Teaching Miss Maisie Jane (3 page)

“I’m
going to take her over to the Mrs. Townsends, Fair View Hotel. She says she got some business in town, something about a stone for her brother’s grave. So, I reckon she’ll have some business with Mr. Peabody too.”

Jake
climbed back onto the stagecoach and drove it over to the Fair View Hotel. He helped the Miss down and yelled for the Percy Townsend to help him unload her luggage. Miss Maisie Jane did not travel light. She had two large trunks, two small ones, two valises and two hat boxes. Jake dumped the luggage in front of the check-in counter. It was Percy’s job to carry it to her room.

Miss
Maisie Jane Jackson signed the register, assured a Mrs. Townsend, an eagle-eyed, stern looking woman, that, yes she was traveling alone and no, she would not be receiving male visitors during her stay.

“How
long do you plan on being in town?” Mrs. Townsend demanded.

“I
don’t know,” Maisie Jane answered. “When does the next stage come through town?  Mr. Maddox would you know?”

“No,
ma’am,” Jake answered. “The stage line that runs through Bisbee is on a two-hundred mile loop. It runs from Needwood on the east, where you picked it up to Cameron, which is another hundred miles west. It runs back and forth, stopping at each town once a week if it stays on schedule. The stagecoach line is going to have to find another driver to replace Mr. Lamb. It may be a week or more before they find a replacement.”

Maisie
Jane bit down on her lower lip in concentration and looking at those lush lips, Jake felt his lower region giving a bump up against his fly again.

“If
you’re settled ma’am, I have a trial to attend,” Jake said tipping his hat.

Maisie
Jane smiled causing Jake another bump upward. “I thank you very much for protecting me on the trip, Mr. Maddox. I wish you well, and I do hope you have a prosperous future as a rancher.”

“That’s
homesteader, ma’am,” Jake tipped his hat again, tipped it at Mrs. Townsend and backed out the door. Damn, damn, damn, if he didn’t get laid soon, he was going to embarrass himself for sure.

Miss
Maisie Jane, totally unaware of any issues her presence was having on her rescuer, turned her attention to the hotel proprietress. “Mrs. Townsend, considering that this is a small town, with a stage that only comes through it once a week, may I assume that you do not have a full accompaniment of rooms rented?”

“You
may assume that,” Mrs. Townsend said. “But, I’m not lowering my prices on account of it.”

“I
wouldn’t be so bold as to suggest such.” Maisie Jane said smiling and tilting her head slightly. “I would like to pay you for one week stay in this establishment. But, since I don’t know when the stage will resume business, I have no way of knowing how many days I will actually require your services. If, I have to leave before the seven days have expired I would expect a refund of the unused days. If, I stay longer because of this uncertainty, I will of course pay you on a daily basis until such time as the stage does start running again. Does that sound fair?”

Mrs
. Townsend nodded her head, and Maisie Jane completed the transaction by handing her a ten-dollar gold piece for which she promptly was given change. By this time, Percy Townsend was on his fifth trip up and down the stairs and looking quite exhausted.

“Thank
you, so much,” Maisie Jane said and she handed the boy a quarter as a tip.

Percy
Townsend, thirteen years old and having worked in the hotel since he was old enough to tote and carry had never been handed a tip. As Maisie Jane picked up her valise and headed up the stairs, Mrs. Townsend snatched the quarter out of her son’s hand and gave him look that sent him scrambling. She followed the young Miss upstairs to explain how the facilities in the water closet worked. Before he died, Mr. Townsend had sent all the way to Columbus, Ohio for the water cisterns, and the porcelain tubs wiping out their savings and giving Mrs. Townsend a sour disposition because she was left to run a hotel and raise a son without help.

Maisie
Jane watched closely as Mrs. Townsend showed her how to stoke up the tank that would deliver hot water into the tub. She made arrangements for several of her dresses to be pressed, handed off her laundry to be washed, and made arrangements to have her dinner meal delivered to her room every night. When she finally closed the door on the proprietress, she locked it. Then, for the first time in two weeks, Maisie Jane took a full bath, and stretched out in the tub covered in a mass of soap bubbles.

