VROLOK (52 page)

“You are referring to a gambler who can’t seem to stop coughing?”

“Perhaps.”

“You came out here to save him, didn’t you?”

Isabella looked at Nicolae with a smile. “Would you mind if I did?” Isabella took his hand.

“Not at all.” Nicolae smiled; he was telling the truth and Isabella knew it.

“I don’t deserve you, Nicolae, but then again, I never did.” Nicolae turned to go back into the Comique. Isabella caught his arm, not letting him leave her. “Stay, Nicolae, things are just about to get interesting.” Isabella pointed over to the other side of the street. There was Tom taking a swig of whiskey from a canteen, just before he made himself known to the group that had confronted Wyatt. There was no sign of Morgan yet, but Tom had no intention of waiting for him.

“Do you…” Tom paused as if trying to think of a collective word to call these men “gentlemen… have a problem?” Tom said superciliously.

“This is nothing to do with you, McKey,” Driscoll shouted.

“I beg to differ,” Tom shouted. Tom struck a match on his boot which was resting on the wooden hitching rail across the street. The light from the match was the only glimmer of illumination in the whole street. Tom was obscured by the darkness, and only Isabella and Nicolae could see him clearly. He lit his cigar and threw the match away; and then slung his other leg over the rail and jumped onto the dusty street, making his frame visible to all. Tom started to walk slowly over to the group. The men who were squaring off to Wyatt obviously did not want Tom involved. Wyatt and Tom were both killers, and these ten men did not want any of their number killed and they knew that Wyatt and Tom would take a good few of their number with them.

Tom approached the gang slowly. One man getting nervous started to pull out his gun cautiously. Isabella and Nicolae saw him, but so did Tom. Tom quickly drew out his own gun and shot a bullet that, struck the man’s shoulder. He fell to the ground—he would be of no more use to his friends.

“Who’s next?” Wyatt asked. He too had his gun out and was swiftly pointing it at each man in turn. None of the men made any signs to move; they were starting to get nervous. They could have faced one gunfighter alone, but toss Tom into the mix and they were backing down. “You are all under arrest,” Wyatt shouted. It was a mistake to shout this as the men were perfectly prepared to back down and walk away but they were not prepared to spend a night in jail.

“Stupid,” Isabella whispered under her breath.

“There is no way out of this for him,” Nicolae whispered. “Should I help?” he asked Isabella.

“That’s up to you,” Isabella answered.

“I think I will.” Nicolae hopped over the hitch rail and started to point a shotgun at the aggressors.

“Let’s rush them,” Driscoll shouted. “There are only three of them.”

“Four,” Isabella shouted back. Driscoll started to laugh when he saw Isabella holding a shotgun. One of the others started to laugh and said.

“There is still only three…women can’t shoot for shit.” Isabella without a moment’s hesitation shot the man through the skull. All the men including Tom and Wyatt were shocked by Isabella’s actions and the accuracy of her aim. The initial reaction to this event was a stunned silence, but then laughter emanated from Nicolae and Tom.

“Does anyone else want to question the lady’s shooting?” Tom asked. The nervousness that these men had briefly experienced came flooding back again. With one man down and one man dead they now decided enough was enough and were prepared to leave to fight another day. Isabella walked down the steps onto the street, going closer to the men in an attempt to intimidate them. Isabella was getting bored with the standoff and sent another shot into the air.

“Let’s go, Driscoll, another day,” Morrison said. After a few seconds the men started to back away. Isabella shot again before they could completely retreat.

“Take those two with you,” Isabella said calmly. The men picked up the body and left the street, with the injured man hobbling along behind them. When it was safe Tom McKey lowered his shot gun and said.

“I think I need a drink.” At this point Morgan Earp came running up the street.

“What happened?” Morgan said in surprise.

“The excitement is all over for this evening,” Tom declared to Morgan. “You missed it,” he continued.

“Did you kill anyone?” Morgan asked.

“Just one,” Tom replied. Morgan laughed.

“If I had been here the death count would have been higher.”

“I believe you, Morgan,” Tom patted Morgan on the back and headed back into the Comique for a drink with the others. Isabella decided to leave. She had had enough of company of these men for one night, but she returned to the Comique the next night and was greeted with a smile by Tom McKey.

“Where did you go last night? I wanted to say thank you.” Tom asked.

“Thank me for what?” Isabella asked.

“You saved my life last night, you and your husband.”

“Did we?”

“Yes, you did, you know you did. Why did you?” Tom asked.

“Why are you questioning what I did, you’re alive, aren’t you?”

“You’re right. No more questions. I thank you for helping us and let’s just leave it at that.”

“What I don’t understand is why you did it…” Isabella asked. “Why did you risk your own neck to save him?” At this point Morgan entered the Comique and tipped his hat towards Isabella and Tom.

“You ask me why I saved him?”

“Do you have some sort of death wish? Do you want to go out in a blaze of glory?”

“No I want to live; I want to hang on to this life as long as I possibly can. Desperate though it may be…”

“What age are you now?”

“Twenty-four.”

Isabella looked at him suspiciously; she knew he was more than twenty-four.

“All right, I am a few years older than that. When I was eighteen years old I was told I had two years to live I have eked out ten more years and hope to live another decade or two.”

