The Western Chronicles
Through blinding tears, Rebecca ran downstairs and into Josie's arms. The young woman sobbed hysterically against the outlaw's chest. "Why?" she cried over and over, as her tears soaked the cotton shirt. Unsure of what to say, Josie remained quiet, tentatively stroking the blonde hair in a comforting motion. Jane walked over to them with a cup of tea for Rebecca to drink.
"It'll calm her down," the sharpshooter said as she handed the mug to Josie. It took some convincing to get the upset girl to drink the strong liquid. It wasn't long before her tears abated and she started yawning.
"What was in that?" Josie asked later, after they had gotten Rebecca to sleep and removed Michael's body. Jane handed her a mug of coffee before taking a swig from her flask.
"'Nuff laudanum to make her sleep through the night, is all," she said as she scratched herself. "What's a purty young thing like that hanging 'round with you fer, anyway?"
"What are you doing playing nursemaid to a bunch of miners?" Josie returned, ignoring the question.
"Someone has to," she quipped. "'Sides, you've knew I was always purty good at caring for people." Jane leaned back and put her booted foot upon the table. "What I don't git is why you ain't robbin' 'n lootin' no more."
"She depends on me," Josie said, nodding toward Rebecca.
"There's no going back, ya know. Once you git a price on yer
head, it'll always be there. Taint nothin' gonna change that," she said before taking
another long pull on her flask. "Them bounty hunters don't care none that you
changed, they just care 'bout 
the money they been promised." Josie was just about to tell Jane that
she had joined the ranks of the bounty hunters herself, when their conversation was
interrupted by a low moan that was unmistakably Rebecca's. Josie leapt from her seat and
headed over to her. The sweaty, flushed complexion struck fear into the outlaw's heart.
Pushing the sweat soaked hair off of the young woman's forehead Josie felt the burning
heat of fever. "Jane...Jane!" she yelled.
The next three days were a blur to Josie. Every moment was spent at Rebecca's bedside, placing cool cloths across her body in a feeble attempt to break the raging fever.
"We have to get the chickens into the coop before the coyotes get them," Rebecca mumbled. Josie removed the cloth from the young woman's forehead and dipped it in the bowl of now tepid water. It was the second time in an hour that Rebecca's fever had completely dried out the cloth.
"I already took care of the chickens, Rebecca. You just rest now," she said as she placed the cloth back on the young woman's forehead. The incoherent ramblings had started that morning and only served to heighten Josie's sense of dread. She knew that the fever was just as likely to kill her friend as the infection from the blistering lumps that were now beginning to appear on her extremities.
"Josie, you can't do nothin' for her, ya know. Either it kills her
or it don't, ain't nothin' you can do 'bout it," Jane said as she placed another bucket of water next to her.
"We'll see about that," the outlaw said as she soaked several cloths in the fresh water, only slightly cooler than the previous bucket. Jane shook her head and walked away, never seeing the stricken look on Josie's face as she reapplied the wet cloths.
"Hang in there, Rebecca. Just hang in there."
Rebecca's temperature rose steadily during the night until it reached a dangerous level. Her lips moved, but all that came out was non-sensible mumbles. The reddish lumps were spreading from her arms and legs to the rest of her body. Many of the wounded were moved out of the boarding house as soon as they were able, leaving only a dozen people for Jane to nurse. Josie left Rebecca's side only to use the outhouse. She even slept on the floor next to the stricken girl's bed, refusing to leave her alone for longer than necessary.
Josie's paramount concern was trying to find a way to break Rebecca's fever before it was too late. The wet cloths made almost no difference except perhaps to make the outlaw feel like she was doing something. Rebecca was too incoherent to be aware of her surroundings. Dawn was just breaking over the horizon when Josie rose to look out the window. The rest of the boarding house was still asleep, but her concern for her young friend kept her up all night. Rebecca's temperature hadn't gone up for hours, but it hadn't gone down either. Leaning her forehead against the cool glass, Josie closed her eyes and tried to think of a way to get her friend's temperature down.
"Jane! Jane, wake up!" she said as she shook the sharpshooter.
Instantly Calamity brought her fist up and was caught by Josie's quick reflexes.
"What in the hell do you think yer doin'?" the groggy woman cursed as she sat up and rubbed the sleep out of her eyes.
"I need a large wagon and some strong mules."
"Wagon? Mules? Now just hold on a minute, what are you talkin' about?"
"Ice. We need ice to bring Rebecca's fever down. The wagon can't come into town because of the quarantine so I have to go get the ice." She grabbed Jane's arm and pulled her from the bed. It was only Calamity's understanding of Josie's desperation to save her friend that kept her from reaching for her guns. 'When this is over, one way or another, we're gonna talk about waking Martha Jane Canary up from a sound sleep,' she told herself as she jerked her arm away and reached for her britches.
"Josie, how're you gonna get past the army? 'Taint no way you're gonna get through with a wagon and mule."
"I'll just have to find a way," she said firmly.
It was easier said than done, she realized when she finally got a look at the sentries placed a safe distance from the town. Josie knew they had orders to kill anyone who tried to leave before the quarantine was lifted. She knew she could slip in and out without being detected, but there was no way she could get a wagon through. She rubbed her biceps unconsciously before disappearing into a nearby thicket.