Jake
was helping Mr. Peabody, the undertaker unload bodies out of stagecoach and into the undertakers wagon when Judge Lement found him.

“Heard
you had some trouble,” Judge Lement said, giving the covered bodies a scant glance as the undertaker drove away.

“Yes,
sir,” Jake answered. “I just have to finish up here and I’ll be right over to the courthouse.”

“No
hurry,” Judge Lement said with a wave of his cigar. “When I heard, I cancelled the trial until 10:00 tomorrow morning. It don’t much matter when Walter Banks gets hung, as long as he gets hung. You given any more thought to not giving up your badge?”

“No,”
Jake said with a shake of his head. “I’ll be turning my badge in, taking my earnings and I’m done with it.”

“Shame,”
Judge Lement said. “You’re a rare one, Jake - a decent lawman. And on top of that, you're good at it. A lot of scum has passed through my court and seen justice served because of your efforts.”

“It’s
time to move on to something else, before I turn to be like the scum I’m dealing with.” Jake said. “I never planned to do it as long as I have, and I was going to quit last year, but you talked me into staying a year longer. We made a deal, Judge.”

“And,
I’m going to honor it. Although, I reckon that collecting your pay, the bounties and the bonus I promised you for putting in another year, makes you about the best paid lawman in the territory.” Judge Lement said with a calculating look. “But, not until tomorrow, after the trial. You got to be a lawman when we put you under oath.”

Jake
nodded. “There are two good saddle horses I picked up when I shot those men. I’d like to take them with me, since mine got snake bit yesterday morning.”

“Sounds
fair to me,” the Judge said nodding his head. “Part of the bounty, if there is one and that was part of our deal that you get the bounties on the men you brought in. Anything else I can help you with?  You’ve been out on the trail for a while. You could probably use some good food and comfort.”

Jake
Maddox knew what the Judge was alluding to, because Judge George C. Lement, was a not so silent partner in Rita’s Saloon and Dance Hall, a raucous saloon that provided a stable of whores available by the hour or by the night. He’d been thinking about one particular one of those whores all day—one of the younger ones that he’d used before and she’d been good. She’d given his baser needs a workout and he’d paid her for five hours worth of her time. Up until this very minute he thought he was ready to use her again but something in the back of his mind was giving him a hard time about that idea. He didn’t know exactly why—there was nothing wrong with using a woman if you paid for it. But, still… something wasn’t right about it either. His thoughts kept straying to a puffy cupid’s bow of mouth, beautiful green eyes, and fat tears on those thick eyelashes.

Jake
shook his head. “Not tonight. Maybe another.”

Judge
Lement gave him a disbelieving look and shook his head. “Any time, my boy, any time. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Jake
watched the Judge walk away and then turned to slam his fist into a stall wall. Damn it! He’d be glad when he could get that prissy little belle out of his mind. If he was quitting the law, he really was going to have to find him a wife, and that wasn’t easy. Most girls in the territories coming up on marrying age were already spoken for by the time they were fifteen. He’d heard tell of girls as young as twelve being married and left with their parents for some more growing up before they were taken off by their husbands. Maybe he’d find himself a widow or write off for one of those mail order brides that were coming west by way of wagon trains since the whole damn eastern part of the country had killed off most of the men in their war.

Jake
headed over to talk to his friend Sheriff George Quinn. He’d look through wanted posters trying to identify the stage robbers. He could use a good bounty or two and maybe that would take his mind off his swelling cock that he couldn’t seem to control!

