Saving the Gunslinger

Chapter Five

Chapter Five

Zachary laid the woman's still form on the bed. Samantha, he'd been told her name was. She had one hell of a welt beneath her red waves of hair which were dry with blood. And it looked like she may end up with a bruise from Thomas Williamson's fists.

Goddamn brute.

Using a woman who clearly was unwilling to work. Holding her belongings and horse ransom to get your way. Putting hands on her to attempt to force her hand. Thomas Williamson was not any kind of man worthy of trust or respect—as a matter of fact he was one of the worst kinds of men.

Zachary had warned him not to hurt Samantha again but clearly he hadn't listened. By God he was going to learn that Zachary Marston was a man who didn't make idle threats.

Stepping away from the bed, Zachary turned his attention to the two saloon workers who had followed him to the hotel. They'd been talking the whole time, explaining the situation to Zachary. He knew about the incident at the livery and he knew about both Thomas and Marshall Oxley's roles. Zachary wasn't afraid of that good for nothing Marshall any more than he was Thomas Williamson.

He pointed to the older of the two women who had been studying him closely. "You're familiar..." she said.

Zachary tilted his head. Was she familiar? Zachary hadn't spent much time in the Hackney Saloon and Brothel when he'd lived here before because he'd known his family wouldn't approve. He had however played cards there from time to time and she had a vaguely familiar face—that was probably why.

"I used to live around here," he offered in response. She would no doubt recognize his name if he gave it or the name of his family. Everyone from Hackney knew about the Marston family—and their murders. "Go get the doc and let him examine, Samantha." Then he looked at the other woman. "You stay here and keep an eye on her. They'll be bringing up a bucket of hot water to clean her off a bit."

With those parting words, and without waiting for replies, Zachary strode from the room. He hadn't beat the rain into town and it was still falling steadily so he was leaving a trail of droplets on the hardwood floors as he stepped back into the saloon.

Nearly instantly the room became quieter as eyes landed on him. He heard the hushed whispers begin to hum in the air—his name floating among them. Zachary ignored it. Instead he focused on Thomas Williamson who was standing beside the bar with Marshall Leonard Oxley. Thomas noticed his approach and Zachary admired the man's courage as he stepped up to meet him toe to toe.

"You had no right taking that girl out of here. She has a debt to work off and she's obligated to...."

Whatever Thomas deemed Samantha obligated to do remained a mystery as Zachary's fist shot out and silenced the man as it struck his jaw and dropped him to the floor at Zachary's feet. Complete silence fell in the dusty saloon as even the piano player ceased his banging on the keys and turned his attention to the scene at the bar.

Zachary simply stepped over Thomas' prone form and approached the barkeep. "Give me a whiskey. It's on the house." The bartender paused a moment but saw fit to do as Zachary bid. Downing the shot quickly, Zachary tapped the bar for another.

Taking his second shot, he approached Thomas, crouched down, and tossed the liquid onto the unconscious man's face. Thomas came up sputtering. Zachary grabbed him up by his shirt collar and yanked him to his feet. "I warned you not to hurt that woman."

Thomas was pale and his throat worked a little. He jerked himself from Zachary's grasp and swiped at his dripping mustache with his shirt sleeves. "That whore...."