Chapter Six

Jimmy focused on the man in front of him. The man’s right hand was twitching. That told Jimmy two things. The man was right-handed and he was apprehensive.

The man licked his lips. “Draw,” he commanded, his voice harsh. But Jimmy had seen him lick his lips. He was either very nervous or inexperienced, maybe a combination of both.

It surprised him that he could shut out the noises from the dance, the actions of his friends and the bewilderment that filled Priscilla’s face. But he did so. He gave the man a faint smile. “In a hurry to die?” he drawled.

“Shut up.”

Jimmy shrugged. “Suit -”. He felt a pair of hands on him, dragging him away. “What the hell?” he sputtered. Once he managed to turn his head, he saw Teaspoon and Kid; both of them forcing him down the street. “What about -”

“One more word out of you and I’ll take a strap to you,” Teaspoon hissed in his ear.

“We’re trying to help you.” Kid declared.

“Not that you seem to appreciate it,” Teaspoon muttered.

Jimmy felt himself being shoved into a wagon. He lay there, wondering. Should he return, would that man continue to look for him, how would Priscilla get home, what must she think of him? Each of these thoughts ran through his head, growing stronger and more anguished with each squeaky turn of the right wagon wheel.

*~*~*

“Get the hell out of my town,” Sam bellowed, his hand resting on the butt of his firearm. He narrowed his eyes at the shootist in front of him. “Are you deaf? No? Then do you want to see the inside of my jail? Is that why you are still here?”

“I’m here for-” the man began.

“Arrest him, Ephram,” Sam shouted at his deputy.

The man held up his hands. “I must have made a mistake. I got that fella mixed up with someone else.” He moved toward the livery.

“Thought so,” Sam said, scowling hard. He watched as the man walked to the livery and continued to watch as he rode slowly out of town.

*~*~*

Priscilla sat on the steps. Everyone who attended the dance was now out of the building. It stood silent and dark, she thought and here she sat, alone and forgotten.

“Stop that,” she chided herself softly. She needed to get home. She rose to her feet, taking a deep breath, hoping that the fuzziness that filled her brain would dissipate. She glanced around. Maybe Lorna and William were still near. Her own sister would not simply forget her, would she?

But as her eyes continued to scan the area, she did not see any sign of either Lorna or William. Come to think of it, she had not seen them for quite a while. “They probably left before the fireworks,” she muttered. Lorna was going to get an earful once she finally found her, Priscilla decided.

“Fine, I’ll just walk,” she huffed to herself. She had walked from town to home at least a thousand times. One more time would not hurt her. She began moving slowly in what she hoped was the right direction, her head still full of wool. Never, she vowed silently, never would she drink again. How could people go night after night to the saloon and drink themselves silly? She still felt so strange, like she was not in her own body.

And yet another part of her felt very squeamish. She prayed she would not vomit again. She took a few more steps. “That’s the way,” she said encouragingly. “Keep your feet moving, you’ll be home in no time.”

Priscilla was so intent on moving one foot in front of the other she did not see him or even hear him. All she felt was a pair of arms around her and when she opened her mouth to scream, a hand covered her mouth.