Beatrice and the Beast, page 42
‘There isn’t any escape for her Frank, I’ve sent men to watch the back.’
Zelletta turned back to review the scene below and sure enough, three of his men were missing. He noted one of them was Doonen who wasn’t a gunman.
‘He just did us a favour Charlie.’ He said. ‘He split up his men and that puts the odds in our favour.’
‘I don’t want you to place yourself in danger for me Mister Zelletta.’
Both men turned and regarded the young woman who had been awakened by the sound of Zimmerman’s yelling. She sat up painfully and swung her legs over the side of the bed.
‘I will go back,’ she announced. ‘I don’t want any blood to be spilled on my account.’
‘You ain’t going back with that sonofabitch,’ replied Zelletta. ‘We’ll get you out the back and Charlie will get you away while I keep ‘em occupied. Now I’ll hear no more on the matter.’
She looked at him coyly.
‘Alright Mister Zelletta.’
She knew from past experience, once he had set his mind on something, there would be no changing it. But the odds were against them and her fear for his safety filled her with trepidation.
‘You’ve got two minutes Zelletta,’ yelled Zimmerman.
Frank picked up Beatrice’s Winchester and handed it to her.
‘If you need to, make sure you use it and if you use it, shoot to kill.’
After already having killed two men, she never wanted to use a gun ever again. However, she took the weapon because she didn’t want to go against his instructions. But she hoped she wouldn’t have to use it.
They hurried down to the lobby and through the dining room to the kitchen and because there were at least three hours before the evening rush, there was nobody in the kitchen, apart from an old Mexican woman who was cleaning the place up. Charlie placed his finger to his lips when she looked up and she simply turned back to her cleaning as though they weren’t even there.
There was a door in the back wall and a grimy, grease stained window. Charlie crept to the window and peered out. He was able to make out the three men across a vacant lot, two of them stood with legs splayed, watching the back door intently while the third, stood back with his eyes darting around nervously. It was clear he would rather be anywhere but there at that moment.
‘There’s only two we gotta worry about,’ said Charlie. ‘The other one is the foreman and he ain’t no gunman.’
‘Get down Miss Mellowday,’ said Zelletta. ‘Don’t come out until the shooting stops and if me and Charlie come off worst which ain’t very likely. You’d better be prepared to use that rifle.’
She crouched down by the wall while Zelletta, with Charlie close behind placed a hand on the door knob and softly, turned the key.
‘Ready Charlie?’ he asked.
‘I was born ready Frank.’
Both men drew their colt peacemakers and Zelletta turned the doorknob. Then, with a mighty heave, crashed open the door and dove headlong, through it with Charlie close behind. Both men rolled and came up shooting their weapons. The action was swift and violent and took the waiting gunmen, completely, by surprise. The two gunmen, went for their weapons as soon as the door crashed open but barely had a chance to level them before they were cut down in a hail of bullets. Doonen got one in the shoulder but managed to stay on his feet long enough to stagger away out of danger.
‘Come on Beatrice,’ yelled Charlie as both men leapt to their feet.
She rose and lifted up the hem of her dress with one hand while holding the rifle with the other and hurried through the door. Then with Charlie taking her hand and pulling her along, they headed for the back of the buildings with Zelletta guarding their backs as they fled.
Beatrice and Charlie managed to round a building and make it to the back lot. However, Zelletta wasn’t so lucky, because, just as he was about to dodge behind the building, a shot rang out behind him and he went down with a rifle bullet in his back. Zimmerman with a smoking rifle in his hand hurried to the stricken man and kicked the gun away from his lifeless hand.
He was accompanied by Billy Hunter and another man and Zimmerman ordered them to get the girl while he dealt with Zelletta. They rounded the building and went after Charlie and Beatrice. What they didn’t expect, was to see them coming back to see what had happened to Frank.
