Tyra's Gambler

by Velda Brotherton

  Here he was in a strange town, once again counting on someone being kind to him. There wasn’t a Callie in every wide spot in the road, and this time he probably wouldn’t be so lucky. But he had little choice in the matter. He reined the horse up in front of a saloon where cowboys hung around outside talking to women. Women. They would often sympathize. With a loud groan he kicked both legs out of the stirrups and slid awkwardly into the dusty street in a pathetic heap.

  It was damned undignified, but he had no control over that. He lay there a moment looking up at the sky, until a curious face or two stared down at him.

  “You drunk or hurt, mister?” She was pretty in a raunchy sort of way, and showed more empathy than the other one, who planted her hands on her hips and eyed him with disdain.

  “Sort of wish I was drunk. Unfortunately, that’s not the case.”

  “Well, don’t he talk fancy.” The cold-hearted one sniffed and left.

  “You’re not a wrangler, are you?” Raunchy leaned closer. “What’s wrong?”

  “Got shot by an outlaw. Give me a hand up and inside, and I’ll buy you a drink.”

  She squatted unladylike next to him and eyed the bloody pant leg. “What’s your name, mister?”

  “Zach, Zachariah, actually.”

  “Well, Mr. Actually, my name’s Belle.” She grinned and took his arm. “You look a bit better than some of these yahoos, and I like the way you talk.” She turned and hollered in a shrill voice. “Abner, get your skinny butt over here and help me get this fella on his feet.”

  Abner, who looked to be more a scarecrow than a man, approached, grinning with a toothless mouth. Together he and Belle wrestled Zach upright, propped him up under each shoulder, and dragged him into the saloon, where they deposited him in a chair. Despite the pain that blurred his vision, he quickly spotted an ongoing card game in the back corner. In his left boot he kept enough money to get into a game. Now all he had to do was talk his helpers into waiting for the promised drink till he played a couple hands of poker. It was either the cards or the drinks, and he saw nothing to gain from the drinks. Well, that is nothing he wanted. Belle had a good heart, but he wasn’t keen on bedding her.

  Early the next morning, after standing a round of drinks in the saloon, he was helped outside and up on his horse by Belle. Winner and still a champion at poker.

  She stood next to him. “Wish you’d see Doc about that leg. It needs seen to. You could die.”

  Any other time, and he’d’ve rode off. Didn’t matter that much if he did die. But someone had to help Josh, and it had to be him. There was no one else.

  “Where is this Doc?”

  “I’ll show you.” Clearly she was relieved. Another of those nourishing women. He smiled down at her.

  He walked the horse behind her down the street a ways to a small house tucked behind the Silver Bee Café. Doc came to the door looking disheveled, a small man with uncombed hair and suspenders hanging down around his thighs.

  “What happened to you? She didn’t shoot you, did she?”

  Damn. Was this part of the country filled with women who glorified in shooting men?

  “Doc, shame on you. ’Course I didn’t. But someone did, and he needs it cleaned up.”

  The old man swung the door wide and stepped back. “Well, git on in here, then. All I do is dig lead out of men.”

  “The bullet ain’t in me. It’s been taken out. I ran into some trouble and got waylaid on the trail. Opened it back up.”

  Belle insisted on helping out, mostly holding Zach’s hand while Doc cleaned him up. He didn’t really mind too much. A woman’s hand offered a lot of tender caring any man would be a fool to turn down.

  He left under his own leg power, with a clean bandage and wearing a pair of britches Doc insisted he have. “Belonged to a feller come in here and didn’t make it out. Just gonna toss ’em. Will toss yours instead.”

  Zach paid him from his winnings, tucked some money in Belle’s hand, and stood on the edge of the boardwalk to mount his chestnut.

  The last time he glanced back over his shoulder, Belle was standing there in the edge of the street, waving.

  Chapter Five

  Stubborn was what Tyra was, but James Lee vowed he couldn’t let her be killed because she behaved like she was some big, strong man. She was a delicate, special woman, and it was his job to protect her. He’d have to get this settled now before she got hurt. And especially before they wed. So he asked Renner to stay with the herd even though it was his turn. Not fair, of course, but it was her fault, not his.

  She sat on a log near the fire, gazing into the flames as if he didn’t exist. Her Morgan waited nearby, still saddled. Not a good sign.

  He poured two cups of the steaming black coffee and hunkered beside the fire that she’d coaxed to burn. The wet wood sizzled and spat, sending sparks dancing into the moist air.

  She didn’t say anything, so he went first, likely a mistake, but what difference did it make? She was as hard to control as some unbroken bronc. And like one, she needed a tight rein.

  “I can’t have you showing me disrespect like that.” He peered at her over his cup. “What were you doing out there? You could’ve been stomped.”

  “And you couldn’t?”

  “We’re talking about you and your disobeying me.”

  “Okay, let’s talk about that, then.” She came to her feet and glared through a veil of smoke.

  He hunched his shoulders. Wrong move.

  “First place.” She ticked it off on her index finger. “We are partners, you’re not the by-God-almighty boss. Second.” Another finger poked out. “When I see trouble, I wade in to help take care of it. You don’t like that about me, why then I reckon you’d better find—”

  Before she could finish he leaped to his feet, spilling coffee into the mud. His heartbeat whammed in his throat till he couldn’t swallow. Heat crawled into his face. “Darn it, woman, it isn’t a woman’s role to run a man’s business. You weren’t even built for it. You’ll get yourself hurt, or worse even—”

  He didn’t get to finish. A man rode in from out of the darkness into the light cast by the fire, wavering as if unreal.

