Chapter 24
Chapter
Noreen shoved through the batwing doors of the Salt Fork Saloon without a single twinge of discomfiture. Society might deem this place forbidden for decent women, but she wasn’t a decent woman at the moment. She was a warrior ready to strike at the enemy’s heart.
A quick scan of the dim interior showed only a handful of patrons. A foursome played cards at a back table while two others sat at the bar. Gambling and drinking on the Lord’s Day. Disgraceful. Yet she wasn’t here for them.
She spotted her quarry trying to hide behind the bar. Narrowing her gaze, she strode for the gleaming mahogany counter. Voices ceased their prattle as awareness of her presence spread through the room.
Poised behind the bar with a towel in one hand and a glass in the other, Milton Taggert turned. His eyes flew wide a moment before they narrowed into slits.
“Get out of my bar, Noreen.” He moved down to the edge of the bar closest to her and jabbed a finger toward the door as if she might not be aware of how to find the exit.
She tightened her grip on the broom handle and glared at her nemesis.
“Claude Templeton beat his daughter nearly to death today, Mr. Taggert. Because he was drunk out of his mind, thanks to your vile brew.” Her voice swelled in volume and stridency as the reins on her emotions slid from her grasp.
She smacked her broomstick against the bar, and the man sitting two stools down flinched.
“A child, Mr. Taggert. An innocent, loving, kindhearted young girl is lying in Dr. Perry’s clinic right this moment broken, bloodied, and bruised because of your need to make a profit.
” Her voice broke and tears misted her eyes, but the weakness only enraged her further.
“Look, Noreen, I’m sorry the girl was hurt, but what a man does after he leaves here has nothing to do with me.”
“Nothing to do with you?” she screeched.
“It has everything to do with you.” She wagged her broom near his face, but he knocked it aside with the side of his hand.
“You fill these men up with poison day after day, then claim it’s not your fault when they sicken?
Do you have no care for the destruction of our community? For the safety of our children?”
Tremors beset her, but she refused to back down. Refused to surrender.
A man came up behind her and touched her arm. “C’mon, Miz O’Sullivan. Let me walk ya ho—”
“Don’t touch me!” She whirled on him, nearly taking his head off with her broom.
“Whoa!” He lunged backward just in time to avoid her wild swing.
She hadn’t meant to attack him, but he’d startled her. An automatic apology rose to her tongue, but she bit it back. These men could overpower her at any moment. She had to take advantage of their surprise and what few manners their mamas had drilled into their boyhood brains.
Heart thundering, hands sweating, and lungs heaving, she dodged the man beside her and ran down to the end of the bar. Taggert moved to intercept her.
“Go fetch the law, Rico,” he shouted.
Using one of the bar stools like a ladder, Noreen scrambled up onto the bar and stood atop its polished surface.
“Get down from there, you imbecile,” Taggert yelled. “You’re gonna get hurt.” He reached for her ankle, but she leapt over his hand and ran down the bar as if it were the middle of the street.
Her sensible shoes and plain navy skirt reflected in the bar’s mirrors as she turned to face her Goliath. She held a stick instead of a stone, but she would bring this giant down.
Gripping the broom like a bat, she swung with all her might. Glass shattered as the broom handle sliced across a row of liquor bottles. The sharp smell of spirits hit her in the face, turning her stomach and bringing her tears back to the surface.
Taggert’s shouts barely registered.
For Luella! Swing. For temperance! Swing. For her daddy. Swing.
Tears rolled down her face, blurring her vision and obstructing her aim. Sobs wracked her body and weakened her arms as new griefs and old ones combined.
Arms grabbed her from behind and dragged her off the bar. Someone else caught her broom and wrenched it from her hands. She kicked and struggled, but most of all, she wept.
James led the unhitched Templeton team to a trough inside the livery corral, then patted the shoulder of the horse nearest him as the animal dipped his head to drink.
He’d arranged for them to be boarded until closer to sundown when he would deliver them back to the homestead.
He planned to make himself comfortable in Claude Templeton’s house as he waited for the man’s return.
He and Claude were gonna be having some serious words.
“Deputy Paxton!”
James lifted his head at the feminine call. Martha Evans waved at him as she ran down the street. Immediately alert, James ducked through the corral fence and strode to meet her.
“Hurry! You have to stop her.” The usually unruffled schoolmarm looked about as ruffly as one of his mama’s aprons. Loose tendrils of hair flying about, petticoats exposed from her dash down the street, eyes wide and a bit wild.
“Stop who?” He purposely spoke slowly and in a low timbre to try to calm Miss Evans. Pulling information from a flustered witness was like piecing together a jigsaw puzzle. Much more efficient to spend a moment steadying the person’s pulse so he could extract the facts in an orderly fashion.
“Noreen.”
The moment he heard the name, all thoughts of calm fled.
“Where is she?” he demanded. Location was the most critical information. The why and how could wait. If Noreen was in trouble, he needed to get to her. Period. The rest could be figured out later.
“I think she’s heading for the saloon.”
James didn’t wait for more details.
“She has a weapon,” Miss Evans called after him.
That tidbit turned his jog into a run. A half-formed prayer for her protection shot from his soul as his feet pounded the street. A dozen scenarios played through his mind. None of them good.
As he turned down Main, he nearly plowed into Rico Travers.
Rico grabbed James’s arm. “You gotta get to the Salt Fork, Deputy. The woman’s gone plumb loco.”
“That’s where I’m headed.” Shaking off the man’s hold when he didn’t release him fast enough, James took off again, his gaze locked on the saloon at the end of the block.
