Ralph Compton Death Along the Cimarron

Table of Contents

 

 

Danielle felt the tension in her trigger finger. There was no question she was as fast as ever. And she had no doubt that her aim was still as deadly as the strike of a rattlesnake. “Now all three of you get off the street,” she said.

Frisco Bonham shook his head. “We ain't making no noise, we ain't disturbing no peace. We'll stand where we damn well please. You run along now, before we lose our tempers.”

“Yeah,” Billy Boy sneered. “What do you think of that?”

“
I think you've all three had your chance,
”
said Danielle. “I'm through talking.” The rifle barrel swung down from her cradling arm and exploded.

Billy Boy's pistol stopped on its upswing from his holster and flew from his hand as the impact of Danielle's slug hammered his foot to the ground, then slung him backward onto the hard dirt....

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First Printing, January 2003

Copyright © The Estate of Ralph Compton, 2003

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When the first pistol shot rang out from the dirt street, Danielle Strange didn't flinch. As she stood at the counter of McCreary's General Mercantile Store, her hand dropped instinctively to her hip even though she knew she wasn't wearing a gun. In fact she wasn't even wearing her customary riding clothes—her doeskin skirt, her bell-sleeved women's blouse, or her long brush-scarred riding vest. But old habits died hard, she reminded herself, easing her gun hand away from where her holster would ordinarily have been. She smoothed out her gingham dress as if doing so had been her intention in the first place.

Martin McCreary didn't see her gesture. He had ducked down too quickly behind the counter to have seen much of anything. Then, just as quickly, he rose up, embarrassed and shaken, feeling he needed to explain his fearful response.

“I'm—I'm sorry, Miss Danielle,” McCreary stammered. “I shouldn't have ducked down and left you standing there all alone. My nerves just ain't what they should be these days.
”
He wiped a trembling hand across his forehead.
“
Ever since Sheriff Casey got himself killed, I just can't stand the sound of—”

His words cut short as another pistol shot exploded.
“
Lord God!
”
he shrieked, ducking down again.

“I'm going to see what this is all about,” said Danielle, turning and walking toward the door.

“Don't go out there, Miss Danielle!” McCreary warned her. “There's a wild bunch in town. It won't make a bit of difference to them that you're a lady.”

“I hope it doesn't,” Danielle said, swinging the door open, then closing it soundly behind herself, leaving the bell atop the door jingling on its tin spring. Outside, a third shot exploded. Martin McCreary only flinched this time. He stood for a second, staring at the closed door, then looked around the empty store and said aloud to himself, “Well, shoot ... I might just as well get myself a little look-see.
”
Almost on tiptoe, he crossed the floor to the front window and peeped out guardedly from one comer.

At the far end of the dirt street, forty yards away, Danielle saw three men standing wobbly drunk, their smoking Colts in their hands. In the street a few feet from them lay the shattered glass remnants of the whiskey bottles they'd been shooting. These were young men, around the same age of her brothers, Tim and Jed, she noted to herself. Yet there was an aura of trouble surrounding these men as thick as smoke, and sensing it caused her steps to sway over to her buckboard at the hitchrail.

“
Easy, Sam,
”
Danielle said to the nervous horse hitched to her wagon. She ran a soothing hand down its white muzzle. “Nothing to get yourself spooked about,” she whispered. “They're just drunk and loud.
”

The anxious horse settled, blowing out a tense breath. Danielle reached a hand into the buckboard and, with no wasted motion, slid the Winchester repeater rifle from its boot beneath the wooden seat. She levered a round up into the chamber and carried the rifle loosely. In the street out front of Waldrip's Saloon one of the drunken young men nudged the other two.

“Ronald, Frisco, look what's coming here,” he said, directing his companions' attention toward Danielle as she approached. “It's about time this little pig-apple town sent somebody to welcome us.”

“Hush up, Billy Boy,” said Frisco Bonham, laughing in a lowered voice, “before you scare her away.” He ran a tightly gloved finger along his thin mustache.

“She ain't looking too scared to me,” said Ronald Muir, his drunken grin fading as Danielle came closer.

“Me neither,” said Frisco Bonham, his leer growing more wary. From between Frisco and Ronald, Billy Boy. Harper took a firm step forward, hoping this action would bring this brash young lady to a halt. It didn't.

“Excuse me, little miss,” Billy Boy called out to Danielle, his pistol still dangling in his hand, curling smoke. “Can we help you some way?”

“Fun's over, boys,” Danielle called out, finally stopping fifteen feet away, her rifle coming up from her side into the cradle of her left arm. All three men noticed that her right thumb lay across the hammer, her finger on the trigger. “Holster those shooters and get off the street.”

“
Well now, what have we here, boys?
”
Frisco Bonham whispered. He took a step forward and stood beside Billy Boy. Ronald Muir did the same. Not one of the three made an effort to holster their Colts. Noting it, Danielle cocked the rifle hammer and prepared herself for whatever was to come.

“You sure are a pretty little thing to be talking so bold this hour of the day,” said Frisco, his smile returning, this time appearing more sober and with no humor to it.

“Yeah,” said Ronald Muir, “and we don't see no badge on your chest.”

“Not that badges mean a whole lot to us one way or the other,” Billy Boy piped in.

“We're without a sheriff right now,” said Danielle in a resolved tone. “My name is Danielle Strange. I'm a citizen here, and I'm speaking on behalf of the town. You'd do well to holster up and get off the street. I won't tell you again.”

“Oh, I see,
Miss Danielle Strange, citizen of the town,”
said Frisco Bonham with a sarcastic twist to his voice as the other two snickered drunkenly. “And what if we don't?”

“Then somebody will have to scrape you up and carry you off,” Danielle replied quickly, her voice steady and low.

The snickering stopped short as silence set in for a moment before Frisco Bonham spoke. “Then I reckon we better do as we're told, hadn't we, boys? We surely don't want to get
scraped up and carried off
this dirt street.
”

“Sounds right to me,” Ronald Muir said.

“Me too,” replied Billy Boy Harper.

But Danielle wasn't buying their act. She knew what was about to happen. “Good then,
”
she said firmly, going along with their charade. “Holster those shooters and let's all go our own way.”

“Whatever you say, ma'am,” said Frisco Bonham. The three men looked back and forth at one another slowly, expressionless. “You two heard the little lady,” Frisco said. “Now holster up before she has to sternly raise a hand to us.”

Lifting their pistols slowly and dropping them into their holsters, the three stared long and hard at Danielle. “I might enjoy a hand raised to me,” said Ronald Muir, “depending on where it's raised to.”