[laurie breeze]

Chapter Six

“Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound
That saved a wretch like me.
I once was lost but now am found,
Was blind, but now I see.”

The small crowd stood silent on the hilltop, listening to the petite blonde sing the beautiful hymn as the plain wooden coffin containing the body of the legendary Wild Bill Hickok was lowered into the grave. The preacher had just offered up a prayer for the soul of the departed and all of us had our heads bowed, some mumble singing the words along with the blonde whose voice carried down from Mount Moriah Cemetery to Deadwood proper below.

I was there. No way in hell I was going to miss the funeral of my friend, even though both Doc Babcock and Madame Featherlegs kicked up a fuss, going on how I was still too beat up from my battle with Tricksie Lynn. Well, I stuck to my guns, did some hollering of my own and, swollen black eye and busted ribs be damned, I was up there on that hill with the rest, saying my farewell to the man with the sad eyes who was more than just a legend to this little South Dakota half breed girl. He was a friend, a friend I’ll mourn for a long time.

But even through all the sadness of the proceedings, I was still curious enough about the singer I had never seen before. So I whispered to Clementine, who had calmed Madame Featherlegs down by volunteering to get me up here and back home again safe and sound.

“Who’s that blonde singing?”

She leaned over and whispered back. “That’s Miss Sara Atherton. She’s one of those theater people came in with Mr. Jack Langrishe’s company.”

Now I recognized her. Only time I saw her before she was out on the boardwalk one day in a fancy costume quoting lines from some old time play with Mr. Jack Langrishe who was wearing a frock top and tights and getting a whole lot of horse laughs from the miners and drunks who stopped to watch. They were spouting this nonsense in a kind of English (well, the words were sort of English, only said in an old fashioned way that made you scratch your head and puzzle what it all meant). Wrote by some long dead fellow named Shakespeare, Charlie Utter had told me at the time.

Charlie was standing there on the hill with us now, his eyes on the hole that Bill’s coffin was being lowered into. I squinted my one good eye in the harsh sunlight at the wooden marker Charlie had placed by the grave. I leaned close to Clemmy again and said quietly, “Clemmy, what does the writing say?”

She looked at the board and, in her quiet Southern drawl, read, “Wild Bill, J.B. Hickok killed by the assassin Jack McCall in Deadwood, Black Hills, August 2, 1876. Pard, we will meet again in the happy hunting ground to part no more. Goodbye, Colorado Charlie, C.H. Utter.”

I touched Charlie’s hand gently.

“Those are real pretty words you wrote, Charlie.”

He didn’t say anything, just nodded real quick and then turned his head away, blinking like the sun hurt his eyes. But I knew he was trying to fight back the tears. Clemmy and I stood there, quietly watching as the blonde sang the hymn. Her voice rang out like an angel and most everyone who was trying to sing along just faded out and let her finish it on her own.

While the funeral was going on, down in Deadwood proper in the Langrishe Theater, the coward Jack McCall was on trial for Hickok’s killing. That was way too good for the son-of-a-bitch. Someone should of just hung him from a tree and saved everyone the trouble. I would of done it myself if I could, which is probably why Featherlegs told Clemmy to stick to me like glue so I wouldn’t do anything crazy.

With the singing and praying all done, only thing left was for the grave diggers to start shoveling the dirt back in the hole over the coffin. Clemmy and I made our way down the hill with the others, except for poor Charlie, who stood watching the men fill up the grave.

“Say, um, Clemmy, you think maybe we could head over to … ”

“No. Don’t even think about it.”

“How do you know what I was gonna say? You didn’t let me finish.”

“I don’t have to. I know. You want to go to the Langrishe Theater and watch the trial.”

“Just for a little while. I promise I’ll be good. I only wanna … ”

“It’s not gonna happen, Little Bit. I promised Featherlegs, she’d kill us both if I let you go there. It’s probably all over by now anyway.”

“You think so?”

“Why, sure. It’s all out there, plain as day. He walked in, shot that poor man in the back in front of all those witnesses.”

I added, “In cold blood!”

“In cold blood,” Clemmy agreed. “They probably already found him guilty and sentenced him to hang.”

“Ain’t nobody gonna stop me from seeing that,” I muttered. “I wanna watch him swing!”

Clemmy’s eyes suddenly went cold.

“We all do,” she said in almost a whisper.

****************

Only a coward shoots someone in the back. A coward doesn’t have the guts to face an enemy eye to eye. No, a coward waits till your back is turned. Like that damn blue-belly did to Granddaddy Hawkes that awful day at Lonesome Pine, when the Yankees came and burned and looted everything. Granddaddy stood up to them, he did, and got a bullet in the back for it. I watched the blood run out of his lifeless body and stain the Alabama dirt in front of our beloved home, the home he died trying to defend from a pack of drunken jackals.

****************

“Innocent? They let him walk?!”

I was stunned. I couldn’t believe it. The coward Jack McCall was a free man. A jury of dumb ass cocksuckers found him not guilty, according to the writing in the newspaper Clemmy was reading to me. We all heard the news before but it was just so crazy none of us believed it. But here it was in the paper so it had to be true.

“Said Hickok killed his brother in Abilene and he shot him in revenge for that,” Clemmy muttered. “Jury took less than two hours to say he was not guilty.”

“Dirty bumble-dickin’ cocksuckers!”

“You hush your mouth, Little Bit,” Madame Featherlegs snapped. “None of my ladies uses that kind of language during working hours!”

“Yes, ma’am,” I muttered. I held my tongue but I was still plenty mad.

Because I was still too bruised and banged-up from the fight, Featherlegs kept me in the parlour to greet the ‘guests’, smile at them, make nice talk, bring them drinks while they waited. The other girls were all entertaining in their rooms, Clemmy had just led a gawking grinning pimple-faced oaf up the stairs. I knew Featherlegs had her hawk’s eyes on me so I kept making nice to the men, even though I was wondering if any of them were the cocksuckers who found the coward Jack McCall not guilty.

Suddenly the door burst open and a huge mountain of a man stormed into the room, all cleaned up from the bath he just took but stinking to high heaven of cheap whiskey. We all knew him, he was a regular ‘guest’, called himself Bear, and he liked nothing more than picking us up in his tree trunk size arms and giving us a tight hug till we felt like our eyeballs would pop out. Since I was the only one in the room, except for Featherlegs (and Bear may have been roaring drunk but he knew not to even think about trying a hug on her) he bore down on me like a grizzly on a rabbit. Before I knew it, I was a good two feet off the ground and trapped in a god awful hug, the likes of which would probably break the rest of my ribs and then some.

“Owwwww, damn it, Bear!” I yelped in agony, not giving a hoot about Featherlegs’ rule about cussing. “Put me down, ya big lummox!”

Well, he got a good laugh out of that. He never meant to hurt us, it was just he was so damn big, so damn dumb, and so damn drunk, he didn’t know his own strength. So, instead of putting me down, he squeezed me tighter and started dancing me around the parlour. All the while, my face was getting redder and redder, my feet were kicking in the air as he whirled me around, his big feet galumphing on the wooden floor as he stumbled and lumbered, and I prayed that he wouldn’t fall and squish me.

“BEAR! YOU PUT HER DOWN THIS INSTANT!”

The sound of Featherlegs’ voice stopped the big man in his tracks. When she raised her voice, the best thing to do is obey. Don’t ask questions, just obey. And that’s exactly what Bear did. With a gentleness I never would of expected from somebody so big and drunk, he sat me down on the red velvet divan and then stood there like a giant schoolboy waiting to get sent to the naughty corner.

In a quieter voice, Featherlegs said, “Bear, I can’t have you carry on like you do, squeezing my girls till they cry. If you promise that you’ll sit there and wait your turn patiently, without hugging Little Bit or busting up my furniture, I’ll give you a drink on the house.”

Bear immediately rushed over to the frail wooden chair in the corner and sat himself on it with his hands in his lap, ignoring the loud creaks of the chair under his weight.

Featherlegs rolled her eyes and muttered, “That’s bloody terrific! All the chairs in the parlour and he picks the most delicate one to park his arse on!”

But she gave him a sweet smile and moved to the bar to fix him one of her ‘special’ drinks. The same ‘special’ drink she gave Bear the last four times he acted up.

I tried to hide a grin. He falls for it every time! I watched as Featherlegs poured a generous amount of whiskey into a glass. Not the good stuff from the shelf, no sirree, Bear got the same swill that was served in Swearengen’s place and the Number 10. And in a plain regular glass, certainly not the fancy cut crystal for special ‘guests’. But then Featherlegs added that ‘little extra’ that made this drink so special. She pulled out the stopper from a small dark bottle under the bar and quickly added a few drops of chloral hydrate to Bear’s whiskey.

****************

(“A little trick I picked up on the Barbary Coast,” she told me the first time I seen her do it. The night that damn Calamity Jane stormed in, all drunk as usual, cussing and caterwauling about some nonsense she was pissed off about, threatening to slap leather with any cocksucker who looked at her sideways. Featherlegs gave her a free drink and, before you could say ‘Who shot John’, old Jane was facedown on the rug, snoring away. Featherlegs nudged her with her toe. “Lucky for her there isn’t an ocean for a thousand miles so nobody will shanghai her drunken carcass to hell and back.”)

****************

Her ruffled lace pantalets fluttering as she walked across the room, Featherlegs delivered the glass to Bear as sweet as can be. The big dope grabbed it, drained it in one gulp, smacked his lips and sat back with a lopsided smile.

We waited. It didn’t take long. First his eyes started fluttering like he was fighting to keep them open. Then his head began to nod and he’d jerk it back again. Finally his chin dropped down to his chest and a low rumbling snoring sound was heard along with the creaking of the chair. Featherlegs walked over to the slumbering lummox, gave him a quick push and he toppled to the floor, out cold, snoring away.

“Well, that’s that,” she said with a satisfied smile. “No more ruckus and no broken chair either.” She turned to the Dwarf who was watching by the bar. “Go fetch the Albino. Tell him to bring the barrow. He’ll know.”

****************

I’ve gotten used to dealing with drunks. Seems like most of the bluebellies rampaging from one end of Alabama to the other are nothing but drunken animals. No decency towards any of us, no concern or regard for our property, stealing everything in sight. And what they can’t steal, they destroy. Burn it up in an unholy fire.

There was one, though, I thought was different. He didn’t have that look about him, the look I grew used to seeing in their eyes. But his eyes were friendly. A bright emerald green with little specks of gold. Eyes that sparkled and shined in the bright sun. Almost like they were laughing. And he was so handsome! If it wasn’t for that damned blue uniform he wore, that boy would pass for any of the fine beaus waiting for a dance at the cotillion.

“No need to be afraid, little girl. No one is gonna hurt you. I’ll see to that. All we want is a little somethin’ to eat and we’ll be on our way.”

“We don’t have much, sir. Other soldiers came by before and took most of our cows and chickens. All we have left is one milk cow and two laying hens and the old rooster.”

His eyes were still smiling. I wanted to trust him. Wanted so much to believe that they weren’t all bad.

“Well, you can keep them, little missy. We can’t have you fine folks starve, can we? No sirree. I’m gonna go inside and see if I can’t find a few potatoes and carrots to take along. Then we’ll be on our way.”

I believed him. I didn’t see the look he gave one of his men. Then he turned and went inside the house.

****************

About a week after the trial, Clemmy and I were walking down the thoroughfare, past the Number 10, and we stopped to hear Billy Nuttall say how ‘California’ Joe Milner, Hickok’s old partner, let it be known to one and all that it wouldn’t be ‘healthy’ for the coward McCall to stick around Deadwood. Naturally, the yellow weasel turned tail and lit out of town before anyone could get justice for Bill.

“Don’t you worry, Little Bit,” Clemmy told me as we moved on. “He’ll get his.” Her eyes narrowed. “Trash like that always does.”

****************

Green eyes that laughed in the bright sunlight. But turned into something unspeakable in a flash.

Suddenly I saw one of the bluebellies leading our milk cow by a rope around her neck. Another carried our dead laying hens by their feet, swinging them in half circles as he walked.

(You lied to me. Lied to me! LIED TO ME! Liar. Liar! LIAR!)

I let out a scream. “Granddad! They’re stealing our cow!”

Granddad came out on the porch, unarmed, carrying only his knotted pine walking stick. He took one step. Then a shot rang out. I screamed. Granddad took one more step, then pitched forward off the porch, facedown in the dirt. A dark red stain began to spread on the back of his white shirt. The handsome soldier with the laughing eyes stood in the door, a smoking pistol in his hand. Only his eyes weren’t laughing now. They were filled with evil. Hate. Hate enough to kill.

I know that hate now. I have that hate now. And I’ll kill. If I have to.

****************

Up ahead was the McDaniels Building, home of the Langrishe Theatre Company and, just as we passed, the door opened. Out stepped Miss Sara Atherton, the petite blonde who had sung so beautifully at Bill’s funeral. She was elegantly dressed in a classy sky blue brocade dress with a lacy bodice and organza collar. Her matching parasol was resting on her shoulder. It would be a miracle if she made it to wherever she was going without being splattered by the ever-present Deadwood mud. She smiled at us. Clemmy and I returned the favor.

“Afternoon, ladies,” she said without a trace of snobbery. We’re all so used to the looks the ‘proper’ ladies are so happy to give us every time we dare to set foot on the thoroughfare. It was nice to get a genuine friendly look and ‘how do you do’ for a change.

“Afternoon,” Clemmy responded with a smile.

I nodded and said with a smile, “I just want to tell ya that I thought your singing at Bill’s funeral was beautiful.”

She looked me over with a smile of her own. My eye was still puffy and swollen, although the color had faded to a light purple. Makeup covered the brunt of the cuts and scrapes on my face but she could tell. And still her eyes and smile stayed genuine.

“Were you friends of Mr. Hickok’s?”

“I guess you could say we were, yes’m. We came in together on Charlie Utter’s wagon train.”

“I’d heard a lot about him. Always hoped to meet him someday. I never got the chance.”

We started walking together. Turns out she was headed to Star & Bullock’s, the same direction we were going. We made quick introductions.

“I’m Meg Hawkes but folks here call me Clementine. Or Clemmy.”

“Laurel Luckett’s my name. But I go by Little Bit.”

“Clemmy and Little Bit it is then. I’m Sara Atherton, out of Denver.”

“Yes, we know,” Clemmy said. “We saw your performance with the Langrishe Company on the boardwalk.”

“Oh, that,” the actress laughed. “That was just a little taste of what we do. Publicity for the show.”

“It was very good.”

“You’ve seen Shakespeare before?”

“Once, a long time ago when I was a girl,” Clemmy said quietly. “Back in Alabama. Before ... ”

The blonde smiled, understanding. “Well, wait till you see it when we’re up on the stage, in full costumes, with the gaslights up. It’s magical!”

Just then a couple of respectable ladies emerged from Star & Bullock’s. They gave us the usual fish-eye stare, curled their lips and went on their way, taking great pains to avoid coming in close contact with us.

“Don’t pay them any mind,” I said to Sara. “We’re used to that.”

She grinned and winked. “So am I!”

“Huh?”

“Oh, those proper church ladies are all sweet as can be when they come to the theater. But out here on the street is a whole other story. It’s like I have the plague or something.”

