Paxton and the Lone Star by Kerry Newcomb Page B

her face under the torrent of water running off the roof. Grabbing Elizabeth’s wrist, she raised the lantern to see Elizabeth better, and in so doing revealed her own face, pox-marked and bruised. “So it’s a sweet innocent thing that’s chased away my bucko. Well, I’ll not hold it against you, dearie. Still, you’d best get back where you belong. This is no night for a young thing like you to be out.”
    The woman lurched away in search of her lost bucko, leaving Elizabeth to feel her way back to the boardwalk, from where she saw she would have to descend once more into the mud in order to reach the two-story building. The raw, acrid taste of vomit burned in her throat; the taste of the woman in the alley lingered on her lips. Blinded by tears of revulsion, she stumbled out into the muddy street and into the path of a team of horses.
    â€œLawd!” A voice exclaimed.
    Elizabeth screamed, and fell back as the horses reared over her and the driver fought to bring them under control. The mud was cold and deep. Elizabeth’s hands sank to the wrists. The lantern hissed and, as the hot glass snapped with a crackling sound, went out. Above her, another lantern dangled from a thin arm.
    â€œMistuh,” the reedy voice went on angrily. “Ah’se sorry, but you run right in front of—Oh, Lawdy, Lawdy. Don’t that beat all. You ain’t no mistuh at all!”
    Utterly defeated, drenched to the bone and covered with mud, Elizabeth realized how totally helpless she was. She didn’t have the courage to search every building, brothel, tavern, shed, and alley in the hell in which she found herself; she would have to find the town constable and ask him to help locate her father. “Please,” she said, struggling to her feet and leaning wearily against the wagon. “Please help me. I’m looking … that is, I have to find the constable. Can you take me to him? It’s important. Please help me.”
    The black driver studied her suspiciously. She was not a woman from the district, for he knew all of them by sight. Moreover, this was little more than a girl, and lost at that. “Ah’ll help you, miss,” he finally said, glancing around nervously in case anyone should see him in the presence of a white woman, no matter what the circumstances. “Ah’m on mah way to find ol’ Cap’n Martin myself. Reckon you kin come along if’n you a mind. But you’ll have to ride in back, ’cause Ah could git me in a pow’ful lot of trouble was you sittin’ up here with me an’ all. ’Course,” he added, jerking his head toward the back of the wagon, “you might not wanta ride there ’cause of what Ah’m takin’ to the Cap’n, but that’s up ta you.”
    â€œI don’t care,” Elizabeth said, her voice thick with exhaustion and anxiety. She climbed onto the step and into the rear. “Just as long as we find him, I don’t care.”
    â€œJest watch yer step, Miss. And mind you stick close to the side. They’s a tool box there you can set on, an’ not git touched by—”
    Too late. Lightning arced across the sky and the horses shied. Off balance, Elizabeth fell over the edge and onto something soft and clammy, then sucked in her breath and jerked away from a cold, damp hand that pressed against her.
    The driver fought the plunging horses with one hand, and held the lantern so the girl could see better with the other. “Whoa, Bess, whoa, Blue,” he hollered. “You all right, miss? You sick?”
    Elizabeth crouched on hands and knees and stared at the mud-crusted apparition lying on the floor in front of her. The skull was partly flattened, and oozed a grayish-white material. The rain, as it cleansed the blood from the bloodless face, fell into the lifeless eyes that stared past her and into eternity. The scream started in her stomach, and tore free from