Once she moved past the sentries, it was no problem to follow the road up hill to the icehouse. Her mental clock and the position of the sun told her that it had taken just over six hours for her to walk up the steep mountainside road to notice a cooling in temperature. Josie knew she couldn't be far. Her legs ached from the long journey and she groaned inwardly at the thought of going back with an extra fifty pounds of ice on her back.
Being careful not to be noticed, Josie slipped into a storage shed and removed a large set of ice thongs and two saddle blankets. She folded one into thirds and tucked part of it up under her collar, letting the rest lay against her back. After folding the other blanket into thirds and then rolling it up, she grabbed the thongs and headed for the icehouse. Worried about how much ice would melt on the way down the mountain, Josie grabbed the biggest block she felt she could heft onto her back. After covering it with the second blanket, she jabbed the ice thongs into it. Bending down and turning around, she leaned the block of ice against the blanket on her back and pushed up with her legs. It took a moment for her to get her balance and then only by bending over slightly. Making certain that she wasn't spotted, Josie left the icehouse and started back down the mountain.
She had been right in assuming that the cool air and the blankets would help maintain the life of the ice block, but she hadn't been right about one blanket being enough protection for her back from the cold. At least twice an hour Josie had to stop and not only rest her aching arms, but also to let her back warm up again. Several times she contemplated breaking the block down to a smaller size. The vision of her best friend, her only true friend, burning up with an uncontrollable fever filled her with a sense of guilt over her selfishness. Rebecca would need every piece of ice she could get in order to hopefully break her fever. With a grunt, Josie hefted the block onto her back again and continued her slow walk.
Halfway down her burning legs, aching back, and screaming arms demanded a longer rest than a few minutes. Knowing that if she pushed herself too far she would never make it, Josie set the block down and leaned up against a tree. Looking at nothing in particular, the blue eyes came to rest upon the moonbeam bouncing off a willow tree. Leaning her head back and closing her eyes, Josie tried to remember what the old medicine woman had told her about willow trees. She looked again at the tree. It was a white willow, the bark of which when ground into a tea was a natural fever reducer. Forcing herself to her feet, the outlaw walked over to the tree. Pulling a knife out of her boot, Josie gouged out several long strips of bark and placed them in various pockets. With renewed hope, she jerked the block onto her back and set out again.
The sound of a boot kicking repeatedly at the door woke Jane up from her sound sleep. Cursing loudly, she cocked her Colt and opened the door. "Put her in the tub," Josie said as she took two steps inside and let the heavy block fall to the ground. Her fingers remained curled up from being held in such a tight grip for so long. With painful slowness she forced them to straighten. She didn't even try to hide the look of anguish on her face when she straightened up and tried to move her fingers. The first thing she did when she finally felt the feeling return was to reach into her pocket and pull out a piece of the bark. "I need to grind this down and make a tea out of it. It'll help bring her fever down." She pulled more pieces out of her pockets, and the sharpshooter reached out and took them from her.
"I'll take care of this. You go sit down before you fall down," Jane said as she guided Josie to a nearby chair. "It's gonna take me a few minutes to git her into the tub and git the ice in there. You sit there for now." Josie had no choice but to flop down in the chair. Her legs felt like oak trees and she knew she had no strength left. Exhausted by the trek as well as the lack of sleep, it took only seconds for her eyes to close and slumber to take her.
Josie woke less than an hour later, the ache in her back cutting through her sleep. It took a moment for her completely exhausted senses to remember what was going on. With slow movements and a deep groan, she trudged off to check on Rebecca.
"Yup. This should bring that fever down in no time," the sharpshooter said as she added a few more pieces of ice into the water. "Just got her in there. Took a while to get the water and then haul that block in here. Had ta drag it. Tarnation woman, that block would break a mule's back. You daffy?"
"We needed as much ice as we could get," Josie said as she knelt down next to the tub. "How ya doin?" she said softly as she dropped the pieces of ice that Jane was breaking off and giving her into the water. Rebecca's eyelids fluttered, but never opened. She seemed to be too weak to perform even that simple task. Once there was enough ice in the water to start it cooling down, Josie lowered Rebecca's head back until just her nose and mouth were above water. She placed towels under the young woman's head to keep it at that level while she moved the water about with her hand, forcing it to circulate around Rebecca's overheated body. Jane handed Josie the tall mug of tea made from the ground up bark.
Josie nodded and took the mug. She dipped part of a clean cloth into the tea before bringing the fabric to Rebecca's lips. Parting them with her fingers, Josie squeezed the cloth, allowing a few drops at a time to fall into the young woman's mouth. As hoped, her body unconsciously swallowed. Ignoring the ache in her back and fingers, Josie continued to drip the tea into Rebecca's mouth until it was all gone.
As the minutes ticked by, Josie continued her quiet vigil, removing water and adding ice when necessary, and constantly keeping the water flowing around in a clockwise motion. Her fingers were completely pruned from the lengthy immersion. The lack of sleep was catching up with Josie as she fought to keep her eyes open. The repetitive motion of churning the water didn't help; nor did her refusal to look at anything other than Rebecca's face, desperately hoping that it would look anything except so flushed.
