Wanted Woman

Weeks passed. The dust never settled in Westtown, but the territorial authorities came in and tried to clean up.

The Newcombe boys were gone. Arrested. Or dead.

And the some of the crooks in local government and banking.

Tiny worked the bar. He stopped limping.

Annie stayed close. She laughed more and fought less.

Jackson watched them from the corner.

Eventually the territorial authorities came around.

First a man in a suit with a real badge came in. A territorial marshall.

Annie spotted him before the doors swung open, grabbing Tiny to head to the backroom.

He had men with him. They looked like they followed orders.

Jackson set a bottle down hard. The sound cracked through the chatter.

-We’re looking for Annie Newcombe.

Jackson stepped out from behind the bar. She placed herself between the lawman and the backroom.

Tiny and Annie stood by the door. They left it ajar to listen.

Jackson’s hand rested near her hip. Near the revolver.

-Marshal, she said. Her voice was cool. You’re misinformed.

The Marshal looked around. He looked at the patrons. He looked at Jackson.

-We have Annie Newcombe’s name on the list. Known associate. Last known whereabouts here at this saloon.

He took a step forward.

-Harboring fugitives is against the law, ma’am.

Jackson didn’t blink.

-I know the law, she said. And I know rats.

-The list comes from the territorial justice department, the Marshal said. Annie Newcombe wanted across the territory for aggravated manslaughter, impersonating an officer of the law, attempted bigamy, and telegram fraud.

Jackson leaned in. She lowered her voice.

-That list is bullshit.

She stared him down.

-Annie Newcombe is dead. Got caught in the crossfire when her kin turned on each other. Buried her myself out past the mesquite grove.

The Marshal paused. He frowned.

-Dead? There wasn’t a death certificate on file and that’s not in the report on thes hooting.

Jackson laughed.

-You new to the territory? she asked. Out here, we don’t always wait for a man with a pen to tell us when someone’s gone. We just dig the hole.

The Marshal looked at her.

-You’re the disgraced sheriff’s wife, aren’t you?

Jackson stepped closer.

-I’m the woman who runs this town now, she said. And my word is the only law that matters in this saloon.

-I wouldn’t recommend treating the government like a criminal organization, the Marshal said.

-Your government didn’t stop the Newcombe Boys, Jackson snapped. I did.

The Marshal tipped his hat.

-We’ll be back, ma’am, he said.

He turned. He left.

Jackson watched the door swing shut. She let out a shaky breath.

Tiny and Annie came out of the backroom.

-We’ve got to leave town, Tiny said. It’s not fair bringing this scrutiny on you.

Jackson shook her head.

-The hell you will, she said. You’re family. We stand together.

-What do we do? Annie asked.

Jackson’s mind raced.

-We bribe them. Or we forge papers.

-I’ve got a simpler idea, Tiny said.

He looked at Annie.

-Problem is Annie ain’t got no papers now, if she’s supposed to be dead. So we find someone her age who done died already.

Jackson’s eyes widened.

-A new identity, she said.

-We just make her someone else, Tiny said.

Jackson grabbed a ring of keys from her belt.

-We need a name. Someone who died young. No family left to question it.

She looked at the window. The sun was setting.

-I got the sexton’s spare key, she said. Let’s go find a ghost.

They had a couple of drinks and left.

It was a new moon so it was dark.

They slipped through the cemetery gate.

Jackson moved silently, getting into the office to look through the cemetery papers.

She was looking for someone about Annie’s age, buried as a child, no kin.

There was a section the church put up for orphans.

Jackson led them the way there. Her eyes scanned the rows. Crooked headstones. Forgotten names.

Tiny and Annie followed. They stayed close.

Jackson stopped.

A weather-beaten marker.

She brushed away the grit.

-Sarah Morris, she murmured. Died at nine.

She looked at Annie.

-She’s yours if you want her.

Annie stepped forward. She touched the cold stone.

-Sarah Morris, she said, trying it out.

-Yeah. Ok, she nodded. Goodbye Annie Newcombe.

Jackson’s hand found Annie’s shoulder.

-Welcome back to the world, Sarah Morris, Jackson said.