Everett Brooks and the Midnight Riders - Redux, Part 2
A revised draft of Chapter 3
Author’s Note: Below is some more of the progress I’ve made in revising Everett Brooks and the Midnight Riders for publication. While the broad strokes of the story are firmly in place, please understand that this is a working draft, and there are likely to be some grammatical faux pas.
Part 1 | Part 2
Chapter 3
Sunlight filtered in through the gauzy curtains over the window as Everett Brooks woke the next morning to find Caroline standing over him with a familiar Remington Model 1858 revolver in her hands. Everett’s initial dismay turned to curiosity as he watched Caroline run her delicate fingers over the nickel-plated cylinder, blued steel frame, and the initials etched into the walnut grip: K.V.
He had spent the night in Caroline’s room because, as she so eloquently put it, every other room was occupied by paying customers. Caroline had coyly insisted the bed was big enough for the both of them, but Everett opted for the couch regardless.
“You best have a good reason for rifling through my bags,” he grunted, somewhat more brusquely than he intended, though Caroline seemed not to notice. She turned to face him, the gossamer frills of her nightgown shimmering in the morning light: hinting at the sensual body underneath.
“I’d recognize this pistol anywhere,” Caroline whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “You don’t remember me, do you?”
Everett was puzzled. “I don’t rightly recall, truth be told. I did feel like I should know you from somewhere when we met yesterday.”
“I remember you.” Caroline’s gaze returned to the Remington. “And I remember her.”
Everett Brooks tenderly placed his rough gunslinger’s hands over her flawless ones. “What is it you remember, Caroline?”
Sweet Caroline took a shuddering breath as the memories flashed through her mind. “Three years ago, you and your Midnight Riders robbed a train a few miles outside of Dodge City.”
“We did,” Everett acknowledged. He remembered the job well since it was the last train heist the outfit had pulled before they fell out. “What do you know about it?”
“I was on that train with my fiancé. He was a cavalry officer. He’d been deployed to Fort Dodge and we were headed there to get married…start our life together.” Caroline paused to wipe away tears that sprang unbidden to her eyes as long suppressed emotions boiled up inside her. “Anyhow, you and your gang stopped the train, hopped onboard, and you promised nobody would get hurt if we cooperated. So, we did. Everyone on that train handed over whatever you decided was worth taking.
“But when you left for the luggage car, a man with wicked eyes, wearing a black hat and black duster, decided he wanted more. He told me I was just too damn pretty. He meant to have his way, but my fiancé leapt to defend my honor, the damn fool. You came back when you heard the gunshots. And she came with you.
“I’ll never forget how you pulled him off me and kicked him all the way down that train car. Nor will I ever forget the genuine kindness and concern in your eyes as you helped me to my feet, even though you’d just robbed a whole train’s worth of innocent folks without batting an eye. And I’ll never forget the fury blazing in her blue eyes as she pulled out this gun and jammed the barrel against his head before you stopped her.”
“That was you,” Everett Brooks murmured in disbelief. “I always wondered if our paths would cross again.”
“I loved my fiancé, and I would have sacrificed my honor and my virtue if it meant he’d still be alive. I thought for sure my life was over, but you saved me. And I’ve thought about you and that fierce woman of yours every day for the last three years.”
“All things being equal, it was my actions that led to you falling from the respected wife of a cavalry officer to…well…”
“A harlot? A painted lady? Trust me: There are girls out there who got it a lot worse than we do here at the Hall. Mr. MacTavish only takes up a modest portion of our pay; he treats us with respect and allows us to choose who we let into our beds. He provides us with the best medical care in Heaven’s Hollow, and, most importantly, he never touches us or takes advantage.”
“You don’t say.” Everett had never heard of a man who ran girls and didn’t sample the merchandise from time to time.
“And it’s got nothing to do with his condition. Even without that, he still wouldn’t lay a hand on us.”
“Condition? What condition?”
“Oh, of course you wouldn’t know. Mr. MacTavish suffered a wound during the War that made him…impotent.”
“MacTavish fought in the War?”
“He was wounded at Shiloh fighting with Grant.”
“Well, now, he conveniently left out the fact he’s a damn Yankee when he was being ever so loquacious yesterday.”
“War’s been over for ten years, and he’s paying you right generously. Does it matter?”
“No,” Everett admitted. “No, I suppose it don’t.”
He reached out for the Remington. Caroline handed it over after a moment’s hesitation. It was Everett’s turn to study the revolver, a faraway look in his eyes. She sat next to him on the couch, intertwining her fingers with those of his free hand. He accepted her touch without protest.
“I was truly sorry to hear about her murder. Most everyone thought you were dead. And then stories of Everett Brooks taking bounty jobs and hunting the Riders started swirling.” Caroline gripped his chin and turned his stubbled face towards her. She leaned in until her lips brushed against him. “I’m glad the rumors were true. I’ve always felt like I should properly show my appreciation.”
“Haven’t been with anyone since my Katherine died,” Everett muttered hoarsely.
“Three years is a long damn time to go without anyone to love you,” Caroline whispered back sympathetically.
For one uncertain moment Caroline was sure Everett Brooks would let down his guard and give in to her advances. She’d never met a man yet who could resist her. Instead, Everett abruptly pulled away and reached for his boots.
“I don’t know about you, but I’m famished. I’m curious to know if a high-class joint like this serves a good breakfast.” Everett stood and buckled his gun belt around his waist. “You inclined to join me?”
“Sure thing.” The ravishing woman smiled wistfully. “Be right there, sugar.”
He left Sweet Caroline sitting forlornly on her couch.
