Beatrice and the Beast, page 43
‘We’ll give you fifty cents apiece to show us your tits,’ yelled one of the laughing men. ‘That’s as much as a whore earns in a whole night.’
The wretched girl placed her hands over her ears to try and block out their voices. But her action was in vain, because their obscene language and lewd suggestions only got louder and increasingly vile and offensive. There was no escaping their outrageous obscenities and they refused to let up on their bombardment of the distressed girl as she wallowed in her misery. Therefore, she did the only thing left to her. She lay down on the flea infested mattress, pulled the dirty blanket over her and cried silently until they became bored of their revilement of her and after a while, she fell into a fitful sleep.
FORTY-EIGHT
She was awakened the next morning after an extremely, uncomfortable night, by the clamour of loud voices, hundreds of them by the sound of it, and they were coming from outside the marshal’s office. Many of them were shouting but she couldn’t make out what they were saying, only that they sounded very angry. There was also the sound of loud banging on the door and she wondered if it was one of those lynch mobs she had read about, come to take her away and hang her from the bough of a tree.
She heard the sound of a gunshot just outside and the loudness of the mob turned to a dull murmuring sound. Then she heard the marshal’s voice over the lower sound of the crowd as he yelled out something incomprehensible to her ears. After that, the office door slammed and a few moments later, the door to the cells opened and the marshal entered bearing a mug of hot coffee.
She sat up and stared at him through frightened eyes as he came to stand by the door to her cell.
‘Have they come to hang me?’ She asked in a small, frightened voice.
She studied his stern face as he regarded her with interest. Then he grinned at her; amused by her naïve question.
‘Nope,’ he answered. ‘They ain’t come to hang you. They want me to set you free. They reckon you don’t deserve to be locked up for what you did, you did what most of ‘em would have liked to do but didn’t have the guts.’
‘But you don’t have the same opinion,’ she observed.
He offered the mug to her through the bars and she took it gratefully.
‘My opinion isn’t what’s at stake here,’ he answered. ‘I’m here to uphold the law and only a judge can decide your guilt.’
‘How long before I will be put on trial?’
‘The circuit judge will be here in three or four weeks,’ he answered. ‘Until then, you will be locked up in this cell and woe betide anybody who tries to bust you out.’
‘Would it be possible for you to check on my friends at the doctor’s surgery for me?’
He looked at the bedraggled young woman and his eyes softened.
‘I’ll do better than that,’ he replied. ‘I’ll take you there and maybe the doc can do something to make your feet a bit better. Have you got any money?’
She remembered the money Zelletta had given her, which she had slipped into her cleavage and she became instantly wary of the marshal.
‘Why do you ask?’
He grinned.
‘Don’t worry Miss Mellowday,’ he replied. ‘I don’t expect you to pay me. But you may have to pay the doc and I was thinking we could stop off at the store and if you have enough, you could buy some practical duds and a pair of boots.’
Despite the constant feelings of doom and despondency, her despair eased considerably at the thought she would be able to see Frank Zelletta again, if only briefly and her face brightened a little.
The marshal opened her cell door and told her to stand back. Witnesses had seen her shoot and kill two men, so despite her innocent young face, he didn’t want to take any chances with her.
‘I’m gonna have to chain your ankles together,’ he said. ‘It’s in the rules for moving prisoners and half the citizens in this town want you set free. So, I can’t make it easy for you to get away if some of them make an attempt to separate us.’
Despite the painful and undignified way, she would have to walk to the doctor’s surgery, being able to see Frank Zelletta again, if only briefly, would make it well worth-while.
‘I understand sir,’ she answered. ‘You are simply doing your job.’
He suddenly startled her and she visibly jumped, when he turned to the doorway to his office and yelled.
‘George, bring them ankle chains in here.’
After a few moments, another man came in, also wearing a badge and handed the marshal an eighteen-inch-long, small link, iron chain with heavy, iron, hinged shackles on either end.