“Shoot,” I muttered. “They are like that with us all the time!”

Clemmy was quiet. Her mind was far away. Remembering.

****************

If all those fine upstanding ladies back home could see me now! Caleb Hawkes’ baby girl. Jedediah Hawkes’ granddaughter. The darlin’ of Lonesome Pine.

Would I be like them if the war never happened? Would I turn up my nose at women like Little Bit or Sara Atherton just because they had bad breaks or chose a life that isn’t acceptable in proper society?

****************

Sara stood in the doorway. “I thank you for accompanying me to the store. I know we’ll be seeing each other again. You should come by the theatre some night. As my guests.”

“We’d like that,” I said. “If Miss Feather – I mean, Miss Fourcade says it’s okay.”

We said our goodbyes and the blonde went into the store. We continued down the boardwalk.

“Why are you so quiet all of a sudden, Clemmy?”

“Huh? Oh, no reason. Just thinking about something.”

I stopped and grabbed her arm. “You know what I’m thinking about? I’m thinking we should head over to the China quarter, see if maybe we can lay eyes on that China Doll!”

She shook my hand off her arm. “We’ll do no such thing! We’re to go to Doc Babcock’s for Miss Featherlegs’ medicine and for him to change your dressing. Nothing else than that.”

“Oh, come on, Clemmy! You’re just as curious as me to see her. I was watching you when Charlie Utter was talking about her.”

“You may be right, Little Bit. I admit, yes, I am kinda curious to see this China Doll. Specially after hearing Mr. Utter go on about her.”

“And it’s daylight now, nothing bad is gonna happen!”

“No? It was daylight when you had that run-in with Tricksie Lynn.”

“That was different. That bitch followed me there.”

Clemmy grinned. “Well, alright. I suppose a little look wouldn’t be too bad.”

So off we went till we got the far eastern end of the main thoroughfare, down the alley right in the heart of the Celestials, hoping to catch a glimpse of the mysterious China Doll. To hear Charlie Utter tell it, she was absolutely stunning, like a fragile porcelain doll, with haunting eyes, a beautiful face, always dressed in elegant embroidered robes and fine jewelry. She was never ever seen on the thoroughfare, very few had laid eyes on her. Only her clients. Like Charlie. And, boy, did he ever moon about her!

Clemmy and I walked maybe fifty feet past the shacks and hovels when a wall of Celestials suddenly appeared behind us and blocked the alleyway. Another group did the same further down. There was no expression on any of the faces, they looked like statues, not moving, not saying anything. We were trapped, no chance to escape.

There was a rush of activity and four small black-haired girls were on us, snarling in fury, yanking our hair, scratching, kicking. Clemmy and I fought back desperately. We didn’t have a chance to wonder why we were being attacked like this. All we could do was fight for our lives. And that’s what we did.

Clemmy is maybe two inches taller than me, both of us could be considered featherweights but, compared to the wild girls we were fighting now, we were heifers! It’s rare that I come across a girl shorter than me and all four of these Chinese were five feet tall or even shorter. And none could be over a hundred pounds. But they fought with a savagery I’d never seen. The look in their eyes was hate. Pure hate.


Hate. I have that hate now.


Clemmy managed to grab the long flying black hair of one of our attackers and use it to whip her into the wooden wall of a shack. She went down in a heap, but scrambled back up again and launched herself at me. I already had my hands full with one of her friends who was tearing at my dress with one hand while flailing her other fist at my face. As my dress started to tear, the dressing covering my ribs was exposed and, with a cry of delight, both Celestials started hammering their fists into ribs over and over. I let out an anguished scream and fell to the muddy ground, pulling them down with me, trying to kick my feet at them while I covered up my ribs.

Clemmy couldn’t help me. The other two were wearing her down. She was fighting hard, with a fury fueled by the rage inside her. The proper Southern belle became a hellfire in that alley that afternoon. Her two attackers were definitely taking a beating but they kept coming at her. Clothes were shredded, hair was yanked out by the roots. Everything was a weapon: fists, feet, teeth, elbows, knees. I grabbed the arm of one of the Chinese and sank my teeth into the soft flesh of her forearm. She screeched something in her native tongue but kept on fighting.

Why? Why were these four girls fighting like they were possessed? Why was the crowd of Celestials just standing there, watching? We had a lot of questions but the most important one of all was, are we gonna get out of here alive?

One of Clemmy’s attackers called out something in Chinese and a fifth girl appeared from a joss house and joined the beat-down. Clemmy was still fighting wildly, her arms were swinging, her fists connecting with faces and bodies. I was doing my best, still kicking at the bitches on me, covering up my ribs. A hard kick to my temple dazed me and sent me reeling. Clemmy was on the ground now too, the odds were too much against her.

Then a sky blue blur whooshed past me and I heard a loud crack followed by a groan. Sara Atherton had appeared out of nowhere and was using her parasol like a club, breaking it across the face of one of the Celestials, who was now rolling in the mud holding her face, her legs kicking in pain. Sara used the broken handle of the parasol to stab and poke at the other Chinese, who finally pulled away from Clemmy and scurried off, disappearing into the nearby shacks. Then she turned her attention on the bitches still on me. The petite blonde actress sent a hard boot straight to the nose of one of my attackers. She let out a gurgle and flew backwards. Her partner gave up the fight, grabbed her companion and pulled her down the alley where they were swallowed up by the sea of Celestials.

Clemmy and I were a mess. This is the second time I’ve ended up half naked and beaten all to hell in a China quarter alley. Clemmy didn’t look much better. Sara helped us up to our feet and we slowly made our way back toward the thoroughfare. The human wall had vanished as quickly as it had appeared.

Only Fee Lee Wong remained. Mr. Wong, one of the leading Celestials in Deadwood, approached us with a sad regretful look on his face.

“You go, please,” he said in halting English. “Not safe. Go, please.”

We didn’t need to be told twice. We got the hell out of there. Folks naturally stared as we made our way back up the thoroughfare, trying to cover ourselves up as best we could. I knew I must have broken another rib, the way my whole body felt like it was on fire when I tried to breathe. Clemmy’s eyes now matched mine, in color and swollenness. We were covered with bruises and scratches and were lucky to be alive.

We thanked Sara for coming to our rescue.

“I watched you two go down that alley from the store window. I knew something was up when I saw that wall of Celestials just appear and block it off.”

“And we are ever so grateful that you did,” Clemmy smiled, and winced.

The blonde smiled. “Anything for friends of Wild Bill.” She took both our arms. “Now let’s get you two over to the Doc’s.”

Clemmy protested, “But we don’t want to take you away from ... ”

Sara cut her off. “That’s what friends do.”


Friends.

The hate is leaving now. But I’m not empty any more. I have friends. A new family.

I loved Lonesome Pine. I miss it so. But it’s gone now. Everything gone. Everyone I ever loved. Now it’s just me, out here in this wild country. I don’t belong here. I wasn’t brought up for this life. But here I am and I will survive. I will go on.

[laurie breeze]

Chapter Seven

The Day The Blondes Descended On Deadwood

“Hey, Bill. Hope you don’t mind me spending time here with ya. I’ve been meaning to get up here sooner but something always seems to get in the way, ya know? Anyways, I picked some wildflowers and chokecherries to put by your marker. Old Charlie did a good job at that, everybody thinks the writing is real fine.”


This was my first visit to Bill’s grave since the day of the funeral.  Weeks had passed. I just couldn’t bring myself to come up here. I guess maybe I was wanting to hold onto the notion that none of this was true, that I’d wake up to a message that Bill wanted me to run another errand for him or shoot the breeze or something. But it was true. My friend was dead.

And before any of you get the idea what we had was more than that, well, you can put it right out of your head. We was friends. No more. Nothing romantic happened between us. Not that I didn’t hope something would, mind you. But I knew nothing could ever come of it. James Butler Hickok was a great man, a legend. Me, I’m just a little half-breed whore.


“I gotta tell ya, Bill, things have been a mite crazy today. I’m sure glad I could sneak away and hide out up here. Everybody’s in a real pissy mood. Even Miss Jenn. You know, Featherlegs? It all started when a real fancy rig come into Deadwood this morning carrying four women. All of them blonde. All of them with a high-faluting snobbish way about them. I could tell by the look on Miss Jenn’s face when she seen them that things were about to get real interesting.”


“So that uppity blonde tart thinks she can ride into town like the bloody Queen of England and I’m supposed to just sit back and let her take over?” Miss Jenn fumed as she watched the wagon pass by the window.

“Not the Queen of England,” Doc Babcock corrected her. He pointed at the tall aristocratic-looking blonde beauty seated next to the driver, twirling her parasol, looking straight ahead as if nothing going on in the thoroughfare held any interest for her. “That’s Lurlene Johnson. Calls herself the ‘Queen of the Blondes’. Has quite a reputation.”

“I know her,” Miss Jenn said sharply. “And her reputation. Our paths crossed in Virginia City.” Her flashing eyes followed the rig as it moved down the street.

“Sounds like you two have a history.”

“You could say that.” Miss Jenn turned away from the window, crossed over to the bar and poured herself a stiff drink. If any of us girls were in the room we woulda known right there that something was up because Miss Jenn didn’t hardly ever indulge this early in the day.

Doc continued to gaze out into the thoroughfare. “She must be doing well for herself. That rig looks like it cost a pretty penny.”

Miss Jenn downed the whiskey and slammed the empty glass down on the bar with a bang. “Lurlene Johnson has a way of getting exactly what she wants…..from the most unexpected places.” She headed for the stairs, stopped and turned back to the doctor. “Please excuse me, Doc, I can’t stay to chat, I have some urgent business to attend to.”

Dr. Babcock took the hint. He gathered up his black bag and moved to the door. “All your girls are in top health. Try to see that they don’t get into any more fights if you can.”

Miss Jenn forced a smile. “I’ll do my best about that but I can’t promise anything. I’m no miracle worker.”

Doc opened the door and stepped out onto the porch. “And get them to use the new bath house, it’ll save me from making all these house calls. That’s why I had it built.”

Miss Jenn nodded. “I will, Doc. I make sure my girls are always clean scrubbed for their clients. Maybe you should spread the word about the bath house to the men in town. Most of them could do with a bar of soap and a right good washing.”

Doc grinned. “I’ll do my best about that but I can’t promise anything. I’m no miracle worker.”

He tipped his hat and strolled off down the boardwalk. Miss Jenn shut the door behind him. Her fingers gripped the knob so tight her knuckles turned white. Her face flushed an angry red. She hissed through her clenched teeth. “He couldn’t have done this to me! He just couldn’t!”


“See, this here Queen of the Blondes woman came from the same place Miss Jenn did, that Virginia City down in Nevada. And Queenie knew Miss Jenn’s special friend ‘H’. She knew him good. Real good, if ya know what I mean.”


Captain Porterhouse, the business ‘associate’ sent by ‘H’ to help Miss Jenn in Deadwood, had been called back to the Comstock Lode by ‘H’ three days before. He left his assistant, C.C. Cleever behind. Cleever, a former New York City policeman, was just as tough as his boss. Even with Portherhouse gone, Al Swearengen or anyone else who might have a notion to start a ruckus would soon see the foolishness of their actions. C.C. Cleever didn’t take no shit from nobody.  There was one big difference though between him and his boss. He smiled every now and then, even laughed out loud once which surprised everybody in the room, including him.


“He looks out for us all, almost as good as The Albino. C.C. is always there for any of us if we need him, but, ya know what, Bill? I think he kinda has a sweet spot for Jersey Jo. I guess maybe because they both come from New York City and have that in common. Anyways, after Queenie Johnson rode into town, Miss Jenn marched straight over to Cleever’s room at the Grand Central.”  


“This is HIS doing, don’t try to tell me different, mate!”

Cleever sat on the bed, watching his angry visitor pace back and forth. He raised both hands in a gesture to try to calm her down.

“Maybe it is, maybe it isn’t, Jenn. It’s his money, I don’t tell him how to spend it.”

“His bloody twisted sense of humor! All a big joke to him. Waits till I get my house all set up and established, then sends that bitch here to make my life hell. He’s probably out there puffing his fat cigar laughing his ass off!”

“Jenn, calm down. Deadwood is big enough for the both of you.”

Miss Jenn whirled around to face him, her eyes blazing with fury. “The hell it is!”

“I know you two had problems in the past. ‘H’ knows that too. But business here is booming. Hell, there are enough willing peeders out there for fifty whore houses … Oops, I mean, ‘Academies For Young Ladies’.”

“Nobody likes a smart mouth, C.C.”

“Only trying to make you smile, Jenn. Nothing more.”

“I’ll smile when I see that bitch’s backside as she makes her way out of town.”

“Just relax, take it easy. Probably not a damn thing will happen and you’ll have gone and got yourself all worked up over nothing.”

Miss Jenn closed her eyes, leaned against the closed door, and breathed deeply. “Fine,” she said finally. She pointed a stabbing finger for emphasis. “But just let that blonde cxnt try something, anything, she’ll wish she never set foot in Deadwood, so help me God!”


“And guess what, Bill? Miss Jenn was right. Turns out Queenie WAS about to try something. I don’t know if ya ever came across her in your travels but Lurlene Johnson was mighty particular in her ways. Miss Jenn refuses to talk about her to us, won’t even even mention her name. She just calls her ‘that bitch’ or ‘that cxnt’ and lets it go at that. It was C.C. filled us in.”


“They don’t call her ‘Queen of the Blondes’ just because of her hair color. Or because she’s tall and beautiful and has what you’d call a royal air about her.”

“You mean, like she’s a stuck-up priss,” Tee Poo interrupted.

“A slag passing herself off as a toff,” Gemm muttered.

“Uh, right,” C.C. continued. “The real reason is because all her girls are blonde. She won’t take on no one else. No brunettes, no redheads, just blondes.”

We all turned to look at Jersey Jo, the only blonde in our bunch.

“Sheesh, Jo,” Tee Poo giggled. “How does it feel to be special?”

Jo smiled. “Feels good. Feels real good.”

Tee Poo continued, “For the very first time in your life?”

Jo’s smile faded as we all started to laugh. Even C.C. hid a grin behind his hand.

“Nark it, Tee Poo,” Jo snapped. “You shut your Cajun cake-hole.” But a twinkle in her eye and a slight smile on her face made it obvious that she was just playing along with the joke.

Clemmy asked, “C.C., do you think she’ll try to come after Jo to join her?”

The big man scratched his head. “It’s possible,” he said finally, “I wouldn’t put it past her.”

“What are you gonna do, Jo?” I asked. “If she comes after you?”

The blonde girl sat back, thinking, taking her time. “Well,” she said, drawing it out slowly as we all leaned forward, expectantly. “I’ll have to think it over, won’t I? Do I wanna be just one more blonde in a bunch of blondes? Or do I wanna be the ONLY blonde here, the one who shines over a sorry pack of brunettes?”


“Well, ya can just guess how that comment went over, Bill. Gemm and Tee Poo really let Jo have it for that. Even me an’ Clemmy lit into her. But deep down we knew she was kidding. An’ we also knew there was no way she was leaving us. But that sure didn’t stop Lurlene Johnson and her girls from trying.”


