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Her daddy's gun hand dropped and he stumbled forward toward her causing her to take a quick step back even though she was several feet away. He clutched his thick fingered hand on top the penetrating wound buried deep in his chest over his heart and pulled it back away, staring at the blood soaked appendage in disbelief. A gurgled sound escaped his lips, but before he could get his last words out his eyes narrowed on Rebecca as his knees buckled and he fell backwards to the ground, a dust cloud erupting around his lifeless body.
Freedom was supposed to taste sweet, but the bile filling Rebecca's mouth left nothing but bitterness as she winced and swallowed down the last 20 years of wretchedness that she had been living through. She squinted as the piercing light of the sun began its morning rise and an early spring wind swept down the dirt street of the small town, covering the pooling blood surrounding her daddy's body in a mixture of sand and dried grass. She stepped out of the way while an aimless tumbleweed rolled by without a notion of the murderous act that had just taken place.
Rebecca's gaze froze on her daddy's blank stare as she lowered Malcolm's rifle to her side and knelt down to close his cold steel blue eyes. She could hear nothing beyond the heavy pounding of her own heart in her chest and the town that should have been bustling with activity remained as silent as her calls for salvation from this place long lost from the rest of the world. Rebecca's attention was shaken away from her daddy when the town church bell rang out and signaled it was time to attend the morning service and prepare for the day ahead. The quiet was shattered and Rebecca turn her eyes to the sign from the saloon as its rusted chains flailed and squeaked in the early morning gusts that always seemed to signal warmer weather to come. But, there would be no warmth for Rebecca. Her veins felt cold as ice as she now saw the result of her years of wishing for her daddy's death.
"Rebecca!" Delilah jolted forward out of Emmitt's grasp as he stood stunned at the sudden death of his former employer. She then leaned down and stretched out her hand. "Come with us! Come with me!"
Delilah's eyes were desperate as she shook her hand in front of Rebecca's face, urging her to grasp it. Rebecca turned her head as she heard a scuffle off to the side. Riley pulled quickly out of Chester's grasp and punched him across the face, then followed with a second powerful punch to the big man's gut. Riley grabbed Chester's gun and ran to Delilah's side. "Del, we need to adios! There'll be a posse after us any second."
"I know that!"
"You're in trouble girl. I'm gettin' the sheriff. You'll be swingin' by noon fur sure." Emmitt said from behind Delilah. Then he turned and raced towards the jail as his boots kicked up a trail of dust behind him.
"Now, Rebecca." Delilah said urgently. "We gotta go now!"
Rebecca nervously pulled her left hand to her stomach, clenching her fingers into a fist and then looked up to Delilah. I wanted to leave, but not like this. Not with blood on my hands. She thought back to yesterday afternoon, stunned by how much her life had changed in one night.
*********
Nineteen hours earlier
Rebecca stepped out onto the wooden plank porch of her house at the end of the tiny pass through town and stared out to the row of buildings that lay before her. It wasn't much of a place to live, but settlers found it several years back and were able to keep it away from the local Indian population due to its distance from the nearest water source. Only because of the deep wells created at the two ends of town did it continue to exist at all. Most ranchers or men of any means lived far outside of town, needing lakes and ponds for their livestock and horses. This meant the town itself was run by one man, Duncan McAllister, Rebecca's daddy.
Other small communities within a few days ride where starting to benefit from the boom of the mining of copper, silver and on some accounts gold. Dry Creek had none of that; however, it did provide a much needed stop-over on way to anywhere else. This meant the saloon; boarding house and brothel were prime sources of income, and Duncan McAllister owned all three establishments. This kept his wealth growing despite the failing economy of the town and with that wealth came power.
Rebecca's daddy had given her three tasks: one to manage the daily upkeep of his house, two to maintain the ongoing business of the boarding house and brothel, and three, to obey her father as she would the Lord or be prepared to face hellfire and damnation. Her older brother Malcolm had been given oversight of the saloon, although her daddy quickly hired an experienced barkeep to be the real operator -- even he didn't much trust his son around the whiskey and the money. Malcolm was never fazed by this and became a general fixture at the poker tables nightly where he worked hand in hand with the town pick-pockets: Buster and Shelly to clean out visitor's cash money if he couldn't cheat his way to it at the tables. However, if there was ever any trouble Malcolm's gunmen, Chester Douglas and Emmitt Carter, were hired by his daddy for protection of his son and they would be at his side with guns drawn if need be.
