She has the rifle pointing at him now.
'Just get out of my house will you? I've heard enough of this. I've tried to be civil and all you can do is make insulting remarks about my father. Just get out.'
He makes a move towards the door. She stands up and follows him with the rifle still pointing at him.
'And don't think you can call on your friends to help. There are a lot more men here on my side than there are on yours.'
Humby walks meekly towards the door.
Now in a quick movement he's facing her, one hand on her throat and the rifle pointing stupidly at the wall. She tries to struggle but his grip tightens. She gasps for breath.
'Now,' he says calmly, 'you're going to do as I say or I'll hurt you.'
'You wouldn't dare,' she whispers, still defiant. He can't get away with this. Someone will help her.
'Don't try me,' he hisses, grabbing the barrel of the rifle and jamming the butt hard into her ribs. The pain stiffens her up and she tries to cry out but the grip around her throat turns it into a gargle. She starts to find it hard to focus as she struggles for air and it all suddenly feels so hopeless. She cannot fight him, not like this. She has no weapon and he is so much stronger than her. She sags, defeated.
'I want you to remember this moment,' he says, relaxing his grip a little. 'Remember how much in control I am, how much I control you. I could do anything I want to you now. Remember that. Anything. So when you get it into your damned fool head about how evil I am, just remember this moment.'
He kicks open the door and shoves her hard through it. She stumbles at the top of the steps, unbalances and falls down them, landing heavily at the bottom. The stones and dirt have cut her hands. Everything hurts and flashes of color confuse her vision as she gulps down the dusty air.
The horses shuffle uncomfortably. Their feet feel quite close to her. It's probably better not to move until she can see more clearly in case she gets trampled.
Her arm is grabbed. She is dragged to her feet. One of her cowboys coming to her assistance.
'Thank you,' she says.
'That's better. Be grateful I'm treating you as well as this.' It is Humby who has her arm. She is confused.
'Help me!' she screams with all the air she has in her chest. It hurts. It hurts her bruised throat. It hurts her ribs where the rifle butt hit her. It hurts her pride to have to ask for help.
She hears running footsteps and looks up hopefully, squinting to make out who it is.
'It's okay Wilson. Miss Nixon here has taken a bit of a turn and wants us to take her into town to see a doctor.'
'No, he's lying. Somebody help me. Please.'
Then she makes out the shapes against the fence. There are five, no, six men stood there. She thinks she can see Louis amongst them. They are just standing there watching.
'Please?' she begs the blurry shapes.
They do not move.
'Where's Tanner?' Humby asks Wilson.
'Still in the house I think. I'd better find him.'
Wilson. That name rings a bell. A moment of clarity breaks through the pain. The deputies that came with Humby. Logan and this Wilson man. That was why she had played along in the first place, to keep them from finding out about Billy. If he goes back there looking for Logan then he's going to find Billy and it will all have been for nothing.
'You won't find him in the house.' She says through gritted teeth. 'He ran off that way.' She points in the direction of the corral. 'Quite some time ago too.'
Humby and Wilson look at each other as though unsure whether or not to believe her.
'I'll check for a trail.' Wilson says, 'I'll find him. You take her back to town and I'll meet you there.'
Humby drags her toward the horses, then pauses. He turns to the men standing by the fence.
'I think Miss Nixon will be more comfortable on her trap. Perhaps you boys could do me a favor and hitch it up for me?'
She wants to shout and tell them not to. Stand still. Don't you see what this man is doing to me? But she stays silent and watches as her own men, people who she thought were friends, step forward and prepare her own little trap while Humby ties her hands and feet. She doesn't fight against the bonds. She is outnumbered and defeated.
Each bump in the road hurts. The ride into town has been painful and humiliating. Humby isn't rushing, letting the horse make a steady pace, dragging out her discomfort. What will people say when they see her being driven down the streets with her ankles tied together? Will anyone dare defy Humby to help her? When she watched her own men step up to help Humby a little piece of her died. Did they not understand that such a large part of the reason she wouldn't sell the ranch was to protect them and their jobs?
The trap rattles along the bridge over the creek. A man tips his hat to the Mayor. Nobody seems to remark on the rope round her legs. They pass Mannion's shop. Her good friend is stood in the window watching them go past. Has he seen her? Has he seen that she is tied up? Will he understand what is going on? Will the old man be able to do anything to help her?
She sighs at the helplessness of it all. If she had the derringer right now she'd probably shoot herself. Except of course that she'd miss.
Humby pulls the horse up outside the Mining Company office and steps down.
'Now if I cut you loose, are you going to behave? I don't think either of us wants to create a scene here in the street now, do we?'
'Go ahead. Do whatever you want. You're going to do it anyway.' She no longer cares what happens. She stares into the distance as he cuts free the ropes from her ankles and her wrists. A grey-haired man in a suit stands with a newspaper under his arm, watching them from the front of the barber shop.
She climbs dumbly down from the trap with Humby holding her hand to steady her. It stings where the stones cut the skin when she fell. She makes no complaint. Nobody will help her even if she screams. She sees that now. If her own men won't help then there is no hope for these people, each and every one of them owned by the Mayor.
A child sprinting along the street collides with Humby and falls sprawling onto the floor in the street. Humby turns and shouts at the boy for not watching where he was going.
'Don't you know who I am?' he demands.
The boy mutters an apology. She is concerned for the boy but can't seem to move to help him. Then she feels a little tug on her hand. She looks down and sees a small piece of paper has been tucked in her palm. A little girl is running away up the street. The boy leaps to his feet and darts off as Humby readies himself to beat the him for his insolence.
She doesn't dare look at the note, but continues to play dumb and follows Humby into the office, tucking the piece of paper into the pocket in her skirts where the derringer normally sits. Such a little token, but her spirits are lifting already. There is someone here who noticed her. She doesn't care what the note says for now. It might even be an insult. It doesn't matter. Someone noticed. It's not over yet.
The Mining Company office has a 'Closed' sign hung in the door and the big room full of files and desks and cabinets is uncomfortably empty. A balding man in spectacles pops out from an office at the back.
'Welcome back Mr. Humby. Did your trip go well? Oh, I see it did go well.' He says, noticing Emily following quietly behind.
'Thank you Haskins. We'll be in my office.'
Emily follows past the little man and through the door into the rear office that has 'Jeremiah Humby, Mayor' painted on it.
'Haskins?' Humby calls out. 'Can you run an errand for me? Can you fetch me McLaren? I think you should find him at the saloon.'
'At this time of day sir?'
'He's at saloon most times of day, Haskins.'