Wild at Heart

by Layce Gardner

  “What good would that do? My brother’s dead and nothing will bring him back.”

  She put both hands flat on the table and leaned in toward him. “Why’re you talking like that? What the hell’s wrong with you?”

  “Just being sensible is all.”

  “Something’s wrong with you,” Calamity said. “Your brother was shot dead and all you do is drink and shake your head? That ain’t the Wild Bill I know.”

  He looked her directly in the eye. “Maybe you don’t know me.”

  Calamity shoved away from the table and paced about the floor in a tight circle. “Well, if you ain’t going to do nothing, I will.” She pounded a fist into her hand. “I’ll track the killer down and make him die slow.”

  Wild Bill stood. He teetered from one side to the other like a sailor whose sea legs don’t work on land. “You think you’re man enough to do it?”

  Calamity faced him and said in a deadly monotone, “Tame Bill was a friend of mine. Nobody shoots one of my friends and lives to brag about it. Who killed him?”

  Wild Bill looked away. He stumbled, then righted himself.

  Calamity said again, “Tell me who done it, Bill.”

  “It was an accident.”

  Calamity resumed pacing. “Clean shot through the heart ain’t no accident. How ’bout I track the sumbitch down and accidentally shoot him five or six times clean through the heart!”

  Wild Bill dramatically opened his jacket wide, baring his chest. He used his finger to draw an imaginary target over his heart. “Go ahead,” he said. “Take aim and be done with it.”

  “What’re you talking about?”

  “Shoot me.”

  “Why would I shoot you?”

  “I’m the one who killed him!” Wild Bill pummeled his chest with his fist. “I took my own brother’s life! Go ahead, shoot me.” His voice cracked. “Put me out of my misery…” He collapsed into his chair.

  Tears flowed freely down his cheeks as he explained. “I’d heard that bastard Jack McCall was in town. I knew he was laying in for me. He’d been putting out word how he was going to kill me for a solid month. I was jittery. He was the type who’d sneak up on a feller and shoot him in the back. I was drinking. I was half in the bag when I heard footsteps behind me. I shot before I even saw his face. It was my own brother. He was just coming to help me get home. I shot my own brother…”

  “My God Almighty,” Calamity whispered. She sat at the table and stared at her boots.

  “I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t even know how to pray. Killing him was like killing the better part of myself. I lit out. Just got the hell out and rode…and…”

  I had been so engrossed in their goings-on I didn’t notice Pete had awoken and ambled over next to them. Before I could stop him, Pete drunkenly patted Wild Bill on the top of his head. “It’s okay, Wild Bill,” he slurred. “If I was to kill my own brother, I’d want somebody to put me out of my misery too.”

  I don’t guess Wild Bill liked being patted like a dog. He wheeled, grabbed Pete by the neck and drew him nose-to-nose. “Listen, you little jackass, I’ll put a bullet in you too, I don’t care if it is your wedding day!”

  Calamity said, “Whoa there, Bill. He didn’t mean nothing by it.”

  Wild Bill pitched Pete backwards and he fell on his butt. “You just tell this lop-eared friend of yours to watch his mouth or I’ll watch it for him.”

  Pete clambered to his feet. “I didn’t mean nothing, Mr. Wild Bill,” he stuttered. “I was just saying that if I was to murder my own brother in cold blood, I’d want to—”

  Wild Bill drew his revolver and aimed it right between Pete’s eyes.

  Pete’s eyes rolled back in his head and he fell straight backwards. The floor broke his fall. And it sounded like it damn near broke his skull.

  Wild Bill reholstered. “That’s the first time I ever killed a man without even pulling the trigger.”

  “Oh, you didn’t kill him. Pete has a fainting spell whenever a gun’s pointed at him,” Calamity said. She grabbed Pete under the arms and hoisted him into a sitting position. She leaned him against the center pole, making sure he looked somewhat comfortable, and hung his hat over his head like he was a human hat rack.

  We all three gathered round Pete and stared at him. I don’t know what we were expecting to happen or even if we were expecting anything at all to happen. Maybe we were just taking a moment to swallow and digest Wild Bill’s confession.

