Date Posted:09:14:22 02/21/03 Fri Author: Sue Subject: Re: Never Look Back- The Conclusion- Part 1 In reply to:
Sue
's message, "Never Look Back- The Conclusion- Foreword" on 08:30:44 02/21/03 Fri
A/N- There has been a jump in the story's action which will be explained later in flashback.
Never Look Back- The Conclusion-Part 1
Their situation could almost be considered quite comical, McKay surmised grimly, if the
consequences that might result upon its fruition weren’t so critical. His eyes scanned the dimly
lit office in front of him, adjusting to take in its proceedings. Reentering it, he hesitated in
step while fumbling clumsily to re fold the document he held in his good hand before tucking
it back into his inner coat pocket with some difficulty. The cleric, who had accompanied him
back to the office from the jail cell, brushed lightly by him as he made his way toward the front door of the
Manitou Sheriff’s Office in exit. McKay offered up a quick hand to him and a few brief words
of acknowledgment before turning his attentions back toward the scene playing out in front of
him. To say Hank was beyond the point of reason was the very least, and he listened carefully while other
man’s usual low drawl increased with fury.
“What the hell do ya mean we can’t take the train? I’ve got ta get this prisoner back ta
Colorado Springs immediately!”
The station manager beside the acting deputy stood his ground, glaring indignantly back at
Hank, the latter man’s foul mood doing nothing to improve upon the situation.
“Like I said....” The stocky well-dressed man repeated as his eyes averted Hank’s malcontent
gaze as if to address a speck of lint upon his crisp black suit vest. “... the rail line won’t put up
with you’re escorting a prisoner back upon its carriage unless you have some sort of court order
demanding that we comply. Such a situation might possibly scare the passengers which would
prove bad for business.” He took a step backwards when he finished speaking, but he did not
falter from his argument. His round dark eyes peered up to meet with Hank’s steely gaze.
“Court order!” Hank bellowed. “How long will it take ta git one of ‘em?”
It was now the deputy’s turn to respond; his reply likely would not have been so accommodating
had Hank not flashed a sheriff’s star in front of him when this whole fiasco first began.
“Look, sheriff, it’s best not to let these matters rile one up so...”
“Just answer the question!” Hank barked.
“Well considerin the judge usually holds court on Fridays....”
“Friday!” Hank exploded. “ Why that’s two days away! Ain’t there some way we could get
him in here earlier?” He demanded while grasping at straws to come up with some sort of fancy
legal term or special recourse he knew Michaela would most certainly suggest if presented with
the same set of circumstances. Coming up blank, he concluded grudgingly. “There’s got ta be
somethin you can do, deputy?”
“Well in most cases there would be....” the deputy began , hesitating momentarily to reach up
and smooth his mustache with a nervous hand while carefully considering his next choice of
words so as not to agitate this tall, grievous lawman any further. “....but the fact bein is the
judge is out of town. He’s gone fishin.” Upon finishing up his explanation, the deputy took a
prudent directive from the train manager before him and chose to take a careful step also, while he
watched the flames of anger lick across Hank’s face as his cold blue eyes glared back down
at him.
“What the hell sort of town is this?” Hank raged vehemently. “First the sheriff, then the
doctor, and now the judge!” His eyes traveled momentarily toward McKay with these last few
words. The other man’s left arm was now being supported by a sling, and Hank grimaced
while adding this fact to a situation that was growing steadily worse with each passing second.
His well-placed anger continued. “No....don’t tell me. They’ve all gone fishin, the whole lot of
‘em, ain’t they? I suppose anyone with any speck of common sense in this here town is out
there fishin with them too! We should just cut bait and go join ‘em!”
As Hank waited for a response from his stunned audience of two, he used this time to
instinctively reach toward his jacket pocket and removed his cheroot case before effortlessly
withdrawing another of its contents from his dwindling supply then struck a match and lit up.
It was obvious to McKay from the way Hank’s fingers tightly clamped around the stump of his
smoke that the two men in front of him were on tenterhooks, but with the few long aromatic
drags that Hank took upon his cheroot his previous foul mood seemed to miraculously dissipate.
“Guess we’ll be needin a few horses then.” He replied shrewdly as he keenly regarded the
deputy once more.
A weak smile filled the deputy’s face as relief flooded through him. He’d be agreeable to just
about anything within reason to get this lawman from Colorado Springs and his contingent off his back. He longed to get on with his normally uneventful day in which the most pressing
decision he was usually required to make was whether he wanted fried chicken or meat loaf
for dinner.
“Yes...I can see ta that, Sheriff Lawson. I’m sure the blacksmith will have a few good mounts
that he can lend ta ya. I’ll go check.” The deputy beat a hasty retreat toward the front door of
his office not allowing Hank another chance to speak. The station manager followed suit, and
was close upon his heels. He wasn’t taking any chances with this lanky, wild hair stranger, who looked as if could smite an opponent as easily as he could withdraw a
cigar from its case.
Hearing the door close behind them, Hank turned from McKay toward the opposite wall, taking
another long frustrated drag upon his cheroot before growling. “What kind of God forsaken
town is this?”
McKay let out a small sigh of relief that the minister was no longer among their company
before addressing his companion. “We should wire Colorado Springs and apprize them of our
current situation.”
“Yeah...” Hank concurred reflexively under his breath as he flicked a long length of ash down
toward the wooden floor boards below him before turning to face the other man again. “...Bein
that no one there knows of our business, let that dolt, Horace, know that Matthew needs ta be told immediately. The circuit judge should be arrivin there any day now, if he ain’t
there already...” Hank let his voice trail off as his eyes swept over McKay’s afflicted form once
more. His counterpart’s normally ramrod military posture now stood hunched slightly to favor his injured appendage supported by the sling. His features spoke of his present
malady and were marked with lines of stress and fatigue causing Hank to voice what might be
considered by some as an attempt at concern. “Ya think you’ll be able to sit a horse, McKay?”
McKay’s reply was a quick affirmative. “Yes.”. There was no way in hell he was going to let
Hank take off from here with Ryan alone. The situation would prove far too dangerous, murder
being the most likely recourse, of the two men, who would end up the victim he was unsure.
Giving a brief nod in concurrence with his answer, his mind drifted back to the parting words of the barber,
who had spent the better part of the previous hour stitching him back up. “Traveling too soon
Mr. McKay ain’t real advisable.”
