Tales From The Mind of Thomas

“You must be the famous pistoleer that has graced our town. William Morrow,” a gravely voice calls out. Morrow turns to see a man down at the other end of the hotel hallway from whom the voice came from—gristly, black hair, a tan weathered face with a crooked smile revealing stained teeth, complemented by an unkempt mustache. The man’s clothes, grimy and unwashed, as if he just rolled in mud.

“I am,” Morrow answers with presentiment. The grimy man walks closer to him, his boots striking the floor with clunky steps. His crooked smile remains strong as he approaches. “I ain’t impressed by what I see in you. You ain’t got no hair on your lip. And your eyes lack…” The man pauses, struggling for a word. “You lack the eyes of a killer.” The grimy man adds with a devilish grin, his voice dripping with disdain.

“I do apologize if my appearance displeases you. But I shaved for a fair lady. For my eyes, however. Maybe you’re not looking hard enough.” Morrow bites back. Staring down the man.

The grimy man renews his smile, he licks his teeth as he backs away from Morrow. “I’ll be seeing you around. Enjoy your date.”

Morrow studiedly watches the man walk away as he disappears around the corner. He kept his eyes painted on the corner for a moment, processing what intentions the grimy man has. Morrow steadily turns back around and ambles down the hallway towards the lobby. Walking down the stairs into the lobby, he scans around, checking to see if the grimy man is watching him. Not seeing anyone besides the clerk, he places his hat on his head in a fluid motion and passes through the threshold of the hotel onto the street.

He wades down the street feeling uneasy. His steeled eyes scanning around him cautiously, he doesn’t spot the man who confronted him in the hallway, instead he sees several men glaring at him with intent in their eyes. Morrow halts, keeping himself collected. He eyes each man, his right arm coiled. “If you got something to say, then say it.” His voice filled with unamusement. “I have a woman waiting on me, and I don’t intend on keeping her waiting for long.”

“We didn’t mean to stop ya.” One of the men spoke up, his voice coarse as sand, his body round with retreating hair.

“Well, you did.” Morrow calls back. “If you don’t have anything else to say, then perhaps you can at least tell me the name of the man who stopped me in the hotel.”

“We calls him Georgia.”

“Tell Georgia I have no qualms with him. I am not here to collect any bounty that may be placed on his head. He needn’t have me watched.”

“Georgia don’t care much about no bounty. He just ain’t fond of strangers arriving in his town.”

Morrow senses a level of animosity coming from Georgia’s men. He keeps his demeanor pleasant despite the apparent hostility towards him.

“Especially strange folk in fancy clothin’.” A pitched voice behind him adds. Morrow twirls his head around, eyeing a tall slender man with a crippled eye and gauntly cheeks.

“Again, I have no qualms with him. Nor do I want any with him. I see that I’m out numbered here.” Morrow responds with a smile, looking to diffuse the situation.

“Then you best proceed to steppin.” The man with the coarse voice comments. “Go on with your date, but tomorrow it’d be wise to leave.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Morrow replied. He tipped his hat towards Georgia’s men. Placing his left foot forward, he started on his way again. Keeping his gaze fixated on the men around him. He marched down the street, still feeling prying eyes against him. His measured steps brought him closer to his destination. A grey stone building amidst wooden conformity, with decorative stained-glass windows and intricate pillars holding up a balcony hanging over the entrance. Clinging to the balcony, a wooden sign hangs, “Del’s” carved into the wood with precision.

Standing under the balcony on the porch, stood a woman with long blonde hair free flowing behind her shoulders, with skin soft and fair. Her eyes a piercing hazelnut, her lips soft and full. Wearing a long lilac blue dress, a high collared blouse with ruffled lace grace her neck and cuffs. A structured bodice defined her figure over a full, gathered skirt flowing down. Her expression, neutral in waiting, lights up with a friendly smile as she spots Morrow approaches her. “Mr. Morrow, pleasant to see you again!”

Morrow steps up on the porch “Miss Gantry.” He says as he gently grasps her hand, he lowers his head to plant a kiss. “It’s always joyous to be in your presence.”

“Can you be anymore cloyed?” She teased as she wrapped her arms around his. They passed through the door entering Del’s. The interior as sophisticated as the exterior, the warmth of the polished wood floors softly echoes their footsteps. A hum of conversation of fine-dressed patrons seated at white clothed tables complemented the soft music of the piano. The scent of the air carried smells of roasted meats and fresh bread. The odor of tobacco from lit cigars smoked by distinguished gentleman lingered in the air.

