[Jaytee71124]

I just read your entire saga and I loved it. I have to say that i'm sad the story's over, i could read this story forever. Well done, i couldn't stop reading it once i got started. Thank you for a wonderful afternoon of entertainment.

[laurie breeze]

I just read your entire saga and I loved it. I have to say that i'm sad the story's over, i could read this story forever. Well done, i couldn't stop reading it once i got started. Thank you for a wonderful afternoon of entertainment.

Jaytee, thank you so much for the compliment! I'm so happy you enjoyed Old Deadwood Days. I had a blast writing it because I was able to use my friends in a setting that's very close to my heart, 'n close to my front door too! I live just south of Deadwood in the Black Hills 'n I go up there a lot, it's where I got the idea for the story in the first place. Yeah, I watched the HBO show too!  

I don't think you have to be sad either. The story might not be over. I can't say when exactly but I think a new chapter may be coming. Seems somebody found another journal by Little Bit in somebody else's attic. I got it from a third somebody who bought it on eBay. I've been editing it, correcting spelling 'n grammar mistakes, getting rid of the boring stuff.    

She talks about a run-in she had with a really short blonde girl who lived with the Crow, the same really short blonde she spotted in the Deadwood cemetery. I think it's gonna be a fun read.

Keep yer eyes open for it! Thanks again!

xoxo

~Laurie~

[laurie breeze]

OLD DEADWOOD DAYS (Tales of the Soiled Doves)

Chapter Eight


Prologue

As I started to bend down to pull one last weed from Bill Hickok’s grave, I suddenly became aware that I was being watched. I coulda sworn I was all alone at Mt. Moriah Cemetery. But I couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was up here with me. Then I heard the horse snort.

I looked up. About fifty yards from me was a brown Appaloosa horse with snowflake spots. Sitting on it bareback was a blonde in an Indian buckskin vest and fringed skirt. Even sitting on the tall horse I could tell right away that she was a small blonde. Smaller even than me. A real half-pint. She didn’t move, didn’t speak, just stared at me. Then she brought her right hand up and, with her eyes never leaving mine, slowly slid her thumb across her neck.

A cold shiver ran through me. I had no idea who this tiny blonde was, had never seen her before. Before I could speak, the sun, which had been hidden behind a cloud, suddenly burst through, blinding me. I blinked and raised my hand to shade my eyes from the glare. When I could finally see again, the blonde on the horse had vanished.

That was the first time I saw her. In the town of Deadwood, in the Dakota Territory, late in the fall of 1876. I had no idea who she was. But something told me I’d probably be seeing her again. And, as fall turned to winter and winter into spring, I guess I forgot about her.


What Happened Since The Last Chapter

After Miss Jenn beat down Lurlene Johnson and sent the “Queen of the Blondes” packing, and her girls took care of Lurlene’s other blondes, things kind of settled down. As much as things can settle down in a wild place like Deadwood.

A whole lot has changed since that day. Well, some things stayed the same too but that’s how it always is. Miss Jenn took the stage to Virginia City in the Nevada Territory to discuss business with the friend she called “H”. Seems “H” is some real rich guy by the name of Hearst. There’s rich and there’s rich and then there’s Hearst rich, if you get the picture.

So, the business Miss Jenn went to see him about was why this Mr. Hearst would want to bankroll Lurlene Johnson’s whorehouse in Deadwood when he was already the benefactor of Miss Jenn’s Academy for Young Ladies. But she made the trip for nothing. Turns out a couple of lucky bastards found gold and struck it rich over in Lead. I mean, they hit the damn mother lode. Well, Hearst got wind of it, swooped in and bought the bastards out. He set up his operation, the Homestake Mine, less than five miles from Deadwood. So Miss Jenn turned right around and headed back.

While she was gone, she put Miss Sara Atherton, formerly of the Langrishe Theater Company, in charge. She ran things real good too. Had a great head for the business, Miss Sara did. She took to it like a baby takes to its mama’s tit.

Jersey Jo managed to escape from the Pettis gang without any help from the outside. Not surprising, those boys never was very bright. She didn’t come back to Deadwood. She made her way from Spearfish back out to Fort Laramie instead and opened her own house there. I heard tell she’s making a go of it too. That’s the word I got from a couple of miners who paid a visit to her place before they came here.

Clemmy Hawkes just up and left one night. Without a word to anybody, not even a goodbye. Just packed her grip and skedaddled to God knows where. I miss her. I sure hope I see her again sometime.

Gemma is Gemma. She won’t never change. When she’s not trying to convince the world how tough she is by kicking annoying drunks in the balls, she’s giving Tee Poo the business about some such or another.

And Tee Poo spent the winter shacked up in a cabin with a pair of brothers from Kansas who showed up in town to do some logging. Their name was Earp and Tee Poo got herself all crazy excited, saying that the older brother, a quiet fellow named Wyatt, with a real handsome moustache, was a famous lawman from Wichita, a town she lived in that I never heard of.