  This solemn tableau was interrupted when the doors swung open and Belle waltzed in smiling like the Chessy cat.

  ***

  Belle’s smile faded when she saw us all standing around Pete’s limp body. “What’s going on in here?”

  Calamity said, “Just general ruckus. Nothing to worry yourself about.”

  Belle laid eyes on Pete and gasped, “You killed him again.”

  “He ain’t dead. He’s just sleeping it off,” said Wild Bill.

  Belle lifted Pete’s hat and leaned in for a closer look. She held her palm under his nose to feel if he had any breath.

  While she was bent over Wild Bill took the opportunity to appreciate Belle’s hindquarters. He did the same thing most men do when coming face-to-face with an object of unquestionable beauty—he took off his hat and held it over his chest.

  Calamity watched Wild Bill. She interrupted his study of Belle’s anatomy by saying, “He’s just fainted. He’s got a real nervous disposition.”

  Belle straightened up and looked at all three of us. She scolded us like a mother hen, “I am not happy about this turn of events.”

  “He just needs another drink,” Wild Bill said.

  “Looks to me like he’s already had his fill,” Belle said.

  Wild Bill closed the distance between him and Pete. He raised his bottle over Pete’s bare head and emptied it. The liquor splashed down on Pete, soaking his hair, his face and his shirt. Pete’s face twitched and his limbs jerked like he was a marionette on a string. He bolted straight up and gasped like a drowning man. Then he licked his lips and smiled. “I was dreaming I fell into a lake of whiskey,” he sputtered. “And I couldn’t swim.”

  Wild Bill and Calamity laughed. Belle didn’t see the humor in the situation. She stuck her nose in the air and turned to walk away, but Wild Bill caught her by the wrist and swung her back around to face him.

  “Let me go,” she hissed.

  “You’re a pretty little thing, ain’t you?” he said.

  She tried to free herself of his hold. “I said, let me go.”

  He grinned and said, “I ain’t going to harm you, so quit your fussing.” He pulled her closer and ran his hand down her back. “In fact, you may be the prettiest whore I ever saw.”

  She spat in his face. He let the drizzle run down his cheek. Unbeknownst to them, I headed behind the bar for my shotgun.

  Pete tried to climb to his feet but only got halfway before Wild Bill kicked his boots out from under him. “Stay put, if you know what’s good for you,” Wild Bill threatened.

  Pete stayed put.

  Wild Bill turned his attention back to Belle. “What’s a pretty thing like you doing engaged to a squirt like him anyway?”

  “I love him,” Belle answered. “Isn’t that why people get married?”

  Even a fool could tell she was lying. Every fool except Pete, that was.

  Wild Bill leaned into her and asked, “What’s your name, little lady?”

  Belle turned her face away from his fetid breath.

  “Her name is Olivia,” said Calamity.

  “Olivia?” Wild Bill looked at Calamity. “This here ain’t your Olivia? The one you used to go on and on about?”

  Calamity gritted her teeth and nodded.

  I located the shotgun. I held the gun under the bar but kept my finger on the trigger.

  Wild Bill whistled low between his teeth. “How’d that runt on the floor win you away from Calamity Jane?”

  Pete spoke up. “Belle chose me
. She didn’t want Calamity. She chose me.” He looked at Calamity, encouraging her to agree with him. “Ain’t that right, Calamity?”

  Calamity didn’t take her eyes off Belle as she answered. “That’s right, Pete. Olivia chose you over me.”

  Wild Bill turned loose of Belle and spun to face Calamity. “What the hell’s the matter with you? Ain’t you even going to fight for your one true love?”

  “Olivia made her choice. I can only assume her head is in agreement with her heart.”

  “That’s exactly it,” Olivia said with too much gusto. “I was following my heart.”

  Wild Bill laughed and slapped his knee. I failed to see the humor, but he seemed to think it all one big joke. “If this don’t beat all!” he exclaimed.

  He reached down to Pete and offered him a hand up. Pete nervously accepted his offer and Wild Bill hoisted him to his feet. They both staggered a bit, Wild Bill from his drunkenness and Pete from fear. Wild Bill gripped Pete around the back of the neck and pulled him close. He leaned down and spoke directly into his face. “A word to the wise, Just Pete. Calamity would sooner let you climb on top of her horse than she’d let you climb on top of her woman.” He laughed and added, “And both of them would probably buck you off.”