Charlie was first to act and aimed and fired his revolver. His bullet hit the surprised gunman who was with Hunter. But he was no match for the young gunfighter. Hunter shot Charlie before he was able to turn his gun on him and the older man slumped to the ground. Without even thinking about what she was doing, Beatrice levered the Winchester and fired from the hip just as the grinning young man was about to turn on her. Her bullet took him in the heart and he slumped, lifeless, to the ground.
Beatrice knelt by Charlie and saw he was still breathing. The bullet had entered his chest just below his right shoulder and the wound was bleeding profusely but he was able to speak.
‘Go,’ he said painfully. ‘Get away while you can.’
‘I can’t Charlie,’ she said. ‘I have to go to Mister Zelletta.’
She hurriedly, took his knife and sliced into her dress skirt before tearing a strip from it. This she wadded and pressed to the bullet hole before placing his hand on it.
‘Hold it tight to the wound Charlie. Try and stop the bleeding if you can, I’ll be back.’
She hurried back to the corner of the building and peered round. What she saw, made her breath catch in her throat and suddenly, her normal placid nature, turned to anger when she saw Zimmerman kicking the stricken Zelletta before levelling his pistol at his victim’s head. She levelled the rifle and squinted down the barrel. Deciding she needed to sound as though she meant it, she attempted to use the kind of tough no nonsense language Frank Zelletta would have used.
‘Drop that gun Jacob,’ she yelled. ‘Or I’ll blow your goddamned head off.’
He looked up at the girl with surprise and had he not been so enraged, he may have derived a little amusement, at her tenacity and assertive words that did not quite match her small girly voice. But because she had the audacity to point a rifle his way, his fury overrode any feelings of amusement.
‘Stupid little bitch,’ he yelled. ‘Who the hell do you think you are? You haven’t got the guts to fire that gun. Now put it down and come over here. You’re coming back with me after I finish off your damned lover and I’m going to make you wish you’d never disobeyed me.’
He aimed the pistol again at Zelletta’s head and as he did so, he brought about his own demise. Beatrice’s loathing of the man heightened intensely in that moment, instilling in her, a desire to inflict the worst possible pain on him in her bid to save her man’s life, and because she felt so incensed with hatred, she lowered the muzzle and squeezed the trigger. The bullet hit him exactly where she had planned it to and he looked at her with surprise and horror on his face before he dropped the pistol and slumped to the ground clutching his stomach and screaming in pain.
Beatrice hurried to Zelletta’s side and knelt beside him.
‘Are you alright Mister Zelletta,’ she cried. ‘Can you speak?’
He was lying on his back and he turned his eyes up to regard her lovely, dirty and concerned face and felt he was looking at the face of an angel.
‘Goddamn it,’ he said painfully. ‘Saving my life is becoming a habit with you. I’m supposed to be the tough guy, but you’re making me look like I’m the one who needs taking care of.’
‘Hush,’ she said. ‘Don’t speak. Where are you hit?’
‘I don’t know,’ he replied. ‘Somewhere in my back, but I can’t feel a damned thing and I can’t move.’
He was too heavy for her to turn over and she looked round in despair. Only then, did she see for the first time the crowd of townsfolk that had gathered around to see what all the shooting was about.
‘Can you help me?’ she implored. ‘I can’t move him.’
A middle-aged man forced his way through the crowd and came to kneel by her side.
‘I’m a doctor,’ he said. ‘I’ll see what I can do.’
‘He was hit in the back,’ she said worriedly. ‘Please help him.’
The doc regarded the growing crowd.
‘Jim,’ he said to a man he recognised. ‘Go and find something to carry him on.’
The young man he’d spoken to answered briefly.
‘Sure doc,’ he said before hurrying away.
The doctor addressed the crowd again.
‘Help me turn him onto his side.’
Two men knelt beside him and they gently turned Zelletta onto his side and held him there while the doc examined his back. After a few moments he spoke again.
‘It hasn’t bled much, but it looks like the bullet hit his spine, if it’s shattered the cord he could be paralysed.’
‘Oh god!’ gasped Beatrice. ‘Can’t you do something?’
‘I’ll know more when I get him to my surgery, until then there isn’t much else to be done here.’
