Authors: Emily Krokosz
“Gold!” Katy said wistfully. “Just think. They’ll win themselves a fortune.”
Myrna snorted. “Most of ‘em will win nothing but a place six feet under. Either that or they’ll turn back after spendin’ their
life’s savin’s on a wild-goose chase. That’s a damned rough wilderness they’re headed to. My Carl spent a couple ‘a summers
up there when he was young, and it cured him of any notion of goin’ back.”
“They’re pioneers!”
“Pioneers my ass! Fools is what they are. Know-nothing store clerks, bankers, farmers, schoolteachers. I talked to one fella
who was goin’ with his brother who’s a preacher. His brother wouldn’t come in the bar ‘cause he don’t hold with liquor.” She
made a rude noise. “Met another fella who’s a pot salesman. Can you imagine that? A damned pot salesman!”
Katy grinned. “Bet he won’t be selling pots after he stakes his claim!”
“He’ll be sellin’ ‘em at the Pearly Gates if he’s not careful,” Myrna scoffed. “Then there’s that fancy cuss over there at
the table.”
Katy’s gaze moved in the direction of Myrna’s nod. For a moment she let her eyes rest on the stranger sitting at the poker
table with the Hacketts, Clive, and Corky. He wore a well
tailored broadcloth suit, fancy polished boots, a silk waistcoat with the chain of a pocket watch looping from the pocket.
A black derby hat hung from one corner of his chair back. He didn’t look flashy enough to be a gambler or cardsharp, but he
was much too citified to be from around Willow Bend.
“Who is he?” Katy asked Myrna.
“Says he’s a writer. Came in with the train a couple ‘a days ago, and he’s been askin’ everyone who comes in here all sorts
o’ questions. Even had a chat with me. Called it an interview. Says he’s writin’ a story about the dyin’ Old West for some
newspaper Back East.”
“No kidding?”
“Heard him tell one fella that Willow Bend’s a ‘treasure trove of local color,’ whatever that means.”
Katy took a second look at the stranger. He was clean-shaven with closely trimmed brown hair that sprang from his head in
thick waves. Not over thirty, Katy guessed. Maybe younger. Broad shoulders and masculine good looks that explained why Myrna’s
daughter Ruthie, who served drinks in the bar, was hanging over his shoulder giggling whenever he said anything. But then,
Ruthie didn’t have the sense God gave a chipmunk. All she thought about was men.
“Handsome piece, ain’t he?” Myrna asked.
Suddenly the stranger grinned in a way that lit his eyes with roguish humor. His hand reached over and patted Ruthie’s backside
in a way that made Katy’s face grow hot.
“He looks like a libertine to me. You gonna let him do that to Ruthie?”
Myrna shrugged. “Ruthie’s a grown woman. She knows what she wants. Besides, he’ll be gone afore long. If he had a head on
his shoulders, he’d ‘a been gone an hour ago. From what I can see, he don’t know a thing about playin’ poker against the likes
of the Hacketts. They been cleanin’ ‘im out all mornin’.”
The stranger scooped the money on the table into a neat pile in front of him. Ruthie clapped and giggled while the Hacketts
scowled.
“Doesn’t look like they’re cleaning him out now.”
“No, it don’t, do it?”
Clive Messenger slapped the table and stood up. “That’s enough fer me. That’s the second big pot in a row you pulled in, friend.
When your luck changes, it really changes.”
“Changed a bit too fast to my way of thinkin’,” Jud Hackett grumbled.
Jud’s brother Jacob shuffled the cards and rapped them loudly on the table. “We don’t tolerate cheatin’ around here, boy.”
Katy chuckled into her glass of tea as Jacob’s words carried to her ears. The Hacketts didn’t tolerate cheating only when
they weren’t the ones dealing from the bottom of the deck.
“Well now, gents,” the stranger said. “If I’d been cheating, I’d have won more than two hands, don’t you think?” His grin
was placating, his voice reasonable and friendly.
The greenhorn fool, Katy thought. Didn’t he know when he was being set up?
Jud turned to Clive, who stood watching with a shuttered look on his face. “I think pretty boy was cheatin’. Whadda ya think,
Clive?”
Clive backed off from the table. “Uh… maybe. I dunno.”
Jacob set down the cards and rolled up his sleeves. “How ‘bout you, Corky? You see ‘im cheatin’?”
Corky pushed back his chair and got up. “Ain’t my fight, boys. Leave me out of it.”
“Fight?” the stranger asked. “Nobody’s going to fight, gents. We’re all civilized men here.”