  Pete’s eyes darted back and forth between Calamity and Belle, but he was smart enough to keep his trap shut this time.

  Wild Bill pushed Pete aside and leaned his bulk against the pole. He looked Belle up and down, undressing her with his eyes. “What do you think, little lady? Think you could buck me off?”

  Belle played coy. “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She moved to Pete and hid behind him for protection. Pete took a step to the side. Belle grabbed him by his belt and pulled him back in front of her like he was a flesh-and-blood shield.

  Wild Bill advanced on the two of them. He took his time peeling Pete off Belle like he was no more than a thin dress. He said, “Don’t be scared of me, Olivia.” He pulled her close and breathed into her neck, “All’s I want is a kiss.”

  He aimed his lips at hers. Olivia struggled mightily against him, but she was no match for his strength. She turned her face giving him her cheek. Wild Bill cupped her chin with one hand and forcefully pressed his mouth to hers.

  Pete found his courage and poked Wild Bill in the shoulder. He stammered, “Now look here, Mr. Wild Bill. That’s my bride you’re kissing!”

  Wild Bill paid Pete no notice. It was as if he were no more than a pesky fly on his shoulder. Belle pried Wild Bill’s face from hers and pounded on his chest with her fists. She screamed, “Get off me, you big lug! Get away!”

  “I like a woman with a little piss and vinegar,” Wild Bill said, tightening his hold on her.

  “I said to unhand her!” Pete yelled.

  “Stop it!” Belle screamed again, still hammering at him with her fists.

  “Spicy is just how I like a woman,” Wild Bill said. He ducked in for another kiss.

  I raised my shotgun, but Calamity beat me to the punch. She stepped forward with her revolver in hand. She aimed it at Wild Bill, put her thumb on the hammer and clicked it back.

  Wild Bill froze at the sound. Even Belle and Pete stopped struggling.

  I stowed my shotgun as Calamity said, “The lady said no, Bill.”

  Wild Bill looked over his shoulder at Calamity. His mouth twisted into an evil version of a smile.

  “Let Olivia loose,” Calamity said evenly, “or I’ll drop you right here and now.”

  They locked horns in a stare down. He licked his lips. She didn’t so much as blink. I don’t think she was even breathing. Wild Bill loosened his fingers one by one and slowly took his hands off Belle.

  Belle inched away until she was in Pete’s arms.

  Calamity kept her gun aimed and ready. Wild Bill chuckled like it was all just a prank he was playing. He threw his arms up above his head like he was in a stick-up. “I give,” he said.

  “You done playing?” Calamity asked.

  “I’m done,” Wild Bill said. “Just wanted to have some fun is all.”

  “Fun’s over now,” Calamity said.

  Wild Bill went back to the table, pulled out a chair and dropped into the seat. Calamity released the hammer on her gun and put it back in its rightful place. Wild Bill picked up the deck of cards and clumsily shuffled. He looked at Calamity out of the corner of his eye and said, “That there was Just Pete’s business. Not yours.”

  “You’re right, Bill, you’re right. It weren’t none of my business.” She pulled out a chair and sat across from him. Without looking at Pete, she said, “Protect your own woman from here on out, Pete. She is no longer my concern.”

  Pete was hanging on to Belle like he was a drowning man and she was a life preserver. “But I ain’t even got no bullets,” he said. “You only gave me one and I done used it up.”

  Wild Bill shook his head, shuffled once more and said, “I have never seen a man so bereft of pride.”

  Calamity said, “I must’ve took that from him too.”

  “Somebody should put him down,” Wild Bill said. “He’s going to get that pretty little woman of his killed. Or worse.”

  Calamity watched Wild Bill’s big hands mix the cards. She muttered, “It would be doing them both a favor.”

  This line of talk was heading into dangerous territory. And as I didn’t like hauling dead bodies out of my saloon, not to mention the blood stains seeped into the plank floors and no amount of scrubbing could get the spots out, I changed the direction of this runaway stagecoach and called out, “Let’s play poker!”

