Annie Oakley and the Beast of Chicago by Mike Casto

Author:Mike Casto
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: serial, chicago, gypsy shadow, worlds fair, buffalo bill, annie oakley, 1893, h h holmes, mike casto
Publisher: Gypsy Shadow Publishing, LLC

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About fifteen minutes later, a police wagon pulled up in front of the pharmacy. Ten officers disembarked from the back, lining up on the sidewalk. The driver, wearing rough dungarees over a work shirt, didn’t seem to be a policeman. He climbed down, tilted his flat cap back on his head, and started tending to the team of horses.

A large man wearing a rumpled suit and bowler hat climbed down from the seat next to the driver. Coarse black sideburns framed his broad face and ran down his cheeks to connect to a large, wiry mustache. As he entered the pharmacy, his thick fingers shoved an unlit cigar between his plump lips. Jenkins straightened to attention and, as he exited the pharmacy, said, “Detective Porter. Miss Annie Oakley.”

Annie started to speak, but Porter held up his hand and shook his head. He looked at Annie. His eyes moved up and down, all business without a trace of lechery. The slow sweep of his eyes seemed to take in more details than most people did in a whole day. Next, he turned and performed the same visual inspection of Holmes and the room.

Holmes had come around after about five minutes, but remained groggy and sullen. He hadn’t said anything more while they waited. Now he stared at Porter like a rabbit watching a hawk fly overhead. After a few very long seconds, Porter reached up and removed the cigar from his mouth, tucking it into the breast pocket of his jacket.

“Mister Boeing was rather unnerved when he told me his story and, I must say, it was rather confusing. Based on what he said, though, and what I see here, I assume this man is Doctor Holmes. There was some sort of disagreement, a struggle, and you shot him. Correct?”

“Yes, sir. Twice. Once in the thigh and once in the ear. I’m firing show rounds, though, so they shoot small groups of shot. Painful, but not likely to be lethal. I had no intention of killing him with either shot. I—” Her words tumbled to a halt as she heard herself babbling.

“I assume you are the Miss Annie Oakley? The famous sharpshooter in the Wild West Show?”

“I am, sir.”

“I must then assume you shot him exactly where you intended to shoot him.”

It wasn’t a question, but Annie answered anyway. “Yes, sir. Both times.”

Porter pointed to the side of Annie’s face. “I see blood matted in your hair and on your face. His doing?” He indicated Holmes.

“Yes, sir. He blindsided me and knocked me down. That’s what prompted me to shoot him.”

Porter glanced at her exposed legging. “He tear your skirt, too?”

“No, sir. After he knocked me down, I tripped on the skirt as I regained my feet.”

Porter grunted, turned toward the door, and made a waving motion with his hand. One of the officers he’d brought with him entered. “Carney, please take this man outside and chain him in the back of the wagon.”

Carney stood just over six feet tall with broad shoulders and thick arms and legs.

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