August 2012 - A Sporting Chance...

I know you are all on tenterhooks - but here's the thing...

Every Wednesday finds me at my local Italien inhaling pasta and glugging Chianti...
On the LAST Wednesday of the month I and my Ginger have an erudite and involved discussion to determing likely starters for the next Challenge topic...
He's fascinated.
Honest.
YES, he IS.

But now the first of the month is on a Wednesday.
SO... the Chianti inspired topic will be announced... this evening.

Please commence writhing in impatience.

Gals and guys who cannot wait may commence writing in impatience and insert the magic word randomly later!!!

I'm back - and the challenge, still Olympic inspired, is... Pom, pom, hic...


A SPORTING CHANCE...

On your marks, get set, GO !!!!!!

Ah, so this month's challenge is "bottle inspired"? Could be interesting to see what you come up with.

Just a little fluff to get the month started.

No Chance at All



“This is the life, ain’t it, Kid?”


“Yeah, I like this caretakin’ business.”


“Two whole weeks, just us and nature.”


“Not too much nature though; we’ve got beds to sleep in and a cabin to keep out the rain. Sure beats bein’ in the saddle all day.”


“I think we’re far enough out; you can stop rowing Kid.”


“How is it that I’m doin’ all the rowin’ while you sit there and relax?”


“I won the coin toss, Kid. You know that. Besides I’m not relaxing, I’m finding us the best place to fish from.”


“Uh huh.”


“Pull a little harder to the right. That’s good.”


“What you bring for bait?”


“I brought a couple o’ choices. There’s worms, bits of bacon, and a couple of pieces of cheese.”


“Cheese! We’re trying to catch fish, not mice.”


“Gee, why didn’t I think of that, Kid? Fish need choices too, you know.”


“ Just get your hook in the water and stop talkin’ will you.”


“That’s another thing, these are great fishing rods. I ain’t never seen anything like this. Remember how we used to just tie a string to a pole, whittle a hook, and stick a worm on it when we were kids?”


“I remember, Heyes. Sure had fun. Now will you stop yakkin’ and start fishin’?”


“Hmmph.”


*****


“Guess they ain’t hungry, Heyes.”


“No I guess they’re not. Still it’s been nice being out here in this boat. Guess we should head back to shore soon. Maybe you can find some game for us. Otherwise it’s bacon and beans again.”


“Kid, did you hear me? What’s with you?”


“Heyes! I got somethin’ and it feels real big.”


“Really!? Hey, you do!”


“It’s puttin’ up a fight here.”


“What you gotta do Kid is let out some more of the string and let that fish take it for a bit, or it’s gonna break free.”


“I know how Heyes, sheesh. I am lettin’ out string but I have to keep the tension on it, don’t I.”


“Just not too much.”


“Got it. Heyes, you just man the oars and make sure you don’t overturn us!”


“Like I’d do that.”


“Seems like I been at this for hours, my arm’s gettin’ tired.”


“Nah, it hasn’t been that long. Just keep it up. It’s a big one, for sure.”


“Okay, I’m gonna reel it in. It’s still fightin’ but it ain’t swimmin’ away anymore.”


“No, you’re doin’ it wrong.”


“Heyes, you ain’t helpin’”


“Here give me the pole.”


“Fine, take the dang thing. I could use a rest.”


“Okay, I got it, I got it. No I’ve got to let some out again. Boy this one sure is putting up a fight.”


“Just reel it in. Yeah like that. Can you see it yet?”


“No. Wait, Kid, there I can see it. It’s huge!”


“Just a little closer, Heyes.”


“Sure is a beaut. Biggest dang trout I’ve ever….” BANG! “What the…?”


“I got the pole Heyes, don’t worry. Yup, that sure is a beauty.”


*****


“Mmm, this sure is good, Kid. Nothing like pan fried, corn meal-crusted trout.”


“Mmm hmm.”


“Gotta say though, seems wrong to shoot it. You didn’t really give it a sporting chance.”


“It’s dinner. I don’t believe in givin’ dinner sportin’ chances. I believe in eatin’ it.”