This Tuesday began just like every other day for Rebecca. She walked down the line of buildings through the center of town as the mid March sun beat down on her and a gust of wind blew her long chestnut locks across her face hiding her fair complexion. Using her hand to block the pelting sand from stinging her eyes she continued on to prepare supper for the brothel girls and tally up their earning from the night before. It was the same thing every afternoon, and every afternoon she thought she couldn't do it one more day. She of course tried rebelling in her youth, twice. She never made it further than fifteen miles outside the town's boarder before Malcolm and his gang rounded her up and brought her back home. She wished she could say the same for the men that had tried to help her.
They were left stranded in the desert with nothing but a single bullet in their gun. Their possessions and horses rounded up and brought back to town. And as for Rebecca, her father beat her within an inch of her life and threatened to kill her if she ever attempted such a foolish act again. So, this was her life, walking back and forth from home to her daddy's businesses, feeding the girls, collecting money, cleaning rooms in the boarding house and returning home to do the same. Now at age twenty, she knew this would be all life would ever have to offer her unless her daddy tried to trade her off for money or land. It had become her duty to be caretaker to her daddy and brother ever since her mama passed away from fever five years ago. Lucky woman.
Rebecca walked down the street as she said her 'good afternoons' to fellow merchants and townsfolk. The people of Dry Creek always treated Rebecca with respect and kindness, not with fear as they did with her daddy and brother. Then again, she wasn't using cash money and gunmen to hold the town hostage. Unlike her daddy's wardrobe that reeked of wealth, Rebecca was always dressed simply, usually in plain cotton prairie dresses that she had made from left over stock fabric at the mercantile and her boots were scuffed leather, marked by years of wear and tear with their worn down heels.
She made her way up the steps of her daddy's businesses; her heels clomping hollowly against the sun-dried planks. Duncan McAllister's building was the largest structure in town, holding all three of his enterprises under one roof. Inside on the main floor was the saloon and up the stairs on the second level was the brothel. A short walk around the wraparound porch and the back of the building was the boarding house with ten rooms. Rebecca's took in a deep breath and then pushed open the squeaking saloon doors to begin the next part of her day. Her eyes immediately caught a friendly face and she smiled.
"Good afternoon, Curtis," Rebecca said to the middle-aged barkeep.
Curtis Wilks was a short barrel-chested man, barely taller than Rebecca. He wore the same outfit every day, a black string tie and a simple white shirt under a neatly buttoned black vest with black trousers. He had a round pale face, not tanned like most the fellas that came in the saloon. His occupation kept him free from the sun with the many hours he spent inside pouring libations to the local residents and frequent visitors. The only color at all on is glowing white face was the dark brown mustache that tickled his upper lip and his rosy red cheeks that lifted in a smile when he saw Rebecca. To her, he was one the friendliest and kindest fellas in town.
"Good afternoon, Miz Rebecca."
"Any problems last night?" Rebecca asked as she looked around the open room bathed in dusty sunlight.
"Nuthin' to speak of."
Rebecca leaned onto the bar. "Seen my daddy?"
Curtis nodded upstairs to one of the rooms.
"How long?"
"Not sure. At least since I took over for Marty this mornin'."
"She'll either wear him out or kill him one of these days." Rebecca grinned and shook her head.
Curtis shook his head and frowned as he used a white cotton rag to dry off the stack of clean glasses in front of him.
"Curtis, you got no cause to be scared. I ain't gonna say nuthin' stupid." Rebecca pulled back from the bar and started to make her way to the kitchen.
Curtis raised his eyebrows and grunted. "Hmm, last time you didn't say nuthin' stupid, I didn't see you for nearly a week."
