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curlysgirl0202 · 1 year ago

Text

Short Story:

Whispers of Curly Bill's Devotion

🩵Curly Bill has a crush on the reader and believes she is out of his reach and sees him as nothing more than an old rustler who does nothing more simply amuse her.

🩵But....When the reader enters a saloon and sees two prostitutes sitting on Curly's lap, the old cowboy comes to realize how much she really cares.🩵

The afternoon sun settles on the Palo Verde trees that frame the town of Tombstone. A gentle spring breeze makes its way through the area, spreading the warm aroma of a new season.

The people of Tombstone move about tending to their business. Some went to the hotel for breakfast while others dined at the restaurant. Women carried baskets of eggs to sell to the mercantile and other folks went into town to sell other items such as freshly caught fish, homemade tortillas, flowers and handmade items such as vases and baskets.

Curly Bill sees you across the street and sees you talking with friends and looking beautiful.

He wants to approach you, but feels a little awkward as he understands you're a woman of substance and you show the old cowboy kindness because that's part of your personality. You display kindness to all the Cowboys, asking how they're doing and your concern is always welcome and very appreciated. You simply don't care what others think. Curly amuses you and he's grateful that he can at least do that.

Before Curly can get close to you, you retreat with some ladies and he with a painful heart watches you disappear with your companions.

The following day when you're enjoying the amenities of the town, you bump into none other than Curly Bill. Although the old cowboy would love a chance to court you, he understands you're more than likely out of his reach. And like forbidden fruit, he needs to have you now that he feels he can't have you.

Curly feels a sense of defeat, but also one of realization; he's never going to be good enough to court you and you probably find him funny and familar and enjoy his practical jokes and big personality. But Curly Bill knows it cannot be anything more than that. He knows he amuses you and has decided he can be acquainted with you, but he's clearly not going to win your heart.

Curly thinks about you and how out of his reach you are and curses under his breath. He was making a fool out of himself over you and hasn't secured your courtship. He comes to the conclusion that he is nothing more to you than just a jovial cowboy who can make you laugh every once in a while.

However, he's about to be proven wrong...

Curly is enjoying his ill-gotten gains on a few whores who laugh at everything the old rustler says and they also pretend to understand what he's saying and take turns marveling over his stories. Curly hates their insincere banter and wishes their words were sincere. Curly takes it in stride and resolves that at least there's a lady listening. Curly experiences intolerable loneliness like everyone else in the Wild West and will pay handsomely for some lady comfort. An insincere woman is better than none at all. He understands what they're doing; they just want Curly to throw money their way and they'll do and say anything to get it. It's while they're sitting near him that everything changes.

You walk into the room just as one of the whores gets up off Curly's lap. You enter with a smile on your face that suddenly dies when you see a whore on Curly's lap. She's cupping his face and grabbing the dough he throws on the table. She stuffs the money in her bra and continues giving the old rustler insincere compliments.

You enter the saloon and you don't see Curly immediately. Another girl lays on his lap while he throws a few bills on the table. As soon as the girls see the money, they begin laughing at every joke Curly makes.

"Well, YN!" Tom McClaury announces. "Just in time! You can sit on Curly's lap!'

You look over at Curly Bill, who has a ramera practically wrapped around him. Curly Bill taps his free leg and motions for you to come sit. "I got one free leg!" Curly Bill shouts in his drunkenness, his ability to control himself is diminished and with the room spinning from the rot gut he's been drinking, his head spins with drunken confusion.

You look over at Curly, who seems suddenly taken aback by your coldness towards him. Your large eyes grow wide with a sadness Curly has never seen on your face. You close your eyes and tears fall while you turn away so he can't see your reaction. But before you turn, Curly sees those tears and it rips his heart. He suddenly feels disgusted with himself and with the saloon girls, insincerely vying for his attention...And money.

"Awww, come on now! It don't mean nothin'!" Frank Stillwell declares. "Don't go gettin' your dander up!"

You slowly shake your head while staring at the floor. You care for Curly Bill and desire more than just a casual acquaintance. And all this time, he assumed your kindness stemmed from your upbringing and that you do not hold a space for contempt for anyone. You seem to treat others in the way they treat you. And everyone in town seems smitten with your sweet smile and friendly disposition.

"No thank you," you answer, pain in your voice. At this moment, Curly realizes your feelings for him.

"Aww! Come on, sweet pea !" McClaury shouts. "Curly's got enough room in his lap for you!"

You turn and see Curly, the smile gone from his face with the realization that you do care for him and do not see him in the same way these whores do. His heart sinks and although intoxicated, he's sober enough to know he's really hurt you. He didn't entertain ideas about you being interested in him enough to let him court you. Curly felt nothing would ever blossom between the two of you because you come from a family of substance and his background is chaotic and wild.

Now he sits, drunk and confused, his arms at his sides, no longer interested in holding the prostitute counting the money he threw at her.