That assumption was a big mistake, Katy mused, holding out her glass for a refill of tea. She was starting to enjoy the show.
“Not only is he a cheat,” Jud declared. “He’s a pissant yella coward.” He reached across to the pile of coins in front of
the stranger and pulled the money his way. “He’s lucky we don’t hang ‘im, eh Jacob. Cheatin’s a hangin’ offense in this town,
ain’t it?”
“Leastwise it rates a big fine,” Jacob agreed with a grin.
“Hold on now, gents. I won that money fair and square. You’ve got no call to be accusing me of cheating.”
Jud stood up. He was big as a bear and smelled twice as bad. The stranger looked uncertain.
“I think we oughta fine ‘im, Jacob.”
“Maybe we jest oughta hang ‘im by his heels and see how much money falls out of those fancy pants of his.”
Katy could tell the Hacketts were enjoying themselves. They were like wolves playing with a helpless lamb.
“Wait a minute, boys. This is ridiculous.” The city gent got up and pushed his chair back. Katy was surprised that he was
almost as tall as Jud. Ruthie faded back and cast an anxious look toward her mother.
“Ooooo!” Jacob cooed. “He’s gonna fight us, Jud.”
“Just give me what’s mine, and we’ll call it a day.”
Katy wondered if she should fetch the marshal. Probably not. If the law got called in on every barroom brawl in Willow Bend,
he’d not have time to eat or sleep.
“You want your money, pretty boy? Come get it. We’ll fight you fair and square. One at a time.”
The greenhorn’s face settled into a hard mask of determination. It was really a very nice looking face, Katy thought. Such
a shame the Hacketts were going to mess it up.
“You boys go outside if’n you wanna brawl,” Myrna called. “I won’t have my place being broke up.”
“Hell. Myrna. We’re not gonna break up anythin’ other than pretty boy, here.” Jud pushed aside the table to clear a space.
“Come on, pretty boy. Come get your winnings.”
The stranger took off his coat, took his pocket watch from his waistcoat and set it aside, and assumed a classic boxing stance.
Katy shook her head in pity.
Jud swung. City boy danced nimbly out of range, and was promptly clobbered from behind by Jacob’s meaty fist. The greenhorn
staggered, shook his head, and—to Katy’s amazement—recovered.
“Thought you were going to fight me one at a time,” he complained.
“That’s right, boy. We’ll only hit ya one at a time. Fair enough?”
Jud swung again, and this time connected. The greenhorn had no place to dodge that wasn’t in the range of the other Hackett’s
fists. His own fist lashed out and struck Jud an admirably solid hit on the jaw. Jud staggered back, and Jacob roared forward
to wrap the greenhorn in a lethal bear hug. He lifted him off his feet and squeezed. Katy could see the stranger’s face growing
red as he tried to break Jacob’s hold. It was going to be a short fight.
Katy had never cared much for the Hackett brothers. They had sense enough to stay away from her, but several years ago they’d
tried to bother her sister Ellen. Katy had come upon the scene and sent the brothers packing with their tails between their
legs, and when he’d heard about the incident their pa had made sure the Hacketts didn’t dare to bother an O’Connell woman
again.
She supposed the Hacketts had their function in the scheme of the world. Like wolves, they picked on the weakest and least
fit—witness their cutting out the ignorant tenderfoot like a wolf pack cutting the slowest elk from a herd. Any citified dandy
who didn’t have the sense to stay away from such trash deserved what he got. Still, the urge to throw her two cents into the
brawl was almost irresistible. Katy never had been one who could keep her nose out of other people’s business, especially
when butting in promised a small bit of adventure.
“Myrna, you got a pistol behind the bar?”
“You know I do.”
“Care to loan it to me for a little while?”
“Katy girl, I don’t like the look in your eye.”
Jacob gave the stranger a final squeeze, then tossed him into the next table, which he hit with enough force to splinter one
of the wooden legs. Both brothers grabbed him before he could get up and pulled him roughly to his feet.
“Ah-ah!” Jud scolded Jacob. “One at a time, brother. We promised.”
Jacob released his hold on the reeling man’s shirt. “Whatever you say, brother. We gotta fight fair.”
The greenhorn threw a punch that landed full on Jud’s nose. Katy gave the man credit for persistence. He had staying power.
Jud threw the fellow into his brother’s arms and cradled his injury. Curses, nasal and bubbling, issued from behind his crimson-smeared
hands. “Now you’ve made me mad, you sonofabitch.”
Katy raised an eyebrow at Myrna. “They’re going to break up your place. Jud’s riled.”