‘What about Zimmerman,’ somebody asked. ‘He’s been gut-shot but he’s still alive, just about.’
‘I doubt there’s anything I can do for him,’ said the doc casually. ‘Is there anybody else.’
Because her mind had been fully occupied with her worry for Zelletta, Beatrice had forgotten about Charlie.
‘Oh god!’ she exclaimed. ‘My friend Charlie is wounded over there.’
‘When Jim gets back with a board,’ said the doc to anybody listening. ‘Take this man to my surgery while I check on the young lady’s friend and somebody find the marshal and the undertaker there’s too many corpses lying around.’
He clambered to his feet and helped Beatrice up before speaking to her.
‘Show me where your friend is young lady.’
He followed her around the corner of the building where he noticed two more bodies.
‘My god!’ he exclaimed. ‘Exactly how many men did you shoot?’
‘Only two,’ she replied. ‘Mister Zelletta and Charlie killed the others.’
He stared at her dirty, angel face and shook his head.
‘Remind me not to cross you Miss. You must be an angel of death.’
‘I never wanted to kill anybody. We were forced into it.’
‘Well nobody round these parts is gonna judge you for ridding us of Zimmerman and his gunnies. They been giving us grief for years.’
She didn’t reply and instead, crouched by Charlie’s side, motivating the doc to follow her lead.
‘I’m guessing it was you who put this material to the bullet hole.’
‘Yes,’ she answered. ‘Will he be alright?’
‘Seems to me, you saved his life. If you hadn’t of got him to hold that over the wound, he would have bled to death by now.’
Beatrice wasn’t interested in being praised. She simply wanted to know if he would live.
‘But will he be alright?’
He studied her concerned face for a moment.
‘Like the other man, I won’t be able to say for sure until I get him to my surgery.’
He looked around at the few folks who’d followed them and organised some of them to get another board to carry Charlie on. Then he led Beatrice through the streets to his surgery and to where Zelletta had been carried on an old door and was now lying on a strong wooden table. He was awake but looked very pale as he gazed up at her. Unable to control herself, she went to him and took his face between her hands before placing her lips to his forehead.
‘Oh, Mister Zelletta,’ she cried. ‘This is all my fault. If only I had gone with you when you asked me to, none of this would have happened.’
‘None of this is your fault Miss Mellowday. ‘I knew what I was doing and what to expect if it went wrong and I’d rather it be me than you who took a bullet.’
‘Miss Mellowday is it?’ Asked the doc.
‘Yes,’ she said without taking her eyes off Frank’s face.
‘Well miss Mellowday, I must ask you to leave so I can check on my patient.’
‘I want to help,’ she said.
‘Help?’ He replied. ‘You need help yourself. Your feet are cut and swollen and you look completely exhausted. I suggest you go back to your hotel and take a bath then apply some ointment to your feet. I’ll let you know as soon as I can ascertain the condition of him and your other friend.’
‘No!’ She cried. ‘I have to stay with him. I can’t possibly leave him alone.’
‘Do as he say Miss Mellowday,’ croaked Zelletta. ‘He’s right. You need to take care of yourself, there ain’t nothing you can do here.’
‘But.’
‘Go and clean yourself up, I’ll be fine, but you’re dirty and cut up and I want to see you looking beautiful when I’m back on my feet.’
She struggled, but managed to keep down the tears.
‘Alright Mister Zelletta, if that’s what you want.’
‘It is. There’s some money in my shirt pocket, take it and buy yourself some new duds.’
‘I can’t you’ve already done too much for me.’
‘For once in your life, do as you’re told, dammit.’
‘Yes, Mister Zelletta.’
She reached into his shirt pocket and took out some dollar bills.
‘Take it all,’ he said. ‘I got plenty more stashed away to pay the doc.’
She did as he said and then, unable to help herself, pressed her lips to his before turning and leaving the building before she changed her mind.
As she was about to make her way back to the hotel, she encountered Charlie being carried on a wide piece of board. The bearers stopped when she took his hand and looked into his wan face.
