fiona Lundee, pushed her way to the front of the crowd. Everyone was shouting and shoving to see what was happening.
"Stop," someone yelled as a shadow shot across the street and disappeared into an alley. Fiona, followed. She hung onto the corner of the building, listening. It was difficult with the snow muffling any sounds of footsteps. She turned and saw footprints in the dim lamplight leading down the alleyway. She crouched down, her rifle aimed in the direction of the foot tracks and calmly walked toward a stack of crates. Suddenly, the crates gave way, toppling down as she jumped back out of the way. The figure began scaling the fence at the back of the alley. But before Fiona could grab him, he disappeared. She leaped over some crates and hopped up on another, looking over the fence, the figure was no longer where she could see him. Next she felt a stinging blow to the back of her head and passed out, falling into the snow as her rifle discharged.