“Guess you’re right Kid. Guess you’re right. Anymore trout left? I could eat another piece.”

This should make sense to those of you familiar with my Ranch Days stories. If you're not..where the heck have you been??
I mean..oh well never mind. .but you need to know Kid and Heyes are in their teens and working on a ranch.

Cue music...fade to the Bar T.....



“We’re gonna lose,” Nathan said, clearly resigned to their fate.

“Not necessarily,” Jeff Collins added optimistically, his breath clouding the air in front of him.

Sitting on the porch bench, outside the bunkhouse door, wrapped in his warm winter coat, Nathan cast a sideways glance at the Bar T’s foreman. “We always lose.”

“Yeah, but…”

“Jeff, face it, we’re gonna lose. Again.”

Collins turned to his friend. “Maybe not this time.” He smiled at Nathan’s sceptical expression. “I think we have a chance.”

“Gonna share where this miracle is coming from?”

Collins turned towards the corral and pointed. “There.”

Nathan’s eyes narrowed on the hands attending to the horses. Steam rose from the animal’s backs and the mouths of the men. He followed the direction of Jeff’s finger. “Marty? You’re kiddin’ right?”

“Not Marty.”

More eye-narrowing. “Heyes? He’s never gonna…”

“Not Heyes.”

Nathan shielded his eyes with his hand. “The Kid?”

Jeff smiled. “The Kid.”

“Jeff, I don’t think that boy’s ever been on a pair of skates, let alone…”

“We’ll ask him and if you’re right, we’ll teach him.”

“In two days?” Nathan stood up and placed a hand on the foreman’s shoulder. “Old man, I think you’ve been in the sun too long.”

It was Jeff’s turn to narrow his eyes.

Nathan smiled. “Okay, you’re not that old, but still, the Kid? He’s from Kansas right?”

“Yeah.”

“Do they have snow in Kansas?”

“I don’t know but wouldn’t it be better to ask if they have ice?” Jeff put two fingers in his mouth and let out a shrill whistle. All heads turned in his direction. “JED! GET UP HERE!”

Jed Curry put down the rope he held, climbed through the bars on the corral fence and headed at a jog towards the bunkhouse. “What is it, Boss?”

“You ever been on a pair of ice skates, Kid?”

Jed looked confused. “Ice skates?” He seemed reluctant to acknowledge the fact one way or another.

“Yeah, ice skates.”

“No.”

“Well, then it’s about time you did.” Collins descended the steps onto the compacted snow and placed a reassuring hand on Jed’s shoulder. “There’s really nothing to it once you learn how.”

“But why do I need to learn how to skate?” Jed looked from Collins to Nathan. He wasn’t sure he liked the way they were smiling at him.

“Because you, Jed Curry, are about to become the Bar T’s secret weapon in the game against Fort Elliot on Saturday,” Jeff informed him.

“I am?”

“Yep.”

“What game?” Neither man spoke, instead they were steering him towards the frozen pond. “What game?”

Jeff stopped and looked down at the youngster. Suspicion was written all over Jed’s face. “Ice hockey. We have been challenged to an ice hockey match by the soldiers of Fort Elliot.”

“But I don’t know how to play ice…”

“Bright young fella like you, you’ll pick it up in no time,” Nathan assured him.

“And with that quick draw of yours,” Jeff added, his eyes practically sparkling with the thought of winning. “I reckon you’ll be sending that puck into the goal so fast the goalie won’t even see it coming.”

“But I don’t know how to play ice…”

“Yep,” Jeff continued, seemingly oblivious to Jed’s protestations, “I think this year we may actually have a sporting chance.”

Jed stepped away facing both men and shouted, “BUT I DON’T KNOW HOW TO PLAY ICE HOCKEY!” He blushed, somewhat embarrassed by the volume he’d used. The Boss would surely reprimand him for that. “Sorry.”

Jeff Collins took a deep breath. “We are gonna teach you, Nathan and me.” He held up one hand to silence any more of Jed’s objections.