Of course, Gemma had to call Tee Poo a star fucker on account of that. But that sure didn’t stop her from letting Wyatt’s frisky kid brother Morgan give her a poke or two. In the spring, the Earp boys decided they wasn’t cut out for logging and lit out, back to Kansas. Wyatt said he got a job offer to be the laws in a place called Dodge City. So they left and Tee Poo was sad. And Gemma started calling her a star fucker all over again.

Me, I kept my mouth shut. With the way I was mooning over Bill Hickok, I was almost as bad a star fucker as Tee Poo. Almost. Only difference was, me and Bill never fucked. Not that I didn’t want to. No, sir. I surely did. it just never came to be.


They Call Me Little Bit

I guess I should introduce myself proper for anyone who hasn’t been following our story. My name is Laurel Luckett but everybody calls me “Little Bit”. And I’m one of Miss Jenn Fourcade’s “Soiled Doves”. Now that’s a fancy way of saying that I’m a whore. I am. But I’m not a very good one. I haven’t been at it very long. And I’m a sawed-off half-pint half-breed to boot. Some of the guys who come to the Academy looking for a poke treat me like their kid sister. They give me hugs and smack me in the ass, all playful like. But they never take me upstairs. Others say they don’t want nothing to do with no Injun. Them guys, I don’t mind that they don’t take me upstairs. Then there’s Sethro, a goofy boy right off the farm. I thought he was kind of sweet on me, but all he wanted to do was bite my titties.

Miss Jenn and Miss Sara both have been real tolerant and obliging to me, even though I’ll probably never make a decent whore. They let me be the hostess and act all flirty and friendly to the fellows cooling their peckers in the parlor, waiting for the other girls. It’s fun, the fellows don’t seem to mind, they love the company and I’m keeping them from getting antsy and busting up the furniture. Miss Jenn says that alone is worth my board.


The Tiny Blonde

Like I said, I first saw that tiny blonde in the cemetery last fall. I thought I saw her again one afternoon in late February. It happened so fast, maybe my eyes were playing tricks on me. But the more I think on it, the more I’m sure it was really her. Specially after what happened later. But I’m jumping ahead. I’ll get to what happened later later. That day in February, I was leaving Star and Bullock Hardware with a new chamber pot. I had just hit the boardwalk on Main Street when I heard the low long low “screech” of a barn owl. But there wasn’t an owl in sight. Or a barn. Even so, it made me look in the direction where the sound came from. And I saw the figure of a short blonde girl in a buckskin vest and fringed skirt disappearing down China Alley. By the time I got there she was gone. Lke she was swallowed up. Or made to vanish by a conjuring trick from a traveling magic man.

It had to be a trick of the light. Or something. So I put it out of my mind.

Until this afternoon.


About Kidnappings and Frying Onions

I was in the Black Hills Telegraph Office sending a telegram for Miss Jenn. I happened to look up and there she was. In the window. Staring at me with those icy cold blue eyes. This time it wasn’t my imagination. It was really her. She made that same throat cutting gesture like she did up in the cemetery. Then she was gone. Well, I rushed right out after her, completely forgetting about the telegram I was supposed to send. I saw her hurrying down towards Whitewood Creek. I followed her. I wanted to find out who the hell she was and why she kept making like she wanted to cut my throat. I was just passing Doc Babcock’s place when somebody came around the building quick as a flash and grabbed me. Before I could holler for help, a dirty snot rag was shoved in my mouth and a burlap bag was pulled over my head. I kept on putting up a struggle, I’m little but I’m feisty. I heard a man grunting and cussing, and somebody else grabbed my legs.

Then a voice said, “We gotta move fast. Knock her out.”

The last thing I remembered was a God awful pain on the side of my head where the bastard bashed me. And everything went black.

I don’t know how long I was out. I had a dream about frying onions. It was so real I could smell them. When I woke up, my head was ringing something fierce. It still hurt but not that bad now, more like a dull throbbing. The disgusting snot rag was still crammed in my mouth. My hands were tied in front of me. Not very tight, just enough to keep me from hitting or scratching one of the bastards. I couldn’t see anything but I still could smell those damn onions. Then I figured it out. The burlap sack over my head. It must have been full of onions at one time.

I could hear voices somewhere close. I couldn’t make out the words but it sure sounded like there were a whole bunch of people in the area. There were also loud crackling and popping sounds like dry wood burning in a big fire.

Where am I? What the fuck is going on?


Let There Be Light

All of a sudden, the bag was pulled off my head. I blinked my eyes, trying to focus as they adjusted to the change from total darkness to dusk lit up by the reddish orange of the roaring campfire. I could make out figures in the shadows, hunkered down in a circle. All men. Not grubbers, miners or cowboys either. No, they were all slickers, dressed real fancy, in suits with vests and shiny boots. A few derbies, a stovepipe hat or two. Smoking cigars, sipping from shiny silver flasks. Why the hell are all these dudes sitting out in the middle of nowheres? The talking stopped. I realized they were all staring at me. Then I looked down and I understood why. My legs were showing. While I was knocked out, somebody cut off most of my skirt up to my thighs. And my peasant blouse was hiked up and tied tight under my breasts, exposing my belly. My moccasins were gone too, my feet were bare.