Rebecca was about to respond when she heard a raucous coming from the entrance from the saloon and saw two men carrying saddlebags sauntering into the establishment laughing and punching each other in the arms. The dark-headed man wore his black hat tipped back; an easy smile playing across his sun browned face. Rebecca could tell right off he was a friendly sort of fella. The small man in the over-sized hat and duster kept his face obscured, but Rebecca could just make out his hairless jaw, sun drawn freckles on his fair skin, and his delicate bone structure that suggested he was just a boy, not man yet.
"Welcome to the Lonesome Coyote, gentlemen," Rebecca said. "What can we do you for?"
That was the moment that Rebecca's life changed. The smaller stranger looked up briefly and their eyes met. Rebecca felt a flash of lightning jolt through her body and her heart started to race. She had only seen the boy's face for a moment, a mere second, and she knew something just happened to her that had never happened before.
"Just drink and a bed," The boy said.
"Uh, um, Curtis, drinks for our visitors." Rebecca stammered out, not sure what to make of the new feelings she had inside her. "You fellas wanna share a room? We do have extras now, but it Del be twice the price if you each want your own."
"We'll each take our own room." The boy said quickly.
The dark-headed man looked to his partner and replied, "Uh, yeah."
Just then a door swung open from upstairs, one of Rebecca's most popular yet, most unpredictable working girl's voice screamed a stream of profanities. A man came scrambling out of her room still struggling to pull up his pants as the thin blonde headed harlot whipped him on the back with his own belt. "Jack Branson, I swear that I Del take my vengeance on you so help me God!" Anna Starr slashed through the air with the leather belt again as Jack, a young rancher's son, yelped in pain. You think I'm some gol durn bank, I don't take no credit. It's cash money or nuthin'!"
Jack stood in front of Rebecca and looked to her for help while his arms were raised across his head blocking the blows from Anna's swings. "Rebecca, you do something about this here girl or I'll see to it that your daddy does."
"Anna, that's enough," Rebecca called out to the painted lady. Anna's ruby red lips already open and ready to argue.
"But, he—" Anna raised her hand and pointed at Jack.
"I said, that's enough." Rebecca stared hard at Anna, her jaw clenched.
Anna threw the belt at Jack and stomped back up the stairs in nothing but the flimsy rose colored satin robe she had come down in. When she had reached the top step she turned and faced the flustered young man. "I'm done with you Jack Branson, you hear me. I'm done." Anna strode across the upper floor until she reached her room and slammed the door behind her.
"Who was that?" The dark-headed stranger asked, his mouth gaped open in wonder.
"You don't want no part of her. Trust me." Jack turned and said to the stranger then turned back to Rebecca. "Becca, I'm not a satisfied customer. I want a free visit or I'm telling my pa."
"You go ahead and do that, Jack, and I'll be sure to tell him that each week when you come into to town to deposit his wages, you spend at least fifty dollars in my establishment before you return home." Rebecca crossed her arms and raised her eyebrows, daring Jack to continue.
"Well, now, now, no need to get yourself all concerned about a little misunderstanding, Rebecca. I was just kiddin' about talkin' to your daddy."
"Uh huh." Rebecca relaxed her shoulders and turned to give Curtis a quick wink and hide her triumphant smile.
"I think we can leave this little incident between the two of us, like civil folk." Jack laughed nervously.
"Right, Jack. I'll see you Thursday." Rebecca nodded her head.
"Yes, ma'am." Jack tipped his hat and was out the door before another word could be said.
Rebecca laughed to herself and shook her head as she walked behind the bar. "I'm sorry, gentleman. Usually our girls are much calmer than that. We just have one girl with a little more spunk than the others. I can fix you up with one of them, if it suits you."
The dark-headed man tipped his hat back even further on his head and smiled broadly.
My name is Rebecca by the way, I help run this establishment. Our beds and girls are clean and our whiskey is the best you can find within a day's travel of here."
"Riley." The dark-headed man nodded.
"Del." The boy kept his hat low and never moved to look anywhere but at the bar counter.
"Where y'all headed?" Rebecca propped her elbows on the bar.
"California." Riley offered and knocked back a shot of whiskey.
Del nudged Riley with his arm and shook his head in disapproval.
"What, I can't say where were goin'? That's not saying anything," Riley questioned Del.