"Come on, Curly!" The girl says, trying to pull his face away from you. "She can't give you what I can!" Curly looks at her with disgust and she quickly gets up. Curly Bill would never cause harm to any woman whether a whore or a woman of substance, but feels tempted to curse her.

Curly stands and his head moves in an imbalanced rhythm caused by the whiskey and the look on your face and the tears that he cannot believe he caused. He staggers to his feet and moves closer to you and tries to put his arm around you in an attempt to let you know he understands. He goes to kiss you and his confidence is shattered when the whiskey on his breath infiltrates your nostrils along with the stink of horses. You turn away and he can feel his face grow red.

"Stop it, Curly. You're drunk!" You shout, your voice cracking. You move past the big rustler who looks around at his gang who stares, not knowing what to say. The whore sees the madness in Curly's eyes and quickly leaves.

"What are y'all lookin' at?!" Curly growls loudly. He heads to the bar and takes a swing of whiskey directly from the bottle. He turns to face his cowboys who look at each other not sure what to make of Curly's sudden rage over you.

"I don't need her! I don't need nothing or nobody!" Curly slurs. "Hell! She was just messin' with my head anyhow. I don't need her! A fellow needs a woman who can take a little funnin' and havin' no sense of humor! She don't mean nothin' to me anyhow!" Curly pours booze into a shot glass, downs it and pours another, feeling disgusted by his own embarrassment and shame. But he continues spewing out his anger.

"Hell! I don't want no woman who can't handle some funnin'! I don't care about her neither and I never really cared. I don't need anything!" Curly staggers drunkenly to the table where Barnes and Stillwell are sitting. The two cowboys glance at one another and Stillwell gives Ringo an inquisitive look. Ringo shrugs.

Ringo, who witnessed the entire event was the only cowboy willing to say anything.

"She's not a whore, Bill. You didn't know that?" Ringo shakes his head while looking at the floor, his arms folded across his chest, a cigarette dangling from his mouth. "She's a lovely lady who happens to care about you."

Curly stares indignantly at Ringo and takes another sip of whiskey. He removes his hat and takes a bow before Johnny.

"Well, ain't that mighty fine, Juanito. I don't need her and I don't need nobody! She don't care about me anyhow! You think you're better than me, don't you? You always thought you was better than all us boys, readin' damn books and showing off quotin' everything from Willy to the damn Bible. Sides, you don't know nothin'! Nobody spoils the fun for old Curly Bill Brocious! Specially some self righteous lady who don't mean nothin' to me! Hell, I don't even care I ever see her again!" Curly Bill can't think clearly and his head begins to pound from too much drinking. He growls and keeps sucking back shots.

Ringo glares at Curly, not believing how angry the old cowboy is. Ringo knows Curly is crazy about you and deeply hurt and confused. Curly Bill had no idea you liked him; he just assumed you treated him with kindness because it seemed your natural tendency. Curly Bill feels like a fool.

An old fool.

"I think she's right. You're drunk." Ringo responds.

"Well, I don't care. I've seen you throw back more whiskey than anyone. So you wanna go and ruin all my fun too? Maybe you two should go on together!"

"Curly Bill." Ringo clears his throat.

"A lady like her is special and maybe so much so she's once in a lifetime."

Curly continues drinking. He shoots a glance at Johnny. "That more Willy Shakespeare?"

Ringo stands, a frustrated look in his eyes.

"You're a damn fool, Curly."

"I'd be a damn fool iffin' I let some woman spoil my good time. I don't care what she thinks! She ain't nothin'! She don't mean a thing to me! Isn't that right boys?" Curly barks. "A real man ain't gonna let some woman tell him what to do!"

"All women ever brought me was misery anyhow!"

Some of his drunken cowboys cheer and whistle while others observe their boss, losing his mind over a woman and declaring his freedom from her.

"I've had enough," Ringo says, looking directly at Curly.

"Well, then you can go find YN and tell her old Curly don't need her!"

Ringo leaves through the batwings. Curly staggers drunkenly to the exit, wanting to finish his conversation with Ringo, who is walking across the street with his signature gait. Curly hears the sounds of sobbing and turns his head. He sees you, leaning on a tall lamp post, your face buried in her arms, tears streaming down your face.

Curly stumbles backwards, almost losing his balance and falling. He can't believe the site before him and he regrets everything he said about not needing you. He needs you like he needs air to breathe, but he's too much of a horse's ass to admit it. The sounds of your sobbing cause him to grow fearful and then angry. He would delight in comforting you, but cannot because his actions caused you to fall into this state of sadness. Curly feels his heart sink with fear and that fear grows into rage. He suddenly fears you may have heard everything he said.

Who needs women! All they do is cause a man a damn affliction!

He watches you for a few moments and then heads back to the saloon that's becoming increasingly crowded. The sound of your crying floods his ears and drowns out the noise of the bar. He can't shake the sight of you standing there, clearly heartbroken and confused. He wonders for a moment why you never made your interests known.

Because women play games! He screams in his mind.