Lurlene Johnson wasted no time in setting her plan in action. The second her shiny black button-up boots hit the piece of plywood that covered the muck in the thoroughfare leading to the boardwalk, she was barking out instructions to her two top girls.

Silky Heidi nodded as she listened, her blonde curls bobbing up and down. She earned her nickname not only for the smoothness of her fair porcelain skin, but also for the imported Chinese silk dresses she loved to wear. Heidi prided herself on her wardrobe; she was always aware of the reactions she got as she prissed her way down the street. Never a hair out of place, her bodice perfectly laced, no wrinkles to be found anywhere on her flowing skirts, her black fishnet stockings in pristine condition.

A taller leggier blonde sat next to her, also paying close attention to Miss Johnson. Her name was Kassi Delight, a former hurdy gurdy gal who plied her dancing skills in the high-class saloons on the Comstock Lode. Kassi was a favorite of all the miners out there who happily surrendered their gold dust for another dance with the laughing blonde with the long legs. And even more gold dust for any private time that came after.

Heidi and Kassi had made Miss Johnson a whole lot of money and earned her house a reputation rivaling Miss Jenn’s as the best in Nevada. The mysterious ‘H’ was a frequent client of both houses, sometimes enjoying the company of the girls but also sometimes just hiding away from the outside world for peace and quiet.

Both madams rivaled for his attentions. And his generosity. In both their minds, there could only be one winner. That’s why Miss Jenn was so angry at the sight of her hated blonde enemy. That’s why Miss Johnson immediately set her girls to work.

“By now that bitch Featherlegs knows we’re here. And she’s probably on her guard. But that won’t help her none. She’s been at the game too long. She’s old. Soft. Lazy. I’m gonna break her here just like I did in Virginia City.”


“Well, shoot. Miss Jenn ain’t hardly old. I don’t know for sure but I guess she’s in her 30’s. And she’s experienced. She knows the score. Queenie Johnson is 24. And she’s full of herself. Just like her girls.”

I stopped to pull a scraggly sad little weed from the grass by Bill’s wooden marker.

“Yup. Things were sure about to pop.”


Silky Heidi casually strolled down the boardwalk, twirling her fancy pink parasol behind her. She went along her merry way, making it a point to ignore every miner, townie, drunk, bum, male, female, human, animal, that stopped in their tracks to gawk at her.  She gave that impression but she was really paying close attention to all the looks, sharp intakes of breath, whistles and comments that came her way. Only when she heard a grizzled miner mutter, “Fresh meat!” under his breath did she stop and slowly turn her head at a flirting angle to look him dead in the eye.

Batting her eyelashes, she smiled sweetly. “The freshest around, dearie. But don’t take my word for it. You come find out for yourself, why don’t ya?” Then, with a wink, she continued down Main Street leaving the flustered miner standing there, mouth open, staring at her back like he was hypnotized by her twirling parasol. Only after his buddy clouted him in the back did he come to his senses, break into a huge slobbering grin and, with a shake of the head, go inside Star & Bullock’s Hardwares.

Usually Heidi would have lingered around, teasing, flirting, enjoying the reactions of the men as they fawned over her like lovesick schoolboys. But not today. Today she had business to take care of. She was looking for Jersey Jo Nawls. On orders from the Queen of the Blondes.

Miss Jenn spotted the blonde the minute she left the Grand Central Hotel. Cleever had done nothing to calm Jenn down, her hatred for Lurlene Johnson boiled deep inside her. She recognized Heidi as one of the girls on the rig and started toward her. Just then, a body came sailing out of the Gem Saloon, hurtling over the boardwalk and came to a splashing stop in the mud of the thoroughfare. He lay where he fell, a tall gangly young man with corn-colored hair, watery blue eyes and a weak chin. As he slowly sat up, spitting mud, Al Swearengen appeared in the Gem doorway flanked by his flunky Dan Doherty and Tricksie Lynn.

“I told you what would happen if you tried that again with my girls, Sethro. Next time they’ll be carryin’ your sorry ass up the hill in a fucken box,” Swearengen called out in a loud voice that everyone in the vicinity heard.

Tricksie glared at the muddy boy furiously, her dress ripped, her right breast exposed, teeth marks clearly visible on her soft pink flesh. Doherty’s massive fists were balled as he silently watched Sethro pick himself up and shuffle off across the thoroughfare.

“Goddamn freak,” Tricksie muttered.

“Shut up,” Swearengen barked at her. “And cover yourself, will ya? I ain’t giving away no free looks at the goods!”

He noticed Miss Jenn approaching and stepped forward, giving her a mock bow.

“A good day to you, Miss Fourcade.”

Miss Jenn, her eyes on Heidi a few yards away, shouldered Swearengen aside with a curt, “Fuck you!” and went past.

Swearengen straightened up, a humorless smile on his pocked swarthy face.

“Such language from a proper lady,” he muttered as he watched Miss Jenn overtake Heidi and engage her in a heated conversation. He could only make out a part of what was said, the noise from the busy thoroughfare drowned out the rest. But Swearengen was no dummy. Thanks to his spies and informers, he knew all about the arrival of the Queen of the Blondes and her girls from the moment they hit Deadwood Gulch. He also had a good notion that trouble was brewing between the two madams. And, being the businessman that he was, he knew how he could make the situation work to his advantage. He stood there, chewing on his lower lip as he watched the two women.

“You just mind what I told you,’ Miss Jenn snapped at the petite blonde, her accusing finger jabbing at Heidi’s ample breasts. “And you can also tell that bitch you work for that I won’t tolerate any of her shit. Not here. Not again!”

The little blonde flushed angrily as she glared up at the bigger, taller, older woman in defiance. She used her tiny pink parasol to smack Jenn’s hand away from her. The older woman quickly snatched the parasol from the blonde and flung it into the mud.

Heidi’s eyes grew wide in stunned surprise. Her bright red lips pursed as she tried to find word that finally came.

“H-H-How dare you! That was a gift from ... ”

Miss Jenn cut her off. “I have a very good idea WHO that was a gift from!” She took a deep breath. “I’m done talking. I’ve said my piece. Consider it a warning. The last one you’ll get.”

With that, Miss Jenn stepped out into the thoroughfare, lifting her skirts up, and crossed briskly to the other side without a single look back. The blonde, trembling in anger, called out loudly in a parting shot that Miss Jenn must have heard but chose to ignore.

“Threats are all you’re good for, old lady! You’re washed up! Finished! The game has passed you by! It’s our time now! Your day is done!”

Leaving the parasol in the muck, the blonde whirled and continued on her way. Swearengen smiled grimly, turned his head and called out into the saloon.

“Tricksie!”

She appeared by his side in seconds, her torn dress now pinned up.

“Yeah, Al?”

“You wanna get back at that little half breed whore who brained you with the Injun’s head?”

Tricksie’s face grew grim. “Does a bear shit in the woods? I wanna see her planted in the ground up there next to fucken Hickok.”

“That can wait. Right now I just want you to pass on a little information to her madam. In about ten minutes you’re gonna pay that featherlegged bitch a call. And this is what you’re gonna tell her ... ”


“I don’t know exactly what it was that old Swearengen made Tricksie tell Miss Jenn but I can guess. And it sure enough got the reaction he wanted. I ain’t surprised none, Tricksie Lynn was always a convincing bitch, even growing up back at Mrs. Booker’s. Anyway, Miss Jenn blew higher than a kite and really lit into poor Jo in her office. Pretty soon, the both of them was yelling and cussing to beat the band. Then Jo stormed out. I ain’t seen her since.”


The man that Swearengen put in front of Miss Fourcade’s Academy For Young Ladies just managed to hurry back to the Gem before the angry Jersey Jo stormed out the front door. She slammed it so loud the noise woke up the dirty scruffy drunk known as Uncle Furry, who was sleeping one off by the side of the building. He yawned, scratched himself, blinked his red eyes, staggered to his feet, unsteadily opened the door and stumbled inside. A minute later, he was hurtling through the air, thrown out by the giant Albino. He landed facedown in the muck of the thoroughfare, rolled over and fell asleep again. Two prominent citizens, A.W. Merrick, the publisher of the Black Hills Pioneer, and George Wagner, the owner of the Grand Central Hotel, dragged Uncle Furry out of the street before a wagon could run him over.

Swearengen watched the furious blonde stomp past them down the boardwalk. After Jo was out of hearing distance he turned to the spy and said, “Well?”

“Oh, they was hollerin’,” the spy grinned. “So loud I heared them from where I was standin’.”

“Good,” Swearengen grimaced. “That Tricksie can be a convincing whore when she wants to be.” He clapped his man on the back. “Better put your hat on. The shit is gonna start flying soon.”


“The way I figure it, Bill, an’ I gave it some thought . . . With Cleever still in Deadwood looking out for us, Swearengen had to keep his nose clean. He couldn’t just go right out and start trouble. But he could work it so trouble would start up without it looking like he done it. An’ that’s just what happened.”


Jo needed to think. Her mind was racing almost as fast as her heart. The way Miss Jenn attacked her, accused her of going over to the other side. Like that would ever happen! Jo was loyal to Miss Jenn, she owed her more than she could ever repay. Just like she did with the rest of her girls, Miss Jenn took Jo in when she arrived on the Barbary Coast, the cross-country trip almost killing her in the process. After her midnight escape from the Blackwell Island Asylum, Jo slowly worked her way west a few miles at a time, always looking over her shoulder for some Pinkerton man sent by “Boss” McGloin of the Sixth Ward to bring her back. When she stepped down from the coach on Pacific Avenue in San Francisco, she was sickly, frail and on the verge of nervous collapse. Miss Jenn just happened to be back in San Francisco recruiting girls for the Lucky Strike in Virginia City. She was passing by the coach at that exact time, took the blonde in and Jo had been with her ever since.

Jo STILL had no intentions of leaving but Miss Jenn’s angry words really hurt the confused girl. She walked past the Langrishe Theatre, not noticing her actress friend Miss Sara Atherton standing in the doorway. Sara was watching Jack Langrishe as he tacked up a large rectangular piece of cardboard on the wooden signpost in front of the building. Written on it in crude letters was an announcement of an upcoming performance of Mme. Emilie Duchard, the French-Canadian songstress from Montreal.

Sara watched Jo hurry past, saw the look on her face and started to follow but Langrishe called her back, wanting to know if he had attached the poster straight or crooked. By the time they got it to both of their likings, Jo was nowhere in sight.


“Lurlene Johnson really wanted Jo to join her. She wanted her bad. Not only because Jo is blonde and beautiful and is real popular with the miners. She also wanted to put one over on Miss Jenn. One of these days, Bill, I’m gonna find out why they hate each other so much. An’ when I do, I’ll be sure to tell ya.”


End Of Chapter Seven Part One

[laurie breeze]

Chapter Seven (continued)

The Lucky Strike (Miss Fourcade’s Pleasure Palace), Virginia City, Nevada Territory, 1868

“ ‘H’ wants you to take the girl in, as a favor to him.”

With a critical eye, Miss Jenn inspected the tall scrawny stringy-haired blonde girl standing next to C.C. Cleever in the parlour of her establishment. She wasn’t very impressed by what she saw.

“You look like a bloody scarecrow,” she said finally. “What’s your name, girl? And how old are you?”

“Lurlene Johnson,” the teen stammered. “Just turned sixteen, in May.”

The girl’s watery blue eyes kept darting over to the tray of sandwiches on the table. She licked her lips hungrily, then quickly looked to see if Miss Fourcade or Cleever had noticed. If they did, she couldn’t tell.

Miss Jenn had noticed. Very little escaped her. From the looks of her, the girl probably hadn’t had a decent meal in a while. She gave a quick nod to the Albino who had been standing, silent as always, by the door. He moved over to the girl who paled and shrunk in terror as the giant approached. But he placed a huge hand gently on her shoulder and led the trembling blonde to the table, pulling a chair out for her and easing her into it.

Lurlene quickly grabbed a sandwich, froze with it halfway to her mouth, and looked over at Miss Jenn and Cleever.

“Eat, girl,” Miss Jenn said. “Put some meat on you. You’re no good to anyone if you’re skin and bones.”

The girl ate hungrily, washing the sandwich down with the milk poured for her by the Albino. She looked up at him in wonder, her blue eyes wide. Never before had she seen a man so tall. And so pale. With snow white hair, even though she could tell he was a young man. Her mouth full, she managed a grateful grin. The Albino blinked his reddish eyes and a slight smile formed on his face.

“Looks like she made a friend already,” Cleever commented with a smirk.

Miss Jenn frowned. She stamped her foot.

“You! Don’t just stand there. Go chop some wood for the fire. Move!”

Ever obedient, the Albino nodded and left the room. Lurlene watched him go, then peeked over at Miss Jenn. She knew the older woman was upset, couldn’t understand why, but secretly enjoyed the effect her harmless flirting had on the giant Albino and how it bothered Miss Jenn. She turned back to her sandwich and smiled as she chewed, already planning and scheming. Lurlene Johnson had learned at a very early age how to manipulate people to get what she wanted. And she knew that, if she played her cards right, she’d eventually have her way. Like always.
 
Miss Jenn watched the blonde girl’s back as she ate, half listening to Cleever as he muttered quietly. Something about the blonde rubbed her the wrong way. For the life of her, she couldn’t figure out what it was.

“You know I have no say in this. It’s all ‘H’. He took . . . ”

Miss Jenn took his arm and led him quickly to the far side of the parlour, away from the table so the girl couldn’t hear.

“I know, C.C. I know the story,” she cut him off. “It’s bloody happened before. He took a liking to her. Felt sorry for the little wench. Felt something else for her too, I bet. Can’t set her up on his own, no, the wife won’t like that. Best to let Featherlegs look after her like a mother hen.”

Cleever grinned. “Yeah, that’s just about the size of it. The way ‘H’ was going on, seems like this one is pretty special.”

Miss Jenn glared at the girl. “Oh, she’s special, alright.”

At the table, Lurlene smiled.

Oh yeah, she thought to herself, I’m really gonna like it here.


“So much was going on, Bill . . . kinda like a whole mess of runaway horses all headed for the same spot from all different directions. It was just a matter of time before they all ran smack into each other head-on.”


Kassi Delight, Miss Johnson’s other top girl, was also on the lookout for Jersey Jo. When she was fourteen, the European-born blonde had fled the poverty of her home country with her family to find a better life in America. They eventually ended up in Minnesota but Kassi didn’t take very long to realize that farming just wasn’t the life for her. She left home and worked her way first to Idaho and then down to Virginia City in the Nevada Territory where she became very popular in the melodeons and concert halls working as a hurdy-gurdy girl. Lurlene Johnson soon heard about the pretty blonde who danced to the music of the hurdy-gurdy and was such a favorite of all the miners. She convinced Kassi to join her little ‘family', along with Silky Heidi who happened to be Kassi’s best friend.

Silky Heidi was also a favorite at the melodeons and especially at the concert hall where she would be perched above the stage on a red velvet swing. As the music played, the petite blonde would slowly swing back and forth as Kassi and the other girls danced. As she swung, Heidi would smile and stretch her black-stockinged legs out as far as possible with a swish of her skirts and the miners would go crazy. 