One of the fancy dudes, a heavy-set man with slicked-back white hair and a trimmed white beard, got up and casually strolled over to me. He pulled a gold watch from his vest pocket and twirled it between his fingers.

“Relax, my dear. There’s nothing to be afraid of.” He spoke with a slow sweet syrupy Southern drawl and he had the kind of smile that looks friendly at first but then you notice that it doesn’t hide the dark cruel flashing eyes under his bushy white brows. Right away my hackles went up and I knew I couldn’t trust him.

I think he sensed that so he turned his head and barked out an order to someone I couldn’t see. “Oh, for heaven’s sake, untie the poor girl. And take that revolting rag out of her mouth.”

“Okay.”

I know that voice. And that stink of licorice. Linda Littletrees, the fat Crow squaw who hands out towels at the Deadwood bath house. Linda waddled close to me and pulled an evil looking Bowie knife from under her skirt.

“Sit still. No move, no get cut. Okay?”

I nodded. The blade flashed in the firelight as it swooped down between my outstretched arms and severed the ropes binding them. The knife disappeared back from where it came. The Crow woman pointed a licorice-stained finger at my mouth and mumbled, “Open.”

I opened my mouth and she pulled the snot rag out. I coughed a couple times and hawked a spit wad into the dirt. The man smiled again and said, “There, isn’t that better?”


A Sporting Event For Gentlemen

I rubbed my wrists and looked around at all the men sitting there. “What are you gonna do to me?”

Something about what I said must have struck him funny because he let loose with a rumbling belly laugh. “Absolutely nothing, little girl. You have my word as a Southern gentleman that not a one of us will lay a finger on you or hurt you in any way.”

Totally confused, I blurted out, “Well, why did you bring me here?”

“I’ll be happy to explain. But first, let me ask you. How are you feeling? I hope you weren’t hurt too badly when you were brought here. Would you like some water to drink?”

“When I was kidnapped, you mean. I’ve took worse, I’ll live. And, yeah, I could drink.”

He laughed again. Boy, this Fancy Pants was one for the works. Every damn thing I said was hysterical funny to him!

After sending Littletrees off to fetch me water, he looked me over. His humorless smile got even bigger. “You’re a sassy spunky little filly, aren’t you? You have spirit. I like that. I knew you’d be a good selection.”

Even though I knew I was probably in some deep shit, all of his palavering was making me mad. And I told him so. “Look, mister. Why don’t you quit talking in by god riddles and tell me flat out what I’m doing here? A good selection for what?”

“Why, for our entertainment pleasure, of course.”

Littletrees shuffled back with a tin cup full of cold water. I started to gulp it down. Littletrees waggled her stained finger again. “Little drink, okay? No too much, too fast. No good.”

As I drank, slowly, the man put his thumbs in his vest pockets and said, “Seated by that fire are some of the most prominent sporting gentlemen in the territories. We travel from place to place, seeking sport to wager on. You follow?”

I tried to cipher this out. “You mean like card games? Poker?”

“No. Nothing as ordinary as that. Any stumble bum with a few coins in his pocket can partake in a game of Poker. We seek out something a bit more unique.”

“You lost me, mister.”

“Goodnight. Claiborne Goodnight at your service.” He actually bowed a bit. I would have busted out laughing if I wasn’t so pissed and confused. “Something a bit more unique. And exciting,” he continued. “A real test of skill to a decisive finish between two warriors to be wagered on only by our group of sportsmen. Public fights bring out the rabble of society. None of us would be caught dead at one of those. No. We prefer a private setting, without the loud drunken riff raff present to cheapen the event. With a special type of fighter. And that, my dear girl, is where you come in.”

“You want me to find you some fighters? From the guys who come to Miss Fourcade’s?”

One of the other men called out impatiently, “Oh, for shit sake, Claibe! Get to the point and tell her!”

Ignoring him, Goodnight looked me dead in the eye, shook his head and said, ”No. We don’t want you to find fighters. We want you to fight.”

This time I did bust out laughing. “You got the wrong girl, Mr. Goodnight. I ain’t fighting for you or anybody.” I started to get to my feet but Linda Littletrees, who had sneaked up behind me, put her hand on my shoulder and kept me sitting.

“You stay. You listen. Okay?”


Sioux vs Crow

“We’ll make it worth your while, of course,” Goodnight said. “You can use the money. We know all about you. You’re a whore. Not a very good one. And you’re a breed. Sioux, yes?”

Despite myself, I nodded. “Lakota.”