‘I’m sorry ma’am, but I gotta attach these shackles to your ankles. Or you could do it yourself, but I’d still have to check they were secure.’
Beatrice felt she had already suffered untold indignities during the couple of days she’d been around the area. She doubted one more would make much difference.
‘Go ahead sir,’ she answered. ‘I’m too weary to care.’
‘The Name’s Ben Reynolds ma’am,’ said the marshal as he crouched down and attached the fetters, noting in passing, her damaged feet and trying to take as much care as he possibly could.
‘I’m sorry Miss, they’re gonna chafe your skin some. They were made for men who wear pants, and boots on their feet, not women who wear dresses.’
Whilst he was attaching the chain, she distracted her attention by sipping the hot bitter coffee and found, under the circumstances, she actually enjoyed it.
After attaching the shackles to her ankles, the marshal cuffed her wrist to his and because she was only able to shuffle, led her slowly, through his office and through the outer door. After negotiating two steps down, which the girl found very difficult with her ankles chained together, they walked along the board walk. To be exact, the marshal walked very slowly, while Beatrice stumbled and shuffled awkwardly under the weight and restriction, of the short length of iron chain and heavy shackles encircling her ankles.
There were still many citizens gathered around in small groups and all eyes watched her painful progress as she tried to maintain some dignity by holding her head high while she staggered clumsily, and made her slow, hesitant way, along the boardwalk. But the bedraggled girl, failed to look dignified in the dirty, torn dress and her tousled hair, with unruly locks of it spilling over her eyes. Some of them shouted encouragement which helped considerably, especially, as none of them knew her personally. But there were also children watching and many of them laughed openly, while she tried unsuccessfully, to maintain her composure, as she made her ungainly progress along the street.
The marshal helped her as best he could and eventually, they entered a store and she was allowed to buy a more practical dress and shawl as well as some boots. She carried them, pressed against her chest, in a brown paper parcel as she continued with her painful and undignified progress, to the doctor’s surgery.
Once inside, she was shocked to see Frank Zelletta sitting up in one of two beds that occupied the small clinic. He was bare chested and his torso was tightly, bandaged. In the other bed, lay Charlie with his head propped up by two pillows. Both men looked far healthier than they had the previous day when they were brought to the surgery.
Beatrice longed to rush to Zelletta and fling her arms around his neck, but she was restricted by the chain at her ankles and held back by the handcuffs which attached her to the marshal.
‘Oh, Mister Zelletta,’ she enthused. ‘You look so much better. Has the feeling returned?’
His eyes had lit up when he first saw her, but they quickly clouded over when he noticed her predicament.
‘What the hell?’ he began.
‘Please Mister Zelletta,’ interjected Beatrice. ‘Don’t get agitated, you will undo everything the doctor has done for you.’
Zelletta either did not hear, or was so angry, he chose to ignore her plea.
‘What the hell you got her chained up for?’ He yelled. ‘She’s the sweetest little gal in the country goddamn it. She wouldn’t hurt a fly, yet you got her manacled like a damned rough tough desperado.’
‘She’s under arrest for the murder of Jacob Zimmerman,’ replied the marshal calmly.
‘Goddamn it,’ responded the big man. ‘It was self-defence and if she hadn’t of shot him, he would have murdered me and beat her to death. I’d bet a hoss to a plugged nickel you wouldn’t have arrested Zimmerman for murder.’
The marshal looked down and shuffled his feet a little sheepishly.
‘I’m just doing my job,’ he replied. ‘I brought her here to get her feet treated and to allow her to see how you and your pard were doing.’
Charlie spoke weakly.
‘How do, Beatrice.’
‘Hello Charlie,’ she half whispered. ‘How are you?’
‘Doc says I’ll live.’
‘What about you Mister Zelletta?’ She asked before he could return to his belligerence. ‘Will you live?’
‘Doc says I’m gonna be fine,’ he mumbled. ‘But I’m more bothered about you. What the hell kind of guy treats a tiny girl like the marshal is treating you?’
‘He’s just doing his job Mister Zelletta.’