Nathan stepped closer. “Emily will be at the game; the whole Culver family will be there.” He watched as this sank in.

“Emily?”

“Yep. And William Brody will be Captain of Fort Elliot’s team.”

“Emily’s soldier?”

“Yep.”

Jeff stood beside Nathan. They waited. Cogs whirled and wheels turned inside Jed Curry’s blond head.

“So I could help us win the game? Against the soldiers?”

“With Miss Emily watching,” Nathan reminded him.

Jed bit his lip. “When’s my first lesson?”

Sporting Chance

“This is it.” The woman’s brittle, steel-like hair and sharp nose emphasised a character as crisp as her clipped English accent. “I don’t let just anybody stay here, you know.” She eyed Kid cautiously before she gave Heyes an accusing glare. “You did not tell me that your companion was a hobbledehoy.”

“Mrs. Plant, I am writing a perspective on the west and I need a guide. Mr. Jones is both courteous and honest.” He gave the reassuring smile of a man desperate not to spend another damp night camping out in the cold, April rain. “Besides, I’m here to cover the race and he knows one of the jockeys.”

Mrs. Plant gave a little sniff. “Well, I hold you responsible for him.” She bustled towards the door. “Breakfast is at seven thirty sharp. DO NOT damage the new counterpane. I spent hours making that and I think it really sets off the room.” The door clicked shut behind her.

“What’s a counterpane?” hissed Kid, scanning the room in confusion. “Does she mend windows?”

“Dunno, just don’t damage it. The town’s booked up because of the big race and it’s been pouring for nearly two weeks. We can’t get thrown out.”

“I don’t damage things,” muttered Kid, indignantly. “This is just typical. You’ve got us the stupidest job on earth and now we’re staying with a stiff, crusty old...,” he dropped his bag on the bed. “What’s a hobbledythingy?”

“Just use your charm. It got us this job.”

The dimpled grin only served to irritate Kid more. “Matchmakers!? What were you thinkin’?”

“It’s more of an introduction service. Conrad knows who he wants. We just have to get her to appreciate him, and you’ve got her ear since you helped her when her horse threw that shoe. Tell her how great he is and we get paid. It’s easy.”

“Heyes, he’s a five foot two jockey, in love with a five foot eleven Amazon. They’ve been introduced and she ain’t interested because they’d look ridiculous together. Men should give up when they can’t reach the cookies on the top shelf.”

“He adores her.” Heyes tilted his head. “She could do a lot worse – she’s from dirt poor farming stock and he’s got money from an uncle who was a beef baron.”

“I’ve never tried to convince a woman to like another man. I ain’t sure I can do it.”

“Sure you can, Kid. You do it for me all the time, without even realising it. Conrad’s going to be the hero of the race, he’s well off, and he worships her. He’s got a sporting chance. Just try not to damage the counterpane.” He scratched his head and glanced around the room, “although it would help if we knew what the hell it was.”

“Does this mean I’m supposed to take this woman out and tell her how wonderful Conrad is?”

Heyes bounced on the bed testing it for comfort. “Why not? She’s got a lovely personality.”

Uncompromising blue eyes bored into his back. “So does Kyle, but I don’t want to take him on a picnic.”

**********

Conrad Painting was a handsome man, with sparkling, chocolate eyes set in clear olive skin, topped with dark, wavy hair. His diminutive stature was a boon in his career, but had caused him years of heartbreak. Even he wasn’t sure if he had thrown himself into his passion for horses to compensate for his lack of success in other areas. All he knew was that he had found it difficult to focus on anything since he had met Sabrina. He felt a pang of shame at paying someone to help him get her attention, but he was desperate. She was special; and he was prepared to do just about anything to win her. He stood, tilting his head back, greeting the men, to whom charm came so easily, with a glittering smile as they walked into the saloon.

“We got in,” grinned Heyes. “The last room in town. Tough landlady.”

Conrad nodded, pouring whiskey into the shot glasses and sliding them across the table to them. “So? How do we start this?”

“Well, we’ve never done anything like this, so I guess we need to look at what attracts a woman.”