“Injuns are the ‘special type of fighter’ I was talking about. We had some success convincing young braves to battle it out for our enjoyment and gambling pleasure. But the recent unpleasantness between the Injuns and that damn Yankee fool Custer made it hard for us to find fighting men. Our friend Littletrees here has been a big help finding us squaws and breed girls to take their place.”

Littletrees squeezed my shoulder. “I watch you long time. You Sioux. I find good fight for you. Crow girl.”

Goodnight chuckled. “And not just any ordinary Crow girl. As a matter of fact, you have more Injun blood than she does. She was born white. Her Christian name was Marie Blessing but she goes by Morningstar Clearwater now. When she was three, her family was killed by the Sioux. She was taken by the Crow and raised as one of their own.”

Littletrees patted my shoulder. “She hate Sioux.”

“It’s a perfect match,” Goodnight continued. “The Sioux and Crow are enemies. It will make for an exciting and entertaining fight.” He gave the Crow squaw a short nod. “Bring her out.”

“Okay.”


Here She Is Again

Littletrees called out something in her native tongue. I saw some movement as a figure emerged from the shadows. You can probably already figure out who it was without me telling you. But I’ll tell you anyway.

She was short. Shorter even than me. A real half-pint. Weighing less than a hundred pounds. Long blonde hair. Icy blue eyes that burned cold hate at me. Tight, taut, trim, tanned, tiny body in a brown elk skin top tied off under her breasts, just like mine was. Matching short elk skin skirt. Bare feet.

Marie Blessing. Morningstar Clearwater.

The blonde (I’ll call her Marie here, even though that part of her life was long gone and forgotten) walked real slow over to the circle of watching men. She turned to face me and, without saying a word, beckoned me with her finger. Then she stepped into the circle.

Goodnight returned to the circle and sat down heavily. “Alright, gentlemen. Time to place your wagers.”

Littletrees pulled me up to my feet and gave me a light shove toward the circle.

“You. Go. Fight now.”


To Be Continued  (The fight we've been waiting for)

[Marie B.]

The blonde (I’ll call her Marie here, even though that part of her life was long gone and forgotten) walked real slow over to the circle of watching men. She turned to face me and, without saying a word, beckoned me with her finger. Then she stepped into the circle.

Of course, while I have no idea who the beautiful blonde is, I feel she's far too tough for Laurel Luckett.

Terrific chapter, Laurie. You built up to the fight so very well. Love seeing this story continue.



Marie

[gene smith]

i think a CALAMIY is in store

[peccavi]

so good to see the story develop once more. Thanks

[Jonica]

*bump*

Where it belongs.  I will post the critique in a sec....

J
xoxo

[Jonica]

Laurie, this is as awesome as we have come to expect from you!  The build up and setting are pitch perfect, and now that the climax is here, I am literally on the edge of my seat wanting more!  Hurry and post the next part.  I am sure it will be terrific.  It's approapriate this story is concluding with you and Mawee Bwessing...the two most intriguing (ie shortest) characters! 



J
xoxo

PS....Tee Poo had a GREAT winter that year.  Legend is she drifted to the coast with a blissful smile and the memory of a mustache tickling her tummy....

[laurie breeze]

Of course, while I have no idea who the beautiful blonde is, I feel she's far too tough for Laurel Luckett.

Terrific chapter, Laurie. You built up to the fight so very well. Love seeing this story continue.



Marie

Marie, maybe the half-pint blonde is far too tough for Little Bit 'n maybe she isn't. Don't sell Little Bit short!  

Glad you're enjoying the chapter. Hope you like the fight. I think you will. Just sayin'!    

xoxo

~L~

i think a CALAMITY is in store

Gene, if you mean there's gonna be a calamity in store for one of the fighters, you're right!

If you're talking about the Calamity named Jane, well, she already showed up once in an early chapter and she's probably in Deadwood sleeping off a two-week drunk right now! But she could show her face again in the future. Never can tell!  

Thanks for reading! Glad you enjoyed it!

xoxo

~L~

so good to see the story develop once more. Thanks

Thank YOU for pushing me, Miss Jenn! And THANK YOU so much for the help 'n advice in working out the details in that fight sequence! Yer suggestions made the move crystal clear!    

xoxo

~L~

Laurie, this is as awesome as we have come to expect from you!  The build up and setting are pitch perfect, and now that the climax is here, I am literally on the edge of my seat wanting more!  Hurry and post the next part.  I am sure it will be terrific.  It's approapriate this story is concluding with you and Mawee Bwessing...the two most intriguing (ie shortest) characters!  



J
xoxo

PS....Tee Poo had a GREAT winter that year.  Legend is she drifted to the coast with a blissful smile and the memory of a mustache tickling her tummy....

Joni, I love how you're always reminding me how short I am when you're like what, an inch taller than me? But when it comes to intriguing, Tee Poo is way out there herself! Okay, maybe "intriguing" isn't the right word to describe her. After all, a winter with Tee Poo made the Earp brothers realize that the wild west of Deadwood was maybe too wild for them 'n they skedaddled back to Kansas!      Something tells me we'll be hearing about her again!

