Robbery at Holliday Creek (7)

Oklahoma Territory North of Wichita Falls

Holliday Creek

The town wasn’t big, but bigger than Ted expected—a crossroads on the south bank of Holliday Creek. He had left home before sun up so he wouldn’t have to hear any more questions from his mother. She seemed to think it was all about a woman.

     Marty hadn’t said much; it was always hard to tell what he was thinking. Ted gave away nothing: only that he’d be back soon. Right now he was starved, and the restaurant next to the hotel beckoned. A stage coach pulled away as he tied his horse to hitching rail.

     The dining room was a mess. Ted sat at the least cluttered table. A waitress turned over her shoulder. “Going to be a few minutes, mister. Them stage coach travelers had us hopping.”

     “It’s not going to bother me unless you’re the cook.”

      “I’m not the cook; name’s Clara Maud. What can I start you on?”

    Clara Maud was chatty, but it didn’t interfere with her efficiency. By the time Ted finished lunch; she had removed all the dishes and answered every question he could think to ask—except the big one.

     “Understand the town is looking for a new sheriff?”

     Clara Maud shot him a quick look, and then continued straightening chairs. “You understand right, mister.”

     “What happened to the last one?”

      “Short answer: he got shot.” She turned directly to Ted. “We been having some trouble in town between cowboys and homesteaders—they get a little drunk and wild. Sheriff Larken tried to break up a fight at the Acey Deucey. Wasn’t no gun fight; just a struggle and a shot. The sheriff got hit in the thigh. He didn’t seem to hurt much; even took the two down to jail. He locked them up, sat down in his office chair, and bled to death.”

    “Who fired the gun?”

     “Nobody knows...”

     “Did anyone get charged for murder?”

    “Folks that saw it called it an accident.” Clara Maud refilled his coffee. “The mayor let the boys go the next day.”

     “Where is the mayor’s office?”

     “Mayor Samuelsson owns the general store on the north end of town.”

     Ted counted out the coins for breakfast. “Clara Maud, I appreciate the friendly talk. You make a stranger feel welcome.”

    He moseyed down the street, looking in at the door fronts -- down one side and back, ending at his horse which he mounted. 

     Samuelsson’s general store was just where Clara Maud said. Entering from bright sunshine blinded Ted to a young woman standing in the shadows. “Good afternoon, sir.”

     Ted blinked and spoke toward the voice. “Good afternoon to you.” Then he saw who “you” was.