‘Arresting innocent young girls ain’t doing his job,’ he rasped. ‘But I s’pose it’s a damned sight easier than arresting gunmen who might put up a fight.’
Before the Marshal could respond, the doc, who had been silently watching the exchange, spoke up.
‘That’s enough. I will not have slanging matches in my surgery. Now young lady. Sit in that chair by the wall and let me take a look at your feet. I would have looked at them before, but I figured your friends were a more urgent priority.’
‘Yes of course doctor,’ she replied. I fully understand.’
Zelletta fell silent, as the marshal allowed her to take a couple of painful steps and sit on the chair. Then the doctor knelt to examine her feet.
‘I’m doctor James Teller,’ he said. ‘I will be as gentle as I can.’
However, what he saw, caused him to become extremely angry.
‘My god, Ben,’ he seethed. ‘Did you make her walk here wearing these shackles on her ankles? Have you no compassion man?’
‘I have to follow the rules for moving a prisoner,’ said the marshal defensively.
‘You haven’t got the sense you were born with marshal.’ Responded the doc. ‘Did you think this tiny girl was going to overpower you with her superior strength? Good god man, you’re almost twice the size she is. Have you seen what those damned things have done to her ankles? How the hell she made it here with those wounds, is beyond me.’
The marshal winced when he looked and saw how badly chafed her ankles were. The skin had been rubbed away and left deep, bloody lesions on her ankles.
‘I’ll take ‘em off,’ he said quickly.
‘If I could get offa this bed,’ rasped Zelletta. ‘I’d take your goddamned head off.’
The marshal ignored him and removed the heavy iron rings from her ankles leaving the wretched girl to breathe a huge sigh of relief.
‘Thank you, Mister Reynolds,’ she said hoarsely.
While the doctor treated and bandaged her ankles, Zelletta groaned in annoyance. He was thoroughly incensed at the polite and respectful way she showed her gratitude to the guy who’d caused her injuries in the first place. However, he held his peace knowing she was embarrassed by his enmity toward the marshal.
Doc heated water and filled a small bowl before washing the mud and blood from her feet. Then after examining them, grunted in satisfaction.
‘They’re not too badly damaged,’ he announced. ‘Just bit swollen and a couple of small cuts on the soles which will heal in a couple of days, provided you don’t continue to walk around in your bare feet.’
‘Mister Reynolds allowed me to buy some boots on the way here,’ she replied. ‘I purchased some clothing as well and if I am allowed to wash, I will change out of this dirty dress.’
‘I have living quarters through there,’ responded the doctor indicating a door. ‘You can use my washing facilities and change in there.’
She gave the marshal an enquiring look.
‘I don’t know about that,’ he said. ‘She could climb out of a window and escape.’
‘You’re a damned fool Reynolds,’ snapped the doctor. ‘Next time we have a committee meeting, I’m going to make sure you’re voted out of your job. Even in the unlikely circumstances she did climb out of a window, where the hell would she go? In her condition, she wouldn’t get far even if she wanted to attempt it, which is very unlikely.’
‘Alright, for god’s sake,’ snapped the marshal. ‘I’m holding you responsible if she gets away doc.’
After Reynolds uncuffed her, the doc opened the door to the room, allowing Beatrice, clutching her parcel to her chest, to pass through. Then followed her in order to show her where everything was.
When he returned, he confronted the Marshal.
‘Are you keeping that little lady locked up in one of those cells over there?’
‘Goddamn it, doc,’ growled Reynolds. ‘She’s a prisoner, where else am I supposed to keep her?’
‘You, heartless bastard,’ said Zelletta. ‘She’s a gentlewoman from the east and you’re treating her like a damned savage.’
‘I have to keep her somewhere until she stands trial. The jail is the only secure place.’
‘Let her stay here,’ suggested Teller. ‘I’ll take full responsibility for her. If she were to abscond, it will be on my head not yours.’