Jane checked in on them an hour later to find the outlaw sleeping on the floor next to the tub. She noted that at some point extra towels had been placed in the tub to support and brace the young woman's head. It was as if Josie knew she would fall asleep and still tried to take care of Rebecca. Jane checked the water temperature, then placed her hand on the young woman's forehead. Turning her hand over, she checked both of the blonde woman's cheeks before checking her forehead again. "Cooler," she said softly as she broke into a rare smile. "You did it, Josie," she said to the sleeping woman on the floor. "You broke her fever. The ice worked." She reached into the tub and lifted the small woman out. "I don't know how you did it, child, but if you only knew how much that woman went through for you. You just made a person who's killed more people 'n me go through hell 'n back to save you."
Josie woke to find herself lying next to Rebecca in Jane's large bed. She quickly looked around for her gun, disoriented. "Relax, Josie," Jane's voice called out from the darkened shadows of dusk. The oil lamp was burning low on the table next to the bed, but it cast enough light for the sharpshooter to see Josie reach over to check on Rebecca. "She's fine...at least the fever broke anyway." Jane watched as the outlaw ran the backs of her fingers over the young woman's cheeks. "She woke up earlier fer a few minutes. Saw you there and fell back asleep." Jane quieted down when she realized that Josie was paying no attention to her.
"You did it, didn't you?" she whispered as she gave Rebecca a soft kiss on the forehead. "You fought it and you beat it." Josie pulled her into her aching arms and held her close. "It's going to be fine now, everything will be fine."
Jane quietly extinguished the lamp and closed the door behind her, leaving the sleeping women to their dreams.
Morning found Rebecca awake and alert and itching like crazy. The fever had given way to the second phase of smallpox, the burning, painful blisters that spread from the extremities to the rest of the body. Their extreme itchiness often made victims scratch themselves to the point of bleeding, increasing their chances for severe infections, which just as often killed the victims as the fever. By the time Josie entered with breakfast and tea, the young woman had scratched her left forearm raw and was starting on the right one. "What are you doing?" She growled as she set the tray down and grabbed Rebecca's wrists to stop her. "Rebecca, you know better than that," Josie said as she looked down at the red, irritated skin. Some spots were starting to bleed from the intense clawing. Josie sighed. "Look, I know it itches, but you have to keep from scratching. It'll only get worse." With that admonition she released Rebecca's wrists.
"I know..." she said in a small voice. "But it itches so much." Her green eyes held Josie with a look of pain and discomfort. Rebecca started to rub the underside of her left wrist against her knee, covertly trying to scratch without being caught.
"No!" Josie said, reaching out and grabbing the young woman's wrists again. Inside, Josie's heart was overflowing with compassion for her young friend's pain and irritation, but she knew the chance of scarring and infection were significantly decreased if Rebecca didn't scratch the blisters open.
"They itch and they hurt," she cried as she tried to pull her arms away from the much stronger woman. "Josie, please, I can't take it..." Her words broke into sobs as she tried again to wrench her wrists out of the outlaw's grasp. The desperation in her green eyes to scratch equaled the determination in Josie's blue ones not to let her.
"I know it's hard, but you have to fight it," she said in a gentle voice.
"I can't." Rebecca cried as the tears streamed down her face. Not knowing what else to do, Josie pulled the young woman into her arms and held her. Within seconds, she felt Rebecca's arms moving against her back and quickly realized what she was up to. She again grabbed the young woman's wrists.
"Jane!" She called out and waited for the sharpshooter to enter the room. "I need two wide strips of cloth, try and find the softest material you can." Josie watched as Rebecca's eyes grew wide at the realization of what was about to happen.
"Josie...no...please." The stream of tears increased along with her struggle to free herself. "You can't do this, you just can't."
The gunslinger's heart lurched at the impassioned plea, filling her with guilt for causing the hysterical tears. Jane returned with two wide strips of cloth that appeared to come from an old sheet. Together they held the struggling Rebecca down and tied her wrists securely to the bed frame. A tantrum ensued as the young woman flailed her legs wildly in a feeble attempt to escape her confinement. One bare foot connected with the side of Calamity's face, the nail causing a slight scratch on her cheek. Josie held her breath and slowly moved her hand down to her sidearm, well aware of the sharpshooter's quick temper. To her surprise and relief, Jane merely wiped the small trickle of blood from her face and stepped out of range of the kicking legs. "Scrappy thing, ain't she?" she quipped, cutting through the momentary tension.
"That she is," Josie replied, careful to avoid the green eyes that were blazing with anger and frustration.
"Let...me...GO!" She continued her kicking, which did nothing more than fuel her frustration. "You can't do this to me, Josie." She pounded the bed with her feet. "You're nothing but an overgrown bully," she said kicking again. Jane took the opportunity to exit quietly, leaving the outlaw with her charge.
"You're just going to wear yourself out with all that kicking," Josie said calmly, yet still keeping her distance from the flailing legs.
"I don't care! You let me out of this..." She jerked her wrists against the restraints. "Josie, you know this isn't fair. I wouldn't make you suffer like this." She knew her words were hurting her friend, her best friend. But at the moment, all thoughts of kindness and compassion were gone, replaced with the burning desire to ease the painful prickling feeling in her arms and legs. The muscles in Josie's jaw tightened as she fought to remind herself that Rebecca was only lashing out because of the pain.
"I'm going to find something to help with the itching. Until then you'll have to stay tied up."