You can slide back from the edge of yer seat. The fight is done. Hope it lives up to the build-up.

Speaking of being on the edge of my seat, that's where I am, waiting with my pom poms for the next part of the 'Joni the ex-cheerleader' series! You got us all hooked, peeshwank! Now reel us in!    

xoxo

~L~

Thank you again to everyone who has been reading 'n commenting on Old Deadwood Days! Chapter 8 is finished. I'm posting the fight part of the chapter right now!

[laurie breeze]

OLD DEADWOOD DAYS (Tales of the Soiled Doves)

Chapter Eight (continued)


I stepped into the circle. Marie was waiting for me, breathing hard, her tiny fists clenched tight. Linda Littletrees waddled over and hunkered down with the rest of the watchers. Claibe Goodnight was talking again (Lord, that is one long-winded man!), explaining the particulars of the fight. I was only half-listening to his palaver. It wasn’t that it didn’t interest me, I WAS one of the fighters, after all. Truth be told, there was a buzzing in my head from the blood rush, thanks to the excitement and nervous fear of what was about to happen. Between that and the wild pounding of my heart, I couldn’t hear the man even if I wanted to. And I wanted to. A few words crept through but only four of them really mattered. “Fight to the finish”. That could mean a bunch of things. None of them good for the loser. I had to make sure that wasn’t me.

Littletrees was talking quietly in her native lingo. Probably interpreting Goodnight’s palaver for my Crow opponent. The tiny blonde was near her, her head down, nodding every now and then, pawing at the dirt impatiently with her big toe. Goodnight finally stopped talking. He gave another little bow and sat down on his blanket. When he was good and settled, he opened his mouth to give the signal. But he was interrupted by a loud drunken voice hollering from the opposite side of the circle.

“And may the best Injun win!”

This got a big laugh from all the dudes and dandys in the circle. One of them, a red-faced guy with a black pointy beard, all decked out in a silver vest, black top hat, fancy black riding boots that came up almost to his knees, and the puffiest britches I ever laid my eyes on, actually fell backwards on his blanket and kicked his legs in the air. He started guffawing so loud and so long that his neighbor had to smack him in the gut to get him to stop.

Goodnight frowned and waited for the foolishness to die down. He looked around the circle, like he was daring anyone to open his mouth again. Nobody did. He nodded, raised his right hand in the air, brought it down again fast and said, “Fight!”

Littletrees muttered one short word in Crow. Then it got deathly quiet. But not for very long. Letting out a low growl that grew into a loud snarl, Marie charged at me. Her short legs pumped and her tiny feet thumped the dirt as she bore down on me at a full gallop, eyes wide in insane anger. Her arms were up and her fingers outstretched, wildly clawing the air as they got close to my eyes.

If I had any doubt that I was in a fight for my life, that doubt flew out of my head as the tiny blonde rushed me. I forced myself to hold my ground until she was practically on top of me. I won’t lie, it sure wasn’t easy. My brain was hollering at me to move, to get the hell out of there and it took everything I had to stay right where I was. At the last split second I ducked and scooted to my right out of harm’s way and Marie hurtled past me.

She skidded to a stop, spun around and charged me again. I tensed up, ready to do my little side-step one more time. But Marie wasn’t falling for it. Not this time. Instead she mirrored me. When I scooted to my right, she scooted to her left, keeping herself in front of me. Then we locked up in a snarling, squealing, screeching tangle of fury. Both of us pulling hair, scratching faces in a vicious stumbling dance around the circle.

The watching dandys grunted their approval of the show and more wagers were called out. I could hear a few of them betting for me to win and that made me feel really good. Call me crazy, I didn’t ask to be here but I still wanted to beat this nasty little blonde bitch and beat her bad. So, yeah, hearing those mucky mucks in their fancy duds betting on me put a smile on my face. I don’t know if Marie still understands English after living with the Crow all this time but, if she did, it sure didn’t put a smile on hers.

But what happened next did. While I was busy keeping her sharp nails from scratching my eyes out, she slipped her left foot behind my right ankle and tripped me easier than flushing out a bobwhite quail with a pack of bird dogs. I fell flat on my back and Marie, an evil look on her face, leaped in the air to pounce on top of me. But I rolled out of the way and the blonde landed facedown in the dirt and grass. Wasting no time, I scrambled up to my knees and dove onto her back, trying to pin her down beneath me. Easier said than done. Marie did not appreciate me being on her back and she let me and everyone else there know that by twisting her tiny body from side to side, using her hands planted on the ground to push herself up like a bucking wild colt.

I buried my fingers in her blonde hair, raised her head up and then slammed her forehead hard into the ground. My plan was to dizzy her enough to weaken her, to get her to stop struggling. It was a good plan. Too bad it didn’t work. Instead it pissed her off even more. Her struggles got wilder and more frenzied. She was panting, snarling and muttering angry foreign words under her breath. I don’t speak Crow. But I had a pretty good idea the words coming from her mouth weren’t very nice.

