One Afternoon in Rock Creek
Looking to the side, he saw that he had moved Emily out of the line of fire. He was instantly grateful and turned to face Neville. Neville sneered at Ike and slowly squeezed the trigger of his gun. Ike saw the slight movement of Neville's finger and fired his own gun. Only one shot was heard, however, and the whole saloon gasped as they watched Neville clutch his chest and slump against the polished brass rail of the bar. He raised one bloodied hand to grip the rail, then withered onto the floor. His head landed with a dull thud, then there was silence. Ike lowered his gun and looked at Neville. He took a hesitant step toward him, then shook his head and turned to Emily. She rushed into his arms, burying her head in his shoulder. He could feel the wetness of her tears soaking into his shirt. He leaned his cheek down onto the top of her head and held that position until Teaspoon pushed his way into the now crowded room. "You alright, Ike?" he asked breathlessly. He walked forward and gripped his shoulders, giving them a little shake, as if to reaffirm that Ike really was still alive. When he was satisfied, Teaspoon let go and walked over to Neville's body. He bent down and felt the man's neck. He found nothing and stood up, clasping his hands behind his back. "Well, somebody go get Michaels. He's gotta take care of this from here," Teaspoon said in an even voice. Ike noticed movement around him and turned to see his friends - his family - gathering near him. One by one, they approached him and said a few words. Ike tried to listen, but found that he couldn't. He acknowledged their sentiments, then walked slowly out onto the porch. He stepped aside to allow the mortician, Frank Michaels, to pass. Michaels looked at Ike for a second before moving to the door. He gave him a grim smile and a nod as he went into the saloon. The first thing Ike noticed when he stepped outside was the breeze that brushed his face. It reminded him of the day that he had helped Emily fix up her place. He leaned back against the wall of the building and closed his eyes. He tried to clear the image of Neville's death from his mind's eye. He concentrated and, after a few minutes, he was able to push the vision into that small place of his memory he reserved for things that he would rather not recall. He knew it wouldn't stay there, though. He couldn't worry about that now, however. He opened his eyes and looked out at the street. Strangely, it looked normal again. "Do you want one of us to take Emily home?" Ike turned to see Buck standing near him. He smiled weakly at him and shook his head. ~I'll go...Thanks~ he said. He clenched his hands when he was done to stop their shaking. Buck nodded and placed a gentle hand on his arm. Ike put his hand over Buck's and patted it. He ducked his head a bit then started toward the saloon door. He saw Emily watching Michaels work with the body. He raised his hand to get her attention, then called her outside. ~Want to go home?~ he asked. Emily pressed her lips together and nodded. She wrapped her arms around her body and shuddered. She knew she would have to explain herself to Ike and she wasn't looking forward to that. Ike saw her discomfort and felt powerless to help her. He didn't want to be too pushy, but he didn't want to be too cold, either. He settled for adjusting her shawl on her shoulders and giving her a quick hug. His heart leapt when she reached up to kiss him chastely on the cheek. They walked away from the saloon, hand in hand. Ike looked toward the horizon and memorized the pastel hues of the clouds. Maybe, he thought, things will work themselves out. THE END...or is it really? Please let the author know what you think of her story.
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Ike ran toward the saloon with his heartbeat echoing in his ears. He didn't see the people rushing out of his way nor hear the calls of his fellow riders. His only thought was of getting to Emily before Neville hurt her. He rounded the corner and bounded up the wooden stairs, knocking into the swinging double doors with all his might.