The Hawkins boys walk in, four men in their thirties. Slim, the oldest was sporting one pistol with a tied down holster. He was the most attractive of the four, standing just over six feet with steel blue eyes and a neatly trimmed mustache. He seems almost regal, although a seasoned outlaw. His brother, Bob was shorter with a stout and strong body. He carried two pistols and was known for never using a shot gun that wasn't sawed off. Then Martin, the tallest and biggest, known for his ability to break broncs, looks around with dark eyes and his face is adorned with a full beard. A cigarette hangs from his mouth. The fourth brother, Angus, who hardly ever spoke stood just under six feet and had a wide face with a beard that always looked untrimmed, follows his brothers to the bar.

"Howdy, boys!" Curly announces. "First round is on old Curly!"

The Hawkins boys shout while the bar dog keeps the whiskey and beer flowing in the place which is starting to fill up with thirsty patrons.

"Hey, boys! We don't need women who take our funnin' away, do we?" Curly laughs through his broken heart.

"Hell no! We do just fine with them sportin' ladies!" Martin Hawkins agrees.

After a time of drinking up the place and playing poker with the Hawkins boys, Curly returns to the camp to sleep. He curses under his breath due to his head pounding and the cold, hard ground he's forced to sleep on. He envisions your soft, voluptuous body wrapped around him and a feeling of warmth and safety. He quickly dismisses it, falling into a drunken sleep. In his dreams, he can see you crying, your face buried in your arms. He can hear you whisper, "Curly Bill...hold me. Just hold me."

He wipes your tears and then awakens to the sound of the Clanton's shouting and shooting at empty whiskey bottles.

Curly cannot recall a time when he felt worse. He stumbles to his feet and notices he forgot to take his boots off before going to sleep. After getting coffee and chuck, he sits and removes his boots, rubbing his toes which ache from being cramped in his boots for so long. The stink of horse shit, tobacco smoke and horrific body odor permeates Curly's nose and he feels like vomiting, but is able to keep it down. He finishes his breakfast and looks around for Ringo, knowing the younger cowboy was right; Curly was drunk and made a fool out of himself.

Ringo knows Curly made a huge mistake and he also understands that the old cowboy really didn't know about your feelings for him. You kept it to yourself that confused Curly. Ringo gets that his friend was probably shocked when he realized your desires for him. Curly told Ringo at one point, "she's mighty fine and pretty. Any fellow would be damn lucky to have her. But she's a lovely lady I don't think she wants to be around cowboys who stink all the time. Hell, sometimes I can't stand the smell of them boys! She deserves better than me anyhow. I know she don't like me the way I like her."

Curly meant nothing he said last night and begins to regret not simply going after you. Perhaps he could have gotten you to change your mind about him. If he just left, he may have been able to be the one to comfort you. But he stayed and ran his big mouth, which is something the rustler is known to do. He told everyone listening that he didn't care about you when nothing could be further from the truth. He feels like a fool for not defending his feelings and admitting how his heart wants you, but he was too drunk and proud. And now how would he be able to court you after declaring he didn't need or even want you?

Curly Bill mounts his horse and heads into town for more partying and poker. The stable kid takes Curly's horse and leads it to the livery while Curly walks through town, hoping it would cheer him up. He felt like a dog without a pack and the soft drizzle didn't make him feel any better.

And then he sees you... You're exiting the mercantile, holding a basket covered in a towel. You stop walking and run your hand through your unbound hair, appearing more lovely and beautiful than ever. You look over and see Curly Bill. He starts removing his hat, but you turn and continue walking in the opposite direction. Now that he feels he can no longer have you, being with you is all he cares about. He decides to go to the restaurant for a slice of cake and a cup of coffee. Something, anything to get his spirits up. While he eats his cake and sips his coffee, one of the dishwashers, Four Fingered Jake, comes over to collect some dishes left on the tables from previous patrons and looks at Curly.

"Feeling alright, Jack?" Four Fingered Jake, who lost a pinky during a handkerchief duel a few years ago, called every cowboy Jack as in "jackeroo," and sometimes it just annoyed old Curly.

"Fine. Everything is just fine," Curly lies, focusing on his cake. He looks out the window and hopes to see you again; not to talk, but just to see you. He can't shake the sight of you crying or the sound of your sobs. He takes his last bite and downs his coffee.

"Well! You surely look afflicted by something," Jake stands by Curly's table, his arms full of dirty dishes.

"Why don't you just leave me alone?" Curly groans.

"Sure thing, mood you're in right now."

"Hold on a minute," Curly begins. "Hey, you ever been in love, Jake?" Curly asks, not looking up from his coffee.

"Hell! How you think I lost my pinky? Defending a lovely lady! Oh boy was she sweet! Worth it. I done lost that duel, but she was such a good woman, she stayed by me anyways. Even wanted to give up everything just to build a life with me. Imagine that!"

"What happened?" Curly growls.

"The Pox got a hold of her." Jake stands, shaking his head. "Why you asking, jack?"

Curly looks up at Jake and then back at his coffee cup. "Nothin', no matter."