Maisie Jane took her time getting ready for her day. She’d taken another bath, just because it felt so good to be clean. Maisie had always enjoyed being a girl. She loved having pretty things, and wearing pretty clothes. She had been pampered and spoiled by her Daddy, and her Grandmother Louise, her Daddy’s mother, and her two older brothers for most of her life. She’d never had a Momma. Momma had died during an epidemic of scarlet fever along with the little brother who she couldn’t remember. She missed not having a Momma but she didn’t remember her. Momma was pretty face in a tintype picture. But, Grandmother Louise had been alive, and her Daddy always claimed that she spoiled Maisie Jane too much. Maisie Jane didn’t care though, because she knew she could smile pretty and her Daddy would let her have what she wanted. Maisie Jane had been raised as a pampered princess and she’d always known that everyone loved her. Her Daddy called her his “princess”. Her Grandmother Louise called her “precious” and her two older brothers, although they had teased her, had also spoiled her by always sneaking her sweet candies and peppermints.

It
was the war that had spoiled Maisie Jane’s perfect life. The war took her Daddy away, as he and her four uncles went off to fight the Northern horde. She’d only been a little girl when Daddy had left to fight in a war. She didn’t know why he’d done that when she was a little girl, and she still didn’t know why. The Jacksons were bankers, not slave owners. Why did her Daddy have to go off when they didn’t own any slaves?  Daddy had been gone a long time when Grandmother Louise told her that Daddy had died a hero. Her older brother Matthew Robert had gone off to war, and he’d become a hero too. Grandmother wouldn’t let her other brother, James Braddock, go off to war—she held tight to him.

By
the time the war had ended Maisie Jane’s happy family was gone. Grandmother Louise was still there and so was her brother James Braddock, but he seemed always to be angry. As Maisie Jane grew, James Braddock became very protective and very, very angry if a boy looked at her in what James considered “inappropriate”. Maisie Jane still wasn’t sure what that was about, but sometimes she liked to sneak a look at a handsome boy. They didn’t have to know she was looking them.

Maisie
Jane dabbed a little perfume on her wrists and put a dab on her handkerchief, as she checked her appearance in the mirror. She fluffed up her curls and put on her new bonnet, which had been quite the latest fashion in the hat shops in Baltimore. Maisie Jane supposed that she should ask Mrs. Townsend to escort her to undertakers’ office, and she’d almost asked her to do so, but changed her mind. She was a grown woman. She could have already been married, and a wife - if that’s what she wanted to do. After her sixteenth birthday, many potential beaus had been presented to her. But she hadn’t liked any of them so she’d turned down their offers. Grandmother Louise had been scandalized and she’d gone on endlessly about Maisie Jane winding up an old maid. Well, that might be; she’d just passed another birthday a couple of weeks ago. The problem was that the only potential beaus who came around thought she was stupid and treated her like a five-year-old. Maisie Jane didn’t mind being pampered, and she liked being spoiled. But, she surely did mind that everyone thought she was a mindless twit when she wasn’t.

Brother
James Braddock was a banker like her Daddy. And although he hadn’t gone off to the war, he had, at the age of twenty-two gone off to the west to do his banking work at the silver mines in Nevada. He’d passed off his duties of guardianship to Grandmother Louise and he’d headed west to make his fortune. And he’d been killed there. Maisie Jane had been devastated; she was absolutely inconsolable when she’d received the telegram. She’d written to the Sheriff who had sent her the telegram informing her of her brothers’ death, and had asked for an explanation. She had received no reply.

Then
in April, Grandmother Louise had passed on to her glory. Maisie Jane was also devastated by this loss, but it was not unexpected, as her grandmother had been getting weaker and weaker as each year passed.

After
a very short grieving period, her father’s former business partner Mr. Turnbull, had come a calling. He’d explained Maisie Jane's finances to her and then made her the most astonishing proposal. He’d offered to either marry her or to adopt her. Imagine that - a man three times her age wanting to marry her. The idea was ridiculous. She didn’t want an old, fat husband and she certainly didn’t want a new father. Maisie had accepted neither proposal. She’d done the most unladylike and scandalous thing imaginable. She’d gone to see a lawyer.