As hard as I tried, I couldn’t stay on top of Marie. A wild lurch pitched me forward just enough for her to slither out from behind and get to her feet. On my knees, I spun around in time for her bare right foot to catch me just above my eye. The force of the quick kick dazed me and I found myself on my back again. The second my back hit the dirt, Marie dropped down on top of me, sitting heavily on my belly. Okay, maybe “heavily” isn’t the right word. Specially since we’re talking about a sawed-off half-pint who weighs less than a hundred pounds. But she was heavy enough to get me winded and make me gasp out when her butt landed on my belly.

The mucky mucks weren’t calling out my name or cheering for me now. It was Marie’s turn. Her supporters were cheering her on. The little blonde bitch was on top and she was planning to stay there. Her fingers tightened around my neck and she squeezed. I kicked my legs and tried to twist my body, just like she did when I was on top of her. But she had her thighs pressed tight against me and I was getting nowhere fast. I tugged at her wrist to loosen her grip on my throat and sent wild punches up at her face and head.

Marie was so charged up with hate that she just brushed off my punches like they were nothing more than pesty little gnats buzzing by her face. I couldn’t pull her hands from my neck. My vision was starting to blur but I still could see the insane look of fury on the tiny blonde’s beautiful face. SHE WANTS TO FUCKEN KILL ME!!! My arm dropped to the ground. My clawing fingers scooped up a handful of dirt. I did the only thing I could. I flung the dirt up into Marie’s face. She cried out, let go of my neck and reared back on her haunches, opening a space between her body and mine. Her hands flew to her face as she tried to wipe the grit from her eyes. I wormed my legs through the space between our bodies, pulled them up to my chest (sometimes it pays to be short), rested my feet against the blonde’s shoulders and pushed as hard as I could.

Marie flew backwards and kicked up a cloud of dirt when she hit the ground. There were a couple of mumbled complaints from her supporters in the crowd. Some damn fool was actually bitching that me chucking the dirt at Marie was breaking the rules. This caused Pointy Beard with the puffy pants to holler, “Rules? There are no rules! Not in a squaw fight!”

I got to my feet, rubbing my sore neck. Marie was already standing again. But her eyes were closed, she was rubbing them hard with her knuckles and her face was streaked with dirt. She was blinded. This was my chance. I couldn’t pass it up. I started toward her, trying to figure out the best way to attack. Hit her fast when she isn’t ready, my head told me. But Marie still had her wits about her. She couldn’t see but she kept me at bay by constantly turning and swinging her arm out in front of her every time she heard a noise. All the while, she was blinking her eyes, letting her tears try to wash the dirt out.

I tried to be as quiet as I could. I barely breathed. My bare feet slid soundlessly on the dirt ground. I knew I was running out of time. The grit in the blonde’s eyes wasn’t gonna stay there forever. She was still swinging her arm wildly, her tiny clenched fist whistling through the air. Every time she did it, she let out a frustrated grunt. I used her grunts to maneuver my way silently behind her back.

This is it. Now or never. I crouched, lowered my shoulder, ready to pounce. Then, just as I was making my move, that fat bitch Littletrees yelled out something in Crow. Marie whirled around, leading with her swinging arm. Her fist hit my cheek with a glancing blow, slowing me down and forcing me to stumble into her.

“Littletrees, you shit!” I grunted as Marie and I clutched each other, falling to the ground in a twisted tangled ball of flailing arms and legs. We started rolling around in the dirt. Our snarls, curses, yelps, moans and gasps drowned out the crackles and pops of the fire. We rolled right up to the watching men. I mean, we almost bowled a couple of them over.

One of the watchers went as far as to push us away with his boot. As we continued to roll around in the dirt, I had a death grip on Marie’s hair and she had her hand clamped tight on my face, squeezing with her fingers and digging her nails into my cheeks. I was trying my hardest to get the top position and put as much hurt on my enemy as I could. Only problem was, the blonde wildcat I was fighting had the same damn idea.

And it didn’t take long for me to realize she was tougher than me. A lot tougher. Yeah, I grew up in an orphanage and my life hasn’t been what you’d call an easy one. Far from it. But I did have a roof over my head. A bed to sleep in. Three meals a day. I worked like a dog most of my life but that’s nothing compared to Marie. She was born white but growing up Crow made her hard. Made her tough. Every day was a battle to survive.

Now I can’t be sure but I kind of think that all of our rolling around wasn’t providing enough action to suit some of the dandys. One of them actually got up and walked right past Marie and me, and made his way over to the trees. He was walking funny too, all stiff-legged like. At the time, I figured he had to take a leak real bad and was trying to hold it in. But the more I think on it, what with the noises he was making behind that tree, moaning and lowing like a cow waiting to get milked, the more it seems like he was maybe enjoying the show after all. I can’t say the same for some of his friends. There were a few boos and catcalls. A rock was chucked at us. It hit Marie square in the back. She let go of me and I used the opportunity to push her off with my fists and feet.