With a grimace, Myrna handed over the pistol. “Just try to miss the chandelier,” she advised. “It cost Carl three months’
profits.”
Katy fired into the air. The brawlers froze. Clive and Corky both backed even farther into the corner than they already were.
The old lineman at the bar jumped so suddenly he spilled his drink.
Thoroughly enjoying the little drama, Katy blew smoke away from pistol’s muzzle.
“You stay outta this… !” Jud’s mouth formed around the word ‘squaw,’ but he didn’t have the guts to say it out loud.
Katy merely smiled. “You’re a poor sort of a man if you can’t beat up one lousy tenderfoot without your brother’s help. You
too, Jacob. Jud, if you go for that gun of yours, I’m gonna shoot it right outta your hand, along with a couple of fingers.
You know I can do it.”
Jud spit a wad on the plank floor.
Katy turned her scathing smile on the Hacketts’ victim. “Stranger, if you have a brain in your head, you’ll hightail it outta
here now.”
The stranger was quick to act on her invitation. He gathered up his money, then grabbed his coat and watch and gave the Hacketts
a jaunty farewell salute.
“We’ll be seein’ ya around,” Jud promised.
“Not if I see you first, gents.” He made haste toward the batwing doors, throwing a coin toward Myrna for his drinks. “Thank
you, friend,” he said as he passed Katy.
Katy laughed, tossed the pistol to Myrna with a wave of thanks, and followed the greenhorn out the door. She ran to catch
up to him.
“I’d make better time if I were you.”
“What?” he said.
The Hacketts charged out of the saloon like a brace of snorting bulls. Katy whooped with joy and grabbed the stranger’s arm.
“Let’s go, greenhorn!”
They ran together down the dusty street, the Hacketts pursuing. People in the street and on the boardwalk stopped and stared,
but no one made a move to interfere. In Willow Bend, a man’s fights were his own business.
“Where’s your horse?” Katy asked between gasps for air.
“Horse?” the man puffed back. “No horse. Train.”
“Do you have a gun?”
“Hell no!”
If she hadn’t been running so hard, Katy would’ve kicked herself. She should have kept Myrna’s pistol. She hadn’t realized
the Hacketts were quite this riled. Still, the day hadn’t dawned when she couldn’t defeat the likes of Jud and Jacob without
a gun. They rounded a corner, and she skidded to a stop.
“Hold up!”
“Shit!” The greenhorn bent over and gasped for breath. “They’re big suckers, but they’re damned fast. They’re going to beat
the shit out of both of us.”
“Nah!” A lamb among wolves, was this one. Not only no brains, but no imagination. Katy untied a coiled rope from the saddle
of the nearest horse. “We’ll fix ‘em. Follow me.”
As the Hacketts rounded the corner, she grabbed his arm. They sprinted to increase their lead, then ducked into a shadowed
alley that was littered with empty whiskey bottles.
“Keep running down the alley!” Katy told him. “You’re gonna be the bait.”
Chuckling to herself, Katy made a large slip loop of the rope, laid it across the alley entrance, and faded into the shadows
against the wall. Only a dumb Hackett would fall for this trick, she told herself happily.
“They went in there!” she heard Jacob exclaim. “We got the bastard now.”
Come on, you stupid jackasses. Katy almost chortled out loud. Her blood sang.
Jud was in the lead as the brothers pelted into the alley. Katy let him pass. Jacob was close behind. When he stepped into
the loop of rope, Katy yanked hard. The noose tightened around both his legs. He hollered in surprise before his face hit
the dust of the alley. Jud skidded to a stop and sprinted back to aid his brother. He didn’t see Katy swing the empty whiskey
bottle until too late. It bounced off his skull with a resounding thwack. A split second of surprise sparked in his eyes before
they went blank. Katy tapped a slender finger against his shoulder, and he toppled like a felled tree.
“You can come back now,” she hollered to the stranger.
The stranger arrived, looking ready to fight. When he saw the two limp Hacketts on the ground, he regarded Katy with amazement.
“What did you do to them?”
“Took advantage of how stupid they are,” Katy told him with a grin. “If they had a brain between them, I would’ve had to think
of something else.”
“You’re damned remarkable!”
“Yeah,” Katy admitted.
Just then Marshal Fields blustered into the alley. He looked at the greenhorn, at the Hacketts, and at Katy. “You again. Myrna
came running over to tell me you was dusting up trouble, and I see she was right.” He shook his head, half with amusement,
half with disgust.
“Now, Marshal…”