Ellen Hart Presents Malice Domestic 15: Mystery Most Theatrical. Karen Cantwell
Members of the crowd chuckled. Rusty and Sanchez exchanged confused looks.
“There’s big changes about to take place,” she continued. “And when the unexpected happens, I’m going to need your help.”
Sanchez was the first to play along with the new script. “You know I’ll do anything for you, Nellie.”
Rusty opened his mouth to speak when a gunshot drew everyone’s attention to the middle of the street. More people crowded the sidewalk to watch the show.
Curly Joe sat astride the bay mare holding his six-shooter in the air and cranked off another round. A rope stretched between the jail window bars and his saddle horn. With a mighty “Yah!” he spurred the bay forward. The window popped out of the wall and bounced into the dirt.
Slim Jenkins wiggled free from his cell and landed with a resounding thud on the boardwalk, his hat firmly adhered to his head.
Under cover of the commotion, Cassidy leaned close to Rusty’s ear and whispered, “Bring the extra horse.”
His brows furrowed, but he nodded.
Slim planted his hands on his hips and drew in a dramatic breath of freedom as he surveyed the crowd. “Whoo-ee! About time. I couldn’t handle another night in the pokey.”
A boy behind Cassidy announced. “He’s a bad man. Look at his hat. The sheriff needs to do something!”
As if summoned by the child, Sheriff McMaster appeared in the doorway of the jail, his white Stetson a beacon against the dark interior.
This was Cassidy’s cue to run across the street to warn the sheriff—as if the gunshot, window demolition, and Curly Joe’s ruckus wasn’t enough to alert a lawman that something was awry. It also allowed Cassidy to move the grappling hook and window to safety before more horses entered the story.
“Sheriff McMasters! There’s been a jailbreak!” she shouted, just in case anyone in the audience harbored any lingering confusion about what had just happened.
Curly Joe wheeled the mare around and tossed a gun belt to Slim who slung it around his hips.
Cassidy timed her steps onto the boardwalk to coincide with Slim drawing his gun. Seriously, whoever scripted the production severely underestimated the ability of dance hall girls to sniff out danger and avoid it. She readied herself to be bumped from behind. Last time, her boyfriend had been a bit too enthusiastic and nearly bowled her over.
Sheriff McMasters raised his pistol. “Stop in the name of the law!”
Slim grabbed Cassidy around the waist with his left hand and raised his right arm and pointed his prairie pistol at the sheriff. Tactically speaking, it was a terrible way to try to control a hostage. She’d grown up with four older brothers; she’d been training for something like this her whole life. A hard granny heel to the shin as a distraction, sweep the gun, leverage the barrel, et violà. She could strip the gun out of Slim’s grasp before he could even say ouch.
But Slim wasn’t the problem. Shane was. She summoned her best damsel in distress voice. “Sheriff! Save me!” Even she heard the sarcasm. Good thing she was an historian first and an actress second.
“We don’t want no trouble, Law Dog,” Curly Joe shouted. “Go back inside, no one gets hurt.”
McMasters hunkered behind a water trough. In theory, his pistol was aimed at Slim, but Cassidy knew she was the target. You’ll be regretting them words ‘fore too long she heard, even as he said, “Let her go.”
“I don’t think we’ll do that,” Slim said. “Seems to me, she’s our ticket out of this here town.”
“I’m not going to let anything happen to Nellie.”
A bald-faced lie if she’d ever heard one.
He continued, “You boys need to do the clean thing, and lay down your guns. Turn yourselves in.”
A thundering of hooves neared. Six-finger Sanchez and Rusty careened around the corner on horseback, each holding the reins of a riderless horse.
The sheriff darted to the doorway of the jail, still pointing his gun toward Slim. “You don’t want to be no fugitive from the law, Slim. You get on that horse, I’ll hunt you down like the dog you are.”
“No offense, Sheriff, but I find your hospitality somewhat lacking.”
This was the point in the show when Cassidy was supposed to sidestep with Slim toward the horses. From an impossible angle, the sheriff would save the day by winging Slim. Freed, Nellie would hide behind a wagon. Sanchez and Rusty would enter the fray with much tucking and rolling across the ground, shooting from behind cover until the rest of the blanks were used up in a loud free-for-all that thrilled the guests and left three outlaws on the ground. Just as Slim was about to get the drop on the sheriff, Nellie was supposed to use her one shot to kill Slim before he shot the sheriff.
The horses would inevitably make their way to the flowerbed in front of the mercantile and snack until someone collected them. As a denouement, Nellie was supposed to proclaim the sheriff her hero, express her undying love, blah, blah, blah. The historian in her wanted to weep.
Fortunately, this was not that day.
Instead, Cassidy planted a kiss on Slim’s cheek. “There’s no use hiding it anymore.” She addressed Shane. “Sheriff, I know you think I’m sweet on you. But I’m not. In fact, despite all your pestering, I never was. My heart belongs to Slim Jenkins and everyone knows you’ve wronged him by locking him up when it was you who rustled them cattle off Teague’s Ranch.”
“Nellie, what in tarnation is going on? You love me.” The sheriff spoke evenly, but his face shone with malice.
“I’m exposing you for the yellow-bellied liar you are.” She faced her boyfriend and spoke quietly. “I love you. I need you to trust me on this.” She squeezed his hand before projecting for the audience again. “Grab the horses, darling. The sheriff and I have some unfinished business.” She leaned over and withdrew the small pistol from her garter. When she came up, she straightened her arm and pointed the gun at Shane’s chest.
He blanched. “Now hold on. What’s got into you?”
“It’s not what’s in me you need to worry yourself over.” She narrowed the distance between them, but stopped well out of reach.
“I’m sheriff of this town.”
She drew back the hammer. “Don’t make me ask twice.”
“Wait, wait, wait!” He stooped down and placed his gun on the ground. “You’re making a big mistake.”
“Explain to me how, exactly?”
Shane closed his fist around a handful of dirt and his legs tensed.
Cassidy took the slack out of the trigger. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”
He clenched his fist tighter, then emptied his hand and held them both in the air.
“Get up,” she said.
Shane scrambled to his feet. For a second Cassidy thought he was going to try to rush her. Slim must have thought so, too, because he came up beside her. Curly Joe, Rusty, and Sanchez weren’t far behind.
“Cattle rustlers don’t deserve to wear a badge,” she said. “You aren’t worthy. Take it off.”
His jaw clenched, but he unpinned the tin star and threw it in the dust at her feet.
She picked it up with her free hand and cleaned the dirt off against her skirt. “Now you’re going to step into that jail and set yourself down in an empty cell. And before you get any bright ideas, it’ll be the one without the window.”
People in the crowd laughed.
“You ain’t no better than