The maître d’ greeted them. “Miss Elizabeth Gantry, welcome back.” He spoke. “And who is your guest?”

Elizabeth smiled, “This is William Morrow.” She said as she amorously admired Morrow. “My date for tonight.” She declared proudly as she looked back at the maître d’ as he gathered menus. He led them to Elizabeth’s table. Reaching the table, Morrow pulled out Elizabeth’s chair. She floated down with grace onto the chair, taking her napkin, she spread it over her lap. Morrow sat down at the other end, leaving the napkin on the table.

“I see you shaved your beard since the last time we saw each other.” Elizabeth commented on the clean-shaven face of Morrow.

Morrow grinned, “I wanted to freshen up my look for you my dear.” He said playfully.

“Not sure what I like more.” She contemplated. “Your beard adds a rugged charm to you,” prompting Morrow to give a thoughtful nod, “but clean-shaven gifts you sophistication.” Causing Morrow to raise an eyebrow, “I prefer you with a rugged charm.” She decides after a brief moment of thought.

“Well then, I shall never shave again.” Morrow tittered as he passed his hand along his jaw line, while looking over the menu. Elizabeth chuckling at his comment. After a brief pause Morrow spoke up. “So, what do you recommend my darling?”

“I enjoy the roasted quail.” Said Elizabeth. “It’s served with a Cumberland sauce that’s a perfect blend of tangy and sweet, with a hint of citrus that complements the quail wonderfully.”

“Then I have decided.” Morrow said with a playful tone setting down his menu. The waiter approaches them seeing Morrow placing his menu on the table. “Ready to order?” The youthful waiter asked, ready to pen down their requests.

“Yes, young man.” Elizabeth replied. “We both will have the roasted quail and whichever wine the chief recommends.”

The waiter writes down their order before striding towards the kitchen.

“What if I wanted whiskey with my quail?” Morrow teased.

Elizabeth replied with a smirk, “Then you’d be dining with the cowboys at the saloon, not with me at Del’s.” Her words carried a playful edge, a tease back at his jest, yet underscored by the warmth of their shared amusement. Morrow laughed, the sound rich and genuine, appreciating the quick wit of his companion.

Elizabeth leaned slightly forward, her eyes sparkling with mirth. “Besides, I believe the chef’s choice in wine will complement the quail far better than whiskey could.”

Morrow raises his hands as he concedes. “You’re right. Whiskey might be too strong to complement quail. After all, I’m not nearly as refined as you are my darling.” He smirks to himself, holding back thoughts.

“Go on. Say what you want.” She orders, crossing her arms with her head upturned to him.

“As refined as a well aged wheel of cheese.” He jeered. Elizabeth’s face grew shocked, her lips separating with a wide opened smile. “You take that back you scoundrel!” She said laughing.

“I do so humbly apologize for my impertinence.” William spoke with his hand placed over his heart. His head slightly bowed. “Can you find it within your heart to forgive me?”

Elizabeth interlocked her fingers together in pondering, her face softening, “Perhaps I can. After all, how can anyone expect a man who would drink whiskey with quail possess any resemblance of manners.” She smiled playfully.

After a brief chuckle, “How have you been since you showed up here? Inspire any creativity?” Morrow asked.

Elizabeth places her palm against the tell, leaning forward. “It certainly has.” She states. “The wild mountains beyond this lovely town have offered great inspiration.”

“Have you dealt with a man named Georgia?”

“That slimy man? Yes, he’s… not pleasant. Why do you ask?”

“He intercepted me in my hotel. And on my way here, his men were watching me. I get the strangest feeling that they don’t like me.”

“Well, you have been known to collect the occasional bounty. And there’s talk that there’s a federal bounty on his head.”

“I figure there is. A man in his disposition that keeps such pleasant company tends to have a bounty on his head.” He sneered.

“Are you planning on collecting on his bounty?”

“No. I am clearly outgunned.”

“As if such things stopped you before.”

Morrow responds with a wry smile, acknowledging his past actions. The hum of conversations around them fills the lull of their conversation as Morrow thinks to himself.

