Undercover Justice: Chapter Six
It was time to do something about the lawlessness in Kennecot
Being alone most of the day gave Hart time to think. She didn’t like not helping while she stayed in Lita and Emmett’s cabin, she felt too much like a freeloader. So she swept the wooden floor with a corn broom she found in a corner, baked biscuits, oiled the door bolt and leather hinges, and tended to the stock. She pondered gathering the eggs, but finally decided against it in case someone happened to be in the clinic and spied her through the back window.
She thought about how her stomach had felt on the rare occasions Lita had smiled at her. It was as if she was back training wild horses on her Aunt Ellen’s ranch. Sometimes they bucked when they first felt the saddle, and the first time they felt her weight, they would try and spin her off. When she hit the dirt, it felt as if her stomach was still spinning while the rest of her had stopped.
Hart took a look around the cabin until her gaze finally settled on the biscuit bowl. Her aunt had kept her biscuits in a heavy bowl like that. She remembered her aunt’s ranch with great fondness. The days were full of good, honest work and the nights full of companionship, laughter and music. Hart looked around the cabin once more and realized she was tired of hiding away.
It was time to do something about the lawlessness in Kennecot. And then it would be time to rename the town.
******
Lita got back just after dark, tired and saddle sore. While Cassius brushed down and fed her horse, Hart and Emmett put a plate together of stew, biscuits and cheese. Lita thanked them and went to bed soon after she’d eaten. Emmett made sure Cassius washed up and sent him off to bed as well, then stayed up a while longer bringing his books for the store up to date. Hart feigned weariness and went to bed as well, waiting until she heard him leave the table.
She waited an hour more to be sure no one would surprise her. The door made no sound as she opened it and tiptoed out onto the porch, her boots in hand.
She sat on the top step and slipped her feet into the boots, noticing she had a rather sizable hole in one. Staying in the shadows, she made her way to the side of the clinic. She was content to wait and watch for Kennecot’s men, a task made easier by the full moon overhead. Earlier he had said he was down to half his men, so now she knew there were only six or seven more to deal with. But by the end of the following night, Hart decided, only Kennecot and Courtright would remain. Two stood outside the front door of the bank. They would have to be dealt with last. So she watched for the other four.
Her patience finally paid off minutes later when she saw movement on the roof of Emmett’s store, directly across the street. Two men, both armed with rifles. She reached back slowly and pulled the slingshot from the waistband of her pants, and then, just as slowly, pulled the pouch that hung around her neck from beneath her shirt. It was full of round shot, the same as the Army used in their revolvers, and even without gunpowder behind it, at a high velocity, a pellet could kill a man.
Hart set a ball in the leather pad and waited until she saw one of the men come to the edge of the roof to scan the street below. She pulled back, and as he turned his head to look down the street, she let fly.
He dropped without a sound.
Hart loaded the leather pad with another ball and waited for his companion to check on him.
He too was taken down silently.
Hart made it to the rooftop without being seen, where she checked on both of them.
Dead.
She dragged them to a spot on the roof where they wouldn’t be easily seen and relieved them of their pistols, ammunition and rifles. Then she found a spot where she could watch the street without being seen from below.
Finally, she saw a lone man strolling up the street, headed for the saloon. He had the look of one of Kennecot’s men, and he too carried a rifle that matched those now laying at her feet.
By the time Hart had left the store’s roof, the man she had been watching had gone into the alley between the saloon and the barbershop. He had set his rifle against the wall, just out of reach Hart noted, and was relieving himself against the wall when Hart stepped in close behind him and shoved the muzzle of a pistol into his kidney.
“Make one sound, move one muscle and I’ll make sure you never need to piss again, got it?”
The man nodded.
“Good. You’re one of Kennecot’s men, aren’t you?”
He nodded again.
Hart took a half step back and the man made a move for his gun. Quickly, she kicked him in the back of his knee and he went down like a sack of stones. Without a second thought, she wrapped one hand over his mouth while her other hand pulled her knife from its sheath and sliced his throat. She let the weight of his dying body pull him to the side, where she watched as he bled out into the dirt.
Being careful not to get his blood on her and create possible questions later, she dragged him deeper into the darkness of the alley and left him propped against the wall as if he’d sat down for a long nap. With single-minded focus, she made her way back toward the bank, avoiding the street.
Hoping she wouldn’t run into any dogs, she crept behind the buildings until she was next door to the bank. Well hidden in the darkness, she watched the two men guarding the bank. After a while, it became clear neither was going to abandon his post any time soon. She was going to have to give one of them a reason to leave his companion.
The back door of the shop she was huddled against was recessed and hidden from the front door of the bank. Tucking herself deep amongst the shadows, she made retching noises, intermingled with faint pleas for help. Finally, one of the men took charge and left his post to investigate. It wasn’t long before she had company. Thankfully, he was shorter than the last one she had dispatched. But in the end, he met the same fate.
Within minutes, his friend came looking for him.
“Floyd, you sick?” he asked quietly as he bent over the body.
Hart stepped in stealthily behind him, threw a rope around his throat and pulled. She stuck to his back like a tick as he clawed back ineffectively, trying to pull her off.
When he collapsed, she hung on a minute longer, just in case he was smart enough to fake it.
She checked to be sure he was dead, trying not to look at his eyes and protruding tongue. It was a horrible way to die, she knew. But she had needed silence to ensure the odds were more in her favor when she finally confronted Kennecot.
Staying to the rear of the buildings, she made her way back to the clinic, and finally back inside the cabin. She took her boots off on the steps and tiptoed back inside, silently sliding the bolt so no one could sneak into the cabin as she had. Looking forward to a few hours of uninterrupted sleep behind the curtain, she took her clothes off and slid under the quilt, a plan forming in her mind for the final confrontation with Kennecot.
To be continued next Monday!
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