Reynolds, had felt increasingly uncomfortable about having his reputation undermined because of his inexperience in managing a woman prisoner. He’d already provoked the displeasure of half the population of the town by arresting her in the first place and the rest, thought she was some kind of hero for killing Zimmerman and his gunmen. So, he felt elated that somebody was willing to take on the responsibility for her. Secretly, he even hoped she would get away somehow, for he liked the young woman and regretted that his obsessive attention to detail and the rules had motivated him to manacle her in such a cruel way. So, after appearing to mull it over for a few minutes, he gave Teller his decision.
‘Alright Doc, I’ll be happy for her to stay here as long as you take responsibility for her.’
‘Good man,’ replied Teller. ‘I take full responsibility until the trial comes up.’
…
Carrying the chain and manacles, Reynolds exited the surgery into the street. As usual a crowd had gathered, most of whom had followed the girl’s slow progress to the clinic.
‘Shame on you marshal,’ called out a woman’s voice from the crowd.
‘You’re a pitiless bastard,’ shouted a man.
‘Are you gonna lock that little gal up again Reynolds?’ Yelled another.
The marshal studied the crowd for the source of the question, but was unable to pinpoint it.
‘She’s staying with the doc,’ he answered. ‘Doc Teller is taking responsibility for her until the trial.’
‘There shouldn’t even be a damned trial,’ somebody yelled.
‘Oh yes there should and I want that murdering whore back in the jail where she belongs,’ came a deep commanding voice.
A smartly dressed man stepped forward followed by another suited man who the marshal recognized as Ty Brennan, Zimmerman’s ranch manager.
‘Who might you be sir?’ Asked the marshal.
‘My name is Mervin Trainor and I am a United States senator. I am; or was, a very good friend of Jacob Zimmerman and he did not deserve to die at the hands of that evil, whore. She has robbed the state of Texas of a very good, potential governor.’
The crowd had fell silent as it grew in numbers.
‘She will go on trial for her crime Mister Trainor. But she will be staying with the doc until then.’
‘I want her locked up in a proper jail, not languishing in relative comfort while poor Jacob lies dead in the undertakers. Take her to jail this minute marshal or I will use my considerable influence to have you dismissed from your job.’
Reynolds was becoming sick and tired of folks demanding what he should and should not do and his temper finally, boiled over.
‘You can take your damned influence senator and stick it up your ass. Until the town committee tell me different, I’m still the town marshal and if I say that little gal stays with the doc, then she damned well stays with the doc and for your information, everybody in these parts knows what a swindling bastard Zimmerman was. He ruined every small rancher and farmer who stood in his way and he did it with gunplay and killing.’
A big cheer erupted from the crowd and Trainor waited until it died down, before continuing.
‘Your days are numbered marshal,’ he yelled angrily. ‘You cannot slander a good man and expect to get away with it. But as long as you are in the job, you had better make sure that jezebel goes on trial and hangs for murder, or I will ensure you are severely reprimanded.’
Before Reynolds could reply, Ty Brennan roughly, shoved Trainor aside.
‘There will be no trial,’ he roared. ‘There has been a huge travesty of justice here and I aim to put it right.’
Trainor tried to intervene by shoving Brennan out of the way and the Ranch manager responded by punching him on the jaw, felling him with a single blow. The senator fell onto the dusty ground and lay dazed for several moments, while Brennan continued his oration with the eager, growing crowd, straining silently, to hear what he had to say.
‘That poor young woman is the victim here,’ continued Brennan. ‘She was just a pawn who was being used to advance Zimmerman’s rise to power. She was a mail order bride who innocently, thought she was coming to find security and comfort after losing everything, in the Chicago fire. But Zimmerman had no intention of marrying her, he wanted to use her to butter up powerful men who could help him in his thirst for power. She’s very young and extremely, pretty and he recognized what an asset she would be. He was going to prostitute her out to anybody who was influential enough to help him get what he wanted. Elderly perverts like Trainor wouldn’t be able to resist the chance of spending many nights with such a catch and Trainor was to be the first of many who Zimmerman planned for her to sleep with.’