Kassi hit it off with New York City born Heidi right away. They were more like sisters than just friends. Wherever one went, so did the other. Today they were both walking the Deadwood thoroughfare looking for Jo. Miss Johnson also told them to keep their eyes open for any other blonde who might be a good addition to their group.

Kassi spotted Jo first as the Jersey girl was leaving the Bella Union saloon. Badly needing a drink to calm her nerves after the argument with Miss Jenn, Jo spent a few minutes shooting the breeze with Tom Miller, the owner, and a couple of his girls. Business was slow that early in the day, the girls were either still sleeping or lounging around. After she finished her drink, Jo left the saloon, practically bumping into Kassi Delight as she passed by.

“Well, you’re just the girl I was sent to find,” Kassi said with a bright smile.

Even though she knew, Jo decided to play along. “Oh? Sent by who?”

“I think you know who, sweetie. And I think you know you’ll be a lot happier being with your kind.”

Jo fought back a laugh. “My kind?”

Kassi shrugged her shoulders. “We blondes have to stick together. The rest are just trash, plain and simple. You’re wasting yourself with that old Featherlegs. Come with me. Meet Miss Johnson. You’ll see you belong with us.”

Jo opened her mouth to reply but happened to notice Clemmy and Tee Poo coming her way with bundles of dirty linens. They were headed for the Chinese quarter and the washerwoman who did our laundry. Jo quickly elbowed Kassi aside and started to move away. The European blonde grabbed Jo’s wrist.

“No need to be rude, you know,” she hissed.

Jo jerked her arm free and shoved Kassi hard enough to send her staggering back into the wall of the Bella Union.

Jo snapped at Kassi, “Do yourself a big favor and stay the fuck outta my way!”

Before the startled girl could reply, Jo ducked down the alley by the Bella Union and disappeared behind the livery stable. Her blue eyes flashing, Kassi glared after her until Jo was out of sight. Then she turned and saw Tee Poo and Clemmy standing there, watching her, small satisfied smiles on their faces. Kassi blushed angrily, turned and hurried off in the other direction.

“We’ll see who’s laughing when this is done,” she muttered.


“We all knew Jo was loyal, Bill . . . Well, at least me an’ Tee Poo, Clemmy an’ Gemma knew it. I think Miss Jenn knew it too but she was all wound up on account’a that Johnson woman, well, she wasn’t thinkin’ straight.”


“Talkin’ to yourself, Little Bit?”

Kneeling by Bill’s grave, I gasped and gave a start at the sound of the voice behind me. I whirled around to see a tall goofy corn-haired beanpole of a boy, all gangly arms and legs, leaning against a burned dead tree.

“God’s Teeth, Sethro!” I yelped out, using a favorite expression of Miss Jenn’s, one I’d heard her say dozens of times. “Ain’t you got sense enough not to sneak up on a girl like that? You pretty close scared me to death!”

“Well,” he drawled, “You wouldn’t have too far to go for the burial!”

“Ha ha!” I snapped.

Sethro was kind of a pain in the ass to all of us. Always saying something stupid. Or mean. Or nasty. Usually I enjoyed teasing him because his face would get beet red, he’d stick his big old buck teeth out like a gigantic chipmunk and start stammering. But not now. Not here. Not next to Wild Bill’s grave. Right now I just wished he’d go away and leave me be.

“What are ya doin’ up here all by yourself?”

Not looking at him, I started pulling weeds from around the marker. “I heard you was standing stud, Sethro, an’ I thought I’d rest up a bit before I came looking for you.”

“Very funny. You know what I think? I think you was sweet on the high an’ mighty Mister Wild Bill Hickok. That’s what.”

“You don’t know shit, Sethro. And that’s a fact.”

“I know he was a famous man. A by god legend. An’ all you are is a little whore.”

“You’re so right, Sethro. He was way too good for me. Only kinda guy I’ll end up with will be some lousy miner or farmer  who’ll beat the shit outta me every night when he gets drunk.”

“With that mouth of yours you deserve a good lick or two!”

“You just try it, Sethro, you’ll be heading down this hill without your balls.”

His grin grew bigger, his gigantic horse teeth made him look like a smiling skull.

“You’re a feisty little filly, ain’t ya? I heard tell they used to call you something else other than Little Bit. That true?”

“I been called Little Bit as long as I can remember,” I answered truthfully. “But, yeah, when I first came to whoring in Yankton I was called something else. But that didn’t last long.”

Sethro was so giddy, he actually started jumping up and down, doing a strange silly dance. “An’ I know what it was,” he cried out. “They called you Tit Bit. Right? Tit Bit!”

“Yeah, some called me that on account of I’m short. It don’t mean what you think it means. Nobody ever bit either of them, thank you very much.”

That news stopped his little dance. “That’s too damn bad,” was all he could think of to say.

“Go away, Sethro.”

********************

After her embarrassing encounter with Miss Jenn that left her little pink parasol ruined in the muck, Silky Heidi carefully moved along the boardwalk, holding her skirts up, avoiding the mud as much as possible. She knew by now that her shiny black high-topped button-up shoes were covered with the muck but that couldn’t be helped.

As long as I don’t get it on my stockings and skirts, she thought to herself, I’ll be happy.

She looked up and down the street, trying to catch a glimpse of Jo. Or Kassi. Neither were anywhere in sight. She did see a very pretty well-dressed petite blonde exiting the Grand Central Hotel with Wagner, the owner.

Sara Atherton paused in front of the Hotel. “Mr. Wagner, please tell Aunt Lou that was probably the best fried chicken I ever ate. And her biscuits! Why, I could live on them every day!”

Wagner smiled, his thumbs hooked in his vest pockets. “I’ll do that, Miss Atherton. And I thank you for the pleasure of your company at my table.”

The actress smiled prettily. “It was my pleasure, sir. And I hope we see you at the theatre this evening for our production of Trodden Down.

“I’m looking forward to it. Do you have a starring role in it?”

“Why, yes, as a matter of fact, I do. I play Nellie, the daughter whose father succumbs to the evils of strong drink.”

“Ah,” the hotel owner scratched his head. “It’s a message play. I don’t think the miners will like that message very much.”

“Well,” Sara laughed, “there’s singing and dancing and pretty girls to take their mind of the message.”

They said their goodbyes and Sara walked back down the boardwalk toward the theatre. Heidi caught up to her just as she was about to go inside. Taking Sara’s arm, Heidi led the actress away from the doorway to the side of the building where she introduced herself and extended the invitation to work for the Queen of the Blondes.

Sara listened politely. Then with a friendly smile, she said, “Thanks for the offer but I’m not looking for another job right now.”

Heidi persisted, “But you’ll be happy with us.”

“I’m happy doing what I’m doing.” Sara tried to pass by but Heidi blocked her path.

“Don’t you get tired of all the traveling? If you join us, you’d be able to stay in one place.”

Sara’s smile started to get a little forced. “Until the law runs you out.”

Heidi laughed. “That’s what makes Deadwood the perfect place to be! There is no law here! It’s an outlaw camp.”

“Law is coming. You’ll see. There’s been talk around camp of making Seth Bullock sheriff.”

“We’ll worry about that when it happens. What do you say? Will you at least think about it?”

Patiently, Sara said, “Again, thank you for the invitation but I really . . . ”

“Think about all the nice clothes you’ll get to wear! The beautiful dresses, some straight from Paris, France! And the most elegant black silk stockings . . . ”

Sara took a step back and modeled the exquisite dress she was wearing. “I’m doing just fine on my own. This might not have come all the way from Paris, France, but it’s not a burlap sack or prairie gingham.”

Heidi grabbed the actress’ wrist again and tugged. “Won’t you at least come with me and see Miss Johnson? I’m sure once you meet her you’ll change your mind.”
 

“Bill, some say what happened next was an accident. An’ others say it was on purpose. I wasn’t there so I couldn’t say for sure which it was. But I do know Sara Atherton. She’s a real good friend of mine. We’ve all got real close since the day she sang at your funeral an’ then saved me an’ Clemmy from those crazy Celestials. Sara knows the score. She had a real good idea what that gang of blondes was up to. So I’m thinking it maybe wasn’t no accident.”


Trying to pull free, Sara jerked her arm back while giving Heidi a shove with her free hand. Both girls struggled to keep their balance and stay on their feet on the wooden boardwalk. Finding herself right at the edge of the boardwalk with the foul muck and mud of the thoroughfare at her feet, Heidi managed to pivot on one foot, twisting her body around so she was facing the street.

When Heidi let go of her arm, Sara stumbled backwards into the wall of the theatre building. Her feet may have got tangled up in her skirts, or maybe the impact of hitting the wall knocked her kind of off-balance, or maybe she was just feeling a bit ornery. Whatever the reason, Sara ended up bumping into Heidi just as the silky blonde regained her balance. But not for long. The actress’s knee made contact with the soiled dove’s backside and, with a loud screech, poor Heidi ended up facefirst in the foul mud.

Coughing, spitting, spluttering, she pulled herself up to her hands and knees, all covered in muck. Shaking her head slightly in mock sympathy, Sara turned and went inside the Langrishe Theatre. Aware of the gawking spectators and burning with humiliation, Heidi got to her feet and, with as much dignity as possible considering what just happened, walked away.

********************

Tee Poo and Clemmy couldn’t wait to tell Miss Jenn what they saw. Without a word, the older woman sat at her desk, listening to the tale, her finely manicured fingernails tapping the oak surface in a steady beat. She remained there after the girls left. Her anger and fury building, she suddenly slammed her palm down loudly on the desktop and rose to her feet. Her mind made up, she hurried out of the room, brushing past the Albino, who had heard the noise and was coming to investigate.

“Stay here, keep an eye on things,” she ordered him as she passed. “I have business to attend to.”

Miss Jenn stormed down the hall, out the door, and onto the Deadwood thoroughfare. Her destination was the establishment of one Lurlene Johnson, also known as the Queen of the Blondes.

“Alright, bitch,” she muttered. “This has been a long time coming. Today we settle it, once and for all!”


“You woulda liked the public bath house, Bill. I remember how you always took pride in how you looked. You and Charlie both. Well, Doc Babcock set up the bath house out back behind Star & Bullock’s Hardwares on Main Street. I guess he worked out some kinda deal with them because he got Sol Star to put in four wooden bathtubs and a stove to heat the water. Of course, they weren’t free baths. Anyone who used ‘em had to pay.”


“Clean water, fifteen cents. Hot water, ten cents extra. But we ain’t got no hot water.”

The grizzled old man sat on a wooden stool by the bath house door, his homemade crutch by his feet. Well, it wasn’t really a door, more like a canvas flap. He scratched his scraggly white beard, never raising his eyes to look at the mud-covered blonde standing in front of him. He just repeated in a sing-song voice what he said to anyone who came by looking for a bath.

“Clean water, fifteen cents. Hot water, ten cents extra. But we ain’t got no hot water.”

Silky Heidi muttered, “I heard you just fine the first time.”

Fuming with anger, Heidi dug into her small pink change purse and pulled out three nickels. She thrust them into the dirty open palm of the old man, who blinked at the coins, mentally figuring out their worth. Then he nodded his head, clamped his gnarled fingers around the coins, nodded again and, without taking his eyes off the dirty ground, muttered, “Don’t hardly no men ever come in here. Most just jump in Whitewood Creek.”

Impatiently the muddy blonde started past him. “That’s good to know.”

“Those that can afford it got their own. Baths.”

“Lucky them.”

“Mostly it’s whores come here. And the preacher man.”

That stopped her.

“He’s not in there now, is he?”

“Who?”

“The preacher.”

The old man sighed, scratched his beard again, then spat on the ground.

“They call me Crutch. On account of my crutch.”

Rolling her eyes, Heidi pulled the flap open, muttering “Simple-minded old idiot!”

As she stepped inside, she heard his sing-song voice once again. “Clean water, fifteen cents. Hot water, ten cents extra. But we ain’t got no hot water.”

It took a few seconds for her eyes to adjust to the semi-darkness. She looked around the small bath house. There were four wooden tubs inside, one in each corner. A stove was in the center of the room. One of the tubs was occupied. A woman stretched out inside it, up to her neck in water, her arms draped over the sides. Her head was back, resting against the rim of the tub so Heidi couldn’t see who it was. As the blonde started to take off her mud-streaked clothes, the flap opened again. Thinking it was the crippled old fool, Heidi clutched her skirt to her body. But she didn’t have to bother. A short stout older Crow Indian woman, known as Linda Littletrees, shuffled in holding two buckets full of water. She was sucking on a piece of twisted black licorice and humming a little tune. On her head, she proudly wore a straw picnic hat covered with fake flowers. She put the buckets down, reached her hand into the half-filled tub closest to Heidi and scooped out some dead bugs that were floating on the surface. Then she poured fresh water from the buckets into the tub. Her job finished, she shuffled outside again, the flap closing behind her.

Heidi inspected the tub as she continued to pull off her dirty dress, cursing under her breath at the petite blonde actress who had pushed her in the mud and humiliated her in front of all the lowlifes on the thoroughfare. That bitch will get what’s coming to her, she promised herself as she reached her hand in the tub and sloshed out a few more bugs.

“I could tell you were a little pig but you didn’t have to go rooting around in the mud to prove it!”

Heidi jumped at the sound of the mocking voice behind her, letting go of her dress that then fell to the ground. She turned around and locked eyes with the naked woman in the other tub.

Jersey Jo.

***************

“Voila merde! I’ll be go to shit! Is that him? It can’t be!”

Tee Poo stared at the tall man with the long handlebar moustache in the telegraph office.  She’d only seen him twice before but she was positive it was him.

Wichita, Kansas. 1874. Those blue eyes. That moustache. It HAD to be him! Wyatt Earp himself.

The tall man left the telegraph office and headed for the Bella Union. Tee Poo started to follow but stopped in her tracks when she saw Miss Jenn Fourcade, a murderous look in her eyes, hurrying along the thoroughfare at a furious pace, sloshing mud in her wake, ignoring the fact that the ruffled lace pantalettes she took such pride in were now covered in muck.

Tee Poo knew exactly where Miss Jenn was headed. And she had a real good idea what was gonna happen when she got there.

“Awww, aborder!” she muttered. Throwing one last regretful look back at the retreating tall man with the moustache, Tee Poo took off in the opposite direction to round up the rest of the girls.

***************

“I think you’re lyin’ to me.”

“Lying about what, Sethro?”

I was still kneeling by Bill’s marker with my back to Sethro, hoping he’d take the hint and go away. But, no, that big dumb goofy farmboy was bent on staying up there with me till the crack of doom.

“About how you got that nickname of yours. Tit Bit.”

“I told you, Sethro. They called me that because I’m short. That’s the truth.”

“Well, I don’t believe you. I know for a fact that one time in Yankton you got your little titty bit by some fella. Jelsick Pettis told me. He heared it from that whore Tricksie Lynn.”

I turned to face him. He was grinning from ear to ear, his big old buck teeth sticking out like little tombstones in his mouth. Kinda fitting seeing as how we were in a cemetery.

“First of all, Sethro,” I said, trying to keep calm, “Tricksie Lynn is a dirty lying bitch. If she swore to me on a stack of Bibles that the sun rises in the east and sets out west, I’d have to go outside an’ see for myself before I took her word for it. An’ Jelsick Waddie is almost as gullible as you are. He’d believe anything she told him if he thought it would get him a free poke.”

