Darlene Franklin - Dressed for Death 01 - Gunfight at Grace Gulch Read Free

The actors never knew when people might step over the boundaries of the outdoor “stage.” I hoped everything went well. He deserved it for all his hard work. Besides, I wanted him to succeed and put down roots in Grace Gulch. I caught his eye and gave him a thumbs-up. His stiff shoulders relaxed a fraction.
    The gigantic black hands on the town clock atop our municipal building inched toward twelve o’clock. Audie put a cell phone to his ear.
    Cord and Penn, reprising their roles as Bob Grace and Dick Gaynor, burst through the saloon doors, shouting insults.
    My heart stuttered a bit, worried for Cord. Penn sounded really angry.
    “You can’t get away with it. You’re a scoundrel and a cheat.” Penn’s face was set into deep lines, hatred aging him prematurely.
    “I’m not a cheat. I arrived first, fair and square. You have to accept it.”
    Tension twisted my shoulders. I held my breath.
    “That’s what you think!” Penn pulled out a Colt and fired.
    A flash of light—popping sounds—two men fell to the ground.

2
     
    September 1889
    Dearest Mary,
    I passed through Oklahoma Territory on the last cattle drive. An opportunity has presented itself to me. My good friend Ethan Hardy chose to seek an allotment in Oklahoma Town. He is doing a good business with his hostelry, and he has invited me to work with him.
    Tell me true, Mary. Can you see yourself the mistress of a small home in the new city? A community ten-thousand strong sprang up overnight. There is plenty of opportunity for a man who is willing to work hard. I know we dreamed of our own homestead on one hundred sixty sweet acres, but this may be God’s provision for us to begin our lives as husband and wife.
    Awaiting your reply.
    Your loving fiancé,
    Robert Grace
     
    ~
     
    Saturday, September 21
     
    The seconds dragged on. . .too long. Neither man got up from the ground. Dead silence fell on the crowd, as though they were collectively holding their breath. No one had died in the original gunfight. Falling to the ground carried the reenactment too far. What was happening?
    I found myself racing across the street. As much as a woman can run wearing a bustle. A figure dashed past me. Seconds later, I arrived at the place where the two men had fallen, a tableau from a movie where a hazy crowd shouts silent cheers and the camera zooms in on the star.
    Audie had reached them ahead of me and crouched beside the fallen men. No one else had moved.
    Cord stood up, dusted off his black Stetson, and looked down at Penn.
    Cord’s not hurt! Fake blood stained his shirtsleeve where the original Bob Grace had been shot in the arm. For a second, I felt nothing but overwhelming relief. Then reality clicked in. If Cord was okay, then what about—
    “Come on, Penn—er, Gaynor, you can get up now.” Cord grinned. Playing the part of Old Bob Grace had given him the thrill of a lifetime.
    “I think he’s. . .dead.” Audie glanced up, his face ashen.
    “What? Naw, you know it’s just fake blood.” Cord touched his own wet shirt where the blood bag had burst, creating the appearance of a nasty shoulder wound. Neither one of us wanted to believe Audie’s pronouncement.
    Cord bent down next to Penn’s body. I held my breath.
    “He’s—he’s really dead.” Cord affirmed Audie’s assessment.
    I tried to kneel next to Cord, but the bustle at my back got in the way. I settled for leaning over. A small hole had been drilled in the center of Penn’s worn leather vest. I pressed my hand to my thudding heart. I’d seen that type of wound before, but not like this. They always marred the beautiful skins of the deer my dad hunted each fall.
    I bent forward to see better and collided with Audie as he stood. My hat—today a red teardrop-style—flew off my head and landed at Audie’s feet.
    “Where are the police? We have to tell them that there’s been a terrible accident.” Audie picked up my hat and dusted it off before returning it to me.
    “Police?