"Josie, please..." She stopped kicking and turned her green eyes to lock with the gunslinger's. Rebecca moved her right foot and used a toenail to scratch an itch on the back of her left leg. The movement was not unnoticed by Josie, who turned and left the room for a moment, only to return with two more strips of cloth.
"I'm sorry, Rebecca. You give me no choice," she said as she approached the now frantically kicking woman. In her thrashing about, Rebecca never saw the misting in Josie's eyes as she tied the knots that would prevent her best friend from hurting herself more.
Josie stared at the reflection in the mirror. The large purpling spot on her jaw was still tender to the touch even hours after Rebecca's heel had connected with it. Using a clean cloth, she carefully tended to the scratches that dotted her face and arms from her young friend's frantic attempt to keep her legs free. 'You're loosing your touch, old girl," she muttered. She always prided herself on her alertness and her ability to stay out of harms way. With Rebecca she never saw the blow coming, a rare thing indeed for the experienced gunslinger. With a quiet sigh, she set the cloth down on the edge of the sink and left the boarding house, needing a few minutes alone to sort out her thoughts.
Once outside, Josie sought the shelter of a small grove of trees on the edge of town. Her still recovering muscles groaned at her thought of climbing up into the branches and she relented, deciding instead to sit on the ground and lean her back up against the trunk of a tall deadwood tree. She closed her eyes, letting her mind go through the litany of ways to ease Rebecca's suffering. The most common treatment for the blisters was a paste made of sulfa drugs. Of course the apothecary's store had long ago run out of such drugs. Soaproot would help, but her searches of the riverbanks turned up no sign of the plant. Damn quarantine, she thought to herself. There wasn't enough time for her to slip out of town, go to Rapid City for the medicine, and still make it back to Deadwood in time to save Rebecca. Josie brought her strong fingers up to firmly rub her temples in a vain attempt to ward off the impending headache.
Her keen hearing picked up the sound of a wagon approaching in the distance. Of course, with the amount of noise the wagon was making, anyone would have heard it. Josie listened carefully, picking out the various sounds. It was obviously a wooden wagon, based on sound of metal clanging against metal and wood. That sound was most likely pots and pans banging against the sides. The hoof beats indicated at least two large horses carrying a heavy load. Whatever it was it was worth investigating, she decided as she rose to her feet and took off in the direction of the sound. It took her only a few minutes to reach the road that ran past the town, now guarded by soldiers from the nearby fort.
"This town is under quarantine. No one in or out. Turn around and head back to Rapid City," the soldier said as he approached the wagon, his attention on the portly man at the reins. Josie watched quietly from her vantage behind a nearby bush.
"Ooh, a captive audience, how delightful," the driver said, his voice slightly higher than one would expect from a man with his girth. His face sported a short beard, the same dark color that his hair once was, now graying with age. "Look, I can help whatever is wrong with them. I have medicines and elixirs and...."
"I said no one enters, by order of Governor Mellette," the soldier said, bringing his rifle up against his body to make sure the man understood the meaning.
"Oh...I see what you're saying. No one enters." He forced a laugh to cover his intensely growing fear. "Well then, I guess I'll just be off."
A sound in the bushes caused both men to turn around. What they saw was Josie somersaulting through the air at them. Before the soldier could raise his rifle into firing position, her boots landed squarely against his chest. A quick blow to his temple from the butt of her gun sent him into blackness. She turned her attention back to the man on the wagon, who looked like he was either going to cry or faint with his fear.
"Now, I don't have much here, miss...ah...I mean..."
"Shut up," she snarled as she headed to the side of the wagon. This was obviously a patent medicine man, she thought to herself. It was a traveling show wagon, with doors on the side and back, with a fold up stage for performing. Most likely he had a dancer or juggler inside the wagon who would come out and perform in towns to draw the crowds before he made his appearance, hawking elixirs that were little more than alcohol and syrup. Removing one Colt from her holster, she aimed at the door. "Come on out," she said in her most intimidating voice. Without turning around, Josie pulled her other Colt out and shot the hand of the soldier, forcing him to drop the rifle that was trained on her. A young man and woman exited the wagon. The man looked to be in his early twenties, thin and gangly with extremely thinning blonde hair. His face bore more acne scars than Josie had ever seen before. The young woman, on the other hand, was quite the pleasant sight to look at. Her flaming red hair was tied up in a swirling bun on her head, her worn dress hugging her bosom, forcing it up to tantalize and distract. Josie was certain that this woman was little more than a traveling whore doubling as an assistant to the flimflam man.
"P-please allow me to introduce myself," the bearded man said nervously as he stepped down from the wagon. "My name is Salvatore, but most people call me Sal. Do you perhaps have an ailment that requires my attention?" he asked in a hopeful tone.
"Sulfa drugs, all you have."
Sal laughed nervously and wrung his hands together. "I ah...I mean sulfa drugs are extremely costly, if you know what I mean...urumph!" He found himself being held by the throat, his body off the ground and pressed against the side of the wooden wagon with enough force to rattle the warped door.
"Where?" she growled menacingly. She extended her arm and stepped back a bit, worried that the extremely terrified man would lose control of his bladder. Her biceps screamed at the strain, but her concern for Rebecca overrode the pain.
