The Widow's Companion
(Part 2)

by Vicki James

Disclaimer: The Magnificent Seven and characters belong to MGM and Trilogy Entertainment. This story does not intend to infringe on that copyright.

*****

Everyone was thrilled when William Randall IV came to town.

Mr. Randall was the front runner for a group of theatrical players who were going to perform in the Four Corners. Imagine. Shakespeare in our town!

Frontier towns like ours were hungry for any entertainments that might come their way. Now we were being visited by the Bard. Four Corners had arrived.

I first met Mr. Randall the morning after he came to town. He stopped into the newspaper office to inquire about getting some advertisements and handbills printed.

He told me he had been travelling several days to reach us, and it was apparent from just looking at him that it had been a wearying ride indeed. His eyes were bloodshot. When we exchanged introductions he took my hand in his in a most gentlemanly fashion and I felt a slight tremble to it, no doubt the result of so many days grasping the reins of his mount. Mr. Randall was a man of culture, thus probably not accustomed to such hard travel.

Lest I begin to sound like a giddy schoolgirl with stars in my eyes I should clarify that I was well aware of the airs affected by Mr. Randall. Back east my family had been patrons of the arts and we had been regular attendees of theatrical performances and receptions. I was used to the flamboyance of players and those in the entourage of a show. Mr. Randall presented himself as a bit larger than life to be sure. But he'd taken his troupe from New York, up into Canada, and across the ocean to Great Britain where they performed in the prestigious theatres of London. Now they were making their way west to California with Four Corners on their itinerary. What a boon for our community to be able to take in a performance by players of such high caliber. It was an exciting moment for Four Corners indeed.

Mr. Randall asked me what the town had to offer that could stand in as a theatre and I suggested Josiah's church. Knowing its caretaker as I did I agreed to accompany Mr. Randall there to inquire about its usage.

The morning was bright in sunlight as we made out way to the church, Mr. Randall playing the gallant and offering me his arm. When we reached the church we entered the unlocked doors but found Josiah was nowhere within.

Mr. Randall took a look around the empty and silent building. The only motion was that of dust motes dancing in the wan light filtering through the windows. A smile touched upon his face and he seemed not to notice the rough, hand-hewn pews and unornamented walls.

"This will do just fine, Mrs. Travis," he said after turning around in a full circle. "Just fine."

"I realize it won't be anywhere near as ornate as the venues your troupe is used to performing in," I acknowledged, pleased nonetheless that we had a place that could accommodate a theatrical production.

"It's not the structure that makes a place appealing, my dear. It's what's within. Right now this building is lit in magnificence by your presence."

"You flatter me, Mr. Randall!" I couldn't help but feel warmed by his smooth praise.

"On the contrary, Mrs. Travis, my compliment is not worthy of your beauty."

I smiled as Mr. Randall took my hand to press to his lips. Just as he was about to place a kiss upon my skin the church door slammed shut. I jumped, startled by the sudden noise, and pulled away from Mr. Randall as I turned to the door. I was surprised, although not displeased, to see Chris standing there. My smile widened for him.

"Chris! Isn't it wonderful what Mr. Randall is doing?"

Chris didn't return my smile. He scowled, in fact, and leaned up against the door with his arms crossed over his chest.

Though neither man moved during our ensuing discussion about Mr. Randall's troupe coming to town, both gave the impression of two wild animals circling each other in wariness.

Chris was acting somewhat obstinate and unappreciative of what Mr. Randall was bringing to town. I admit his attitude annoyed me and I ended up whisking Mr. Randall away rather than stay around Chris Larabee's gloom.

As we left the church Chris politely held the door open for us but he gazed off into the distance with a surly look on his face.

I guess not everyone was thrilled with Mr. Randall's arrival in town.

******

The next morning I had an unexpected visitor.

Ezra came through the door to the newspaper office and stood just inside. He courteously doffed his hat and held it in one hand, but he kept the other hand on the door handle. He glanced furtively out the window behind him as though keeping an eye out for imminent danger that would require him to flee on a moment's notice.

"Good morning, Mr. Standish!" I said brightly.

"Mrs. Travis." Ezra nodded a greeting and then said nothing, which was decidedly unusual for a man usually so verbose.

"To what do I owe the sure pleasure of your visitation on this resplendent morn?" I could be verbose too.

Ezra smiled wide enough to show his gold tooth. He finally took his hand off the door handle, but he did take one more look out of the window before moving deeper into the room.

"My dear Mrs. Travis, I do realize that it is not entirely my place to be coming to speak to you of such matters, yet as a gentleman I cannot in all good conscience bide my tongue," Ezra drawled.

"What is it?" I asked, feeling apprehension begin to form a small knot in my stomach. Was it Chris? Was something wrong with him and he didn't want to tell me but Ezra thought I should know?

"I have observed you in the company of our recently arrived Mr. William Randall, due to your business association, of course. I had occasion to engage the man in a game of cards yesterday eve and I feel it my duty to share with you some observations."

