Authors: Breanna Hayse
"The boys' trousers are over
there.
How old is he?"
"I'm not sure.
He is about my size, though."
"Miss Blair, I do not think Mr.
Sloan will want … Madeline began, suddenly silenced by the expression on Blair's
face.
"Thank you.
Please package two pairs and three
shirts for me.
These will do
fine," Blair requested.
She
paid for her purchases and began to leave.
She stopped and turned to the shopkeeper.
"Do you carry revolvers?"
"Yes, Ma'am.
I have these lovely little derringers
you might like."
"Actually, sir, I would like one
similar to this." She confidently placed Sloan's Colt on the counter.
The man picked it up.
"Nice weapon.
Where did you get it?"
"My husband."
"Is he a Ranger?
Only Rangers wear a Walker"
"Retired.
Now, sir, please.
Do you have a revolver that I might
purchase?"
"Yes, Ma'am.
Got me here a brand new Colt
Dragoon.
Barrel is a bit shorter
and not as heavy, but the aim is sweet with less kick than most shots this
size.
This one just came in
yesterday."
"I'll take it.
Ammunition, too.
Thank you."
Blair loaded the gun at the counter,
smiled sweetly, and walked out the door with Madeline at her side.
One of the rogues stepped in front of
her.
"My, my, you sure are a
pretty one.
Haven't seen you in
these parts before."
He spit
on the ground.
"Excuse me, please," Blair
said, as she attempted to sidestep him.
"Now, what's your hurry, honey?
Why don't you set a spell and have a
drink with us?
Nice and
friendly-like.
We like to make a
friendly welcome here."
Blair looked at them and forced a
smile.
"That is very nice of
you.
I would love to join you.
But it may only be for one drink and
then I must be leaving.
I am
expected back home before dinner, and I do not want to cause anyone to
worry."
"Miss …"
"Don't worry, Madeline.
These gentlemen just want some gentle
company.
They mean no harm, do
you?" Blair asked, leveling her gun at his chest.
"Not at all, ma'am.
Now put that toy away before you get
hurt," the man touched the barrel with the tip of his finger and pushed it
to the side.
"You need to
learn to use a gun right before you point it at a man, sweetheart."
"Like this?" Blair pulled the
trigger, shattering a sign across the dirt street.
She released another round and popped a
rail off a hitching post.
She
returned her weapon to level with his chest, pleased with the Dragoon's
response.
"Don't touch my gun again,
understand?
I will ask this
question one time and one time only.
Will you all behave like gentlemen, or must I send a round into
something more, um, delicate?" Blair shifted the barrel to point at his
crotch.
The man laughed and raised his hands,
"The gal has nerve.
Let's buy
her a drink!"
Blair followed them into the saloon,
placed the revolver on the bar, and raised the glass of whiskey before downing
it in a single gulp.
To Madeline's
horror, Blair swallowed a second glass and then bought rounds for her five
companions.
"Keep them filled," she told
the bartender, slapping coins in his hand.
"Keep mine watered," she added with a whisper.
"Madeline, go let Skinwalker out of
his bridle."
Madeline wrung her hands.
"Miss Blair, how will we get
home?"
"He won't go anywhere as long as I
am here.
Go on."
Madeline nodded, releasing a loud squeal
as she was smacked on the rump by a man that stood watching the joviality.
Blair sat with the group to play poker
and tipped glasses with them as they imbibed the potent liquor.
"You really are a looker, Miss
Blair," one man grinned as he wobbled in his chair.
"Most lookers end up in the brothel
down a ways.
Bad place, that
is."
"Why is that?" Blair asked,
tapping the table for another card.
"I was led to understand that the prostitutes were respected in the
territories."
"By most.
Show your hand, ma'am.
Damn!"
He slammed his cards on the table and
downed another glass.
"Full house.
This hand is mine, boys.
Another round!" Blair announced,
finishing off her drink.
"So
what is the difficulty with this particular brothel?"
"Deuce don't like whores.
Said they gave him the clap,"
another man proclaimed.
"Took
his manhood."
"That is terrible!
Who is Deuce?" Blair asked, tossing
her bet into the center of the table.
"The boss.
He runs the longhorns up from
Texas.
He is meaner than a rattler
with a sore tooth.
Don't like
running much cuz of his condition."
"I imagine it to be very
painful."
"Yeah, he even went to the Chief to
see if the Medicine Man could help him.
Old chief laughed," the man slammed down another drink, "said
he got what he deserved."
"That sounds rather cruel.
Why would the Chief say that?
Hit me," she patted the table for
another card.
"Deuce thinks himself a lady's
man.
Went after the chief's
daughter and was shot in the thigh.
He never quite got over that injury—or the insult.
Still has that bullet lodged in
there.