It took only a few minutes for Josie to look through the different elixirs and creams Sal had stored away in his wagon. She found four crates of soaproot and two jars of salve made from sulfa drugs along with several bottles of laudanum. The majority of the remaining bottles contained mixtures that were mostly syrup and alcohol - good for making someone forget what ails them, but not much else. It was obvious that he had just restocked his supplies recently. The gunslinger smiled at her good fortune. There was enough medicine here to care for all the victims still suffering at the boardinghouse.
"But you can't just take all my medicine..." Sal protested as Josie climbed up and took the reins. He scrambled up next to her, terrified of her but just as terrified of One-Eyed Henry back in Rapid City, the man who loaned him the money to pay for the supplies. Death from this madwoman would be a comfort compared to what Henry would do to him if he didn't show up in three days with the money plus substantial interest.
"If you and your friends haven't been exposed to smallpox before it would be a good idea to stay here."
"Smallpox? Did you say smallpox? Well, why didn't you say so? Just wait a second." He climbed down and spoke quickly to his assistants before pulling a small tent and other camping supplies off of their various positions on the wagon and placing them on the ground. "My town suffered through the pox back in the fifties," Sal said as he climbed back into the seat. "Why do you think I wear a beard in the middle of July?" He pointed to several small pitted scars that were mostly hidden by his facial hair. "Here, Buttercup and Raven are a bit skittish with unfamiliar people," he said, taking the reins from the gunslinger. With a cluck of his tongue, they were off toward town. "They're just kids," he said once they were on the road into town, referring to his two companions.
"They'll be fine out here for a few days. Billy's a bit of a Jonathan, what with his family coming from Delaware and all, but he knows enough to keep them alive for a few days." He noted the faraway look in Josie's eyes and asked, with genuine concern in his voice, "Someone you love got the pox?" He hoped he wouldn't end up with a bullet for his question.
"There are a dozen people suffering from it right now. Most of the others have died," she said, her blue eyes never leaving the road before them, her senses working to pick up any sign of trouble. The key to saving Rebecca was in this wagon and she was going to defend it with her life if necessary. Sal figured out the unspoken answer and gave the rein a flick, sending the horses into a trot.
The now unusual sound of a wagon pulling up outside brought Calamity Jane to the door. Her heart leapt with joy at the sign of the patent medicine man's wagon. "We've got soaproot and some sulfa paste," Josie said as she swung her long legs and jumped down from the seat. Sal used the handles and carefully stepped down. Together, the three of them brought all the usable medicine inside. Sal left to tend to his horses.
Using mortars and pestles, the women ground the soaproot into a fine powder. Although not as effective as the sulfa paste, the tuber would be enough to ease the painful itching and help to draw out some of the blisters. Jane went to tend the others while Josie took up residence next to Rebecca.
"Howdy," she said groggily. Jane had given the young woman several doses of laudanum in an attempt, quite simply, to make her too drunk and doped to fight the restraints.
"Howdy yourself," Josie answered softly as she examined the rash, which now had moved up the arms and legs to cover most of Rebecca's body. Her face was mottled with several small red marks. "I have some medicine to help you."
Rebecca knew better than to ask Josie to untie her again. The pasty mix of soaproot and sulfa drugs was cool against her overheated skin. She closed her eyes and relaxed under the older woman's gentle treatment. Josie worked slowly, making sure to carefully cover every inch of Rebecca's body with the healing salve. "Josie, aren't you afraid of catching it?"
Josie paused for a moment, remembering a time long ago. Her blue eyes took on a faraway look. "There was an outbreak of smallpox on the reservation. The disease was new to the Cherokee; they had no natural defense to it." Like alcohol, she thought ruefully. "Smallpox wiped out most of the people in my tribe. I was around it the whole time and never got sick. I guess I'm just immune to it." A momentary flash of pain crossed her face as she remembered all the sick and dying and her helplessness to do anything about it.
"Josie..." the little blonde said, trying to bring her friend back to the present. "I'm sorry about earlier..." her gaze fell on the purple bruise on the gunslinger's cheek.
"Don't worry about it, Rebecca," she smiled, trying to lighten the mood. "Just don't get the idea that you'll ever get away with it again." Josie held up a mock fist in jest. Both shared the rare playful mood for a few more moments while she finished applying the salve.
Sal returned a short time later his arms burdened down with a crate full of items he felt would be helpful to the suffering people. Without hesitation, he followed Jane's directions and started to help out. He chatted amiably with the people, holding some hands and generally lifting the mood with his infectious smile and chatter.
"Who is that?" Rebecca asked. "He looks like a used wagon salesman."
"Actually, he's one of those traveling medicine men. He was kind enough to supply us with all this medicine," she allowed a tone of gratitude to filter into her voice. "I found him on the road."
"How did you convince him to come into a town with smallpox?" she asked. Thinking better of it she added, "Never mind. I'm sure I don't want to know."
Josie chuckled. "No, you probably don't. Why don't you try to rest for a while?" She adjusted the pillow and turned down the lamp next to the bed.
"Josie, you need to rest too."
"I will, Rebecca. I just need to check on the others first. I'll be back in a little bit."
Having Rebecca tied to the four corners of the bed made it impossible for Josie to sleep next to her. She contemplated undoing the straps for the night, but realized that the general movements of sleep could rub the salve off the young woman's skin. With a sigh, Josie pulled the comforter off of the end of the bed and laid it out on the floor.