Curly leaves some money on the table and leaves the restaurant. The drizzle began to subside and the sun began peeking out from behind the jagged looking clouds that lazily move across the Tombstone sky.

While walking through town, he feels he has lost everything. Although he still has his rustling enterprise and his cowboy companions, he can't shake the fact that all along, you desired him. If you wanted him before, doesn't that mean you still care? His heart begins to burn with a small ember of hope. All he wants to do is make you happy.

You return to your small one bedroom cottage that resides about a ten minute walk from town. The drizzle causes moisture in your hair and you grab a small towel and wipe your damp head with it. You toss the towel aside and begin putting your items away. Curly's face enters your mind and a sharp pulling comes from inside you, almost knocking you over. You recall the content look on his face when the whore sat happily on his lap. The way he expected you to sit on his lap like you were some calico queen. You care for him so much, but always felt he showed you sweetness because of his chivalrous cowboy code. You feel Curly isn't the settling down type so you simply resigned to just enjoying his company whenever you could. So often, you wanted to share with the old cowboy how much you care for him, but you feared he would discourage your feelings; telling you not to waste your time with such a nomadic fellow. You couldn't bear to hear his rejection so you followed his lead. You just never expected to see him indulging in the company of prostitutes and it solidified the fact that he doesn't want you because he probably feels your life couldn't provide the excitement he seemed to want. You felt as though you couldn't provide for him the daring and adventurous lifestyle that seemed to embrace Curly's life and you often felt you may prove to be dull and boring for the old rustler.

You know how you feel, but the mystery of Curly's feelings about you spin around in your mind. You believe in his drunkenness that he tried to overtake you and have his way with you only to toss you aside. You didn't realize he was trying to console you. Tears fall from your eyes again and you fall to the ground, holding your knees against your chest.

He never cared about me.

I should have known!

There's no way I could ever make him happy anyway!

It was right of me to assume someone like Curly Bill could ever care about anyone but himself!

You would like to fall into his arms, but you feel he would turn you away.

He needs a woman who can satisfy him and I can't! I'm boring and have nothing to offer such an adventurous and natural man.

You continue sobbing, your face buried in your knees. If you could be bold and daring, maybe Curly would want you. But you cannot become someone you're not...

You begin to feel you lost any chance with Curly Bill. You recall how he slapped his thigh and expected you to sit like a lady of the line and you never felt more exploited in your life. You wanted Curly Bill to treat you like a treasure and instead, he treated you like a nanny, just wanting you for the moment. He would use you and then toss you away and the only difference between you and the chippies is that you didn't charge the old cowboy.

You wipe your tears and take a deep breath. Your attention goes towards the front door as if you're waiting for it to open. You blow your nose and run your hands through your hair.

The door slowly opens and you move slowly, a rolling pin in your hand, waiting to bash the unsuspecting thug.

When the door is fully opened and there's no one there, you blow the breath out of your lungs and lean against the wall, your head looking up. You replace the rolling pin and decide to make yourself some tea.

While sipping your tea, you wonder what Curly Bill is doing at the same moment. You smile to yourself. Then the memory of his face when he slapped his thigh and motioned for you to sit.

Like I'm a dog!

You shake your head and decide to do some gardening after you finish your tea. The last thing you want to do is venture into town. Your fear of running into Curly Bill scares you.

He just wants one thing and once I give it to him, I'm nothing but a whore to him! I will never let him lay a hand on me!

You cry these thoughts in your mind.

You begin by pulling the weeds out of your fruit and vegetable garden; you've planted carrots, peppers, potatoes, eggplant and tomatoes. You also planted basil, green beans and peas. While harvesting your small crop, you decide to make a soup. You'll be able to stretch it into at least five days worth of meals. You also think about making some dumplings or biscuits and then make the choice to invite a friend or two over to enjoy your freshly made soup. You delight in growing your own food and you really love creating delectable dishes you can share with others. You smile to yourself and feel good that you're not consumed with thoughts about Curly Bill. Maybe you'll be over him soon.

After washing and chopping your freshly picked delights, you feel it would taste better if you made it with already prepared vegetable stock. You clean yourself up, put some color on your lips, brush your hair and get your shopping basket. You slowly walk into town, touching some of the flowers and taking in the fresh air. You witness dandelion fuzz and small butterflies flitter through the air in a peaceful and whimsical nature dance. You smile and enjoy the moment, taking deep breaths of fresh air.

When the sounds of town begin to rise into your ears, you welcome the social scene performing before you.

The mercantile owner, Mr. Wilks, tips his hat while taking a break from sweeping the front porch.

"Good afternoon to you, YN," He says and then continues sweeping while you enter the store.

Mrs. Wilks wipes her small hands on her apron and climbs down from the step stool she was standing on while cleaning some shelves.

"Well, hello, YN! How nice to see you." The little woman scurries towards you with her small, mouse-like shaped body. "What can I get for you?"

"Oh, just some stock if you have any." You answer.

"Oh, of course!" The older lady responds. "Stock and broth. You're just in time too! The Simms just dropped off stock and bone broth. In fact, it's still hot!" The little old lady hugs you. "Oh, darling! I sure hope you're alright!"