He was quiet for a minute. I was praying that would be the end of it. No such luck.

“I still think you’re lyin’.”

“Think what you want, Sethro. I really don’t give a rat’s ass.”

***************

“Stop laughing at me!”

Heidi glared at Jo angrily as she gripped the rim of the tub so tight that her knuckles turned white.

“Or what?” Jo taunted. “You gonna beat me up? Looks like you already tried that with somebody else and got your ass kicked!”

Heidi flushed. “That little actress wench hit me when I wasn’t looking! But I’ll pay her back for what she did!”

“Good luck with that,” Jo giggled. “She took down a whole pack of Celestials with Little Bit and Clemmy. The girl can handle herself.”

“Well, so can I!” Heidi hissed. “You’ll find that out if you keep this up.”

Jo threw her head back and laughed. She stretched out in the tub and lifted a leg up in the air, smirking at Silky Heidi as she wiggled her toes at her mockingly. Heidi’s eyes narrowed, her face got even redder, her small hands balled into fists as she snarled, “Why are you being such a bitch? I’m a blonde, you’re a blonde. We should stick together.”

The smile disappeared from Jo’s face. She stood up in the tub and pointed an accusing finger at the other girl as the water cascaded down off her naked body. “Stick together? You, your friend and the wench you work for have been nothing but trouble for me all day. If you think I’m gonna leave Featherlegs, guess again. I’m happy where I am, thank you. So back off! You and your friend, leave me the fuck alone! Stop spreading lies about me to Featherlegs! Just stay the hell out of my way if you know what’s good for you!”

As Jo started to sit down again in the tub, Heidi rushed over in a blind fury, grabbed the other girl’s wet hair and pushed her head down under the water. Jo splashed and struggled, her arms flailed wildly, her legs flying, as the angry blonde used both hands to keep her head under. Heidi was in such a rage, she really didn’t realize what she was doing. All she knew was that Jo needed to be punished, to be taught a lesson.

***************

Miss Jenn stormed up onto the porch and flung open the front door without bothering to knock. She burst into the parlour like a rabid she-cat spitting venom and fire. Lurlene Johnson, the Queen of the Blondes, was sitting regally on an overstuffed red velvet divan, her long toned legs crossed nonchalantly. Her tight red and black satin and lace gown accented her lean but well-rounded body perfectly as she calmly sat there and welcomed the visitor with a sweet small smile.

“I’ve been expecting you, Featherlegs,” she purred.

C.C. Cleever stood behind the divan, a half-filled brandy snifter in his hand. He stared wide-eyed and open-mouthed at Miss Jenn as she stood in the archway of the room, radiating class and elegance in her taffeta and lace brocade two-piece traveling suit. His lips moved but no words escaped until he managed to blurt out, “Ladies, please. Can’t we . . . ”

Lurlene cut him off. “Relax, C.C. We’re just gonna have a little chat between friends.” Her smile grew a bit cruel. “OLD friends.”

Miss Jenn bit her lip but made no reply. Lurlene smirked and continued, “Speaking of ‘old’, isn’t it a shame, C.C., how some women let themselves go when they reach a certain age?” She looked up at him. “You were just saying a little while ago how this is a young woman’s game. You’re absolutely right. The old-timers like Featherlegs here are no competition for us.” Her eyes met Miss Jenn’s again. “No competition at all. We’re young and hungry. They’ve gotten soft and lazy.”

C.C. stammered, “Look, Lurlene, I think this is getting outta hand. ‘H’ is not gonna like this.”

“You’re wrong about ‘H’, C.C.,” Miss Jenn cut him off. “We all know how his mind works. I think he was hoping something like this would happen.” Her eyes locked on Lurlene’s. “Why don’t you and I give him what he wants, ‘Queenie’? Settle this once and for all.”

“No time like the present, old woman.” Lurlene handed her empty snifter to C.C. “Be a dear and put this on the bar, C.C.” She smirked at Jenn. “A gift from ‘H’. Would be a shame if anything happened to it.”

“Holy jumping catfish,” C.C. mumbled as he brought the glass over to the bar. He knew that, short of killing them, there was no way he’d be able to stop the two of them from fighting. “Well, hell, let them kick the crap outta each other. If that’s what ‘H’ wants, I’ll be damned if I try and stop it.”

Lurlene stood up slowly from the divan, taking her time, stretching out her tall body like a mountain cat.


“I tell ya, Bill, Miss Jenn is no way what you’d call a small lady. Shoot, she’s taller than the rest of us. But that Lurlene had a good two, maybe three inches on her. She’s gotta be six foot, easy. Or pretty close.”


Miss Jenn glared at the younger woman. Then she started moving toward her. The tall blonde stood her ground. The two faced each other, less than a foot apart. Both bodies tense, ready to attack.

“I shoulda done this years ago,” Miss Jenn hissed. “That first day I laid eyes on you.”

Unafraid, the blonde said quietly, “Now’s your chance.”

Just then, Lurlene suddenly looked off to her left, her eyes widening. As Miss Jenn followed her gaze, Lurlene attacked, throwing a short hard right hand punch to the older woman’s jaw. Miss Jenn took a couple of stumbling steps backwards, furious at herself for being suckered, falling for that old trick. With a growl, she lunged forward, crouching as she moved in, firing quick punches to the tall blonde’s breasts and belly. Lurlene gasped, doubling over a bit. The punches hurt but she quickly recovered and used her arms to block Miss Jenn’s wildly swinging fists. She brought her left knee up, connecting with the older woman’s lower belly. Miss Jenn grunted, started to move backwards, slashing her right hand up at the blonde’s pretty face as she did, leaving angry red claw marks on Lurlene’s cheek.

The blonde cried out, her blue eyes wet with sudden tears. She reached a hand up, lightly touching her scratched cheek. Her face contorted in anger, she snarled, “I’ll kill you for this, you old fuck!” Transformed suddenly into a wild savage animal, she flung herself at Miss Jenn. The two women, clutching each other, fell to the floor with a crash, arms and legs tangled, rolling around, bumping into tables and chairs, spitting, biting, scratching, punching, pinching each other wildly.
 

***************

It all happened so fast, Jo was caught by surprise, she wasn’t able to close her mouth in time before her head went under the water. Coughing, gurgling, gagging, she thrashed and lurched, splashing water everywhere. Her talon like fingernails latched onto the smooth skin of Heidi’s forearm and and dug deep, slashing for all she was worth. From like in a fog, Jo could hear the crazed blonde screech in pain. Heidi was forced to loosen her grip, giving Jo the chance to escape and pull her head out of the water. Gasping for air, she got to her knees and leaned over the rim of the tub trying to catch her breath. Heidi quickly grabbed Jo by the hair and dragged the now screaming nude girl out of the tub down to the dirt floor.

Wearing only her unlaced brocade corset, silk lacy panties and black silk stockings with a ruffled red garter, Heidi kicked and stomped at the fallen blonde who curled up on the floor and tried to crawl away. Jo was finally able to breathe again and starting to get her senses back. The kicks from Heidi’s stocking-clad feet hurt a bit but by twisting her body and curling up even more, she was able to deflect most of the impact. Jo waited for her chance and, when Heidi lifted her foot up for another hard stomp, she took it. Jo quickly snaked her left arm around Heidi’s left ankle and jerked hard. Off-balance and only on one foot, Heidi gave a surprised cry and fell, landing on her butt in the dirt. Jo scrambled up to her knees and pushed Heidi down onto her back, straddling her, sitting on her tummy.

Heidi hissed and bucked up as hard as she could but Jo pressed her thighs tight against Heidi’s body and rode her like a wild bronco. Jo was so angry and wanted to pay Heidi back for almost drowning her that she forgot how vulnerable she was with no clothes on. Heidi took advantage of that by reaching up her left hand and digging her nails in the tender flesh of Jo’s right breast. Jo gasped as the smaller blonde used her free hand to slam a punch flush into Jo’s slightly open mouth. Jo lurched backwards and Heidi pressed both hands onto Jo’s chest and shoved hard. Jo fell off, landing on her side on the dirt floor. Heidi sat up, swung her legs under her and quickly straddled Jo, bouncing her panty covered butt down on Jo’s bare breasts, flattening them. Jo squirmed as Heidi grinded down on her and she planted her bare feet on the ground in an attempt to buck her off. But Heidi started swinging both hands wildly at the other girl’s face, slapping and punching her at will. 

“It’s not too late to change your mind,” Heidi snarled as she continued to rock Jo’s head from side to side with one vicious slap after another. “Although by the time I’m done with you, you’ll be too ugly to be much use to us!”

Jo was reeling from the non-stop beating but she was far from finished. All the fights she had back in Five Points made the thin blonde tough. She was a survivor. She covered her face as best she could, then used her long leg to slam her knee hard into Heidi’s lower back. Heidi fell forward and Jo slithered out from between her legs, turned quickly and dove onto Heidi’s back, slamming her face-down in the dirt with Jo on top of her.

***************

“So . . . Would ya ever let anybody do that to ya?”

“Do what, Sethro?”

(God’s Teeth! Won’t this ever end?! Why can’t he just leave me the hell alone?)

“You know . . . Give ya a little bite. Down there. On your titty.”

“No, Sethro.”

“Don’t have to be very hard. Wouldn’t hardly hurt at all. Just a little pinch, really.”

“I said NO, Sethro. Now either talk about somethin’ else or please go away.”

“Shit, I bet you’d do it if you got paid. You bein’ a whore an’ all.”

I stood up to face him. Embarrassed and angry that he was talking this nonsense at Bill’s grave. I had to make him shut up. I just had to. I stood up straight as I could, hands on my hips, and gave him my meanest stare.

“That’s a bet you’d lose, Sethro. Now I ain’t gonna tell you again. Shut up with that foolishness right now.”


“Looking back, Bill, I guess I’m really not all that intimidating. I wish I could be more like you. One look from you an’ you got them peeing their pants, they’re so scared. Nobody is gonna be scared of a half-pint half-breed whore.”


Sethro thought it was the funniest thing he ever saw. He rocked back and laughed so loud I could swear they could hear him for miles.

“Damn, Little Bit,” he cackled between laughs. “I am so scared of you! Can’t you hear my knees knockin’? Please don’t hurt me now.”


“I wasn’t thinking, Bill. It just happened. He made me so darn mad, next thing I knew I had the gravedigger’s shovel in my hands.”


End Of Chapter Seven Part Two

[laurie breeze]

Chapter Seven (continued)

Kassi couldn’t find Heidi. She had no idea where she was. After her run-in with Jersey Jo in front of the Bella Union, Kassi walked from one end of the main thoroughfare to the other. There was no sign of her friend. Kassi debated going back to Miss Johnson’s and was just about to do that when she saw Tee Poo hurrying down the other side of the street with Gemm, Sara Atherton and that giant Albino.

“Oh, this doesn’t look good,” she muttered to herself. “I’ve just got to find Heidi!” In frustration, she said this louder than she intended and was surprised when a voice behind her answered.

“Girl with yellow hair. Like you?”

Kassi turned and saw a short stout older Sioux woman in a silly flower-covered straw picnic hat sucking on a piece of black licorice. She nodded.

“Yes. Girl with yellow hair. You see her?”

Linda Littletrees nodded. “Covered in mud. Went to take bath.” She pulled the licorice stick from her mouth with a wet smack and pointed at Star & Bullock’s with it. “Over there.”

Kassi hurried off with a quick “Thank you!”

The Indian woman put the licorice back in her mouth. “Okay.”

***************

A small table went flying as the struggling women rolled into it, sending an expensive French vase crashing to the floor where it shattered into pieces. Miss Jenn was trying to use her weight advantage to pin Lurlene under her but the younger woman fought like a wildcat to keep that from happening. She had her hand clamped on Jenn’s face now, pushing her head back with the bridge of her palm, while digging her sharp nails by Jenn’s eyes and into her cheeks. It was a miracle Lurlene didn’t put out the older woman’s eyes. Jenn tightly clamped her eyes shut and cried out in pain but stayed on top of her thrashing opponent. She drove her knee down hard into Lurlene’s crotch and managed a grim smile at the strangled cry that escaped from the blonde’s mouth.

Lurlene dug her nails in even harder and twisted them into the flesh. Small trickles of blood dripped down from Jenn’s face onto the blonde. She threw a wild punch that landed on Jenn’s ear, stunning her long enough for Lurlene to twist her body hard enough to send both women on their sides. Using both hands, Jenn finally yanked Lurlene’s hand from her face. Seeing an opening, the older woman, no stranger to dirty fighting, suddenly jerked forward, savagely butting her forehead hard against the bridge of Lurlene’s nose. The loud smack of bone meeting cartilage made C.C. Cleever wince as he tried to edge his way out of the parlour.

They are really out to kill each other, he thought. If that happens, I want to be as far away from here as possible.

Lurlene gasped as the blood started streaming out of her nose and into her mouth. She spit out a crimson gob into Jenn’s eyes, blinding her for a bit. As Jenn wiped her face, Lurlene scrambled back on the floor and drove the heel of her boot hard and deep into the Australian madam’s belly. Jenn grunted and rolled away. Both women, scratched, bruised and bloody, pulled themselves back up to their feet and faced each other across the room. Their labored breathing filled the air. Both were still seething with hate for each other, but there was now also a bit of mutual respect. They both also knew there would be no compromise here today. This was a fight to the finish.

Jenn Fourcade and Lurlene Johnson glared at each other from opposite sides of the small parlour. Blood trickled down Jenn’s face and from Lurlene’s nose. Both women were breathing heavily, both were in pain, but both would rather die than submit to the other. Lurlene suddenly rushed at Jenn, her sky-blue eyes flashing, her lips curled into a twisted snarl. She threw wild swinging punches at the older woman, in a kind of mindless fury. Jenn bent her legs, hunched her shoulders and brought her fists up by her head. She easily blocked most of Lurlene’s windmill punches and the ones that connected did little damage. The blonde left herself wide open and Jenn took advantage, sending a hard right crashing into Lurlene’s snarling lips. The younger woman staggered backwards into a small spindle-legged wooden end table that collapsed under her weight sending them both crashing to the floor.

Jenn couldn’t help but laugh at the sight. The furious blonde grabbed the crystal decanter that had been on the now-destroyed table and hurled it at the laughing brunette. Jenn ducked and the decanter shattered against the wall.

“Vad som hander har?” (“What is going on here?”)

All three in the parlour (Jenn, Lurlene and C.C. Cleever who was still slowly edging his way out the door) turned to see Miss Johnson’s youngest newest girl, Gunilla, in the doorway, a stunned look on her beautiful face. Gunilla had arrived in America just six weeks earlier, a mail-order bride from Sweden who spoke hardly any English at all. The Swedish immigrant who sent for her was a farmer from Mankato, Minnesota, twenty-seven years older than the homesick eighteen year-old girl. She was so unhappy that she sneaked away from the farm one night while he was sleeping. Lurlene found the young blonde waiting on tables in Cheyenne and took her in. Now Gunilla stared in shock at her madam who, seeing Jenn distracted, picked up one of the busted table legs and flung it at her.