Conrad shrugged. “How would I know? How do you attract a woman?”

The partners exchanged a quizzical glance and shrugged. “Dunno? We just talk to them and they give you the signal if they’re interested,” replied Kid.

“What kind of signal?”

“They hold your gaze...”

Conrad frowned. “Muriel holds my gaze all the time...”

Heyes leaned forward. “That sounds promising. Why not concentrate on Muriel?”

“Because she’s seventy four. There must be more to it than that.”

“Well, it’s a kind of ‘come hither,’ sort of like the look saloon girls give you when they see the money.”

Conrad’s shoulders slumped. “So how do you get them to give you the signal?”

Heyes arched his eyebrows. “Just be charming and gentlemanly.”

“I am. They pat me on the head and say I’m cute. I want to be desired; the man their mothers don’t want to leave them alone with... Like you two.”

Kid’s stiffened. “I’m a perfect gentleman. I can be trusted with any woman.”

“Good, because I need you to tell Sabrina things about me that’ll get her interested.”

“Like what?”

“How about - I love her and would do anything for her.”

Kid shrugged. “You’ve already done that and she ain’t interested. How about ‘treat ‘em mean, keep ‘em keen?’”

Heyes sipped thoughtfully at his drink. “Nah, if that really worked; Custer would have been invited to dinner instead of Little Big Horn. I think we’ve got to find out what she’s interested in. Thaddeus, that’s your job. You go and see her first thing in the morning.”

**********

“Let me help.”

Sabrina looked into the blue eyes before straightening up and swinging the sack over her broad shoulders. “I can manage. Customers are supposed to come through the front door of the store.”

“I came to see you,” Kid gave her an engaging smile. “I guess the big race brings in lots of customers.”

“It sure does.” She dumped the sack of flour on top of the others and straightened up, fixing Kid with serious grey eyes. “So? What do you want?”

“I wondered if you were going to the race. Conrad’s the favourite and he’s bound to win.”

She tucked a tendril of light brown hair behind her ear. “What are you up to Mr. Jones? I’m not your type. A woman can tell.”

He shifted uncomfortably in embarrassment. Her square jaw and wide mouth made her more striking than conventionally pretty, but she was right. Sabrina was not a woman he would have called on by choice. “Conrad would be real keen to see you at the winning post.”

She rolled her eyes. “Can’t that man take a telling? We’d be a laughing stock. Don’t you think it’s hard enough being taller than most men, without pairing me up with him? We’d look like freaks.”

“He’s fairly well off. His wife wouldn’t have to carry sacks.”

She put her hands on her hips. “Look, maybe if he was taller... Or I was shorter? Who knows – but we are who we are.”

“There’ll be food, and a band – all kinds of entertainment. My partner and I will keep you company until the race is over.”

“The music sounds tempting, I love music...”

“Apart from his height, what have you got against him?”

Sabrina shrugged. “It’s not him. I’m just not strong enough to even try this.”

Kid shrugged. “You’re a real lucky woman, Miss Fontana.

“I am?”

“A truly kind and genuine man thinks you are the whole world to him, and you just dismiss it because of what a few folks might think. Lots of women would be overjoyed to find a man who worships the ground they walk on, and he’s so sure you’re the one for him he won’t give up. Yup, you’re real lucky.”

Sparks of curiosity flared in her eyes. “Why does that make me lucky?”

“You turn your back on it so lightly. You must have somebody real special.”

He watched his words land, her fingers subconsciously twisting the fabric of her apron as she bit into her lip. “What time is the race, Mr. Jones? I don’t suppose it would hurt to cheer him on.”

**********

“She’s coming?” Conrad’s delighted eyes danced at the prospect of being cheered over the finishing line by the woman he loved. “She must see me lift that cup. Did she say anything else?”

Kid looked quizzically at a breadstick. “Music. She loves music.”

Conrad’s eyes lit up. “She does? I’ve played piano since I was a little boy.”

Heyes gave him a pat on the back. “This time tomorrow night she’ll be eating out of your hand.”