You shrug. "Yeah, well I'm doing alright, I guess."

"I've seen you talkin' with that there Curly Bill Brocious and I'm here to tell you he ain't nothin' but trouble. Don't go wasting your time on some worthless cowboy!" The shopkeeper puts your items in your basket and you look at the floor, your heart broken and your head spinning. Nobody ever seemed to miss an opportunity to inform you of how you are wasting your time with Curly Bill. You really like the old cowboy; you love his smile, his deep voice, his willingness to protect you and how his hair curled around his forehead and oh!

You catch your breath and give the lady what you owe for your items.

"Don't forget what I said, love."

You look out the window and see Curly Bill on the other side of the street talking with a few cowboys. You stare out the window and wonder what the conversation consists of. Curly frowns while talking with Johnny Ringo and Pete Stillwell. You can see Curly take his hat off and continue gloating over something. Your trance becomes interrupted, "Don't forget, I said, dear."

You suddenly snap back into what you were doing. You clear your throat and pick up your basket. You nod at the shop keeper. "Of course," you whisper. "Oh, um...where do you keep the apples and pears? I just forgot I needed some." You hold your basket while keeping your head down.

"Oh, yes. Just down that hall and down the steps." The old lady motions towards the way.

Just as you're walking down the steps, Curly enters through the cellar door located on the other side of the house. He was hoping to swipe some fruit. When he sees you close the door behind you, he sneaks around and after You've gathered your fruit, you turn and see him standing before you. You gasp, completely surprised.

"YN," he swoons.

You try to move past him and open the door, but Curly blocks your way with his arm. The fear in your eyes causes Curly to grow weary with guilt, but he's not letting you leave until you allow him to at least apologize.

"Curly Bill," you whisper. "Please let me go. Please."

Curly continues blocking the door for another moment and then steps aside, allowing you to decide whether or not you're willing to talk to him. Your eyes look up at the cowboy and then you turn away. Curly wants to hold you, but when he moves towards you, you pull away.

"Please, YN," Curly begins. "Please give me a chance to tell you I'm sorry."

You nod your head, still convinced the old rustler just wants one thing and only wants to save face for his cowboys.

"Ok," you whisper. You quickly move past him and he watches you quickly leave.

The Hawkins boys see you coming and whistle as you pass and it infuriates Curly who is in no mood to fight.

Later that day, while you're cooking your soup, the door opens again. You go to close it and Martin Hawkins kicks it open. He enters your house with the other Hawkins. "Well, so here's where you live!"

"Who are you?" You ask, your voice shaking.

"I'm Martin Hawkins and these here are my brothers." The other boys tip their hats to you. Angus takes a fresh apple and bites into it and then winks at you.

"What do you want?" You implore.

The boys look at each other and then you. Martin and Bob move closer to you. Bob quickly holds your wrists and Martin takes a small piece of rope and binds your hands together.

"Please!" You beg. "Please! What do you want!?"

"You."

Your mouth falls open and you struggle to get away, but the men are big and burly and you're easily overpowered. They bring you outside and Martin pulls you up on his horse and they ride out.

The Hawkins boys bring you to their shack.

"So, old Curly thinks he can cheat us, huh?" Slim asks when the boys throw you onto the floor, your wrists still tied.

"Who are you?" You beg.

"I believe we already introduced ourselves. Curly owes us and what better way to get him to pay up than to take what matters?" Slim lights up a cigarette. He motions for Angus to retrieve something and the younger brother brings out a camera.

"You got it wrong. Curly doesn't care about me! I know that so you're wasting your time if you think he'll care!"

All four Hawkins boys laugh.

"That's not what he said when he was so drunk, he could hardly find the door. And he was still sober enough to cheat." Martin Hawkins scoffs.

You lower your head. *It can't be. He thinks I'm nothing but a..." You begin to sob uncontrollably.

Slim recalls Curly from the night before:

"You know something, boys? Even old Willy Shakespeare couldn't write about her with the right words cuz there ain't no one like YN!" He slaps his cards on the table and calls for three cards. "If you ever wanna see an angel, just look at her, boys! And I've gone done it like a damn fool!"

Curly doesn't care who's listening, he's usually running his mouth. The Hawkins boys share glances while playing.

"I lost her and now....well I may never get her back! Aw hell! I don't deserve her anyhow! I just kept makin' a damn fool of myself, thinkin' she didn't care none and then I saw her so sad and well, shit!" He takes a shot of whiskey.

The Hawkins boys didn't say much. They were amused watching the big gunfighter squirm from his broken heart. They continued letting Curly talk.

"You boys wouldn't understand anyhow cuz you never met an angel like that! And you never will neither!"

"Sounds like you're in love, Curly!" Bob Hawkins scoffs, a cigarette hanging from his wide mouth.

"Yeah, well I guess I am, boys! You're sayin' I shouldn't? You ever see her, you'll be in love too!"