We both pulled up to our knees, facing each other, about six feet apart. Trying to catch our breath before we got to our feet again. Glaring into each other’s eyes. I knew I was a mess. Exhausted. Scratched and bruised, bleeding from a few cuts and scrapes. Sore as all hell. My matted hair stuck to my face, my body covered in sweat, my soaked blouse and skirt plastered to my skin, bits of grass and grit all over my arms and legs. Marie wasn’t much better. We both showed the effects of this hard fight and we both also knew it was far from done. It would only be over when one of us was laying in the dirt.

Our moaning pain-filled gasps as we sucked in air were the only sounds in the circle. There was no more wagering, cheering or catcalling. Marie and I slowly stood up on tired shaky legs. We circled each other, hands up, claws bared, looking for an opening. The blonde had earned my respect and I like to think that I had earned hers too.  We were both being careful, not doing anything stupid, not taking any chances. We knew that any mistake made at this point of the fight could be a fatal one.

I made a slashing swipe at the blonde’s face. She leaned back and all I slashed was the air. She sent a quick kick out at my leg. I moved out of the way. We traded hard face slaps, then backed up again. Rumblings started to come from the dandys. Littletrees yelled out something in Crow. Marie flinched, her eyes never leaving mine. Littletrees hollered again, even more demanding this time. The blonde’s eyes flashed in anger and she turned away from me to yell something back to the fat squaw. With her being distracted, I threw caution to the wind and charged at her with a blood-curdling scream.

Maybe the scream was a mistake. I take that back. No “maybe” about it, it was a mistake. A bad one. Marie turned her head, saw me coming, and kicked me hard in the belly. I doubled over, gasping, and stumbled back a couple steps. My feet tangled up and I fell on my butt, clutching my belly, badly winded. The blonde moved in for the kill but I managed to sweep my right foot out, hooking her left ankle, sending her sprawling down too. I scrambled up into a crouch, took a deep breath, and launched myself at her. But Marie brought up both of her legs and I landed on her sharp bony knees.

I let out a long moan and rolled off her onto my side. The blonde turned onto her side too, snaking her right arm under my neck and pressing it tight against it. Then she rolled onto her back, pulling me on top of her. I squirmed and struggled to get free but Marie wrapped her strong short legs around my body and locked her ankles, squeezing with all the strength she had left.

My moan turned into a loud rasping scream and I thrashed even harder as the blonde crushed the air from my hurting exhausted body. I tugged at her arm and her thighs desperately, punching and scratching but she held on tight. Marie’s head was right next to mine. Her mouth was so close to my ear that her labored breathing sounded like a windstorm. Her mouth was too close to my ear. The bitchy little blonde decided I wasn’t suffering enough, so she chomped her teeth down on my earlobe. I let out a shriek and really started struggling furiously. Marie was snarling with my earlobe clamped in her teeth and shaking her head like a bobcat ripping at a chunk of meat. I reached my hand up to her head, dug my nails into her face by her eye and scratched down hard. Now it was Marie’s turn to shriek. Her mouth popped open. So did her legs. I grabbed her arm and pulled it away from my neck as I rolled away.

I didn’t roll far enough. Marie leaped on top of me, getting me on my back as she straddled my belly. She dug her thighs in tight to my body like she did before. When she was secure on top of me, she started smacking and backhanding me in the face. Over and over. The sound of each slap echoed in the quiet night. My head was rocked from side to side from the brutally hard slaps. The assault was so quick, so furious and so relentless that it took me a few seconds to try to defend myself. I reached a hand up and started clawing at the blonde’s face again. There were already red nasty looking furrows from my nails running down her left cheek. Marie responded by forcing both of her thumbs into each side of my mouth and pulling it as wide as it could go. I gurgled out a cry as my mouth was stretched and her thumbnails dug into the tender flesh of the inside of my mouth.

I grabbed Marie’s wrists and brought my knee up into her back at the same time. I know that it hurt her. I saw the look on her face. But it didn’t get her off me. She stayed put. And continued to pull at my mouth with her thumbs. She even went one better than that. She used her other fingers to lift my head off the ground and start slamming it back down again. The back of my head crashed into the hard dirt. Once. Twice. Three times. My gurgled moans turned to whimpers. My arms slid down and landed limp on the ground. My eyes got all glassy. I was done. It was over.

Not quite. I was done. Marie wasn’t. She pulled her thumbs from my mouth and slapped my face again. Then added one more backhand for good measure. She scrambled up to her feet, breathing hard, fists clenched, staring down at me as I lay there, barely moving. She leaped in the air and stomped down hard on my belly with both feet. I gagged. I thought I was gonna puke. My body jerked and then twitched a couple times. I stopped moving after that. I couldn’t even lift up my hand if I wanted to. I didn’t want to.