Conrad sighed. “No, but it’s a start. She needs to overcome this height thing. It really bothers her.” He waved over to the waitress. “Gentlemen, my mother is Italian and this restaurant is run by my aunt and uncle. Tonight you will dine like kings. I know you can’t guarantee she’ll come around, but getting her to spend time with me, getting to know me – that’s what’ll make the difference.”

A doe-eyed waitress put three shot glasses and a bottle on the table before dropping her dark head and kissing Conrad on the top of then head. “Good luck tomorrow, Tresoro.”

“Gentlemen, this is my cousin, Tizianna. This is Thaddeus Jones and Joshua Smith.”

The girl nodded warmly at them before sashaying seductively back to the bar. “What a friendly family,” purred Heyes.

“Have you ever tried grappa?” asked Conrad.

Kid examined the bottle, but there was no label. “Never even heard of it. What is it?”

“It’s from grapes. We make it ourselves.”

“Grapes?” Heyes took a sip. It was definitely liquor, but had a faint fruity aftertaste. “Yeah, it’s good. I can drink this quite happily.” He downed his glass and lifted the bottle to top up Conrad’s empty glass.

“No thanks,” he covered his glass. “I’m racing tomorrow.”

“Ah, come on,” urged Kid. “It’s a fruit drink. How bad can it be?”

Conrad sat back, a knowing smile playing over his lips. “Enjoy yourselves, but it’s stronger than you think. I’ll just lay off for tonight.”

**********

The grappa flowed like water, the mouth-watering food was plentiful, and the company of Conrad’s stunning cousins tempting; but it was all topped off by a musical diversion around the piano to round off the evening. Conrad had undersold his musical skills – he had the touch of a concert pianist and the soaring, ringing tones of an operatic tenor.

Eventually, two merry ex-outlaws staggered and weaved their way back to Mrs. Plant’s lodging house; stumbling, humming and snickering through the darkness to their room.

**********

Heyes buried his head under the covers, but the movement seemed to stimulate an unfortunate series of events. His stomach started to heave, his gullet spasmed, and his mouth started to water. He opened his eyes; his brain screaming silently at the vicious assault of the daylight on his aching eyeballs. He ran for the chamber pot, retching and trying desperately to swallow down the swirling contents about to be ejected from his protesting belly.

Too late. It was all over the floor.

What was he going to tell Mrs. Plant? He grabbed the bedspread and mopped up the worst, before using water and soap from the washstand to clean down the floor boards. He looked guiltily around, content that he had successfully covered his tracks. He could sneak the quilt out later to get it laundered and she’d never know the difference.

Kid stirred. “Feelin’ bad, eh?”

“No worse than you I guess.”

Kid chuckled. “Hey, I ate more than you, so I lined my stomach. How strong was that grappa?”

“Don’t! I need to go to the pharmacy to get something for my head before we go to the race. Let’s hope there’s not too much shouting.”

**********

Heyes’ worst fears were realised. He cringed in pain at the screaming, yelling and hollering which accompanied Conrad and his mount across the finishing line, well ahead of the field. He leapt from his mount, punching the air in delight and cut his way through the crowd towards Sabrina. He bowed his head gallantly and took her hand, kissing it gently.

“Thank you for coming. This has made this the most special day for me. I can’t tell you how much it means.”

“Look! He’s kissing the only part he can reach,” snickered a passing blonde.

Kid fixed her with his most chilling glare, hearing Sabrina choke back a sob. “If she was a man I’d crack her on the jaw!” he snapped.

“That’s Angela Capaldi,” muttered Sabrina. “She’s made my life a misery since school.”

“Capaldi?” murmured Conrad quietly. “She’s singing later, isn’t she?”

“I’m leaving.”

Conrad clasped her hand. “Please, don’t. If there’s one thing I’ve learned over the years it’s that there’s all the difference in the world between short and small. There’s more than one way to cut these folks down to size. Please. Don’t let her win. At least stay for a while.”