***You swallow hard and cannot believe what you're hearing. All this time you and Curly both misunderstood

"Tie her up to the post,"Martin says, focusing on his cigarette. "We'll get a nice little picture for our friend, Curly Bill Brocious."

Too scared to speak and too outnumbered to escape, you are quickly overpowered by the boys who tie your arms up onto the post and then wrap rope around your legs to keep you still. Tears flow from your eyes.

"Awww, don't cry none. It's Curly Bill we really want," Martin says, touching your face. You try to turn away and they all chuckle.

"Now, see Bob there is gonna take your picture so we can show Curly."

"Please don't hurt Curly," you cry.

"You ain't concerned for yourself?" Slim asks, taking his last drag of his cigarette. "Make sure it's tight. I don't want her getting away."

"Oh, it's tight. She ain't going nowhere," Martin answers while Bob gets the camera ready.

"Smile, princess. This is for Curly Bill. Now, look at the camera," Slim barks.

You look into the lens and the flash causes you to flinch.

When the picture is ready, Slim rides out to town, the picture in a large, sealed envelope.

"Hey, deputy!" Slim calls for Billy Breckenridge.

"Howdy, Slim," Billy says.

"You know where Curly Bill is?"

"I think he's back at camp. He said something about having to brand some cows "

"Take this to him and don't open it. It's for him, you hear?"

Breckenridge takes the envelope and rides out to the cowboy camp. Curly is drowning his sorrows with rot gut while the Clanton's are branding a small calf.

"Curly! Something for you! From the Hawkins!" Breckenridge brings the envelope to Curly who opens it.

And falls to his knees. He bites his hand to maintain his control. He stares intensely into the photograph and the image of you tied up like that will be etched in his mind forever. Curly resolves to save you. He doesn't care if he never sees you again; he'll do anything. His rage grows into mind numbing fury, but he knows he needs to plan very carefully.

Ringo comes over and Curly Bill hands him the photograph. Ringo's eyes grow narrow and his lips begin trembling. He balls his hand into a tight fist. He returns the picture, not wanting to look at it.

Ringo begins thinking up a plan to rescue you. He knows the shack that the Hawkins have been staying at and it sits behind a grove of large trees. As a seasoned guerilla raider, Ringo starts thinking who will go along and how they will position themselves.

"We're with you, Curly," Ringo whispers. "We gotta wait. They're planning on us busting the door down. Indian Charlie and Pete Spence and Stillwell are gonna go out first and hide in the brush."

Curly Bill, too angry to speak, simply nods his head, knowing Ringo is the best one to plan this.

"I can't stand the thought of those damn thugs alone with her and her tied up like that. Shit, Johnny!"

"Curly, I don't think that's what they're after. Not long. Not too long. Me and the Youngers did guerilla raids over a dozen times. We gotta make sure everyone of us has at least three pistols. We can easily fire off sixty or seventy shots in less than a minute."

Keep going," Curly growls.

"We wait for one of those sons of bitches to come out. They can't hold onto their shit forever. They may even go two at a time."

"When do we ride?" Curly asks.

"Let the others go first. We'll follow, two boys at a time. Real slow, Curly. They're waiting for us right now, expecting an ambush and they're prepared for that. But I know the Hawkins and they're not guerillas."

Curly nodded. He watches Spence, Stillwell and Indian Charlie ride out. They secure their horses about 50 feet from the shack and crawl on their bellies to the trees and hide carefully. They have three pistols each and Stillwell has a sawed off shotgun.

Curly Bill and Ringo ride out together. They, like their fellow gang members scout the area carefully. They catch up with Indian Charlie and the others. While riding out, Curly tells Ringo:

"You're right, Johnny. I'm a damn fool! I had no idea YN felt that way about me. Hell! A man like me havin' a beauty like that goin' on and havin' them kind of feelings. She's so damn special and cute and hell, Johnny, what would you think?"

Ringo pulls the reigns in for a moment. He looks at Curly Bill, who is waiting for an answer.

"Curly Bill, you're right. I would have reservations about her too. Not that I wouldn't want her, but to make a damn fool of myself and then find out she was just being pleasant, well, I would feel awful." Ringo shakes his head, imagining what that would be like.

"It's a damn curse, Ringo. You find the woman of your dreams and know damn well she's out of reach cuz she don't care too much. Then you find out she cares a whole lot." Curly fights the tears forming in his eyes as he recalls that damn photograph of you. "That's what makes this whole thing so damn miserable. I swear right now I'll do anything to make her happy iffin' she gives me a chance and iffin' she don't, at least I saved her."

"Either way, you'll be a hero, Bill," Johnny claims, not looking at Curly.

"Yeah. But I won't care iffin' I can't be with YN."

Ringo and Curly secured their horses and crawled towards the trees where the others were waiting.

""None of em have come out to shit yet," Stillwell remarks. "What the hell are them boys waiting for?"

"They can't hold on to it forever." Ringo says, no expression in his voice.

"Are we ready?" Curly growls.

