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Jack's snarl deepened. "You always think you're so smart. Go on, go for that pistol of yours. Think you're so tough–"
"Either pull the trigger, Jack, or get out my way, cause I'm coming through. How many of your brothers are you ready to get killed?"
He spurred his horse on, and it started moving. Chris tensed for a minute, ready for the shot to ring out any moment. And, to his surprise, it didn't. He passed Jack's horse by, and kept his head on straight as he rode by. Nothing to look back for. Nothing to think about, nothing to worry about.
He had something else to deal with, something more pressing. Something bleeding all over his horse who needed medical attention, and needed it hours ago.
Thirty-Seven
Marie watched him riding with a sick feeling in her gut. There was talk. People who gossip, they know that it's just idle chatter, that they could be making it all up, even if they say that they're as sure as can b
e.
Marie had watched that doubt in its effects, even as she'd seen what happened when suspicions mounted and people's idle talk overwhelmed their senses. That doubt slowed them down. Kept people quiet. That little bit of uncertainty, the idea that maybe, just maybe, they're wrong and they need to act with a little doubt. Discretion.
Once they knew, without a shadow of a doubt—he'd be done for, and nothing that she nor anyone could do would be able to stop that from happening, when it happened. She could feel the heat in the crowd rising as they waited for him to emerge. Either he'd come out, or they'd go in and get him, she feared, and then—then, who knew what lengths people would go to.
Marie took a deep breath and tried to get her head on straight. The first thing that she had to do was make sure that he had as many people on his side as possible. She looked around for Chris's brother. If he was still there, he was hiding. But there was no place that he could hide so well, not in a crowd like this. She stepped up onto the wheel of a coach that was parked up outside the back of the saloon and looked closer. Nothing to see, even still.
Marie frowned. That was one problem out of the way, at least. But now, she had to get across the crowd. That was going to present a problem and a half. But there wasn't much choice in the matter. Either she got over there, or… well, there was no point in thinking about the alternatives. She settled back down to the ground and grabbed Jamie's hand.
"Come on, we've got to go."
He looked up at her with an expression that told her all about the questions he wanted to ask her. He kept them to himself, though. It wasn't time to be arguing with adults. Not when everything was going crazy all around them, and he was a good enough boy to know it.
The problems would really start once Marie got to the door. Whatever her plan would be, the first step was always 'get to the door.' But beyond that, turning things to her favor, to Chris's favor—that would be a challenge. Faces turned and stared as she threaded her way through the close-pressed people. Thankfully, they looked only for a few moments before deciding, it seemed, that she wasn't nearly so interesting a prize as Chris.
The teacher did her best to keep her head down and keep moving to encourage that. If she didn't, who knew how long it would be before someone stopped her. Once they got inside, she reminded herself. They just had to get inside, and then they'd be safe. She could talk to Chris and they'd be able to hatch out some kind of plan.
Marie shouldered through another layer of the crowd. It seemed impossibly thick, all of them pressing to get even a little bit closer to the door. And as she moved, she pressed them in even tighter.
A voice went up, loud and clear. Loud enough that she, along with the entire crowd, stopped what they were doing and looked up.
The preacher was there. She'd seen him a few times, in passing. Not enough to know more than that about him. But it was easy to see the resemblance between him and the gray-haired man sitting on the seat beside him. No one stood near the coach, she saw. They seemed to have cleared a space. It wasn't until one of them shifted and she saw the rifle over the soldiers' shoulder that she realized how they'd done it.
A half-dozen men with military bearing and sour expressions on their faces held the crowd back far enough that there would be no risk of the crowd ever touching one solitary hair on the horses pulling the coach before they were dealt with. Swiftly, no doubt.
"People! You've heard the words of wanted men—and has Chris Broadmoor denied it? Never once!"
The crowd fell quieter still. The murmurs died down. There was someone in charge, now, and they'd wait for him to give the orders.
"I have spoken with you fine people about him more than once. And now you see, with your own eyes, that I have spoken the truth."
She pushed harder. There was a bad feeling in her gut.
"Are we going to allow that sort of man in our community?"
"No," someone cried out from the mob. Several other voices joined in. Marie pushed harder, and made it another couple of feet. In just a few more steps, she'd be there.
A hand grabbed around her arm.
"I've got his whore!"
She turned to find Mrs. Bradbury's face, beaming, her other arm held up high to show everyone exactly where the 'whore' was.
"Don't hurt her, dear. Just bring her here. We're not animals."
The crowd spread out, making room for them as she was pulled past. There was no hope of fighting, so Marie let them take her.