The knot uncoiled. Not Chris then. Mr. Randall. A smile began to tease the corners of my mouth.

I schooled my face in seriousness at Ezra's similar expression. "I see," I said, encouraging him to continue.

"As I mentioned, I have had recent association with the gentleman in question, and in my learned opinion I believe we cannot in good faith bestow the particular title on the man."

"Mr. Randall is not a gentleman?" I asked to clarify Ezra's meaning.

"I fear not, Mrs. Travis. I fear not. And I felt I could no longer consider myself one if I did not acquaint you with the man's true nature."

I could no longer repress a smile of affectionate amusement. Ezra Standish, confidence man and gambler, was here to warn me about a rogue of another sort. Though I already suspected Mr. Randall was not what he appeared, Ezra was so earnest in his concern that I didn't want to make him feel his efforts to protect me were unnecessary.

"I appreciate your concern," I told him with genuine gratitude in my voice. "Does it ease your mind to know that my association with Mr. Randall is limited to his troupe's upcoming performance here in town?"

"That it does, madam," nodded Ezra.

He didn't need to know that Mr. Randall had held my hand in his and asked me to join him for dinner last night. When I'd politely declined he had inquired as to whether my affections were spoken for.

"Well yes," I had told him. "There is someone. We have a..." A what, Mary? I'd thought. "...we are, uh, that is to say..." I had floundered.

"He's a luckier man than I," Mr. Randall had expressed, saving me from my stammering.

"You're an educated man, Mr. Standish," I said, returning my attention to my current visitor. "Are you not looking forward to seeing a Shakespearean production performed here in our town?"

"Frontier players," Ezra sniffed. "I am not entirely confident their standard of performance will be at a level to which I am accustomed. Still, it might offer an interesting diversion."

"I'm positive it will."

Ezra had bade me a good day and departed and I had just turned back to my work when the bell over the door tinkled again. It was certainly proving a busy morning for visitors, but not one for productive work!

Mrs. Potter stood before me, a look of concern etched upon her face. Before I could offer her a greeting she blurted out, "Oh Mary, have you heard? Mr. Randall is in the jail!"

"What?" burst forth from my lips with incredulity.

"Yes, it's true," Mrs. Potter advised as she kneaded her hands together. "What will happen now? I do so want to see the play!"

"Never fear," I assured here, stalking toward the door. "The play will go on!"

I moved outside and down the street, propelled forth by my righteous indignation. I espied my quarry fortuitously standing on the street farther along, ready to mount his horse. But he couldn't run, and he couldn't hide.

Though my eyes were boring holes into Chris's back, I did notice in the periphery the rest of the men moving back, out of the way, making room for me. They didn't move too far away, however. If they were expecting a spectacle then they were in luck. I was in just the mood to oblige them.

"Mister Larabee!" I said crisply.

"Mary?" he replied warily. "What's the matter?"

I stopped when I was almost toe to toe with him and glared up into his face. I think he would have retreated a step backwards had Vin's horse not blocked his way.

What's the matter? Oh he knew what the matter was!

"What's the matter?" I repeated aloud. "Mr. Randall is in the jail!"

He acknowledged that fact and what's more, he had the gall to smile about it. And to tell me Mr. Randall's charge was for assault of a saloon table! Despite my fury, I noticed Vin actually hid behind his horse at that point. He needn't have worried; I didn't have anything on hand to throw. Much to my regret.

When Chris pointed out that it was he who had been hired to protect the town I could do little more than tell him he was an irritating man and then walk away. I wanted to call him something else, but I am a lady. I had to leave then as I was close to disregarding that fact.

******

Things improved between Chris and me when he stopped by the newspaper later that day. He didn't offer an apology, never an apology. He did tell me he would like to be able to escort me to the church for the play, but could not as he'd be on the job. I'm certain I heard a tinge of regret in his voice and I smiled. Not an apology, but a definite d�tente. It would do.

"I understand," I told him. I was glad to be sitting down when he gave me one of those looks that always make my knees go weak, before he retreated back out of the newspaper office.

******

I sat at the front of the church but couldn't resist peeking around behind me to watch the townsfolk arriving. They were filling the church to capacity. How exciting! It was bursting at the seams, filled to standing room only. Everyone was there, including our town's protectors.

Right before the performance began I saw Chris slip in and take a seat at the rear, right beside Mr. Randall! I turned around then, relaxed and ready to enjoy the show.

******

The next morning I was still mentally reliving the performance and formulating my review of it for the newspaper. As I opened the window blinds I saw Chris approaching the office.

"Good morning!" I called cheerily, stepping into the open doorway.

"Yes, it is, isn't it?" Chris's grin was broad and he looked altogether too pleased with himself.

But that was okay. Four Corners had seen a Shakespearean performance! Despite any ulterior motives Mr. Randall and his compatriots might have had, I had never been worried. Chris and the other men had been keeping an eye on things. I never doubted they'd keep the town safe.

*****

The End!

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