* * * * * * *
Teddy Freeman sat on the porch of Heaven’s Hollow jail, sipping on a pleasant, steaming cup of coffee and enjoying the crisp morning air. Unlike the day before, the sun was shining and there were few clouds to be seen. The ivory grip of his Peacemaker poked out from under his wool jacket, and a Winchester Mare’s Leg rifle lay across his lap. Teddy was fond of this time of the morning when he could drink his first cup of the day and watch the town wake up as people went about their business.
It was the worst kept secret in Heaven’s Hollow that the deputies were in league with the road agents terrorizing citizens and travelers alike for nearly six months. The sheriff turned a blind eye because he was old and fat and cowardly, wanting nothing more than to spend his twilight years enjoying the privileges of being chief lawman. Teddy was pretty sure the Sheriff was on the take as well, but he couldn’t prove it. The former slave was the only honest deputy in Heaven’s Hollow.
Teddy savored another sip of coffee…and stopped mid-gulp. Above the usual clamor of passersby, he heard the rhythmic pounding of several sets of hooves beating the ground all at once. He looked to the northeast and saw an ominous cloud of dust rising from the road as a trio of horsemen galloped into town. Teddy Freeman was filled with dread as he recognized the lead rider. The agitated lawman dumped the rest of his coffee and cautiously retreated into the jailhouse.
* * * * * * *
Everett Brooks sat at one of the many unoccupied tables in the elegant dining area of The Scotsman’s Hall. Situated in the rear of the establishment, it reminded Everett of photographs he’d seen depicting rustic European hunting lodges. A vivacious redhead who possessed a pair of sparkling and mischievous emerald eyes - along with a matching corset that left precious little to his imagination - appeared bearing a piping hot cup of coffee.
“They just have you ladies doing everything around here, don’t they?”
“Serving breakfast to rugged and handsome strangers isn’t the worst thing to ask of a girl.”
Everett gratefully accepted the warm beverage and playful compliment with a bemused nod. “And who might you be, darlin’?”
“I’m Delia,” the redhead gushed. “You’re Caroline’s current beau, aren’t you?”
“I guess so,” Everett grunted wryly.
Delia eyed him appraisingly. “Mr. MacTavish told all of us girls to make ourselves available to you, if you’re so inclined.”
“He told y’all that, did he?”
“You must really be somebody to make Mr. MacTavish want to be so generous with our services.”
“I suppose.”
“So, who are you?” Delia’s green eyes glittered with curiosity.
“Ever hear of a desperado named Everett Brooks?”
“You’re Everett Brooks?!” the woman gasped in astonishment. “Mister, do you realize you’ve got the whole town in an uproar?”
“That does tend to happen.”
“Is it true you singlehandedly fought off a posse of twenty men lead by the marshal Boone Cantrell after robbing a stage outside Abilene?” she asked wonderingly.
Everett chuckled. “Last I heard that story I was up against damn near every lawman in Kansas. It was probably more like ten men, and I wasn’t alone. My woman was with me.”
“Your woman? Oh, you mean the one that was…” Delia trailed off.
“Yeah, the one that was murdered,” Everett stated bluntly. He sat in silence for several moments, conflicting emotions contorting his otherwise handsome features. He finally breathed a melancholy sigh just as Delia was starting to fidget uncertainly.
“Anyhow,” Everett continued, “Boone Cantrell and his fellows were pell-mell after the two of us in that gig. They’d almost caught us up when we passed through a narrow canyon. Kat – that was her name - had the bright idea to scuttle the stage and block the trail. We cut them horses loose, flipped the coach, and then we was in a mighty fine spot to lay into that posse. She and I gave the lot of ‘em such hell they turned tail and didn’t stop runnin’ until they was back in Abilene.”
“It’s no wonder Mr. MacTavish has rolled out the red carpet and then some for you. I don’t think he’s ever let anyone have any of his girls on the house before, much less his very best girl.”
“You mean Caroline?”
“Of course she means me,” Sweet Caroline appeared from behind Delia to answer Everett’s question somewhat petulantly, as if the answer was ever in doubt. She gave the redhead an inscrutable look that Everett couldn’t quite make out. “I’ll take it from here, Delia, sugar.”
Delia nodded deferentially. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Brooks. I sure hope to see more of you.”
Caroline slithered into the ornate wooden chair opposite him. Everett couldn’t help but once again be mesmerized by the blonde woman’s spectacular beauty.
“Anyone ever tell you that it’s awful impolite to leave a girl lingering like that?”
“Damn, woman, you don’t give up, do you?”
“I’ve never been turned down before. I don’t much like the way it feels.”
“Well, I done told you and MacTavish I wasn’t particularly interested in your services.”
“I just thought maybe you might be interested in me as a woman,” Caroline glowered. Out in the main room the door to The Scotsman’s Hall was propelled open forcefully enough for the crack from it battering the wall to reverberate throughout the building.
“Where is he?! Where is that rotten bastard?!” a voice that Everett Brooks was all too familiar with bellowed. There was a moment of hushed deliberation, followed by the slow and rhythmic sound of heavy boots thudding ominously on the plank floor. A lanky figure appeared in the doorway that separated the dining room from the main bar and billiards area. The man was clad in a telltale black hat and similarly hued duster: His face was bearded and angular, with hooded eyes and a mouth twisted up into a cruel smirk. “Never mind. I found who I’m lookin’ for.”
Click below to read this part of story as it was originally published here on Substack.
If you enjoyed reading this excerpt, please consider supporting the story’s publication by signing up for a paid subscription, or donating at the link below.