Del threw back a shot of whiskey and spoke, "I'd like to see that room now if I could ma'am. You coming, Ry?"
"No, I was thinking about maybe checking out some of these girls here." A goofy grin played across his face.
"Whatever. Just don't spend all our money." Del threw his saddlebag over his shoulder and waited for Rebecca to lead him to the room.
"Curtis, I'll be right back."
**********
Rebecca led Del outside the saloon doors and around the wraparound porch to the boarding house in the back of the building. The room was up a narrow set a stairs at the far corner of the building. The steps creaked as they walked up the weather-beaten staircase, paint chipping off the railing as Rebecca ran her hand along it for support. Her father wouldn't spend a cent on the business if he didn't need to and fresh paint seemed like a ridiculous prospect in this hell-hole of a town.
"Well, this is it." Rebecca unlocked the door and pushed it open so Del could step inside.
"I know it don't look like much, but the room is clean, no fleas, and the bed is soft. This room is a little bigger than most and has a tub." Del paced around the room, running her hand along the sturdy wooden desk against the wall and rocking the chair from side to side to see if it was solid enough to support her less than substantial weight. "A-And breakfast is served at eight in the mornin' downstairs. That's included."
Del nodded, keeping his head low. "It seems fine. Thank you." Del tipped his hat and dropped his saddle back on the small wooden desk against the wall.
"You sure don't talk much, not like your friend downstairs." Rebecca tried to strike up a conversation with the strange boy.
"He does enough talking for both of us I think."
Rebecca could just make out a hint of smirk from the thin pink lips under the broad brim of hat and it made her smile.
"You can hang your hat and coat up here." Rebecca pointed to hook on the side of the wall. I just have to see his face again. Look in those eyes.
"I'm fine, thank you." Del turned his back, effectively ending the discussion.
"Oh, okay. Well, holler if you need anything." Rebecca stepped toward the door and closed it behind herself.
She had met a lot of odd people since managing the boarding house for her daddy, but Del had to be the most peculiar He was so quiet and withdrawn and his features were that of an almost pretty young man. Rebecca's imagination took hold and she started to wonder if the two men were outlaws and this pretty boy was some murderer that she was now renting a room to. Bath! Rebecca remembered she had forgotten to ask if she should get water for a bath and what if this murderous bastard would be furious and come down into the saloon and shoot her. Oh Lord, I can still fix this. She spun on her heel and started back up the stairs, making her way back to Del's room whilst preparing an apology. When she got the top of the stairs she was so worked up that she opened his door without a thought and that's when she got the shock of her life. Del was lying on the bed; his hat and duster hung on the chair and his boots tossed to the floor. As soon as she pushed open the door he shot up into a sitting position startled by the sudden uninvited entry..
Rebecca could she Del's whole face and his eyes widened as he gazed at her. Rebecca was about to apologize when the reality of who Del was exploded in her like a stick of dynamite. Del's face not that of a boy at all — she was a girl, a beautiful green-eyed girl. Rebecca's mouth gaped open as she stood frozen in the threshold. The strange girl's hair blazed like a golden-bonfire in December and it was cut short just past the collar on her neck. Without her duster on Rebecca could make just make out the curves of her body under the loose fitting trousers, half-unbuttoned shirt and suspenders draping around her waist. Del may have been dressed in man's clothes, but she was most unmistakably a woman.
"Close the door Del ya?" Del called over to Rebecca.
"S-Sorry, mist . . ."
"It's all right. I know you know. I can tell from the look on your face." Dell ran her thin fingers through her short hair shaking out the dust as she did it.
"W-Why are you dressed like a . . . man."
"Well, that's a long story. Let's just say, people don't care too much for a woman toting guns and riding across country, unless you're in wagon or a buggy that is. They kinda find it a bit unnatural."
"Oh." Rebecca knew all about that. She had been praying daily for certain unnatural thoughts about some the girls in the brothel to go away. So far, it hadn't worked, but it didn't stop any effort on her part.
"You're not gonna say anything are ya? We're just about a week out from where we're going and I'd hate to get stalled now." Del's brow creased with worry.
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