  Everybody’s head snapped in my direction.

  Wild Bill said, “Poker, you say?”

  “Deal me in, Wild Bill,” I taunted good naturedly. “I’m feeling lucky.”

  I think Calamity realized what I was doing. It is called misdirection. It’s what gamblers do when they want to pull an ace out of their sleeve and what magicians do when executing an illusion like sawing a man in half. There’s a reason magicians’ assistants are pretty girls who are barely clothed. What man alive could watch the magician’s hands when a woman’s attributes were staring him in the face? I wasn’t going to saw anybody in half, I only wanted to take Wild Bill’s mind and temper off Pete by challenging him to a game of cards.

  Wild Bill looked me up and down—which didn’t take long—and asked, “What do you have in mind, old man?”

  “Winner takes all.” I baited him a bit further by saying, “Unless those stakes are too rich for your blood.”

  Now if you were a casual observer of this conversation, you might think I had gone off my nutter. But the truth is that not Wild Bill or any other man could hope to win a game of poker against me. I felt one hundred percent secure about wagering everything I owned.

  Wild Bill made a noise that sounded like “Phhhtttt.” He swatted my taunt away like it was a fly. “Sounds good to me. I got plenty of money. I don’t need money where I’m going anyway,” he said. “How about you, Calamity? You got anything to bet with?”

  Calamity nodded and patted her trousers. “I got a pocket full of gold coins just waiting to be tripled.”

  They both looked at me and Wild Bill asked, “What’re you staking?”

  I said, “I got a sack of gold dust and this here saloon.”

  He swiveled his neck to Pete. “What do you bet?”

  Pete shook his head. “I ain’t got nothing.”

  “Wrong,” Wild Bill said. “You got that pretty little woman next to you.”

  “Me?” Belle said.

  Pete gaped. “Surely, you’re not saying you want me to bet Belle?”‘

  Calamity and Wild Bill exchanged a sly look between them. I hadn’t been expecting this turn of events, but now that I was on to their game, I have to admit that I was not opposed to the idea. I didn’t want Pete to marry Belle any more than Calamity did, and Pete losing her in a game of poker seemed a better idea than a duel out on the street. Less bloody, anyw
ay.

  “Surely, I am,” Wild Bill said.

  “I will not be the object of a card game!” Belle protested.

  Wild Bill laughed. “She tickles me something awful,” he said. He looked over at Belle and said as sweet as molasses, “Sweetheart, Pete ain’t going to be betting you. He’s ante-ing up his pride.”

  “Pride?” she said.

  “It’s his pride what’s on the line,” Wild Bill explained. “He can fight me like a man over who gets you or he can take his chances on a game of poker. Both of those things involve his pride.”

  He took out his makings and began to roll himself a cigarette. He took his time, letting everybody think it over, lighted the cigarette and took a slow puff. He looked at Belle, but he spoke to Pete. “It’s all a matter of odds, ain’t it, Just Pete? Where do you think you stand the better odds, shooting it out with me or playing a friendly game of cards with me? Of course you could always tuck tail and run home to your mama.”

  Pete didn’t think it over long. “Deal me in,” he said in a dead man’s monotone.

  Belle marched right up to Pete, reared back and slapped the holy bejesus out of him. He reeled backwards, and if not for the pole, he would’ve wound up on the floor again. She spun on her heels and stomped up the stairs. She disappeared into her bedroom and slammed the door so hard behind her that the cards jumped on our table and Pete’s spurs jingled like a windchime in a thunderstorm.

  Wild Bill chuckled and kicked out the empty chair for Pete to sit.

  “Place your bets,” I said. I lighted my pipe and tossed the burned match to the floor. “Jokers wild.”

  ***

  We all four studied our cards with a seriousness usually reserved for hangings. My nose wasn’t but a few inches over the table as I had given up all pretense of trying to appear tall. Calamity was slumped in her chair, one arm hung over the back, the picture of casual. Pete gripped his cards like he was holding onto the reins of a stubborn jackass. Wild Bill slapped his cards face down on the table and asked, “So what’ll it be, Pete? You’re holding up the game.”