“I wouldn’t fret if I were you, William.” Elizabeth adds. “Georgia knows who you are and would be a fool to seek an altercation.”

“He just might be.” Morrow replied in a low grumble of doubt.

“And if he is darling, then he’ll be in the ground not long after.” She responded.

Morrow gave a sly smile, his eyes still showing concern. In the moment of silence, their roasted quail is brought out. Each plate settled before them. “William, are you concerned because you’re with me?” Elizabeth asked as she took her utensils in hand. William’s brow furrowed.

“Yes.” He answered, his voice marked by concern.

“If I sense any danger, I’ll make sure I am well clear of any gunfire.” She assured him. “Besides, I’ve been caught in the crossfire with you before. I can handle my own.” Elizabeth smiled, reaching her hand across the table, she held Morrow’s hand, feeling the worry within him. “I do appreciate that you don’t want me in any danger my dear.”

Morrow locked eyes with Elizabeth, feeling her warmth from her hand, he clasped it with both of his, cementing a kiss on hers. His eyes revealing appreciation of her assurance. “Now eat your quail. It’s terrible when cold.” She said playfully.

Morrow and Elizabeth both took a bite, enjoying the savory taste of the perfectly roasted quail. The enjoyment of the company and the flavors of the dish quelled the mind of Morrow from worry. Morrow took a sip of the wine, finding the flavor of the wine complemented the quail in perfect harmony. Before Morrow knew it, he had consumed the whole bird. He wiped his mouth with the napkin provided to him. Shortly after Elizabeth finished her meal as well. Morrow paid for the meal, and escorted Elizabeth out of Del’s with her clinging to his arm.

Stepping outside into the brisk evening, William removed his coat and wrapped it lovingly around his date. They stepped out into the street. “Hope you enjoyed your meal! Pistoleer.” A gravely voice barks out.

Morrow recognizes the voice. He slowly turns around as to not force any reaction. “Georgia.” Morrow says his voice firm with contempt. “Here I thought I had till tomorrow. That’s what your men said.”

“To hell with what they said!” Georgia shouted back. Flanked by the round man to his left, and the man with the cripple eye to his right. “I want you gone now!”

“I’m afraid I can’t leave. It’s dangerous to travel at night.”

“Then I guess you better keep an eye open then.” Georgia replied with venom. “Better yet. Why don’t I just put a bullet in you now.”

Morrow glared at Georgia. “That’s not wise partner.”

“I ain’t your partner! And I think it is wise. What better way to build a reputation, than to kill the famous, William Morrow. Might increase my bounty too.”

“I assure, if you draw. Your bounty will be collected on.”

“I ain’t educated like you or Miss Elizabeth Gantry, but I reckon you’re threaten’ me.”

“I don’t make threats.” Morrow voice coldly stated.

Morrow and Georgia locked in cold stare. Morrow motioned for Elizabeth to move away. She sought cover behind the wall of Del’s. In a blur, two men went to draw. Only one clears his leather. A shot rings out, echoing down the streets and alleys, silencing any noise. The bullet races to Georgia, striking him dead center in the neck, separating the spine. William sights the man to Georgia’s left clearing leather and pulls his sight one him. William pulls the trigger releasing his second shot. Down falls the second with his mind splitting. The third fumbles for their pistol. Morrow directing his barrel onto the one with the crippled eye, freezing him in place. “Don’t draw it. Don’t make me make it three. I already dropped two, a third won’t matter to me. And what’s one more for the pile? But, if you do decide to draw, I promise you one thing. You won’t make it home tonight.”

The third looks down at Georgia. Seeing the blood flow from the shot. He looks back up at Morrow still aiming at him. His spine runs cold. “There won’t be anymore trouble Mr. Morrow.” His voice breaking in fear. “You have a nice night now.” He says before running off.

Morrow holsters his pistol. Elizabeth approaches Morrow, “Guess he was a fool.” She comments. “Guess you collected another bounty.”

Morrow looks down upon the body of Georgia. “If he actually does have a bounty. He might have been trying sound more intimidating.” He asked.

“I’m sure the sheriff is on his way here now. You can ask him when he gets here.”

“Sorry for putting you in danger again darling.”

“Don’t be. He was the one who put me in danger.”

Morrow wrapped his arm around Elizabeth, the smell of gunpowder lingering in the air as townsfolk gather around to see what has transpired.