Marie walked slowly around my body, watching me, waiting for me to move. Daring me to move. When she was satisfied that I wasn’t going to, she spat into the dirt by my head and grinded the sole of her foot into it. Then she stepped on my face, rubbed the dirt and spit all over me, raised her fist in the air and let out a wild screeching Crow war cry.

The blonde’s supporters started clapping and demanding payment. The ones who bet on me kept their mouths shut and handed over the cash. Littletrees got up and waddled over to Marie who was still standing over me with her foot on my face. The fat squaw pulled a lethal Bowie knife out from somewhere under her shapeless dress and flung it down into the ground near the blonde. Marie took her foot off my face and watched the knife wobble in the dirt. Littletrees pointed at me, pointed at the knife and barked out an order in Crow. The blonde shook her head and started walking away. The squaw grabbed her arm, pointed at the knife again, and repeated the command. Marie pulled free, said something in Crow and shoved the squaw aside as she tried to leave the circle. The fat bitch suddenly punched the tiny blonde in the back of her head and Marie pitched forward onto her hands and knees.

Littletrees grabbed the leather strap that was hanging from her belt and used it like a whip, beating the blonde across her back and sides and even her head. Marie curled into a ball and tried to cover up as the squaw continued to whip her. None of the dandys did a damn thing to stop the whipping. They just watched, like it was part of the show. I’m surprised nobody laid down a bet.

By this time, I had pretty much gotten my senses back and started to sit up. I also figured out what the Bowie knife was for. A “fight to the finish”, Claibe Goodnight had said. Only the finish he meant was a permanent one. Littletrees wanted Marie to use the knife on me, to finish me off. Marie refused. The girl who had wanted to kill me so bad had just saved my life.

Now it was my chance to return the favor. I was still woozy and sore from the fight but I grabbed the rock that was chucked at us when we were rolling around and I staggered up to my feet. Littletrees had her back to me and never saw me coming. She never saw my hand holding the rock as it whooshed through the air at her head. She sure felt it though.

The fat squaw fell on top of Marie who squirmed her way out from under her. Then the tiny blonde and I took turns stomping on Littletrees just for the hell of it.

The dandys barely noticed. They were busy folding their blankets and counting their money. I limped over to the closest tree and collapsed by it. I leaned against it, stretched out my legs and wiped my filthy face with the back of my hand. Goodnight saw me and walked over. He offered me his handkerchief. I took it and used it to clean the blood, sweat, dirt and Marie’s spit from my face. I held out the now soiled handkerchief to return it to him.

“Keep it.”

“Thanks.” I looked over at Linda Littletrees who was just now getting up to her feet again. Well, not quite. She got almost all the way up, then swayed like a drunk on the ice, waving her arms in the air, before she toppled over onto her big fat ass. I looked up at Goodnight again.

“Sorry we spoiled your ‘fight to the finish’ ending.”

The man smiled. “Don’t be. It’s even better this way. We got to watch a great fight, I made a nice profit, and Littletrees got what was coming to her. Sorry you won’t be getting any money but you didn’t win. That’s how it goes.”

Then he told me the way back to Deadwood and apologized that he couldn’t leave me a horse. He gave me another one of his silly little bows and left.

I looked up. Morningstar Clearwater, who was once Marie Blessing in another lifetime, was standing near the now-dying fire. Our eyes met. I nodded. She nodded back. She raised her fist up to her chest and tapped it twice. I did the same. Then the tiny blonde slipped away into the shadows.

As I slowly made my painful way back to Deadwood, I wondered if I’d ever see her again. Something tells me that I probably will.

You never can tell.

Can you?

[Jonica]

Laurie, this is awesome!  I am glad you finally got around to posting it.  I am moving from the edge of my seat now.  I am sitting back with a satisfied sigh.  Your writing ability always makes me do that.  I love your ability to create an ambiance that puts us in the time frame of your writing.  You and Gemma are two of the best at doing that.  You can weave an action packed tale as well as Marie B., and your attention to detail rivals Kayla's.  You are a real superstar here, and I hope this storyline continues sometime in the future....maybe with Tee Pee clawing her way back into things....



J
xoxo

[lilfightingcutie2]

Just wanted to say that this was really really good. I loved ya whole series and like every story I've read of yours is just like totally amazing. YOu are such a seriously gifted writer Laurie and I just wanted to say thanks for sharing that with us. Sad to see the Old Deadwood Days come to an end but ya did it soooo well. Loves you Laurie. Thank ya again for writing such amazing stories and sharing them with us!!! Loves ya native sis!!!!!

[peccavi]

its a great chapter in a great story. so many good parts its hard to praise anything in particular, keep writing please

[Marie B.]

No one writes a story like you, Laurie. I'm proud and honored to be in this one. Oh, by the way.......

Being the best female fighter in the world is a heavy burden.....but one that I'm proud to bear.




Marie

[peccavi]

Marie
I see that even ratehr small people can have very big egos