Jenn cried out as the broken piece of wood hit her in the forehead, opening a nasty gash that quickly started to bleed. Lurlene scrambled to her feet and charged at her enemy like a blonde bull. Jenn was busy wiping the blood from her face when the younger woman slammed into her, forcing her back up against the wall and began pounding her wildly with her fists. A hard left slammed hard into the brunette’s ribs making her groan in pain. This was followed by an equally punishing right. Then the blonde took a quick step back and her right knee found an inviting target in Jenn’s lower belly. The older woman’s legs buckled but she willed herself to stay on her feet. She tried to cover up the best she could and fired back some hard punches of her own. These punches packed a lot of power, Jenn was able to bury her fist deep into Lurlene’s belly which the blonde left unguarded as she flailed away at her enemy. The younger woman staggered away, clutching her belly with Jenn in hot pursuit.

Gunilla shrieked, “Sluta med det!” (“Stop that!”) The young girl started to go help her battling madam but Cleever grabbed her arm and pulled her out of the parlour. The fight raged on as he led the confused Swede to the door. He held her shoulders and leaned close, speaking loudly and slowly.

“You. Go. Get help.”

The girl stammered in her broken English, “H-Help?”

Cleever nodded. “Help. You go. Get Kassi. Heidi. Savvy?”

Gunilla worked it out. “Kassi. Heidi. Help.” A loud crash of even more breaking furniture in the parlour made her jump. Then it dawned on her. Her pretty face cleared. “Ah! Help! Kassi, Heidi! Hjalp!”

The young girl rushed out of the house, her skirts swishing as she ran. Cleever watched her go, then stepped out onto the porch, closing the door behind him. He could still hear the snarled curses, cries and crashes coming from the parlour.

“Ain’t no sense getting myself killed trying to break them two hellcats up,” he muttered. “Best I can do is let ‘H’ know the shit he started.”

With that, he sauntered down to the telegraph office.

***************

“I really don’t know how much help Heidi coulda gave, Bill. At the moment, she was in the fight of her life. And not doing too good either.”


Heidi struggled as Jo’s wet naked body on her back pinned her facedown on the dirt floor of the bath house. The taller blonde’s mound pressed down on the silk panties covering Heidi’s butt. Heidi cursed below her breath as she thrashed under the weight of the thin blonde on top of her. Jo’s fingers were snarled in Heidi’s curly locks and she pushed down hard with her hand, mashing the smaller blonde’s face into the cold dirt.

Jo snaked her other arm around the squirming girl’s neck and started squeezing as she leaned close and hissed into Heidi’s ear. “You actually tried to fuckin’ drown me!”

Heidi forced herself not to panic, realizing she was in for a serious beating or worse if she didn’t do something fast. Her enraged enemy’s arm was tightening around her throat and she started making hoarse gagging noises as the pressure increased.

“How’s it feel to not be able to breathe?” Jo taunted. “Not fun, huh?”

Heidi decided to risk a big gamble. If it worked, great. If it didn’t, she was gonna end up unconscious anyway so she figured, the hell with it. She let her whole body relax, like she was too weak to fight back. She fluttered her eyes, let out a long gasp, and went limp, hoping to fool the taller blonde. It worked. When Jo shifted her weight to get in a better position to punish her victim some more, Heidi sprung her trap. She bucked up so suddenly that the other girl was caught totally off-guard. As Jo struggled to keep her balance, Heidi grabbed her forearm with one hand and pulled it off her neck. At the same time, she brought her other hand down and behind her back. To keep from falling off, Jo had to brace herself with her arm. Heidi turned her head back and saw that the taller blonde was vulnerable. She reached her hand between Jo’s legs, clamped her fingers on her wet mound and pinched viciously.

Jo’s sudden piercing scream echoed in the small room. Hearing it, Crutch called out from the other side of the flap, “Clean water, fifteen cents. Hot water, ten cents extra. But we ain’t got no hot water.”

***************

“I didn’t like the look on his face, Bill. It really gave me the willies, ya know? An’ all his palaver about titty biting, it just didn’t sit right. I mean, Sethro was acting about as hinky as a plug nickel, he’s twice my size and I was all alone up here with the goofy galoot. He was pissing me off and scaring the crap out of me at the same time. Without thinking, I grabbed hold of the gravedigger’s shovel and . . . ”

“I ain’t gonna tell you again, Sethro! You leave me be or I swear to God I’ll brain you!”

The tall farmboy took a step toward me, then stopped. A puzzled frown came across his face as he thought things over. Or tried to. (“Brain power definitely isn’t Sethro’s strong suit.”) Then he waggled his bony finger at me.

“Shit, you’re too damn short to reach my head with that thing,” he snorted a laugh. Then he got serious. “Now you stop playin’ with me or I’ll give you what for. You’re just a little whore, you’re supposed to do anything I want without complainin’. Now put down that shovel like a good girl. Don’t make me get all mean on you.”

He started toward me again. I raised the shovel even higher as I took a step backwards. When he got close enough, I swung it at him as hard as I could. But he jerked out of the way and then yanked the shovel out of my hands before I could swing it again. He flung it into a patch of chokecherries as I started to run down the hill toward Deadwood. But my short legs were no match for his much longer ones and he caught me before I even made twenty yards.

Sethro clamped his big hand over my mouth and half-dragged half-carried me over by a gnarled twisting cottonwood tree. I squirmed and kicked at his legs the whole time. My heart was pounding and I swear I’ve never been more scared in my life. I kicked him a good one in his shin that made him grunt and his hand slid across my face just enough for me to clamp my teeth on his finger and bite down as hard as I could.

“Sonofabitch!” he bellowed. He jerked his hand away, grabbed me by the shoulders and threw me down hard on the grass. Then he dropped down to his knees straddling me as I lay on my back glaring up at him. He was shaking his hand and I could see that my bite drew blood. That was something anyway.

Sethro slapped me hard across the face. He snarled, “So you like to bite, huh? Good. I can play that game too.” I started to flail my arms but he got a tight grip on my wrists and slammed my arms down on the grass. My cheek throbbed from his slap, I was praying for somebody, anybody . . . Charlie Utter, the Reverend, the gravedigger, Miss Featherlegs, one of the girls, shoot, even that damn drunk Calamity Jane Cannary . . . to help me. But there was nobody around except me and Sethro, not counting the gray prairie falcon lazily circling in the sky above us. Feeling totally alone and helpless, I started to cry. The grin left Sethro’s face. His grip loosed a bit on my wrists but not enough for me to break free. He had a concerned look on his face now. Maybe even worried. (Oh, please, God, maybe he’ll let me go!)

“Aw, come on, Little Bit. I thought you was supposed to be a fun girl. That’s all I want, just some fun. Hey, how about you an’ me do a little wrasslin’? You win, I leave. I win, well, we’ll worry on that when the time comes.”

I saw his eyes dart down to my tits when he said that, just for a second, then he brought them back up to my face. He was trying to act normal. But the concerned worried expression on his face was gone. In its place was something scary, almost demented. His watery blue eyes were all bulgy and bugged out, his mouth was twisted in a snarling leering grin, his gigantic yellow teeth were better suited in the mouth of a loco horse.

“I knew right then an’ there, Bill, that no matter what happened, by the end of the day, Sethro was gonna make sure my nickname Tit Bit meant something a whole lot different than me being small. A lot more painful too.”

With Sethro kneeling over me pinning my arms down to the grass, there wasn’t much I could do to get the hell out of there. He knew it too and was really enjoying himself. So that was when I hawked up a gob and let it fly right in his face.

***************

After making a quick stop at the Bella Union to take care of some business, Kassi continued on her way to the bath house. She passed a wagon loaded with supplies headed in the opposite direction. Miss Jenn’s two associates, the Albino and the Dwarf, were on the wagon returning to the Academy For Young Ladies. Kassi, trying not to look too suspicious, exchanged a glance with the Albino, then both moved on.

On the second floor balcony of the Gem, Al Swearengen watched the scene on Main Street unfold. He had already seen Miss Jenn Fourcade storming down the boardwalk a while before and could just imagine the fireworks going on at Miss Johnson’s. Now he looked down and saw Kassi on her way to the bath house. The wagon with the Albino and Dwarf going back to Miss Fourcade’s. Swearengen turned to look down the west side of the thoroughfare. He saw Cleever crossing Main Street headed for the telegraph office. That young Swedish blonde rushing toward Star & Bullock’s Hardwares. Across the street, the four members of the Pettis gang were just leaving the Bella Union. Then he turned east to witness Miss Jenn’s girls and their actress friend coming his way.

***************

“Holy crap! I won five dollars! I don’t believe it!”

The small weasel-faced man was jumping up and down on the boardwalk, waving a five-dollar bill in one hand. The other held a partly unwrapped bar of soap. Naturally, curious people started gathering around him, like people always do when somebody mentions easy money. And naturally somebody had to ask him how he won it. The weasel-faced man was happy to share his luck with the others.

“I paid two bits for this here bar of soap. Fellow I bought it from said there might be a prize inside it. And damn if there wasn’t! There was five dollars inside the wrapper!”

Well, this got everybody buzzing. It wasn’t long before the obvious question was asked.

“Where did you buy that lucky soap, stranger?”

Weasel Face pointed across the thoroughfare at a fat sweaty man with piggy eyes standing behind a small table by a hitching post. There were some brown-paper wrapped bars of soap on the table.

“That’s the fellow over there,” Weasel Face said. Curious onlookers crowded around him, blocking the boardwalk. He noticed four young women hurrying toward him and turned to share his good luck with them. “Fellow said there might be a prize in this bar of soap and ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhh . . . . . . .”

Whatever word he was planning to say next will never be known. It disappeared in a long drawn-out groan of total anguish. The reason for the groan was simple. Seeing her path on the boardwalk blocked, “Lady” Gemm did the first thing she could think of to clear the way. Without breaking stride, she kicked Weasel Face square in the balls.

“Bloody toss-pot!” Gemm muttered as she breezed past the man who slowly sank to his knees. Clemmy was right behind her.

“That’s getting to be a habit with you, Gemm,” Clemmy said with a giggle. “How many is that now since we got here? I lost count.”

“Beats talking to them, doesn’t it?”

Clemmy looked back at the scene. “I don’t think he’ll be talking much for a while.”

The injured man’s moan had turned into a high-pitched squeak (“You know, Bill, the kind only dogs can hear.”) and his mouth was open wider than his now bulging eyes. Tee Poo snatched the soap from his hand, finished unwrapping it, and crammed it into his gaping mouth. Miss Sara Atherton picked up the five-dollar bill that fell onto the boardwalk by Weasel Face’s knee. Before he could grab it back, the actress had already handed it to Reverend H.W. Smith who happened to be passing by.

“This is for you, Reverend,” Miss Sara smiled. “To help you do the Lord’s work.”

“Why, thank you, sister,” Reverend Smith pocketed the bill. “Maybe you would like to join me in a prayer of thanks?”

But Sara had already moved off, catching up to Gemm, Tee Poo and Clemmy on their way to the house of the Queen of the Blondes.

“I swear to God, Gemm,” Tee Poo was saying, “it WAS him! I know it was. Wyatt Earp! Right there in the telegraph office, big as life!”

“Oh, bollocks!” the British girl snapped back. “Get your head out of your arse, will you now? You’re an even bigger star fucker than Little Bit with her bloody hero Bill Hickok!”

Now that the show was over, the crowd went about their business. Even the fat man selling the soap had vanished. Weasel Face was left all alone, on his knees, gurgling and frothing up foam, clutching his ravaged balls.

***************

“You bloody couldn’t leave well enough alone, could you?” Jenn panted. “I left Virginia City, it was all yours,” she continued as she stalked her younger rival. Both women were exhausted, bleeding, hurting all over. Only hate and adrenaline were keeping them on their feet. Jenn moved in closer. She faked a punch and when Lurlene lifted her arm to defend, Jenn lashed her foot out instead, smacking her boot heel just below the blonde’s knee. Lurlene yelped in pain and crumpled to the floor on her knees. The brunette grabbed the blonde’s hair and used it to drag her enemy across the floor. Lurlene cried out in anger and shame as she stumbled along on all fours. Jenn was having a great time humiliating the young blonde bitch she hated with such passion.

“You finally got what you wanted out there. The number one house in the territory. Why the hell did you come here to Deadwood?” she asked as she continued to pull the younger woman around. Lurlene’s blue eyes, wet with tears, flashed angrily as she glared up at Jenn from her hands and knees. Her scalp was on fire and she saw long strands of blonde hair slowly fluttering down to the floor. Her eyes came to rest on one of the broken table legs close by. She quickly grabbed it and swung it hard at Jenn’s knee. A loud thwack filled the room as the hard wood met hard bone. Jenn screeched, let go of Lurlene’s hair, clutched her knee and stumbled backwards, sitting heavily on the yellow and brown leather settee.

Lurlene managed to pull herself up to her feet, favoring her leg. “You think I wanted to fucking come here?” she yelled. “This was all H’s idea, not mine!” She dove onto Jenn with such force that the settee tipped over backwards, sending both women to the floor in a heap. The blonde ended up on top but not for long as Jenn rolled her over. Lurlene reversed it and once again regained the dominant position. Her fingers clutched at Jenn’s hair and, securing a good grip, she used the brunette’s hair to lift her head up off the floor and smash it back down again. Once. Twice. Knocking Jenn woozy. Before she could do it a third time, Jenn’s talon-like nails once again found the blonde’s face and neck and she clawed away as if her life depended on it.

***************

As Kassi got closer to the bath house, she heard a tortured shriek coming from inside. A grizzled dirty old man sat on a stool by the flap, drawing circles in the dirt with the tip of a wooden crutch. He was humming a tuneless melody, totally oblivious to the commotion.

Inside the bath house, Jo sprawled backwards and tried to scoot away on her butt. Unfortunately Heidi wouldn’t let her do that. She had a death grip on the taller blonde’s kitty and was pinching it as hard as she could. Jo leaned back, braced herself on her elbows and desperately swung her long right leg at Heidi. Her foot slammed into Heidi’s jaw hard enough to force her to let go. Jo scrambled to her feet as the dazed Heidi slumped over on her side, shaking her head trying to clear away the cobwebs. Crying openly now, with tears streaming down her face, the furious Jersey girl started to move toward her fallen rival.

But she never got there. From behind, a firm hand got a tight grip on her wet hair and she was jerked backwards, her arms flailing. Before she could react, a boot smashed into her lower back, knocking her to her knees with her tormentor’s fingers still in her hair. A hard knee to the back of the thin blonde’s head made her cry out, a long gurgling sound that turned into a heaving guttural moan as her body sagged. 

“You okay, Heidi?”

The woozy blonde looked up, her eyes focusing. Jo was slumped on her knees, her eyes glassy, her limp arms by her sides, with an angry-faced tall blonde behind her, holding her up by her hair.

“Kassi? Oh my god, I’m so glad you got here.” Heidi slowly pulled herself to her knees, breathing hard. She leaned forward, her hands resting on her thighs as she caught her breath. She gasped when she noticed her torn ruined stockings and got to her feet, wincing in pain. “Look what the bitch did to my stockings!” she wailed in fury.