Although Josie used most of the sulfa paste to blend with the soaproot, she kept a small amount aside, using the concentrated form on Rebecca's face, determined to do her best to prevent her pretty young friend from being scarred severely from the pox. Her efforts paid off handsomely as the days wore on. The itching stopped and Rebecca was finally untied, much to everyone's relief. Despite her normally gentle nature, the words and phrases that she came up with were enough to make a harlot blush. Although Josie abhorred physical discipline, she was sorely tempted to throw her young friend over her knee several times for her sharp retorts and biting words. There was no doubt that Rebecca could match words with the best of them. The blisters scabbed over, but were showing little, if any, signs of scarring.
Before Sal arrived with the medicine, less than one out of ten had survived the pox. Ten of the twelve remaining victims survived and thanks to the sulfa and soaproot, most came out of it with only a few mild scars. The only sign of scarring on Rebecca's face was a small spot below her jawbone, unnoticeable unless pointed out. Within two weeks, the quarantine was lifted and the boardinghouse was returned to its normal use.
Rebecca and Josie escorted Sal to the stables. "I have to go see if Billy and Mary are still waiting for me," he forced a small laugh. "They've probably gone back to Rapid City."
"They're waiting for you in Rapid City, Sal," Josie said as she stepped forward. "Go to the Horses Mouth Inn. It's been paid for, and so has your debt to One-Eyed Henry."
"B-but how did you...?"
"Sal, I've learned that Josie works in mysterious ways," Rebecca said as she put her arm around his shoulder. "It's better most of the time not to ask; just accept it." Josie smiled at her friend's insight into her character.
"Well then, I thank you most kindly, Josie." He knew better than to comment on her reputation as a murdering thief and train robber. In spite of all the weapons and her usual menacing stare, Sal just couldn't see her in that light any more. He had watched over the last few days as Josie had stayed by her friend's bedside, keeping her company and constantly tending to her. Being a light sleeper, he had been awakened one night by the crystal voice of the gunslinger talking to the sleeping blonde. For an endless length of time, Josie spoke of hopes, dreams, and wishes that she dared not reveal in the light of day. He understood now that there was a special bond between the two women. Sal had assumed that it was the young woman who needed Josie, when in fact it was just the opposite.
25: Sinners?
When Rebecca had recovered her strength sufficiently to travel, the pair set out for Wyoming Territory in search of an outlaw Josie had read about in the wanted posters, who was reported to have been last seen in Cheyenne. The man was known to have murdered a woman and her child because they got in his way as he was fleeing from a bank robbery. The cold-blooded murder of such innocence put him high on her list of fugitives to find, and she was itching to get on the road as soon as Rebecca was able.
The long hot days of summer were shortening with the coming of fall, but the weather was still unusually hot and dry. The two women drew to a stop on a hill over looking a good-sized town spread out on the plain below them. It was close enough to Cheyenne to use as a starting point for tracking down the killer, but hopefully far enough away that he would not get wind of her nosing around. They decided that Rebecca should try to blend with the local population to see what she could pick up, and thought it would be better if they went into town separately. They watched as the overland stagecoach left town, and decided to send Rebecca in on foot. They found an abandoned corral that looked as if it was once used by the pony express before the trains came through, and left the wagon and Flossy there with an ample supply of water and access to grass. Rebecca changed into her new dress and entered town first, going to the boarding house and securing a room for the night. Josie rode in on horseback a short while later, noting the sign over the entrance to the main street proclaiming the town to be Rosewood.
She took Phoenix to the stable and secured her lodgings before heading for the boardinghouse. An older woman whose brown hair was liberally salted with gray met her at the door. Rebecca was seated in the parlor with a glass of lemonade; Josie could see her over the woman's shoulder. "I am Miss Emily and this is my place." She looked at the tall gunslinger, brown eyes meeting blue. "I run a clean, respectable place here, uh...miss. I don't want any trouble," she said as her gaze fell on the guns on Josie's hips. Rebecca walked over and placed her hand on the old woman's forearm.
"She's the friend I told you about. I assure you there will be no trouble. We're tired and really just want a place to sleep and eat." She took the pouch containing the money from Josie's belt and counted out six dollars for the lodging. Emily's eyes moved from the gunslinger to the pile of money in her hand, greed outweighing concern.
"I don't provide meals other than morning coffee...one cup each," she said firmly. "Git your grub over at the Red Diamond. At least you'd fit in there," her last comment was directed at the woman in black. Looking down the street to the west of the boardinghouse was the saloon, a two-story structure with a porch and balcony. Several scantily clad women fanned themselves and watched the street from their vantage on the balcony. Red curtains adorned all the windows and several men were entering the saloon downstairs through the swinging doors. The hairs on the back of Josie's neck prickled with a warning that something was amiss. As Emily led them upstairs to their room, the gunslinger's eyes kept darting around, trying to pinpoint the source of her senses being on alert.
Rebecca flopped back on the straw-filled mattress and let out a sigh. Josie's back was to her so the young woman was unable to see the smile that crossed her face before she resumed her normal stoic look. Their room was in the front, giving them an unobstructed view of the street below. No matter which direction she looked all Josie saw was the normal activities of a small town. People walking and riding about, storekeepers helping people load their purchases into their wagons, ladies with parasols walking arm in arm with well-dressed men. There was nothing out of the ordinary. Her brow furrowed as she tried to figure out the answer to the puzzle. "Guess we'll go get something to eat."