‘How are you Charlie?’ she asked with tears streaming down her face.
‘Better than you by the looks of it,’ he answered haltingly. ‘How’s Frank?’
‘I don’t know?’ she sobbed. ‘He might be paralysed.’
‘Charlie didn’t know what to say to that and simply, squeezed her hand.
‘Go and get some rest Beatrice,’ he said hoarsely.
She wiped the tears from her cheeks but could not prevent more from forming.
‘I’ll be back to see you and Mister Zelletta soon Charlie.’
‘I know you will. You’re a good girl Beatrice and one of the toughest women I ever met.’
She didn’t consider herself to be tough or even courageous, but she smiled at him and quickly hurried away before she started blubbering again.
When she arrived at the hotel entrance, she was accosted by an elderly, grey haired man wearing a silver badge pinned to his shirt. He tipped his hat and with a serious expression on his face, spoke to her.
‘Are you Miss Mellowday?’
She tried to answer in as calm and level tone as possible. But when she spoke, there was a distinct quaver in her voice and she struggled to maintain her composure.
‘Yes I am.’
‘I’m sorry ma’am, but I have to arrest you for the murder of Jacob Zimmerman.’
FORTY-SEVEN
Beatrice stared at the marshal for a few moments and when she finally, responded to his declaration, it was to utter a single word.
‘Oh.’
He studied the bedraggled girl all the way down to her bare, blood and mud caked feet and felt nothing but extreme pity for her. But he was the law and had a job to.
‘Please come with me Miss Mellowday,’ he said in as kind of tone as he could muster.
‘But sir,’ she said tearfully. ‘I really need to take a bath and clean myself up.’
‘I’m sorry ma’am. But I cannot allow that. There is always a chance you might abscond and that would place me in a bad position. I don’t want to have to cuff you, so will you come with me freely?’
After a moment, she briefly, nodded her head.
‘Yes,’ she whispered.
He lightly, placed a hand on her elbow and guided her through the crowd of citizens that were gathering to watch this new turn of events. The Marshal’s office was situated on the main street no more than a few minutes away. Once inside he opened a door that led to the cells. There were four of them and two were occupied by unsavoury looking characters who both stared with unbridled lust at their pretty, new companion. The marshal opened the farthest cell from the two men and guided her inside. After locking the door behind the frightened girl, the marshal turned his attention to the two men.
‘If any of you give the young lady any grief,’ he growled. ‘You’ll have me to reckon with.’
‘What’s she in for Marshal? Asked one of them. ‘Whoring?’
‘If she’s a whore,’ said the other. ‘She gotta be the best-looking whore I ever seen.’
‘She ain’t a whore,’ snapped the marshal. ‘You two gotta learn to mind your damned manners. Now keep quiet and let her get some rest.’
They fell quiet until the Marshal returned to his office. Then they turned their attention to the hapless girl who was only separated from them by one cell and two sets of bars. She stood with head bowed as she looked at the wooden cot by the back wall bearing a straw mattress and a single blanket and her heart sank. Especially when she noticed the only other commodity in the small cell, was a chamber pot. There would be no privacy from the other prisoners which only added to her absolute despair. She may never see Mister Zelletta and Charlie, ever again and if she were to be tried for murder, she would probably hang. She had only been on earth for nineteen years and would never now, experience the kind of thing most women did, like marriage and childbirth. Her friends back home would find it hard to believe what her life had come down to. She was a murderess who, in her short life, had already killed four men and would probably, hang for one of the murders.
Her reverie was interrupted by one of the male prisoners calling out.
‘Hey lady,’
‘She was startled but refused to acknowledge him.’
‘What you in for missy?’ Called out the other one. ‘Are you a whore?’
‘I ain’t never seen a whore that good looking,’ responded the first. ‘What’s your name lady?’
She sat on the bunk and lowered her head into her hands and trembled violently, whether from the cold or her fear, or both, she was unable to tell. But realising her bare feet were aching from being in contact with the cold, stone floor, she lifted them and curled her legs under her.