Morgan, who now was standing at the bar, interrupted the pair. “Can I buy you a drink, Mrs. Hawthorne?” Isabella smiled at Morgan. In their brief acquaintance Isabella was struck by how different Morgan was from his brother. He was filled with an enthusiasm for life. Wyatt was only filled with an enthusiasm for himself. His enthusiasm for life was only equalled by his attitude to gunfights. He loved them. He had a nonchalant attitude to danger and loved to be in the thick of it.

“I will have a drink,” Isabella answered.

“Doc, I know you will, too.”

“You’d better leave me the bottle,” Tom said. Morgan smiled and walked away.

“Why does he call you, Doc?” Isabella asked.

“It is a nickname; you see I used to be a dentist before I discovered this more suitable and I have to admit, more profitable profession.”

“So you never told me why you were compelled to save that man?” Isabella pointed towards Wyatt.

“Well the reason is simple; I stepped into the fight last night because Morgan asked me to.”

“So your loyalty lies with Morgan?”

“It does.”

“Why? No, don’t tell me…he saved your life?”

“No, not quite.”

“Then what did he do?”

“He saved a woman’s life.”

“A woman’s, surely not Kate.”

“No, not Kate, heaven knows why she stays with me; the woman he saved was nothing like Kate.”

“Then who was she? Tell me I am interested.”

“Her name is Mattie Holiday, I was engaged to her and there is nothing I ever wanted more than to be her husband. But fate was not on our side I was sent to Baltimore to learn dentistry. My father said we could not marry until I had some sort of business and was earning a decent wage. So I was packed off and sent to East. My father did not know but the whole town was full of consumption and there I was, all day, every day, staring into the mouths of these people, letting them breathe their contaminated breath on me. Needless to say I returned home coughing out my insides. When my father saw me he said I couldn’t marry anyone, let alone Mattie.”

“What did you do then?”

“I knew my father was right, I didn’t want to condemn Mattie to be a widow before she was twenty. So I left. Mattie was devastated and so was I…. I left hoping one day if I didn’t die, to go home cured. I headed out west to the dry weather to see if that could cure it. A few years drifted past and Mattie was writing to me regularly. I should have let go of her, not let her write. It was hard for both of us and she couldn’t stand to be parted from me any longer.” Doc took another drink and smiled a poignant grin. “God bless her, the meek, polite little southern belle came all the way out here to find me. She hitched a ride on a bullion run that Morgan was working for, Wells Fargo. The bullion coach was regularly robbed and this particular run was no different. The coach was held up and when Morgan would not give up what he was paid to protect, the cowboys started to shoot into the coach.

Mattie screamed and came out of the coach with her arms in the air. Morgan was shocked to see a woman; he thought she was a man since she was wearing trousers and he hadn’t looked too closely at her. He wasn’t interested in who was travelling. Another couple of shots rang out. One struck Mattie on the side of the head and she fell to the desert floor. When Morgan saw her fall he dropped his gun immediately; he would not risk getting this woman killed.

The gunmen took the coach and horses and left Mattie and Morgan in the dessert to die of thirst. Most men would have left her there to die and, but not him. He wrapped his coat around her and dragged her behind him. They were lucky they were picked up by another coach and brought to Denver. After a few days Morgan came to look for me. He told me what had happened and I have been thankful to him ever since. So when he asks me for a favour I oblige him, no matter what it is.”

“What happened to Mattie?” Isabella asked.

“I sent her home. This is no place for her. It was then I decided to become Tom McKey. McKey is my mother’s maiden name. I didn‘t ever want any news of my unlawful exploits getting back to Mattie.”

“What is your real name?”

“John, John Holiday, Doc to my friends.”

“It is a good name, and you are a good man despite all your efforts to the contrary.”

While the pair were speaking, another man had entered the Comique. This man had a purpose and as soon as he espied Isabella he raised his gun and shot Isabella four times in the back. Blood gushed from Isabella’s wounds and she fell to the floor. Doc, stunned by what had happened, looked over at the man. It was one of the Texans from the previous evening. The man ran away but he did not run far, Nicolae chased him down, and the last thing this man saw was a Vampire biting into his neck. After he was dead Nicolae ran back to the Comique.

Doc kneeled down beside Isabella. Blood running out her wounds formed a pool across the floor. She was dead or dying and Doc knew it, even if he didn’t want to believe it. He lifted up her head onto his lap. Her body was limp; he felt for a pulse and he couldn’t feel anything. He was just about to place her back on the ground when Isabella’s eyes abruptly opened; she grabbed the lapel of Holidays jacket.

“Get my husband!” she whispered and then she let go again and let her arm fall limply back to the ground. Doc looked frantically about the Comique for Nicolae but he wasn‘t there, but suddenly Nicolae rushed into the saloon and ran over to Isabella. He picked her up and walked out with her cradled in his arms.

“Be careful, I will run and get the Doctor.” Nicolae looked back at Doc.

“I think you know it is too late for that,” Nicolae answered him solemnly.

Doc couldn’t believe it. For once in his life he did not want to spend all night drinking. He started to wander through the streets of the town with only himself for company. Doc walked to the edge of town and out of the corner of his eye he saw two people mounting horses in a hurry to get away. Doc ran over to them. He had not seen Nicolae dispatch the man who killed Isabella and he presumed that these men were involved or at least would know where the man was. Doc grabbed one of the men as he was mounting his horse and spun them around. This gesture knocked off the man’s hat and Doc was amazed to see Isabella’s raven hair falling down around her shoulders. Doc could not believe his own eyes.