"Eat? Sounds good." Rebecca smiled as she rose from the bed and headed for the door, reaching the handle before the gunslinger.
"Never saw you move so fast, Rebecca," Josie teased. The young woman's green eyes twinkled.
"Food has that effect on me," she replied. "Come on, you could use a good meal too."
As Josie had expected, the Red Diamond was the local hangout for all the lower forms of life in town. Several round tables were filled with men playing poker while the women she had seen on the balcony earlier were either lining the bar and stairs or were trying to talk the men into giving up some of their money in the name of carnal pleasure. Josie allowed the corners of her lips to rise slightly. This is more like it, she thought to herself.
Rebecca looked around the brightly-lit room, but most of her attention was on the common ladies of the evening that milled about. She also noted the looks from some of the men as they passed through the door. Most saw the tall gunslinger first and their faces registered the immediate fear. Those that managed to see past the woman in black and spotted her wore looks of undisguised lust. She felt like a sheep surrounded by a pack of hungry wolves and moved deliberately close to Josie, silently indicating that she had protection.
"Whiskey," Josie said brusquely as she sat down on a stool at the bar, indicating with her eyes that her companion should sit next to her. The barkeep quickly produced a shot glass and the bottle. He looked to Rebecca for her order.
"Sarsaparilla," she said quietly, not wanting the others in the place to hear. The barkeep snorted and went to look for the bottle of soda that he was certain was around somewhere, all the while thinking that the tall woman and short blonde made an odd couple
Josie drained her shot of liquor and refilled her glass. A burly man who reeked of unwashed skin and clothes that hadn't seen soap in far too long came up behind them. Both women smelled him before he made his presence known by slapping his grimy hand on Rebecca's shoulder. "And just how much would ye be costin' me, little one?" His rancid breath made her forget about food.
"Just a broken arm," Josie snarled as she moved with lightning speed off her seat and grabbed his arm, twisting it off her companion's shoulder and up behind his back. "Apologize," she hissed in his ear, pressing his arm upward sharply, driving home her point. "I said apologize to the lady."
"S-sorry," he grumbled, his eyes tight from the pain shooting through his shoulder. "Now please...let me go."
Josie took a long look around the saloon, making eye contact with all that were paying attention with a silent warning. She released her grip and stepped back, waiting to see if the man was stupid enough to fight her. Fortunately for him, the idea of slipping back into an alcoholic haze was more enticing then going up against the taller and better-armed woman. He muttered something unintelligible and moved on back to his table. Josie resumed her seat next to Rebecca, whose eyes never left the gunslinger. "Thank you," she said. Josie nodded and downed another drink.
Josie ordered two dinners and looked around for the table she wanted. With Rebecca and the bottle in tow, she walked through the crowd and glared at the four men until they decided to take their card game somewhere else. She took the seat against the wall, affording her a clear view of the whole room, but not the stairs, which ran up the wall behind her. Rebecca reached for the chair opposite Josie, but the gunslinger indicated with her hand to take the chair next to her. At first the young woman thought it was because she wanted to talk to her, but she quickly realized that the bounty hunter didn't want her view of the doorway blocked. She downed two more drinks before dinner finally arrived. Both women were certain that they didn't want to know the origin of the meat in the lukewarm stew.
Rebecca was halfway through the greasy stew when she noticed the gunslinger staring intently at a man sitting by himself in the far corner. His hat was pulled down over his eyes, obscuring most of his face. She reached over and lightly placed her fingertips on Josie's forearm to get her attention. "You know him?" she whispered. The bounty hunter's eyes never left her quarry.
"He's wanted. I saw him in the group of wanted posters I looked at before."
"Wanted for what?"
"Rape and murder. That's Lefty Brown." Her eyes narrowed slightly. A commotion in the street drew everyone's attention to the door. "Stay here," Josie said firmly as she rose from her chair, her hands never far from her pistols.
Outside the crowd had begun to gather, listening earnestly to the preacher standing atop a barrel. "Well, if it ain't ol' Reverend Righteous himself," one of the men behind Josie snorted.
"Citizens of Rosewood, hear me. These sinners must be stopped. They bring nothing but disease and degradation to our fair town." His deep voice boomed over the crowd, drawing yells of approval. John Righteous, as he was called, stroked his short black beard as he thought of his next statement. "These harlots...these whores bring disease to our men, engaging in the vilest of acts," he said, the venom clear in his voice. Several of the women in question looked down from the balcony. The crowd outside the saloon grew as people poured out of every building to join the fray. Righteous smiled. All was going according to plan. "These whores must be stopped before they ruin all of us, so sayeth the lord," he shouted the last words.
"So sayeth the lord!" the crowd responded. Josie now knew what made her so concerned earlier. She moved away from the door, not caring who she shoved out of her way, to reach Rebecca.
"Go out the back door and get back to the boarding house."
"Josie..."
"Now!" she growled, grabbing Rebecca firmly by the upper arm and hauling her out of her seat. "Rebecca, please just do what I say and ask questions later."
The young woman nodded, but the fear still remained on her face. Josie led her over to the black oak door and slid the bolt. "Go, I'll get there when I can. Pack up our stuff, just in case." She waited until Rebecca was out the door, then bolted up the stairs, taking them two at a time.