Kassi’s eyes narrowed as she saw her best friend’s cut bruised face and body, her mud-stained skirt and bodice, the shredded stockings. She cruelly yanked Jo up to her feet by her hair as she hissed, “She will pay for this!” The beaten blonde was pretty much out of it, her head lolled, her arms dangling uselessly, her wobbly legs barely able to keep her standing. Kassi pulled Jo’s arms behind her back and held her up. Her entire naked body was vulnerable and open for attack.

And that’s just what Heidi did. While Kassi kept her trapped, Heidi punished the beaten blonde, slamming hard punches into her breasts and belly. Both girls couldn’t help but laugh at Jo’s soft moans and whimpers.

“Looks like we missed one hell of a show!”

Four men had entered the bath house. They stood by the flap grinning at the sight before them. The one that spoke, the leader, was a short man with spectacles and a light gray city-style bowler hat. A taller younger fellow stood at his right, his eyes wide, drool dribbling down his bearded face. A swarthy man with the cold dead eyes of a killer slouched next to a big heavy-set brute with a surprisingly gentle face.

“About time you got here,” Kassi said. She turned to Heidi. “You remember the Pettis gang, don’t you, sweetie? I asked them to drop by, just in case.”

“Of course I do,” Heidi said. “They can help us get rid of the trash.”

“We’d be happy to,” the bespectacled leader snorted. “As long as Mister You-Know-Who rewards us for our efforts.”

“Don’t worry. You’ll be taken care of.”

Kassi suddenly whirled around and, without warning, flung Jo into the side of the tub. The blonde’s head cracked against the wood and she flopped in an unconscious heap on the ground.

Spectacles turned to the drooling man. “Jelsick, go rustle up some towels and blankets from that old bastard out front. And wipe that damn drool off your face!”

Jelsick grinned. “Sure thing, O.W.” He rubbed his big paw across his lips and left through the flap.

Kassi asked, “You think that old man is going to . . . ?”

O.W. shook his head. “Nah, you got nothin’ to worry about. He’s bull simple.”

“Bull simple? What’s that?”

The heavy-set man answered with a laugh. “Got himself kicked in the head by a bull calf one time. Was knocked loopy. Lucky it wasn’t a growed bull or he’d be dead instead.”

Jelsick returned with a handful of blankets and a dirty bedsheet. “I stole these off a China woman down the alley.”

O.W. nodded. “That’ll do. Wrap her up in them. Moze, help him. Ringo, you keep a look-out.”

Jelsick and the heavy-set man moved to the unconscious blonde and rolled her up in the bedsheet as the swarthy dead-eyed man slipped out the flap.

“Where you taking her?” Heidi asked.

“Up the Spearfish Road. I know of a place. Quiet. Safe. Off the beaten path.”

“Good.” The two blondes shared an evil smile. “Old Featherlegs will just shit when she finds out about this!”


The four horsemen took off down Main Street at a furious gallop, showering Miss Jenn’s girls with a fine spray of mud and muck as they passed.

“Fucking tosspots!” Gemm screamed at them shaking her fist at the riders who were fast disappearing into the distance in the same direction the girls were heading.

“Fils-putain, that cuillon Pettis gang,” Tee Poo muttered, wiping her face.

“Who are they?” Sara wanted to know.

“Four bad hombres,” Tee Poo replied. “Sometimes do business with Porterhouse and Cleever, they.”

“What kind of business?”

“You don’t wanna know, cher. Trust me.”

“Fuck the wankers,” Gemm interrupted. “We going or not?”

The girls started to continue on their way to Lurlene Johnson’s but Clemmy, who’d been quiet the whole time puzzling something over in her head, suddenly called out, “Stop!”

Gemm threw up her arms in exasperation. “Now what?! You know, we don’t have to go help Featherlegs. If you want, we could head back home for tea and bikkies!”

“I do want to help her,” Clemmy answered. “But was I the only one who noticed what O.W. Pettis had slung over his saddle?”

The girls were quiet for a minute.

“They rode by so fast it’s hard to tell for sure, but I think it was a bed roll,” Tee Poo said finally.

“A big bed roll,” Sara added.

“Looked like it was packed in a hurry,” Tee Poo continued.

“All right, so it was a bloody bed roll,” Gemm said with growing impatience. “What of it?”

“I only got a quick look,” Clemmy said slowly, “but I could swear I saw a woman’s foot sticking out of the thing.”

The girls looked at each other.

“Anybody see Jo?” Tee Poo asked with dawning suspicion.

Sara stared at her. “Wait, you don’t think . . . ?”

“Cher, I wouldn’t put nothing past the Pettis boys, me.”

Gemm turned to look up the thoroughfare. “Most likely they came from there.” She pointed. “By Star & Bullock’s.”

Clemmy added, “And the bath house.”

Tee Poo said, “Featherlegs can take care of herself for a bit. If those cuillons did take Jo, maybe we can find out what they up to.”

Gemm nodded. “Right. Let’s go.”

***************

“Either she goes or I go!”

The angry woman wildly waved the poster featuring the smiling pretty face of Miss Sara Atherton, then she dramatically ripped it in half and flung it at her astonished husband. He looked at the torn poster on his desk, then up at his furious wife, as she paced back and forth in the small office of the theatre.

He tried to reason with her. “Jeannette . . . Angel Face . . . ”

“Don’t give me any of your nonsense, Jack Langrishe! I won’t have it! I mean it this time! I am sick and tired of that little bitch getting more applause than me every performance! It’s not fair! I’m your wife! How come she gets all the good parts?”

“Because your better days are behind you, my dear. She’s younger, prettier and a damn finer actress than you ever were.”

This is what Jack Langrishe wanted to say. He was sick and tired of his wife’s diva tantrums. But he wisely kept his mouth shut. He just smiled a tired smile and shrugged his shoulders. This did little to appease the ranting woman. The smile was almost as bad as the words he had just swallowed down.

“You think this is funny? You won’t be smiling after I’ve packed up and gone. How are you going to get along without me? Will your precious Miss Sara Atherton be able to coordinate the costume making like I do? I sure hope she can handle the day-to-day running of the theatre. You’ll be lost without me, Jack Langrishe, and you know it.”

He did know it. He also knew that he’d give in to his wife’s demands. Sara Atherton would have to go. Nothing he could do to stop that.

He sighed and raised his hands in surrender. “All right, Jeannette,” he announced dramatically. “I shall terminate the little wench’s contract and cast her out into the cold night to please you, my dear.”

“And I will take over her roles?” Jeannette asked eagerly.

Langrishe thought quickly. “I believe it’s time for us to introduce a new piece. I believe our audience is growing tired of the sad plight of the poor orphan child. We need a piece more suited for an actress of your years . . . and talents.”

Jeannette moved to the door. “I’ll go through the trunk and pull out some scripts.”

“Fine, my dear. Get Hellawell to assist you,” Langrishe leaned back in his chair. “Pity about Sara,” he said to himself quietly after his wife left. “But that’s life in the theater.” He slapped his palm on the desk as he realized something. “Damnation! Now we’ll be one girl short. I’ve got to find another pretty face out here in Deadwood to get a crowd!”

With a grin, he put his Mexican hat on, grabbed his fancy walking stick and, after a quick check in the mirror, left the building to do some recruiting.

***************

Lurlene screeched as Jenn’s nails ripped into her face and neck. Jenn continued to buck up and twist her body as much as she could to get Lurlene off her. But the blonde managed to stay on top and she grabbed at Jenn’s wrist with one hand to pry the brunette’s claws from her bloody ravaged cheeks. Jenn realized she was using up too much energy trying to dislodge the younger woman so she stopped thrashing and focused on attacking the blonde where she knew it would do the most damage, both physically and psychologically: Lurlene’s pretty face that she was so proud of.

“YOU FUCKING HAG!” the furious blonde screamed as she desperately tugged at Jenn’s wrist. But Jenn hung on, tenaciously digging and twisting her nails into the tender flesh, drawing even more blood. “WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO MY FACE?! I’LL KILL YOU FOR THIS!”

Lurlene’s other hand had been clutching Jenn’s brunette locks but she now let go of the older woman’s hair and slammed her fist down flush into the bridge of her rival’s nose. Jenn let out a gurgled cry as the back of her skull cracked against the floor, her eyes filled with tears, and like hundreds of shocking volts of pain shot through her head. She lay there in stunned silence, which gave Lurlene the chance to finally smack her hand away. The blonde, blood streaming down her face, twisted her features into a horrible sadistic grin and reared her right arm back for another devastating, possibly fight-ending, blow. But Jenn’s wits were slowly returning and, as Lurlene leaned back, she quickly viciously brought her right knee up into the blonde’s lower back. Lurlene gasped and lurched forward. Jenn was able to squirm out from under the blonde and rolled a safe distance away.

The brunette wiped the blood and tears from her face. She knew from the pain and the sudden swelling of her eyes that her nose was probably broken. And her body ached from the effects of the battle. But she was far from finished. A lifetime of fighting to survive in Australia and on the Barbary Coast made Jenn tough. Tough and hard. Mean and smart. She knew if she kept her wits, she could defeat her mortal enemy.

As her vision cleared, she saw the blonde pull herself up to her knees. The younger woman was a mess. Her face, so refined and beautiful only minutes earlier, was slashed and swollen, covered in blood. Her hair was snarled and disheveled, her clothes torn and shredded. Jenn knew that she didn’t look much better than her rival. She was still lying on her side facing Lurlene. She knew the blonde was watching her like a hawk, tensing herself, ready to resume the battle. Their eyes met. Both still proud and defiant. Both filled with hate. Both ready to kill or be killed. If necessary.

***************

“I guess Sethro wasn’t expecting me to spit in his face like I done. Took him by surprise. Pissed him off too.”

Sethro roared like a wounded bear and back-handed me across the face with all his might. My god, how it hurt, but I bit my lip so hard that it drew blood, and I forced myself not to cry out. No way was I gonna give the big son-of-a-bitch the satisfaction of hearing me cry. Even if he killed me. Which, judging from the wild look on his face, was a possibility. I mean, there we were, hidden from view under the twisted cottonwood.

“You dirty little whore, you done it now,” Sethro rasped as my own spit dripped off his beaky nose down to my forehead. He grabbed my wrists again and pinned them down before I could do anything. I decided to try reasoning with him, hoping he’d buy it. Then when he got off me, I’d do my best to get the hell away from him.

“Awww, Sethro, you don’t have to be so rough now,” I purred. “Why don’t you get off me an’ we’ll go back to Miss Fourcade’s. I’ll give you a poke. Or two. As many as ya want. Free. No charge.”

“Oh, you’re darn right you’ll give me a poke, you will. But right here, right now.” Sethro leered down at me. He was breathing hard. Not because he was tired from me struggling against him. Oh, no. He was breathing heavy for one reason and one reason only. “You had your chance, bitch, an’ you done fucked it up,” he continued. “I’m done bein’ nice.”

“FUCK YOU, SETHRO!” I yelled in a rage. I started thrashing wildly again but he was twice my size and nothing I tried did any good. I was trapped, pinned under him, helpless. He was totally getting a kick out of watching me squirm and struggle, the rotten bastard.

(God, if you really do exist, please PLEASE grant me one miracle and sent Bill Hickok back down long enough to rescue me!)

Sethro pulled my arms down to my sides and pinned them with his knees. His hands free, he grabbed at my bodice and was just starting to rip it open when a commanding voice barked out from Hickok’s grave.
 
“Boy, you best get off that girl while you’re still able to.”

***************

Heidi relaxed in the tub while Kassi picked up Jo’s clothes and bundled them up in the corner.

“You think we should head back to Miss Johnson’s?” she asked.

Heidi leaned back and closed her eyes, letting the cool water wash over the cuts and scratches on her body from the fight. She murmured, “She doesn’t need us. She can handle that old cow, no problem.”

“What if her girls show up?”

“Gunilla is there. And so is Cleever. Let them deal with it for now. I’m tired. All I want is to sit here in this tub.” She turned her head and opened one blue eye. “There’s room enough for the both of us,” she whispered with a giggle.

The taller blonde smiled at the invitation. In a matter of a minute, her clothes were on the floor and she was easing herself into the tub with Heidi.

“Damn, it’s cold!” she gasped as she slid down into the water, facing Heidi. The other girl giggled, lifted her bare foot up and playfully splashed Kassi. “Hey, no fair!” Kassi laughed and splashed back. Then both blondes stopped playing and started caressing each other gently with their fingertips under the water. Soft moans of pleasure filled the bath house as the caresses grew hotter and more intimate. Neither blonde was aware of the canvas flap being jerked open but the loud voice that followed jolted them out of their reverie.

“Well, isn’t this just the prettiest little picture!”

Heidi and Kassi whirled their heads around to see Gemm standing in the opening, her hands on her hips, her eyes narrowed, a cruel smirk on her pretty face. Flanking her were Tee Poo and Clemmy. Miss Sara slid inside the bath house and moved off to one side near the scattered clothes.. All four girls glared at the blondes in the tub.

“Oh shit,” Heidi muttered under her breath. Totally vulnerable in their nakedness, both girls stole a quick look at their clothes and realized there was no way to reach them without a fight.

“Word of this should get out,” Tee Poo laughed. “Then maybe more men would be taking baths here.”

Clemmy added, “We could sell tickets. We’d fill the house.”

Sara giggled, “Standing room only!”

Kassi found her voice. “All right, you had your laugh. Now get out so we can dress.”

“Not bloody likely,” Gemm snapped. “Not till we get a few answers. Where is Jersey Jo?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. We didn’t do anything to her.” Heidi said quickly. Too quickly.

Jenn’s girls looked at each other. They each gave a quick nod, then turned their attention back to the nude blondes, who seemed to shrink a little bit in fear.

“We seen that bunch of jackals, the Pettis boys, riding like bats outta hell from here,” Tee Poo said. “Looked to be carrying something, or somebody, under a blanket. You wouldn’t know nothing about that now, huh?”

“No,” Heidi spluttered.

“I swear,” added Kassi.

Sara looked down at the heap of skirts, bodices, panties and stockings on the dirt floor. She suddenly picked up a blue satin ruffled skirt from the pile.

“Clemmy, this is Jo’s, isn’t it?” the actress asked, holding the skirt up for everyone to see.

The Southern girl nodded grimly. “It sure is.” Then she turned to face Heidi and Kassi. “Where is she?”

“I promise you I don’t know!” Heidi cried.

Kassi nodded vigorously. “That was already on the ground when we got here!”
 
“Bollocks,” Gemm snapped. “I’ve been spoiling for a fight! I say you’re lying! And we’re gonna beat the truth out of you!”

The dark-haired British beauty charged toward the tub, viciously grabbed Kassi’s long blonde hair and yanked her, screaming, out of the water onto the floor. The blonde’s long legs kicked wildly in the air, splashing water everywhere. Heidi managed to scramble out of the tub but Tee Poo tackled her before she could take a step. The angry Cajun girl and the frightened blonde landed in a tangled heap of arms and legs on the ground.

Kassi somehow was able to twist her body around and slam her foot hard into Gemm’s belly. The British girl groaned and stumbled backwards, getting her feet tangled up in her long skirt. She lost her balance and fell hard on her ass.

