The Seer And The Stetson

Down A Dark Alley

River hitched the wagon in front of the Enchanted Dove Saloon. There wasn't a damn thing enchanting about the place. The little hovel stood in the center of town. A shoddily built construction of wooden planks thrown together in haste. He doubted if even the water was safe to drink in that death trap.

His dry lips pinched together as he let his eyes wander along the dusty causeway. There wasn't much to the sleepy little town of Black Brooke. Just a few hastily built plywood houses and businesses along either side of the road.

He was firmly against stopping but Ellie was insistent. Hershal had not recovered from his altercation. In fact, the entire right side of his body had gone as limp as a dead codfish and he could no longer speak.

Ellie demanded that they find a doctor to fix him but River knew better. There was no fixing his ailment. Hershal suffered from apoplexy and the only salvation was death.

Still, Ellie remained hopeful. Believing to the end, that all Hershal required was time and a good doctor. He was loathed to deter her optimism. It would crush her to know her father was forever changed.

When first Hershal's condition was discovered, Ellie tried to get Abigail to treat him herself. But she was too far gone with grief to be of any use. She needed about as much tending to as Hershal.

So, River said nothing but stood by Ellie, taking on the tasks that she couldn't or shouldn't take. Silently he fulfilled her needs. He washed and bathed Hershal when he'd lost the ability to tend to his own needs. He saw to the horses and labor about camp while Ellie fed and cared for her folks. The unspoken accord seemed amicable to all parties.

The fact that they'd decided to detour from their travel almost twenty miles frankly irritated River. He stood stiffly, dragging a large hand across the horse's protruding nose.

"This is a mistake," He said through clenched teeth.

"It may well be," Ellie said stabbing her finger at him. "But this is the best we got. You wait here. I'll go find the colored doctor in this town." She jumped from the passenger side of the wagon. She waved off the plume of dust mushrooming upwards.

"Uh-huh. I'm going to have a drink and maybe a lil something more." River mumbled watching her with unusual seriousness.

She stopped, staring at him deadpan. "That's a saloon and a whorehouse, Collins."

River grimaced, "Can't you let me go the hell the way I want to?"

Ellie laughed making her way along the road. It rankled him to watch her give way to other passersby. She had just as much right to walk the road as they did but he knew the realities of life in her skin no matter what he thought of her.

And he didn't like the look of this town one bit. The people here were skittish and eyed them with a look that didn't suit his taste. There weren't very many dark-skinned faces which was worrisome. This is the kind of town that was more likely to draw and quarter Ellie than help her find treatment for her ailing father.

This close to their destination he would rather plug on and get to the farmstead. Where he was within his rights to shoot anyone who sought to harm his friends. So far removed from polite society, he wondered if she would find anyone willing to treat Hershal.

The conversation of a few men gathered at the junction of the road stopped completely as Ellie approached. River scowled observing their open admiration.

His fist balled to a clench. What gave them the right to look at her that way?

A skinny fella, in brown trousers and a dingy shirt, gestured toward her. River was sure he hadn't mistaken the salacious smile on his face as he left his friends.

"Miss!" He heard the high pitched voice of the youth call to Ellie. She stopped, turning in place.

Chestnut curls blew wildly on the spring breeze. She wore a soft yellow cotton dress. A plain piece but, it fit her like a dream. The wind blew the dress. It clung to her soft dips and curves. A curious brow rose as she watched the boy approach and her full lips pulled into a hesitant smile.

"I's wondering, Miss, if I could be of some help to ye? You look a bit lost." He stammered rubbing the back of his head nervously.

Ellie's smile widened, "Why, yes. We're just passing through and my paw fell sick. Do you got a doctor you think will take a look at 'im?"

The boy took a step towards her and a growl started low in River's chest.

"We got one of the best doctors this side of the Mississipi. Doc Hutchins will tend him. He won't mind none that he's a colored man. He treats all types even the Indians. "

Ellie's wide brown eyes shone, "Will you take me to him?"

"I'd be glad to. Follow me." He gestured gallantly as they walked further away from the coach.

A sliver of suspicion crept cooly down Ellie's spine as they rounded the corner and found themselves in a back alley. Why would a doctor live in such an inaccessible alley?

"Are you sure we headed the right way, Rich?" Ellie asked the boy she'd recently met. He was kind and helpful. She had been so focused on finding help for her father she hadn't suspected he had malicious intent.

"Just a bit further." He gave a reassuring smile and kept walking ahead of her.

"What you got there, Rich? That's a fine little filly." Another voice incited. The motive behind the words spoke only of ill.

Three more white men stalked into the alley. She'd seen that look in their eyes before. The same look her old master's son had before he'd rape the house slaves. The one her mother worked hard to keep her from. They stood behind her and Rich stood in front, effectively trapping her in the narrow passageway.

"I don't want no trouble fellas. I'm just trying to find some help for Papi. Please just let me be on my way." Ellie backed away slowly hoping that scaring her would be enough for them.

"No can do, Darlin'," Rich was the first to say, "Me and my friends we gonna have some fun with you before we kill you. This town gots rules against having niggers."

The sound of a hammer pulling back on a gun drew the attention of everyone in the crowded alley.

River stood behind the miscreants with a gun in each hand, "Now, when I tell you fellas to go fuck yourselves. Will you put that down to my drunkenness, or a high estimate of your athleticism?"