Makes him even meaner when
it rains."
Blair bit her cheek, considering his
words.
"That poor man.
How long has it been?"
"Dunno, about five or six years,
give or take.
Why ya ask?"
"I just feel sorry that the poor
dear has suffered for so long.
It
must be difficult for him to get around during the winter because of the
cold."
"Yeah, he holes up in an open town
to rest out the snow.
Lead
poisoning is also messing with his brain.
He's not in good sorts lately."
"I can't blame him for feeling so
terrible.
Please forgive my
ignorance.
What is an open
town?"
"No real lawmen, big saloon, nice
bordello.
The necessities."
Before Blair could comment, Madeline
tugged her sleeve.
"Pardon,
Miss, but Mr. Sloan and Mr. Malcolm just road up.
Mr. Sloan looks positively livid."
Madeline's observation barely scratched
the surface of the clouds covering Sloan's face as he stared down at
Blair.
"Time to come home," he
growled, grabbing her arm and pulling her up from the chair.
Several guns clicked and were aimed at
him.
"Put those away,
boys.
This is my wife."
"Maybe the lady doesn't wanna go,
cowboy."
"Boys!
Boys!" Malcolm's loud voice echoed
through the room.
"Put the
guns down.
The girl is my
granddaughter, and this sour-faced chap is her doting husband."
The men slowly complied, moving aside
when Malcolm joined them.
"Give them another round on me.
Is anyone interested in playing a hand
and winning back some coin that my sly little girl pocketed from you?"
"I'm going to take Blair back to the
ranch, Malcolm.
Madeline?
You will come with me."
"Leave the woman here, Sloan.
I'll take good care of her,"
Malcolm said with a grin.
"Yes, sir.
I'll hitch your mount to the wagon and
Blair can ride Skinwalker."
"That crazy horse tried to bite
me," one of the men stated.
"Women shouldn't be allowed to ride a devil like that."
"I ride as well as I can
shoot," Blair stated proudly, straightening her back and walking towards
the swinging doors with Sloan gripping tightly to her arm.
"That's my girl," Malcolm
stated.
He slapped the table,
"Are we gonna play or what?
Madeline?
You are in charge
of coin.
If I run out, we
leave."
"Yes, sir, Mr. Malcolm.
Miss Blair?"
"Don't be concerned about your
mistress, Madeline," Malcolm said.
"She is in good hands."
Blair stayed silent as Sloan unhitched
Skinwalker from the wagon and replaced him with Malcolm's mare.
After securing her purchases to the back
of the wagon, he handed her a bridle to slip over Skinwalker's head.
Sloan's hooded eyes did not once miss
the opportunity to make contact with hers, his expression dripping with
disapproval of her behavior.
She
swallowed dryly, wishing that she had indulged in a less diluted amount of
liquor.
"Sloan, I need to tell you
something."
"It will have to wait.
Right now, I am madder than hell.
What were you thinking, woman?" he
snapped as they began to trot in the direction of the ranch.
"May I answer or are you going to
silence me?"
"I suggest you take that nasty tone
out of your voice to start with.
You
are dangerously close to getting your bottom toasted right here and now."
"I apologize.
Please, allow me to explain."
"You have until we arrive at the
spread.
Start talking."
Blair launched into a description of the
events and the story told to her.
When
she had finished, the only sound between them was the clapping of the horse's
hooves upon the dry ground.
"Sloan?
Are you going to spank me?"
"What do you think?"
"Well, to start, I must say that
…"
"You deliberately disobeyed me about
coming straight home.
You
deliberately went into the saloon and started drinking.
And I taught you to play cards to pass
the time on the trail, not to gamble!"
"I won, though!" Blair said
brightly.
She sobered up when she
saw the sharp look cast at her under the moonlight.
"Sloan, please consider my
words.
It was not my intent to
disobey.
I did so in order to avoid
an incident and perhaps learn something that we needed to know.
This man, Deuce, appears to be the one
killing those women."
"It was not for you to be involved
in this, Blair.
How many times have
I warned you about the men in these parts?"
"I did what I thought was
best," Blair said quietly, her heart pounding as the amber lights of the
ranch house came into view.
"I will also do what I think is
best.
I will not have you
disobeying me and putting your life in danger.
I love you too much to ignore foolish
choices."
"What was I to do?" Blair's
voice became more frantic the closer they came to their destination.
"I could not have just pushed past
them, could I?"
Sloan pulled up on the reins.
"What did I tell you about firing a
gun?"
"That it is a means of protection or
food."
"What else?"
His voice was low and gravelly.
Blair winced, "That is it not a toy
to show off with and that if I ever draw it in the presence of men, be prepared
to use it to kill."
"And?"
"They had to see that I was not
afraid of using it, and that I could actually hit something!"