The tall blonde got to her feet in a flash, moved toward her seated foe and smashed her foot into Gemm’s face. As the Brit fell on her back, Kassi hissed out, “Swinia!” (“Pig!”) through her clenched teeth. When she lost her temper, the blonde sometimes lapsed into Polish, her native language. That’s what happened now. She turned to help Heidi who was taking a furious pounding from Tee Poo on the other side of the room. The smaller blonde was on her back, her hands covering her face, her bare feet kicking up dirt, as the Cajun girl sat on her belly and rained down punch after punch. Since Heidi was doing a good job blocking them, Tee Poo stopped punching and turned her attention to the blonde’s vulnerable naked breasts. With a snarling laugh, she sank her nails deep into them, hissing out, “That’s right! Scream, putain! Scream for Tee Poo!”

“Moj piekny Heidi!” Kassi cried out as she hurried to help her friend. But she was blindsided by Clemmy before she got halfway there. The Alabama lass used the blonde’s hair to whip her around and send her careening toward Gemm who was now back on her feet with the help of Sara. The two stood shoulder to shoulder, the blonde actress and the dark-haired soiled dove, as Kassi got closer, unable to stop herself.

“You take the high road . . .” Gemm hissed.

“You take the low road . . .” Sara finished.

As Gemm slammed her fist into the oncoming blonde’s belly, causing her to gasp and double over, Sara connected with a short right to her jaw. Kassi’s beautiful blue eyes rolled up, her body stiffened, and she toppled over onto her back.

“And I’ll be in Scotland before ye,” Gemm smirked as she looked down at the fallen blonde.

***************

Jenn swung her legs out in front of her as she watched the panting blonde on her knees facing her. Jenn was breathing hard too, her sweaty matted hair plastered to her red face. The blonde’s eyes flickered as she glared at the older brunette.

The old cow is exhausted, Lurlene thought to herself with grim satisfaction. Now’s my chance to finish her off, once and for all.

With a great effort, the blonde heaved herself to her feet. Jenn still lay there, resting on her arms. She planted her hands on the floor and tried to pull herself up but her arms buckled and she collapsed back down. The blonde’s smile grew bigger. Her eyes met Jenn’s. the brunette blinked, then looked down, her face registering resignation and defeat. I’m done, her expression seemed to say.

Lurlene moved in, supremely confident. Already her mind was working out the wicked details of how she was going to humiliate the older bitch. As she got closer, Jenn sprung her trap. Her body, slumped n total defeat just seconds earlier, suddenly coiled into action. Her right foot lashed out like the strike of a rattler. The heel of her boot connected with the blonde’s left kneecap. Caught totally off-guard, Lurlene howled in agony as her leg buckled and she collapsed in a heap, clutching her knee.

Jenn stood up and kicked the blonde in the ribs. “Young and stupid,” she hissed. “That’s why you’ll never beat me.”

Lurlene whimpered and tried to curl up in a ball. But Jenn grabbed her hair and yanked the sniveling blonde up to her feet. Lurlene’s arms waved helplessly as she tried to favor her injured leg. Still holding the younger woman’s hair firmly, Jenn paid her back for the earlier punch by slamming her fist into the blonde’s nose. Lurlene wailed and started to sink to her knees, the fight pretty much beaten out of her, but the evil brunette wouldn’t let her fall. Instead she dragged the screaming stumbling blonde out of the parlour, stopping only to yank her back up every time she fell. Jenn opened the front door and stepped out onto the boardwalk with Lurlene in tow.

The thoroughfare was teeming with people, all busy with their personal affairs. Jenn pulled the blonde out in front of her by her hair, standing her upright. Lurlene’s arms dangled at her sides, her eyes were half-closed, gurgling blubbering sounds escaped her swollen lips. The onlookers gaped in surprise at the two bloody disheveled women, their expensive dresses torn and ruined. Then their surprise turned to astonishment when Jenn lifted her foot and kicked Lurlene so hard in the ass that the blonde pitched forward off the boardwalk, landing facedown in the mud.

***************

(Bill? Is that you?)

Sethro straightened up and turned his head toward the voice. I was able to lift my head too. It wasn’t Bill Hickok standing there by his grave. He didn’t come back to save me. I guess maybe that woulda been too much of a miracle, even for God.

No, it wasn’t Bill. Standing by Colorado Charlie Utter’s marker was a young man in his 20’s, with a strong handsome face and steel gray eyes that were fixed on Sethro. He nonchalantly lounged against the wooden marker, chewing on a long blade of grass, his right hand resting lightly on the handle of the Colt Navy 1851 in his holster.

(He’s got a Colt 1851 just like you, Bill! Except for the fancy pearl handles on yours.)

“Boy, I’m not gonna tell you again.”

His voice was low, quiet, barely above a whisper. But there was power behind it. You could feel it.

Sethro felt it too. But he still tried to bluster his way out of it.

“This here ain’t none of your business, buddy. So why don’t you just move on along?”

The young man spat out the blade of grass. He straightened up and took a step away from the marker.

“I’ll move on along once you get off the young lady and leave her be.”

Sethro’s eyes bugged out, his mouth opened and closed a couple times before he was able to splutter, “Lady? Shit, she ain’t no lady! She’s nothin’ but a damn whore!”

The man’s gray eyes flashed dangerously. His body tensed. Sethro was too damn stupid to see that he was about to step into a world of shit.

“Everybody’s gotta make a living,” the man said. “Don’t give you the right to be disrespectful. Now this is the last time I’m gonna tell you. You get your scrawny ass up off that girl. While you still can.”

Nobody moved a muscle for what seemed like forever. Although I could feel Sethro trembling slightly on top of me. (Oh God, please don’t make him pee himself now!) His watery blue eyes darted down at his own gun, then back up to the man standing in front of us. His gray eyes seemed to be inviting Sethro to take a chance. His right forefinger tickled the handle of his Colt.

Finally Sethro slid off me. Without a word. He stood up and shuffled a few feet away, never taking his eyes off the silent young man.

“Don’t know what the damn fuss is all about,” Sethro muttered. “She’s only a whore.”

“Next time pay for it, instead of trying to take it by force.” The young man turned his attention to me. “You all right, miss?”

“I’m fine,” I said quietly, trying to keep my voice from shaking. Grateful for the rescue, still scared half to death and also a little embarrassed over the fuss.

“He won’t bother you any more.” Just as the words left his lips, the young man whirled toward Sethro and his gun was out of the holster in a flash. He fired and I turned in time to see Sethro’s gun fly out of his hand. His palm filled with blood and there was a small gaping wound where the bullet went clear through. Sethro clutched his hand and stumbled down the hill toward Deadwood. He tripped and fell, picked himself up and hurried away without looking back.

“I never saw him again, Bill. Some say he lit out that night, leaving his claim and grubstake for anyone who wanted it. Dumb titty-biting son-of-a-bitch!”

I looked at the young man as he holstered his Colt.

“You . . . coulda killed him.”

He smiled. It was an easy smile. A friendly smile. His gray eyes met mine. There was a light twinkle to them now, one that hadn’t been there a minute ago.

“You’re right. I coulda. But that woulda been more trouble than he was worth. I knew I could make him skedaddle if I just winged him.”

He walked over and extended a hand. I took it. His grip was strong, secure. I felt safe. He helped me up to my feet, then watched as I brushed the grass and pine needles from my clothes.

“Thank you so much. I don’t know what woulda happened if you hadn’t come by when you did, Mister . . .”

“Tyree. Ryan Tyree. Call me Ryan.”

“Thank you, Ryan. I’m Laurel Luckett. Everybody calls me Little Bit.”

“I’d rather call you Laurel. If that’s okay with you.”

***************

The battle in the bath house was fast and furious. And very one-sided. Outnumbered four to two, Heidi and Kassi were beaten worse than they had ever been beaten before. Their vulnerable nude bodies were ruthlessly attacked with punches, slaps, pinches and kicks. Nipples were cruelly twisted. Bare butt cheeks were spanked till they turned bright red. Blonde hair was pulled out by the roots. Miss Jenn’s girls were very thorough. And sadistic. Even Sara seemed to enjoy her role in the beating.

Powerless to defend themselves, Heidi and Kassi endured even more punishment. They knew Lurlene was busy with Jenn. But where the hell was Gunilla?

***************

“Goddess come to earth!”

Gunilla gaped at the strangely dressed tall man who had stopped her on the thoroughfare and grabbed her arm. He was wearing an enormous Mexican sombrero with a huge brim, a flowery ascot around his neck, a gray vest with pearl buttons, leather chaps over his trousers and was carrying a fancy walking stick.

She stammered, “Forlata mig?” (“Pardon me?”)

My dear, your beauty is breathtaking! Enchanting!” He bowed deeply and kissed her hand. “You deserve to be on the stage! Allow me to introduce myself. John Langrishe, at your service.”

“Jag forstar inte . . .” (“I do not understand . . .”)

Langrishe bellowed, “Can somebody please find me a squarehead to translate to this beautiful goddess that I wish to make her a star?”

He kept his grip on her arm and led the perplexed young blonde down the thoroughfare back toward the Langrishe Theatre, chattering at her every step of the way. Gunilla kept looking back over her shoulder toward the bath house but couldn’t escape the strange man’s clutches.

***************

Finally it was all over. The nude beaten blondes huddled on the ground in the corner, whimpering and pleading for mercy. The four vicious vixens stood over them in triumph, not even breathing hard, with barely a scratch on them, savoring their victory.

“Well? We’re waiting. Where is Jersey Jo?” Clemmy demanded.

“The Pettis boys took her,” Heidi sobbed.

“We bloody know that!” Gemm snapped. “WHERE did they fucking take her?”

“I . . . don’t know . . .”

Bullshit!” Tee Poo hissed.

“I swear . . .” Heidi cried.

“It’s true!” Kassi added. “All they said was they were going up the Spearfish Road. Honestly!”

“Please! Don’t hurt us any more!” Heidi whimpered piteously. “We’ll do anything you want!”

“Anything!” Kassi sobbed.

The four girls exchanged evil grins. Tee Poo walked over to the flap and opened it. Linda Littletrees was standing there, sucking on her ever-present licorice stick.

“Bath house is closed for the rest of the day. Don’t let anyone in.”

The Crow woman nodded. “Okay.”

***************

Lurlene was sprawled out in the mud, spluttering and gasping. A crowd started to gather. Jenn took her time, slowly parading around her fallen enemy. Then she reached down and grabbed the younger woman’s mud-caked hair, pulling her up to her hands and knees. She used the blonde’s hair to drag her down the thoroughfare on all fours. Lurlene’s palms slapped down noisily in the muck as she crawled along in total defeat and humiliation. Jenn smiled and nodded her head pleasantly at the spectators as if she was just taking a leisurely afternoon stroll. Startled horsemen reined in their mounts as they gaped at the spectacle.

C.C. Cleever was smoking a long thin cigar in front of the telegraph office. His eyes grew wide and the cigar nearly fell from his slack mouth as Jenn approached, pulling the sobbing beaten blonde behind her. Jenn threw Lurlene down at Cleever’s feet and gave her one final kick in the ass for good measure. The blonde crumpled in a motionless heap and lay there, gasping and moaning.

Jenn looked up at Cleever and said in a calm quiet voice, “Send this baggage back to our friend Mister Hearst with my fondest regards. Tell him the better woman prevailed.”

She nodded again, took a last look at the so-called Queen of the Blondes lying on the ground, then turned and walked back toward her house.

***************

“And that’s pretty much the end of the story, Bill. It sure was a long day.

After Sethro high-tailed it down the hill, Ryan and I stayed up by your marker and talked a while. He told me he came here to see your grave. So I guess in a way you WERE kinda responsible for him being there to rescue me.

I think he kinda likes me, Bill. Said he wants to take me dancing over at the Bella Union this Saturday. I really like him too. I hope Featherlegs says it’s okay. I sure hope she doesn’t charge him. You think she would?”

I did say this was the end of the story of the day the blondes descended on Deadwood. Well, that’s not altogether true. One more thing happened. At least I THINK it happened. I really don’t know for sure.

See, I was just about to head back down to town. Except for the thing with Sethro and Ryan, I missed most of the excitement of the day. The girls all filled me in later.

As I started to bend down to pull one last weed from Bill’s grave, I suddenly became aware that I was being watched. I coulda sworn I was all alone. Ryan had gone. Sethro was God knows where. 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.

[laurie breeze]

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.”


A Fight To The Finish

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.


Enemies No More

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?

THE END

(“Little Bit” Luckett’s Deadwood story ends here. A catastrophic fire erupted in Deadwood around this time, devastating the town and destroying over 300 buildings, including Al Swearengen’s Gem Saloon, the Langrishe Theater and Miss Fourcade’s Academy For Young Ladies.

Miss Jenn “Featherlegs” Fourcade was visiting Mr. Hearst in Lead when the Deadwood fire broke out. When she got word that her lifelong associate The Albino was killed trying to put out the fire, she was so heartbroken by his death that she never returned to Deadwood.  She stayed at Fort Laramie for a few months, then went back to The Barbary Coast and opened a new house, becoming one of those most respectable and successful madams in the territory. She never told a soul that the Albino was her younger brother.

The remaining Soiled Doves scattered after the fire, leaving the Dakotas. No one knows for sure what happened to them, they all pretty much dropped out of sight. Did they change their names, get arrested, get religion, get married, end up in jail?

The only one who stayed in the territory was Little Bit. She never got to see the Pacific Ocean. She stayed in South Dakota the rest of her life. She moved back to Yankton and eventually took over the orphanage after old Mrs. Booker died, keeping her time in Deadwood a secret. Many years after all this happened, after she learned how to read and write, she decided to chronicle the early wild days in the Badlands. Those memories became The Tales Of The Soiled Doves.)

[lilfightingcutie2]

BEST. SERIES. EVER!!!! You are amazing Laurie and we are all so lucky ya share ya amazing writing gift with us. I love you TONS!!!! Thank you so much for sharing with us

[peccavi]

deservedly the most read topic by a contributor on the site
Well done  you curly-haired little ball of fluff

Jenn

[Marie B.]

Best series ever, Laurie. I can really appreciate all the hard work you put into this. Perfectly crafted.

I loved my character's part in it, too. Will do my best to live up to the "Morningstar Clearwater" name.

Can't wait to see what you come up with next. Probably another "short" story.



Marie

[peccavi]

still the best series on the forum.

and we need another like it Laurie...of course we know planning a wedding is a big task but don't forget your friends here.

[peccavi]

Once again I am bumping  this up. Laurie once your wedding is over and you've climbed down from cloud nine  I'd love a reprise, a follow on story, perhaps you could feature Minnie from La fanciulla del West (special note to Heidi Foster and her friends at  the Silk Stocking Lounge, that's opera, I don't expect you to understand it, just smile and bat your eyelids), and some of the miners from the camp. Who knows you might even have one of your characters  sing Ch'ella mi creda.

Once again this wonderful series is my vote for Throwback Thursday this week.

On a more serious note , kindly remember those who took part in what Gen Eisenhower so rightly  called The Great Crusade, the Normandy Landings 70 years ago tomorrow my time (actually the airdrops started the night before- hence me posting this now)

"When You Go Home, Tell Them Of Us And Say,
For Their Tomorrow, We Gave Our Today"