Kid nodded. “He’s right, Miss Fontana. Folks like that are bullies. You’ve got to hold your head high and ignore them.”

“Hold my head high? Is that some sort of crack?”

“No! I would never...”

Sabrina eyed him uneasily. “I’ll stay for a while, just so she doesn’t think she’s won.”

**********

“Ladies and gentlemen, we would now like to present Angela Capaldi to sing an aria from ‘Rigoletto.’ For our listening pleasure and to make today doubly special, our very own champion, Conrad Painting, will accompany her on the piano forte.”

Conrad placed a hand over Sabrina’s. “Please stay and listen. Promise me you won’t go until I’ve finished.”

Sabrina chewed on her bottom lip. “I don’t want to listen to her showing off. I’ve had this since I was a child.”

He grinned engagingly. “Trust me? Please?”

She gave a reluctant nod. “Fine. I’m going right afterwards. Little Miss Perfect has had a lifetime of applause. I don’t need to hear any more.”

Conrad’s face split into a wide smile before darting to the stage where Angela was primping and preening before her performance. He allowed his expert hands to explore the keys in an impressive display which made Sabrina stop short and arch an eyebrow in surprise, before Angela attempted the first few haltering words.

She stopped holding up a hand. “You’re in the wrong key.”

Conrad shook his head. “Nope. ‘Caro Nome’ in ‘E.’ Do I sound like I don’t know what I’m doing?”

She pouted, starting again. “Caro nome che il mio cor...” She stopped, stamping her foot in anger. I told you! It’s in the wrong key.”

“No. You are.”

The audience was staring to get restless. “You know NOTHING about classical music, you... you... goblin!”

“Conrad’s our champion!” Yelled someone from the crowd. People started booing and hooting at her to get off, before somebody threw popcorn.

“I saw that, Thaddeus,” hissed Heyes.

“Good. I hope she did too,” grinned Kid.

The deluge started. Bread rolls, cakes, paper hats and anything people could lay their hands on cascaded onto the stage until Conrad stood, holding his hands out in appeasement. “Folks! Please, let’s show our little prima donna how it’s done. There are a lot of Italians in this town, so I’m sure you all know the words to, ‘La Donna è Mobile.’”

There was a loud cheer as he sat down and began a rousing, joyful performance. Kid looked over at Sabrina; a smile was playing over her lips. “Bet you’re glad you stayed now, eh?”

“I sure am. I’ve listened to Rigoletto all my life. He did start in too high a key so that she’d start screeching. Now I know what he meant when he said there was more than one way to cut her down to size. There’s a lot more to Mr. Painting than meets the eye, isn’t there? I think I might stay for the rest of the evening.”

**********

“MR. SMITH!” Mrs. Plant was waiting for them. “Where is he? Where is that... that creature!?”

“Who?”

She glared at Kid. “Jones. What have you done to my counterpane?”

He shook his head in mystification. “Nothin’, honest.”

“Don’t lie to me. I found it under the bed. I always regret it when I don’t follow my instincts. I knew you weren’t to be trusted.”

“Ma’am, I swear...”

“I’m sure you do. Like a common docker! You’re going to pay for it.”

Heyes bit into his lip. “Under the bed?”

“Yes, hidden there. You foul, disgusting...”

“Ma’am, we’re sorry. Of course we’ll pay to get it cleaned.”

“Cleaned! You’ll pay to replace it. I burned it. I want forty dollars.”

Heyes frowned. “Ma’am, you’re talking about the quilt? I thought you said you made the counterpane. We are talking about the quilt, aren’t we?”

“Of course we are. My counterpane. I want forty dollars for the material and labour, and don’t you even think of trying to cheat a poor old widow woman, or I’ll have the law on you.”

“Joshua, we only made fifty dollars for our job here,” hissed Kid.

“And then there’s your bill...”

**********

“Well, Genius? How much have we got left?”

Heyes darted a look at Kid. “Three dollars and sixty cents.”

“That’s less than we had when we arrived here.” Kid shook his head. “I dunno, we finally get paid for a job and you had to damage the counterpane. You were even warned. What are we supposed to do now? It’s pourin’.”