Josie used her brute strength to bust down the first door she reached and entered the room. It held only a small table, lamp, and bed. The window was open, leading to the balcony. She pulled the curtains down to get them out of her way, opened the window, and leaned out. "Over here!" she called, catching the attention of the now frightened harlots. The crowd was now whipped up to a frenzied level, totally entranced by the reverend and his poisonous words. From her position at the window, Josie heard the calls for lynching from the mob.
"No, my friends, hanging them will not end the scourge!" Reverend Righteous shouted, quieting the crowd done. "No....More will come to replace them....We need to cleanse this bastion of evil. From the ashes shall grow a new place free from sin."
Josie's eyes widened, as she understood the reverend's intentions. "Move!" she yelled, breaking the whore's attention from the crowd. "Let's go; this place is going to burn!" she barked. One by one, she helped the women through the window. Most headed down the stairs and out the back door, but some ran to their rooms and grabbed whatever personal belongings they could carry in their arms before escaping.
"Is that it?" Josie asked the young woman as she crawled through the window, stumbling when the gunslinger reached out with one hand and jerked her in the rest of the way. Already she could see the torches being lit. Her gun was raised in her left hand as she took a quick look out to make sure no women were still out there. In all, seven whores were waiting for her by the time she made it out the back door. The first torch sailed through the front window, smashing it to pieces.
Josie looked around at the seven women. They looked at her expectantly, waiting for her to tell them what to do next. In her concern to get them out of the building, she never gave much thought about what to do with them afterwards. She ran her fingers through her raven hair while she took a moment to think.
"Do any of you have horses?" the shaking of heads caused her hopes for a quick escape to sink. One woman stepped forward, her flaming red hair billowing in the warm breeze.
"I've got two horses and a wagon at the corral. Be big enough to get us out of town," she said.
"Good, we'll get it after dark," Josie replied. She looked around. Apparently the mob was too focused on their task to notice that they were missing. "Let's go," she said, hoping in her mind that Rebecca's powers of persuasion would work.
"Absolutely not, I won't hear of it," Emily said firmly as she shook her head. "It's bad enough that I let this...this..." she tried to find just the right word to describe the tall woman in black without insulting her. "...person be here, but there is no way on god's green earth that I'm going to allow my home to be used as a hideout for those sinners."
"Look at them," Rebecca said, trying to get the old woman to at least cast a glance at the whores. "Do you think they wanted to be doing this? Do you think they want to sell their bodies for money to drunken men?" She avoided looking at the whores herself, afraid that they would take her words the wrong way. "Don't you think their lives would have been different if they had been given a chance?"
"They're sinners!" Emily shot back.
"And you're not? You've never committed a sin? What about the men who pay for their services? Aren't they sinners too? Yet you let them stay here. Why are they any different?" Rebecca watched as the hard lines on the woman's face softened a bit at the logic of her words. She pressed on, knowing that the advantage was hers. "Most of these women never had the chance that you had. What would you do to feed yourself if you didn't have this boarding house?" She paused for effect. "Give them this one chance; let them stay until tonight. Then I promise that we'll get them out of here."
Before Emily could answer, another loud commotion ensued outside. The angry mob, in their haste to burn down the saloon, forgot that there were buildings on either side of it. Both the assayer's and the telegraph office were now on fire. The bucket brigade had been started, with young boys running back and forth from the rain barrels with pails and buckets, handing them over to the grown men that were desperately trying to save that side of the street. Josie looked out the window, her eyes carefully scanning the street. She turned around and addressed the group of women.
"Now is the perfect time to get out of here."
Even though she felt she hadn't been spotted rescuing the whores, Josie nevertheless felt it safest for Rebecca if they left town as well before the mob realized what had happened. The only obstacle for them was Phoenix, who was stabled at the opposite end of town from the corral where Stacey's wagon and horses were kept. With as much stealth as was possible for seven brightly colored ladies in billowing dresses, they slipped around the back of the buildings and made their way up to the corral. Josie led the group with Rebecca never more than an arm's length away from her. One gun was drawn in the unlikely event that they were seen.
No one noticed the wagon pull out of the corral and leave town, nor did they notice the tall woman in black climbing from rooftop to rooftop as she made her way down the street to the stable. It took no time at all for Josie to saddle her steed and make her escape unnoticed. She rode Phoenix hard, forcing her into a full out gallop as soon as they cleared the burning town. The fire had spread rapidly traveling along the rooftops until the entire side of the street was burning. The banker was screaming frantically at the sheriff, who was busy trying to calm down the assayer, who was screaming about chemicals. The town was almost out of her sight when the explosions started. Josie guided Phoenix in a wide arc around the outskirts until she was finally heading in the same direction as the wagon. There was no doubt in the gunslinger's mind that the men of the town would be far too busy trying to save it to bother trying to round up a posse. She slowed the horse down to a less punishing gait and followed the twin rows of tracks laid down by the wagon. The hoof prints indicated that Stacey had slowed her horses down, so there was no need for the gunslinger to push her beloved mare. Within two miles, she caught up to the women. Rebecca was sitting in the back of the open wagon, chatting animatedly with several of the younger ladies of ill repute. Josie moved Phoenix in front of the wagon and led them off the trail for several miles before finding what she considered to be a safe place to stop. A small stream nearby would provide water and the gunslinger was certain she could round up some kind of meat for them to eat.