And
after she’d hired herself a lawyer, then she’d made a decision. Father was buried in the family cemetery beside her mother. Grandmother Louise was laid to rest there too beside her husband surrounded by all five of her sons. Brother Matthew Robert Jackson’s body had not been returned to the family. According to the government war department he was among thousands of unidentified soldiers fallen in battle. And, although there were no remains, Matthew Robert had a tombstone. Brother James Braddock Jackson was somewhere in the Arizona territories, buried away from his family, but not forgotten. She would go where he was buried and make sure a proper stone marked his grave and make sure that a minister gave him a proper internment. Maisie Jane could be quite headstrong when she set her mind to it, and she had set her mind that she was going to do this. She’d ignored Mr. Trumbull’s stern demand that she cease talking about such nonsense. Mr. Trumbull had been very angry and he’d told Maisie Jane that he would find and select a proper husband for her. Maisie Jane was not about to let that happen because she knew Mr. Trumbull would pick his pimply-faced, buck-toothed nephew who was a perfectly miserable momma’s boy.

Maisie
Jane ignored the advice of all her friends and set about making plans through her lawyer. She would see that her brother’s memory was honored.

With
all this in mind, Miss Maisie Jane Jackson marched herself out of the Fair View Hotel and down the wooden sidewalks to find the business of Mr. John Peabody, Undertaker.

Jake
Maddox had just walked out of the jailhouse, when he spotted Miss Maisie Jane Jackson flouncing down the street, her wide hooped skirts twitching and swaying around, so wide that men had to step aside to avoid them. He smiled at those ridiculous hoops that were all the fashion in the East but not in the west. Women of the West tended to have more common sense and dressed so they could work, walk and sit comfortable. Some ranch wives he knew had even taken to wearing male trousers under their skirts if they were helping their husbands in the fields. He saw several of those men tip their hats and turn to watch as she sashayed by. He frowned, not liking that one bit. No sir, he didn’t like Miss Maisie Jane’s person being spied upon, not at all.

Deputy
Jake Maddox had spent an uncomfortable night sleeping on a jail cell bunk. It was a common practice among lawmen; it saved him the cost of room and board and most towns that had a jail offered up a cell if one was available. He could have taken a room at Mrs. Townsend’s Fair View Hotel but that would have brought him too close to the very person he was trying to avoid. He could have taken a room at Rita’s Saloon and Dance Hall, but that would have put him in a vipers nest—to close to the loose women that lived upstairs and he sorely needed a woman. Jake was a man who prided himself on making good decisions and sticking to his word. He’d already made up his mind that he wasn’t going to do that no more. Jake had decided, for sure this time, that he was done with the law, and done with loose women. He was going home to Nevada. He’d turn in his badge today, collect his earnings, and get on with his life. He was thirty-six years old and it was time he settled down. He checked his pocket watch and decided that he had time for breakfast before showing up at the Judge’s chambers.

Bisbee
didn’t have a courthouse, since Judge Lement was a hanging judge it would have been a waste of money to build one, since there wasn’t ever a jury convened. The courtroom was a large rectangular room that held a desk for the judge, a table for the defendant and his lawyer, if he had one—most didn’t - and eight church pews taken from the town church when the preacher had left and never come back. The judge’s chambers were another room in the back and there was a second small windowless room that was to hold the accused until court session was declared. That little room had a door into the judge’s office, and a door into the courtroom, but most times the accused wasn’t in any shape to try to escape.

Miss
Maisie Jane pecked on a small dirty window with the handmade sign over it that stated simply: Undertaker. She pecked and pecked and finally and old bald skinny man in a black suit opened the door.

“Do
I know you?”  John Peabody asked looking out to a pretty little girl who looked like she was dressed for a party.

“No,
sir,” Maisie Jane said and she gave a quick bob of a curtsy. “I am Miss Maisie Jane Jackson from Baltimore, Maryland. I believe sir, that you buried my brother James Braddock Jackson five months ago.”