“Do you think any of Conrad’s folks would help?”

A pair of blue eyes slid sideways. “We could ask. As long as you promise to stay off the grappa.”

This started out as a response to the Word Challenge and it ended up being a two for one:

Kid woke slowly to the quiet sounds of someone moving about the room. It took him a moment to remember where he was. It had been a strenuous night. They'd come into town seeking a doctor for Heyes after he’d been thrown from his horse when it had stumbled. His wrist had been busted and they had had to wait hours to see the town doctor. The over-worked man had patched Heyes up quickly but temporarily and told him to return today for a cast after the swelling had gone down some.

His partner was now sitting in, one-handed, on an all-night poker game downstairs. He had insisted on playing cards, saying that it would distract him from the pain. Knowing what a bad patient Heyes could be, Kid had been relieved. Kid had played a few hands, but he soon grew tired of sitting still for hours. He had eventually wandered over to the bar and that's where he met Molly. She was a short, curvy little gal with a wild mop of red hair. It had been pinned up tight to her head except for a few strands that had escaped their keepers. These stuck out at crazy angles giving her a slightly mad look, but she hadn't been; mad that is. She had stood and chatted with Kid for quite a while and he had been surprised by the many subjects they covered. Her intellect was as unruly as her hair. One thought springing free of another in a willy-nilly fashion. He had been both amused and attracted by her and they'd gone upstairs after some brief negotiations.

There wasn't a muscle in his body that didn't ache at the memory. He sat up slowly and stretched. Molly was across the room bent over an ironing board. She had an iron heating on the woodstove in the corner, and Kid watched as she spread her mass of curls across the board and, grabbing the iron carefully, began to iron her tresses.

"Molly, what are you doing?" said Kid, amazed at what he was observing.
,
"Good morning, Thaddeus," she said, "I'm ironing my hair, silly."

"Why would you do that?" asked Kid. He'd never seen such a thing before.

"Because if I didn't, it would stick straight out from my head; mine are an ulotrichous people," she said.

Sheesh, he was sick of people using ten dollar words, but he had to ask, "Ulo..what?"

She giggled softly. "It means being from curly-haired people--fits doesn't it?" said Molly.

Kid laughed, too, and said, "I guess it does. Where the heck did you learn a word like that?"

Instantly, the smile crumbled and she began to cry. Kid stood up and went to her, putting his arms around her and speaking soothingly, he said, "Molly, what did I say? Whatever it was, I didn't mean to make you cry."

Sniffing and wiping her eyes, she sat down in a rickety chair and looked up at Kid. She said, "No, you didn't do anything wrong; I did. My father was a college professor. That is, he was until he lost his post because of his daughter's wanton ways. I fell in love with an older man, another professor who made conquering young girls his favorite past time. We were caught in a delicate position by the University President. He fired my father on the spot for raising a morally bankrupt child." She hung her head in remembered shame.

"Aw, Molly. That's a terrible story. Did your folks throw you out?" asked Kid gently.

"Oh no! They were disappointed in me, but they loved me. We moved to Colorado and my father got a job with one of the mines. He was killed in a cave-in two months later and my mother died shortly thereafter from a broken heart," said Molly. "I killed them, just as sure as if I had shot them," cried Molly, sobbing again.

Kid knelt down in front of her and took both her hands. "Molly, you told me your parents stood by you. Do you know why that is?"

"Of course, they loved me." said Molly.

"Yes, they did, but they also understood what had happened to you. You were a victim of an awful man. You were just too innocent to recognize him for what he was. Molly, what happened to your parents was an accident, pure and simple. They moved here because they wanted a good life for you. They wouldn't want you punishing yourself this way. They wanted you to have a fresh start, right?"

"Right," she said sniffling.

"Well, it's not too late to start over. You're an educated woman, Molly. There are many things you could do," said Kid, an idea forming in his head. "C'mon, I want you to meet my partner, Joshua. You two speak the same language and I've got to get him back to the doc's for a check-up this morning. Maybe you can talk him into cooperating.”