"We're ready, but damn that shithouse is ripe!" Spence adds.

Ringo recites sonnets in his mind while the others hold their pistols. They are the door open and like Ringo predicted, two of the Hawkins boys came out.

"Damn, he ain't heeled," Stillwell declares.

"Real slow, boys," Curly whispers.

Once the Hawkins boys are in the shit house, Ringo and Curly go close, almost holding their noses because of the stink.

Curly opens one of the doors and Bob Hawkins looks up in shock. "No! No! No!" He shouts before Curly fills him full of lead. Ringo does the same to Angus, who also pleads for his life.

"You never should've messed with her," Ringo remarks before killing Angus. Slim and Martin come running out, their pistols blazing in all directions. Ringo moves like a ghost, remembering everything Quantrill taught him about guerilla raids. The Hawkins were outnumbered by men and bullets as Curly and his boys were all sporting three pistols each. In a matter of seconds, the Cowboys fired off over 50 shots and all the Hawkins were meeting their makers. The Cowboys laugh and some twirl their guns before entering the house.

Curly Bill sees you, your chest heaving furiously and fear shows in your teary eyes. You gasp and struggle to get free as you're still tied to the post.

Curly replaces his guns and scans the area for anyone else. "We're clear, boys! Ain't no one else here!"

Too shocked to speak, your face gazes at Curly Bill and you can't believe he just risked his life to save you. He walks towards you and your chest continues breathing heavily and tears begin running down your face. Curly wipes your tears and takes his Bowie knife from his belt. He goes to cut the ropes and then pauses, just soaking up not only your beauty, but the fact that he at least redeemed himself and became your hero. He cups your face and kisses you and to his surprise, you do not resist. He smiles at you and the fear in your eyes begins subsiding.

"YN... Will you please forgive me for hurting you? You're all I think about and I'm a damn fool for lettin' you leave like that."

You nod your head. "Please let me go," you beg. "I... thank you for saving me! I didn't think you cared at all," you answer, your face gazing at the floor.

"YN... Curly Bill takes his hat off. "I love you," he whispers, sucking back tears. "I never meant to hurt you."

You look up your cowboy. You continue struggling.

"I'm gonna cut you loose after one question..." Curly's voice is just above a whisper. He smiles sheepishly.

"Please..." You answer.

Curly Bill doesn't take his eyes off of you.

"Will you marry me?" Curly asks.

Your eyes well up with tears. You nod your head.

"Yes!" You say in a soft voice.

Curly kisses you one more time. He takes his knife and cuts you loose. When he does, you fall into his arms, sobbing uncontrollably. Curly feels such a sense of relief and gratitude, he picks you up and holds you tight.

"I love you, Curly Bill. I always have."

He kisses your hands and rubs your wrists which appear raw from your tie ropes. He hates seeing that...

Curly Bill takes your face again and kisses you ever so gently.

"I never thought you'd kiss me like that," you whisper, wrapping your arms around him and holding him tight, your head on his strong shoulder. You close your eyes while the two of you enjoy a delightful and wonderous moment of pure love. The other Cowboys leave, giving the two of you some time alone.

When you conclude your kiss, he picks you up, his eyes locked with yours.

He carries you out and all the way to his horse, all while you keep your head in his chest. He can feel you trembling and he tightens his embrace, wanting you to feel safe and protected. Once he mounts his gelding, he pulls you up and he rides out at full gallop, his cowboys following and hooting with celebration.

Curly Bill brings you home and helps you get dressed into a warm nightgown. He tucks you into bed and caresses your face until you fall asleep.

After a few moments of watching you slumber, he removes his boots and falls into the bed.

He delights when in your sleep, you turn and rest your head on his chest.

The End...

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that-one-pumpkin-cowgirl · 1 month ago

Text

Wanted: Dead or Alive

There had been a $5,000 bounty for Nadine’s head alone which made Stevie wonder just how many mustangers she had killed these past years. Unfortunately, she didn’t know about that. What mattered to her this month was fixing the boulder near the stables that was trapping the animals inside. She didn’t even know how it got there in the first place. She was worried that, without her assistance, the animals would soon perish. She was going to take care of that boulder, no matter how it got there. No animal would suffer under her watch. Stevie agreed to help out especially since Lenneigh was one of the horses stuck inside. Lenneigh, indeed, was a zombie — but that didn’t make it any easier for him to not worry. Lenneigh was a good horse and they had been through some tough scrapes together.

“Alright, let's get to work,” Nadine said determinedly. “We'll need to roll this thing out of the way.”

They got into position on either side of the boulder, easily ten feet across, and began pushing with all their might. But the massive rock refused to budge, no matter how hard they strained. After a few minutes of fruitless effort, Stevie paused to catch his breath. Nadine panted and said that they needed leverage. She looked around, eyes landing on a fallen tree a short distance away. Together they manhandled the trunk into position. Stevie wedged one end under the boulder while Nadine braced herself on the other. They heaved upward with all their strength. Slowly, grinding against the dirt, the boulder began to roll. The log tilted further, applying more pressure, and with a grunt the rock popped free and tumbled past the opening. The animals inside rushed out to freedom. Lenneigh galloped straight to Stevie, nosing at him affectionately. He wrapped his arms around his neck, relieved to see him safe.

