Channel Nine West
Episode: Reunion
The rain was coming down harder than before.
Shepherd loved the rain.
She loved the way it cast a grey veil over the world that allowed her to get much closer to her intended targets than any other means. A person couldn’t believe everything they see in the rain. It made them second guess themselves, make stupid decisions likely to get them under her guns that much quicker.
They never see her coming in the rain.
Shepherd watched the Flatbush Inn from beneath an awning across the street. She flicked her green gaze over the idiots who scampered about from storefront to storefront,, trying to get out of the downpour with their hands up over their heads…like that would keep them dry.
All of them too dumb and impatient to wait until a lull in the rain before moving on...
To drive her believe home, a mother hurried out into the rain, the hem of her dress dragging in the mud, one hand holding a completely senseless parasol too thin to do much of anything. Holding on to her other hand, a wailing boy in short pants, His skinny legs too short to do much but fumble and drag in the mud.
Shepherd didn’t dwell on them long, though the boys wailing made her grit her teeth. She brought her attention back to the Hotel across the street. Most of the curtains in the front rooms were drawn shut…all but two.
When a drunk came lumbering out of the saloon doors two buildings away, she gave him the briefest notice. He was no danger to her. Hell…the saloon post was doing more to hold him up than his own feet.
He set his hat back on his head to get a better look at the rain.
A light-haired patron of the Hotel, one of the two open windows on the third floor, seemed to be watching the man. Shepherd held her breath. That silhouette was familiar, even under the protection of the rain, Maclay’s profile was unmistakable.
Had she been standing there the whole time? Sure she had. It was what she did. The woman had an uncanny knack for knowing when trouble was coming.
So she was sure to know that Shepherd was on her way.
Not quite thinking, her heart pounding rage in her ears, she stepped off the landing and into the rain. She let her anger drag her several slogging steps into the mud before she pulled herself short. Going in full on Treena Maclay would get her nothing but killed…and dead women couldn’t exact revenge, now could they?
Shepherd stared up at the hotel, not lifting her brim high enough for the person in the window to see her face. Rain would do the rest of the work of hiding her.
She knew she had to move soon, or risk being recognized. Instead of going back the way she came, she walked quickly and evenly under the awning of the hotel.
Under the awning, and right into the Flatbush Inn.
The place was just shy of a shanty. The furniture in the lobby looked threadbare and tired.
Flatbush’s finest establishment I’ll bet.
“Help you?” A bored looking man asked from behind the counter. Shepherd fixed her gaze on him and realized only after he’d blanched and dropped his eyes from her that she had still been thinking murderous thoughts about Maclay.
“I need a room.” She said, and slapped down more money on the counter than he had probably ever seen at one time. “On the third floor.”
“Yes’m. “ The man said, slipping the money off the counter before anyone could see it… or rob him of it. He lifted a key from beneath the counter, still not willing to meet her eyes. He held up the key to her.
“Three-o-nine.” He said.
“And if anyone asks…I’m not here. I was never here.” She tapped the key on the counter to emphasize her words.
“I see. Any luggage going up, Miss Anderson…?” He prompted, pulling a false name out of the air like he did it every day.
“No. I’ll see myself up.” She said and left him to look after wondrously her as she ascended the stairs.
**
At the third floor landing Shepherd didn’t stop or hesitate at any of the doors. She moved quickly through the hall, hands on her pistols, tensely waiting for Treena Maclay to come barreling out of one of the doors, guns shouting.
Nothing.
Seconds passed as she found the door marked 309, keyed in, swiftly swept herself inside and closed the door behind her. She leaned against it…her heart throwing a brass band in her chest.
Only Maclay made her feel this terrified…this alive…this close to death.
It had been a long time since she had felt anything…anything at all.
She peeled out of her long jacket , but kept her holsters and guns. She would wait a few minutes, and then make rounds of the third floor rooms until she came across Treena and her companion.
She didn’t much care for the idea of killing a stranger. Even though Jas had made it clear that he wanted them both dead for crossing him. Still…Treena’s new girl had done nothing to Shepherd…except put up sides with the enemy.
But if she stood in the way of Shepherd’s exacting revenge, then there would be no choice but to kill her too.
"accompanied by a Redhead…skilled with a gun…" That’s what Jas had wired her.
Treena always did have a thing for the red-haired ones.
Shepherd steeled herself. She turned, tipped off her hat, and pressed her cheek against the cool surface of the wood, listening for any movement in the hall.
Nothing.
She put her hat back on, turned the knob, palm on the butt of her gun, and pulled open the door.
She pulled up short, but not before she came face-to-muzzle with the mighty end of two silver pistols. Her fingers had tightened on the butts of her guns in response, but she was no idiot. She knew that Treena had the drop on her and that any move would send her that much quicker to her imminent death.
“Hello, Treena.” Shepherd said evenly.
“Hello, Willie.” Treena said with an equally stoic expression. “You’re getting sloppy.”
“Sloppy? You left me for dead. I was dead for years…I’m a ghost to you…”
“Ghosts don’t leave water trails down the hall.” Treena said. They locked gazes. “And I didn’t leave you for dead. What happened was an accident. It was something I’ve been trying years to atone for. I’m glad to see you alive…” She sounded genuine enough, but Shepherd wasn’t about to be bought so cheaply. She found a wry smile.
“You didn’t try too long. I hear you have a new little spitfire in your life.” She watched Treena’s own cool smile tick once. Shepherd had hit a mark without even raising her guns. “Jas wants her dead. He wants you dead too. That’s why I’m here. To kill you both…” She pressed, hoping to dig it in a little deeper.
“Well then I guess we’re lucky Treena is gonna kill you first.” Came a tight, angry female voice from the hallway. Shepherd saw Treena’s expression tighten even more. She didn’t take her eyes off hers.
“I told you to stay in the room.” Treena said. Her voice sounded unsure…worried
A redhead stepped around behind Treena with pistols drawn on Shepherd now as well.
“I figured you might need a little back up.” The woman wearing her face said.
Shepherd felt a heavy, thuggish hand squeeze her chest and without regard for Treena’s guns, she balked backwards into the room.
Wynne.
In a very unusual moment of dizzy gracelessness, Shepherd stepped over her own feet, and went crashing down on her backside, legs akimbo. Her head snapping back, losing her hat. She couldn’t take her gaze from the face of the woman behind Treena. Her face.
Wynne…
Her sister was alive….
TBC…
_________________ The best things come to those who procrastinate.
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