He plowed through the batwing doors at the same time that Old Coop dragged Noreen off the bar.
Jude Barlow helped, grabbing some kind of stick from her hands.
A fire ignited in James’s belly as he witnessed the woman he loved struggle against a gang of men twice her size.
Her anguished sobs flayed him like a whip upon his back.
In an instant, his gun was in his hand and aimed at the men who dared lay hands on Noreen. “Let her go,” James roared. “Now!”
Jude Barlow dropped the broom with a clatter and shot his arms straight into the air.
Old Coop’s reaction was slightly slower but no less emphatic.
He released Noreen as if she’d suddenly morphed into a pile of hot coals, opening his arms and holding out his palms while Noreen crumpled to the floor.
James expected her to jump to her feet and start railing at the men, but she didn’t. She just huddled on the floor, sobbing. Ice crystalized in his veins. Had she been hurt? Abused?
“Back away,” he barked as he marched forward. He waved his gun in case the men standing around were too drunk to understand his command.
They cleared a path. All except Taggert.
“They didn’t hurt her, Paxton,” the barkeeper said. “They just—”
“Move.” James pointed his gun at Taggert’s chest. Now was not the time for explanations.
Taggert raised his hands and stepped out of the way, offering a clear line of sight to the woman lying on a floor covered with tobacco spittle, spilled beer, and mud from the bottoms of men’s boots. The sight tore his heart in two.
He hurried to her side, holstering his weapon as he went.
“Noreen?” He crouched beside her, gently resting his hands on her shoulders.
Prepared for her to try to fend him off if she thought him another drunken cowboy, he wilted a little when she didn’t so much as lift her head.
Her fire had been extinguished. “It’s James, honey. I’m here.”
Still no reaction. His gut tightened.
“Are you hurt, sweetheart?” He exerted a little pressure on her shoulders, trying to help her unfold so he could scan for blood.
Finally, she turned her face up to his. “James?”
Swollen red eyes peered at him through wet, spiky lashes. But it was the raw grief in her gaze that told James what he needed to know. She was hurt all right, but not from her scuffle with the Salt Fork patrons. Her wounds ran deep into the crevices of her spirit.
She reached for him, twisting her body to face his as she clasped his neck with enough force to nearly pull him over.
His arms circled her and pressed her tightly against his chest as he steadied them both.
Slowly, he pushed to his feet, and when she sagged against him, he swung her up into his arms.
He wanted to carry her back to his quarters, hold her, and soothe her until the storm bedeviling her passed. But he had a duty to perform as well, one that couldn’t be ignored.
He met the eyes of each man standing around gaping at Noreen. “I’ll be back to collect statements from each of you as soon as I get Miss O’Sullivan settled. Don’t be going anywhere.”
Taggert scoffed as he crossed his arms over his chest. “You coddle all your criminals this way, Paxton? Or just the ones you’re courting?”
James ground his teeth. “Miss O’Sullivan is no criminal.”
Taggert’s eyebrows rose to sarcastic heights.
“No? Here I thought vandalism and destruction of private property were crimes. But I guess the high and mighty James Paxton knows the law better than a lowly tavern owner.” His gaze hardened.
“Or maybe that skirt you’re holding has pulled the wool over your eyes and blinded you to actual evidence. ”
Noreen gave a tiny moan and buried her face in his coat. James tightened his hold on her, but he also lifted his head and scanned his surroundings, taking in the broken bottles behind the bar, the cracked mirror, and the smell of alcohol emanating from Noreen’s clothing.
His gut soured at the evidence he could not deny.
“She traipsed in here, wielding that broomstick like a cudgel. Took a swing at Rico and another at me before she scrambled onto the bar and started smashing bottles left and right. That’s at least a hundred dollars’ worth of damage, if not more!”
“The little gal was upset, Milt,” Old Coop said.
“Upset don’t give her the right to tear up my bar!
” Taggert, eyes snapping, turned on James and jabbed a finger in his direction.
“If you want to get her settled before takin’ statements, that’s fine, but you better be settlin’ her in a cell, ’cause that’s where she belongs.
Unless the law don’t apply to gals who make sheep’s eyes at the deputy. ”
James clenched his jaw. The man could attack his honor all he wanted, but he was getting dangerously close to besmirching Noreen’s reputation, and that James would not allow.
“Watch what you say, Taggert.” James’s voice rumbled with a low authority that served to wipe some of the acrimony from the barkeeper’s face. “I’ll not have you slandering the lady.”
“And I’ll not have you letting her off the hook just because you’ve taken a shine to her.”
“Enough!” James shot the man a glare hot enough to melt metal.
“I made a vow to this community to administer justice without partiality, and I’ve never done otherwise.
So instead of accusing me of something I haven’t done, why don’t you get of my way and let me tend to Miss O’Sullivan.
The sooner I see to her, the sooner I can return and file those charges you’re so eager to press. ”
Taggert grumbled but stepped aside. James shifted Noreen slightly in his arms, then strode for the door. A wide-eyed Martha met him on the boardwalk.
“Is she hurt?”
James didn’t slow his pace. The sooner he got Noreen out of the town’s view, the better. “No, but she’s gonna need your help. Fetch Miss Cowan and a set of clean clothes for Noreen and meet me at the jailhouse.”
Miss Evans dogged his steps. “The jailhouse? Why? We should take her to the boardinghouse.”
“Can’t.” His armful was growing heavy and talking was becoming difficult.
“Why not?” Miss Evans demanded.
“’Cause she’s under arrest.”