“Good work.” Nadine nodded. “Now we just need to figure out how it got there in the first place.”

Stevie led Lenneigh to his stall, giving him an extra handful of oats as a reward. When he turned back to Nadine, Nadine was crouched by the boulder, examining the ground intently. There were boot prints and it looked like someone pushed the boulder into place deliberately. Perhaps someone wanted the stables empty for a reason. Stevie’s mind raced with possibilities. He initially thought it might be a mustanger, someone from the stables who wanted to keep the area clear for some reason. Perhaps they were trying to hide something or prevent anyone from getting in. But the more he considered it, the less likely that explanation seemed. The mustangers were usually straightforward, not prone to such underhanded tactics. Just then, both Stevie and Nadine looked up to see a figure approaching. Nadine’s heart raced as she instinctively straightened up.

Before they could react, the man stepped forward, pulling out a badge. “I’m a Pinkerton detective.”

Nadine slowly rose to her feet, eyes narrowed at the Pinkerton detective. "What seems to be the problem, officer?"

"Miss Nadine, you're under arrest for horse theft and murder.” He turned to Stevie. "You're welcome to go, son, but I'd advise staying away from this one if you want to keep your hide intact."

Nadine glanced at Stevie, a grim look in her eyes. She could see this detective wasn't going to listen to him. "Stevie, I think it's best if you head on inside now. This is between me and the law. Take care of Zoe and Peponem for me, will ya?"

Stevie hesitated, not wanting to abandon her, but one look from Nadine told him arguing would only make things worse. With reluctance he led Lenneigh away, casting worried glances over his shoulder. He felt a pang of guilt wash over him, as memories flooded back of a past mistake — a time when he had turned his back on a witch in desperate need. That choice had haunted him, the consequences reverberating long after the moment had passed. But now, he was forced to do so. He could only hope that things worked out for her unlike Ravenna.

Now alone with the detective, Nadine dropped her polite façade. "Alright mister lawman, you've got me at a disadvantage. But before you drag me off, why don't you tell me exactly what evidence you've got."

The detective gave her a thin smile. "You'll get your chance to plead your case soon enough, missy. For now, your alibi don't mean squat — I've seen countless outlaws use willing fools like that boy to provide false testimony. Hands behind your back now."

Nadine growled under her breath but complied, knowing struggling further would only make things worse. The detective snapped the iron cuffs around her wrists with more force than necessary. She held her tongue, following him to the waiting cart with as much dignity as she could muster under the circumstances. The detective was kind enough to tell her that there was a bounty on her head at a very high price. She supposed that it was due to her being a woman and having her skill with weapons, scaring the local mustangers.

The courtroom was packed when they arrived, every local having turned out eager for spectacle and drama. Nadine took in the hostile faces with a cool gaze as the sheriff announced the charges against her — ninety counts of horse theft and fifty counts of murder. The Pinkerton took the stand, outlining his purported evidence and multiple eyewitnesses placing her at crime scenes. But when pressed, he refused to name a single accuser, claiming they feared retribution from her and her outlaw gang. From her seat Nadine hissed in disgust. This so-called trial was already a travesty, with her given no opportunity to confront her accusers or dispute the Pinkerton's vague claims. But then a faint glimmer of hope — as she scanned the crowd, she spotted Stevie near the back, along with a few other ranch hands who knew her character. Maybe not all was lost yet. She caught Stevie's eye and gave an almost imperceptible nod, hoping he understood her message to speak on her behalf if given the chance.

Next the sheriff droned on and portrayed her as a cold-blooded monster undeserving of mercy or fairness. Nadine wanted to leap up and throttle the man for his slander, but knew losing her temper would only confirm the audience's low opinion. So, instead, she coughed dramatically and wrote down each of their names. At long last it was her turn to address the court. Standing tall, she demanded to face her accusers face to face, as was her right. But the sheriff waved it off, saying the testimony already provided was proof of her guilt.

Nadine turned to the jury with passion and sincerity. “Good people, I am no saint and make no apologies for the fights I've had to survive in this harsh land. All I ask is to confront my accusers face to face, as the law decrees! If anyone here believes I received a fair trial, let them vote their conscience. But I think deep down, you all smell the stink of injustice the same as me.”

A lengthy pause as the jury deliberated. At long last the foreman rose, an expression of conflict on his weathered features. “We, the jury, have reached a verdict. We find her guilty on all charges.”

The sheriff smirked in satisfaction. “The lady is guilty as charged. The sentence for these heinous crimes is death by hanging. Your last death on Earth will be on May 7 and may God have mercy on your soul.”

“I don’t even believe in your God,” Nadine spat out. “And if I’m going, I’m taking you all with me. Only difference is that I’ll make it to the other side.”

#cowboy fiction #western fiction #cowgirl fiction

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