My old town would have done the execution in public, most likely at the water tower, using it as a platform. They do things differently in the big city. I could see the scaffold over the walls, but I had to strain to hear the voices over the din of urban life.
The buggies that droned by weren't as bad as a youth that rode up on a gas powered bike. He pulled up to the sidewalk, lifting his goggles up to his cap, and brushed off his riding breeches with a gauntleted hand. A funny getup, even for a city boy.
As I sipped at my coffee, I looked across the room at the lady in the faded blue dress. There was a rough quality to her beauty, made all the more striking by the look in her eyes as she gazed intently out the window. I was just there reading the paper, looking up jobs in the area. Her hand sometimes strayed to stroke the rifle bag resting against her chair. I looked back to the classifieds when her eyes drifted my way, but I could still see her hand return to her tea cup out of the corner of my eye.
I wasn't keeping an eye on her. A grown woman can make her own choices, vengeance included, and she didn't need no babysitter. I had troubles of my own, like a hotel bill that's starting to eat away at that reward money. Still, my conscience would rest easier with those robbers hung and her going back east, or wherever she came from.
Another buggy came up and stopped against the wall across the street. Her brown eyes flashed my way and we traded a look as two men jumped out, one running and another fiddling in the back before racing after him. I was looking back at her when thunder rent the shop window, sending glass and splinters into the side of my face. The table absorbed the worst of it, and the lady had fallen back in her chair, staring stunned across the street.
The buggy was gone, in it's place a molten heap and a hole in the wall large enough for an elephant to pass through. Shots rang out, and a second and third vehicle came up as the gang passed through the wall and hopped in, leaving the carnage behind.
I got up first, lifting her to her feet. As soon as she was squared, she reached down to her bag, pulling out her rifle and dashed for the street. I could see her take aim, and followed her out only to hear her feral scream as they turned a corner and out of sight. I turned around, looking for a horse, but instead saw the kid's bike.
Thinking back to the few I've seen in town, I flipped the switch, kicked the starter, and opened the throttle. It jumped before I could squeeze the brake, and that got her attention. She jumped behind me on the seat, and we set off after them faster than the kid in the goggles could run after us.
We must have made a ridiculous sight on that thing, and our posture was anything but proper as she pressed herself tightly against me, her rifle slung along her back. Niceties were a secondary concern as we rounded the corner and caught up to them a few blocks down. She loosed an arm from around my middle, and I could hear her work the lever action on her rifle one handed. I kept it steady as she braced it against the handlebars and pulled the trigger.
The rear buggy swerved as a tire blew out, having it crash against another parked against the curb. I kept going. The police were coming up quickly, and the one she wanted was riding in the lead.
It rushed past the other vehicles on the road, and I had to keep a tight grip to steer through the resulting commotion. Finally, after a clear stretch, I got into position and she took her aim at a rear tire. I saw a face turn around, and I swerved throwing off her shot as I dodged one from the robber.
I tried to regain a position behind, but had to swerve a few more times to dodge. As he stopped to reload, I got back into place. Instead of resting the rifle atop the handlebars as before, I felt her other arm release me. I fought the temptation to turn around. I could still feel her behind me on the bike, and see the rifle barrel swaying past the brim of my hat. Looking ahead, I saw him peek back up, and the silvery glint of his six shooter.
With the crack of the rifle, I felt her fall down into the seat, her arm grasping me desperately as she fought to hang on. Up ahead, the gang leader had disappeared, and the buggy swerved sharply to the side and through a store window. I slowed, stopping at the store front. She jumped off, and I followed, drawing the Bowie knife from my belt.
Her rifle was up, and I saw the merchant running after a man out the back, possibly the driver. I looked back, about to tell her, but she had set the rifle aside, looking into the back seat of the buggy.
A neat hole was in the center of his forehead. She stared at the lifeless eyes for another minute, and I made a move toward her, sheathing my blade. That was when she flipped the rifle around, grasping the barrel like a club and swung with a scream more akin to a roar. I have little doubt she would have caved his skull completely if she connected. Instead, I absorbed the blow with an arm under her shoulders, pulling her away.
Her weapon clattered on the ground, and she started shivering. My other arm went around her on it's own accord, and she clung to me tightly as she drew in a ragged breath.
"It's over," I told her. She cried into my shoulder. And as the local constabulary came up that was all I could think of to say. "It's over."
Once again, I found myself at the train station. I ended up a hotel detective once more, but found myself doing odd jobs now and again. I reread the note, seeing the name of the music teacher I was supposed to pick up. Ms. Findlay. A fine name, for a dowdy old spinster.
I felt my eyes flicker when they caught a glimpse of a faded blue dress. She met my gaze and walked over to me, and I doffed my hat as she neared.
"Are you following me?" She asked in an even tone. I replied likewise.
"Just making a pickup. I hope you aren't going to be picking any more fights."
She laughed, shaking her head. Then she lowered it, along with her eyes.
"There's nothing to fight for anymore. Not anymore. I don't even know where I'll go." she said softly.
"You'll find your way." I told her, failing to hide the rueful smile on my lips.
She didn't bother hiding hers as she held her gloved hand out to me. I took her fingers in mine, and thinking back to a European gent that still owes me a fiver, placed a respectful kiss on her knuckles.
"Good luck." I said, meaning it sincerely.
Her smile faltered a moment, and I thought I saw a glimmer of a tear in her eye as she turned and boarded the train. Must have been the sun.
As the locomotive steamed out of the station, I followed it with my eyes until it faded from view. I didn't have much longer to wait for the next train to arrive, and raised the placard the hotel clerk had given me with Miss Findlay's name on it.
As the passengers stepped off of the train, I scanned the faces, wondering which frail bag of old bones was the one I was looking for.
"Excuse me?"
Just two words, yet the one that came to my mind was melodic. As my eyes met hers, I found myself looking at the sky once more, and judging by how her face lit up, it seems she remembered me. Her lips formed a small O for a moment, then she smiled, it's brightness a stark contrast to the black dress she wore.
"Ms. Findlay?" I asked, not quite believing it. It was the girl from the train robbery.
"Yes, sir. Moira Findlay. I assume you were sent from the school to fetch me."
I nodded. Then gave her a short bow, and lifted her bag.
"Right this way, Ms. Findlay. Your carriage awaits."
I was still figuring what I should say next when I felt myself pulled away and into the blinding light of the sun pouring through my window.