“So?”
John Peabody said in way of a question. “He had enough money in his pockets to pay for a coffin and to pay the gravediggers. Weren’t nothing left, Miss.”

Maisie
Jane bowed her head into her lace-covered hands and shut her eyes. “Sir, I am here to see that his grave is marked with a proper stone.”

“Oh,”
Mr. John Peabody opened the door wider. Most people didn’t want to spend good money on the dead. He’d help the young Miss if she had the good greenbacks to pay for it and he’d make a hefty profit on it to boot.

Maisie
Jane looked through several pages of gravestone designs and selected a nice sized granite stone, added the words she wished James Robert to be remembered by and a pretty design of oak leaves since that was his favorite climbing tree when he was a boy. She discussed the terms with Mr. Peabody and signed a contract, after which he told her that he would have to have the stone ordered from St. Louis and shipped in by freight and it would take a good six months to get delivered. Maisie Jane very carefully counted out forty dollars in greenback paper money and another forty in gold twenty-dollar pieces, and had Mr. Peabody write her out a receipt and sign it.

Mr
. Peabody sat back in his chair and looked over the young Miss with greedy eyes. Most funerals cost about $15.00. That included a dug hole, a pine box and trip to the cemetery in his black draped wagon and a wooden cross with their name painted on it. Where’d this little gal come from that she had so much free money?

“Mr
. Peabody, sir. Could you please advise me on where I can find a Minister?  I would like a proper service said over my brother’s grave.”

Mr
. Peabody straightened up his suit and ran his hand over his bald head. She was a polite little thing, and as pretty as a speckled pup. “Miss, you’re the territories now. Bisbee ain’t got no minister or no church anymore. There’s a Padre over at the mission. The mission’s on the other end of town. I reckon he could say a few words.”

Miss
Maisie Jane smiled and the old man sat up appreciatively. “Thank you, Mr. Peabody. I believe our business is finished. I do so appreciate your help.”

Mr
. John Peabody got to his feet and walked the young Miss to the door and when she bobbed a curtsy again he gave her a slight bow. “It’s a real shame you lost your brother, Miss Jackson. But, don’t you worry none; that skunk Walter Banks is going to hang today. Your brother will have justice.”

Maisie
Jane gasped and turned back to the old man with a hand over her mouth. “Walter Banks is the man that killed my brother?”

“Yes,
ma’am,” Mr. Peabody said nodding. “I thought that’s why you come to town. To watch the hanging and see justice done.”

“Walter
Banks,” Maisie Jane whispered, “is the man that killed my brother. Mr. Peabody… was my brother’s death quick?”

The
old man shook his head slowly. “Sorry, Miss, but I don’t think so. He was shot in the back and left out in the desert to die. Where he’d been shot, it wasn’t a mortal wound. If he’d got to help, he would have survived. Walter Banks left him out in the desert with no horse and no water. He left him out there to suffer, and die.”

Maisie
Jane’s eyes were flooding with tears.

“I’m
so sorry, Miss, but you deserve to know the truth.” Mr. Peabody said as he watched her fish around in a small bag for a kerchief. “I probably should been more gentle in the telling, ma’am.”

Maisie
Jane shook her head and reached out, took his hand and gave it a sweet pat. “No. Thank you, Mr. Peabody. Thank you for telling me the truth.”  Then she turned and walked away.

Maisie Jane walked down the sidewalk in somewhat of a daze, imagining the awful suffering her poor brother must have enduring before his death. Then, suddenly she raised her head, squared her shoulders and marched down the street. It wasn’t up to the law to make that man Walter Banks pay for her brother’s death—no that was up to her!

Jake
had himself a fine breakfast at Caroline’s Café. He did so admire Mrs. Caroline’s cooking. The woman made the best biscuits he’d ever tasted and he’d told her so many times. She’d always teased him about how many biscuits he could eat, but she just kept bringing them out to him. Mr. Thomas, Caroline’s husband, was a lucky man. Caroline might be a way past the hefty mark, but her good cooking probably made it worth it.