Eliza Blackwood's Arc

Chapter 3 of 3

By morning, the town had turned against her. Eliza saw it the moment she stepped onto the porch of her office. Men gathered in knots across the street. They stared at her jail and muttered. Two of the boss's men worked the crowd, hands moving, voices low. She caught the words they planted. Wrong man. False sheriff. Take her badge and let him go. One man with a real gun on her side would change those odds. Alone, she'd lose the town before nightfall. She went to the gunsmith first. His shop smelled of oil and iron. He was fitting a barrel at his bench, thick arms bare, and he didn't look up when her spurs hit the floor. "You arrested him," the gunsmith said. "Half this town wants you gone for it." "I need men who won't run," Eliza said. "You know who did what in this town. You've known for years." He set the barrel down. "Knowing keeps me alive. Talking gets men buried." His eyes stayed cold. "I fix guns. I don't stand behind them." "You'll fix guns for whoever runs this town," she said. "Right now that's me. When they cut me loose, it's him again." He stared at her a long moment. Then he wiped his hands and said nothing, which was not a no. She left with that much. The stable was her last hope. Inside, a tall woman with red hair forked hay into a stall. She wore a gun belt worn smooth from long use, the belt of somebody who'd ridden hard on the wrong side once. She didn't stop working when Eliza entered. "You're the stable hand," Eliza said. "Ruth." She kept pitching hay. "I heard you put the fat man in a cell. Nobody's done that and lived." "His men are turning the town against me. If I stand alone, they win, and every sheriff after me dies." Ruth stopped. She leaned on the fork and looked Eliza over, slow. "I rode with men like his once. I know how they work a crowd." Her jaw tightened. "I've wanted this town cleaned out for years. Never thought a woman in a black hat would be the one to do it." "Then help me hold the street." Ruth spat in the dirt. "I hate crowds. I hate speeches." She pulled a rifle from beside the stall door and checked the load. "But I'll stand next to you. That's all I've got." They walked out together. When the crowd saw Ruth beside her, rifle in hand, the muttering changed. The boss's men looked at each other. One backed toward the alley. Ruth's stare followed him the whole way. Eliza had one gun beside her now, maybe two. The town saw she wasn't alone. But the man who slipped into the alley was already running to bring the others. She'd won the street. She hadn't won the fight coming for it.