OOOOOOOOOO

"Thank you, Miss, you’ve been very helpful,” said the doctor as he finished putting a wet cast onto Heyes’s wrist. When the doctor had started instructing Heyes on his continued care, Heyes had begged the doctor to write it all down as he had a terrible memory. Molly had quickly volunteered to take notes much to the doctor’s surprise. While not a judgmental man by nature, he had assumed that being a saloon girl she would be uneducated; instead she had competently written out detailed instructions and had even gone as far as asking the doctor to elaborate on some of those details.

“It was a pleasure, Doctor. I enjoy paperwork. I used to help my father review term papers and even worked for some of his students preparing their theses,” said Molly. Joshua had instructed her to work that into the conversation somehow. She was proud to have managed it so smoothly and she snuck a peek at Joshua. He winked back at her, delighted with her performance.

The doctor looked at her speculatively and said, “You know, I could sure use some help around here since my wife passed. I couldn’t afford to pay much in wages, but I own a small house, a cabin really, on the edge of town. I could offer you that and a small wage if you would be interested in coming to work for me. Mind you, I would expect completely responsible behavior from you. Do you understand my meaning?”

Heyes piped up and said, “She does, Doc. Molly slipped off the rails for a while, but she's ready to get back on track. All she needs is a sporting chance. Right, Molly?”

Molly leapt up in excitement, “Oh yes, please, doctor. I assure you that I will not fail you. Thank you so much, thank you.”

OOOOOOOOOO

“It felt good, didn’t it, Heyes, to help that gal?” said Kid looking over at his partner who was riding along next to him. Heyes had his arm in a sling and was neck-reining his horse.

“Yep, and, better yet, it didn’t cost us a cent. Matter of fact, the doctor didn’t even charge me for fixing my wrist,” said Heyes.

“See, sometimes we do get lucky,” said Kid, steadying his gelding who was shying at a rustling bush next to the road.

“Hold it right, there, you two. Hands up, this is a robbery……..”

Here's a little nonsense...

BEE CAREFUL

Well, here they come again. What does this make...about five times? You'd think they'd learn. But that dark one...he keeps coming up with ideas. Why don't he just give up? Hasn't he figured out they're NOT gonna get our honey. How many times do we have to sting him and that other one? Its actually gotten kind of amusing, watching what they come up with.

First, they just tried to sneak up on us...didn't work. Next, they tried using a stick...didn't work. Then, they took a break. That dark one spent the whole time staring at us while he walked around. He keeps busier than a...well...a bee. Then the light-headed one decided to knock our hive down with a big boom from his weapon. That just succeeded in making us mad. We chased him, oh, I guess half a mile. Too bad he jumped in that waterhole. We almost had him. At least we caught the other one.

Uh-oh. Looks like that dark one has ANOTHER idea. He's smiling awful big. What's he doing? Maybe we ought to let him think he has a sporting chance, let him get right next to the hive before we attack. Bears aren't this persistent. We'll wait to see what he's come up with.

What's he waiting on? Its past dark. Wait...here they come. Do they think we can't see at night? They must think we're asleep. Wait for it...wait for iiiitt...GET 'EM!

Well, that was fun! One of them tripped...heh, heh, heh...we got him good! He's in the process of yelling at us. Too bad he can't see us smiling.

Well, well. Looks like the light-headed one has an idea. What's he doing with that rope? He can't be serious. He's trying to lasso our hive! He'll never do that...well, I'll be...he did it! He's dragging it away. Go get him!

This time, he didn't make it to the waterhole and we got him good. The dark-headed one is laughing. Now he's looking at us again. Must be yet ANOTHER idea forming. They sure are persistent creatures. What's he going to do with that stick? Is he...yes he is. He lit it on fire! That's not fair! GET AWAY, HE'S THROWING IT OVER HERE! We're choking! Gotta leave!...

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Well I hope they're happy. They're eating what took months to make. At least they left us a little. Oh well, at least we'll have the last laugh...they have to go to sleep sometime...