  He spoke in a voice weak with weariness. “Sorry to interrupt this, uhm, conversation, but I’ve been riding a spell.” He flung an arm up in the air as if pointing. “And I sure could use a cup of that coffee. I smelled it a mile back.”

  James Lee’s anger drained away. Often he wished he was like his soft-spoken dad instead of his fiery, temperamental Irish mother. But it was the baggage he came with. It pleased him to have a reason to cool off.

  “Aren’t you that gambler fellow I shot?” Tyra spoke before he could, sliding her glance from James Lee to the intruder, then back again.

  “You shot someone?” What kind of trouble had she been in now? Of course she hadn’t bothered to tell him a word about it.

  She nodded, tilted her head toward the stranger. “Him.”

  “That’s me. I’ve had one hell of a time ’cause of it, too. Two or three times lately I’ve wished I had you in my gunsights.”

  James Lee glared at him. “Then I’d appreciate it if you rode on out of here, mister.”

  The fellow held up a hand. “Oh, I deserved it. It just hasn’t been a happy experience for me. What I’d like now is to be invited to climb down and join you both in a cup of coffee. Don’t hold a grudge at all, ma’am. Sure would like to be invited closer to the fire. Got soaked in that storm, and it’s a mite chilly.”

  The rider slid out of the saddle and right on down to his backsides on the ground with a grunt.

  James headed for him. “Just when did you shoot this fella?”

  “A few days ago. What’s wrong with him, anyway? He ought to be plumb over it by now.”

  James bent over the fallen man. “Need a hand there, or you plan on taking your coffee sitting in the mud?”

  “I could use a hand up. Got dragged into a fight with some wild Texas wranglers.
”

  “Sounds just like you.” Tyra came to stand next to James and glare down at the man. “I shot him ’cause he was trying to kill Barney.”

  “Barney? The barman? I’ll swear, Tyra, if you don’t get in the biggest messes.”

  “You two wouldn’t mind,” the man said, “could you put off your fight and help me over to the fire? I’d be much obliged, and be glad to be your go-between once I get some coffee in me. I think this leg is bleeding again.”

  “Another fight? That seems all you do.” She turned to James. “They had him in jail over in Hays City for a while.”

  “After you shot me. You’re the one locked me up. If it means anything, Doc unlocked the cell.”

  James leaned down and helped the man to his feet. Introduced himself. “I’m James Lee, you’d be—?”

  “Needin’ to sit.” He leaned heavily against James. “I appreciate it.”

  “You were in jail?” James helped him sit on a log by the fire. Dark stains on his britches leg attested to what he’d said earlier about bleeding. “That looks bad. Tyra, why don’t you lift that pot of hot water off the fire? Bring it here.”

  “Get your own hot water. The two of you can sit here and commiserate. I’m going to bed. You can discuss women’s role in this whole blamed world all the hell you please. Won’t change a thing. I’ve had enough of it.” She stomped off, her final words barely heard. “I just might shoot the both of you.”

  James Lee smiled. In the morning all would be forgiven and things would get back to normal. Well, the only kind of normal possible around Tyra Duncan.

  “An ornery one, that,” the visitor muttered.

  “Let’s see what we can do about that leg.” James Lee offered him the coffee he had poured for Tyra, fetched a clean bandana out of his bedroll, and took out his Barlow. “This blood is dried. I think it’s stopped bleeding. By the way, name’s James Lee. Yours would be?”

  “Hey, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t cut my only pair of britches.”

  “Afraid it can’t be helped. Besides, they’re ruined.” James Lee slit the denim to the knee, removed the caked bandage, and cleaned up the wound.

  “Well, goddammit.” The visitor took a huge sip of the hot coffee. “Damn, that’s good. You a doctor?”

  “Nope. I got some spare pants you can wear.”

  “You got you one feisty woman, there, if you don’t mind my saying so.”

  James Lee chuckled. “Considering she shot you, I reckon you can say that much, but don’t push it. Still didn’t get your name.”

  “Ah, yes. I’m Zachariah Benson. Folks usually call me Zach unless they’re referring to me as that no good sumbitch, which they do a lot when I skin ’em at the poker table.”

  He laughed along with Zach. “So you’re a gambler. Need anything in your coffee?”

  “Nah, black suits me. Hope you don’t mind my bumming it from you.”

  “And you wouldn’t be taking advantage of how my woman shot you, would you?”

  Zach took a deep gulp of the coffee. “I don’t blame you for thinking that way, and there’s probably a bit of truth in what you’re saying. She cost me a big pot, then hauled me off to jail. Plus made it mighty inconvenient for me to ride. I got somewhere to be.”

  “She’s been mighty busy while I was gone.”

  “I heard her man was in Wichita buying some cattle.”

  “Yep, that’s true.” He gestured toward the injured leg. “Sort of hard, riding with that, ain’t it?”

  “Easier ’n walkin’. She was thoughtful and shot me in the right leg so I can still mount up. Least I managed, an’ ’cept for them Texans that lit into me on the trail, I’d a been fine. Bunch of knotheads, but she was wrong—I didn’t start it. They did. Be okay if I bed down for the night here? I’ll keep my distance.”

  “Long as you don’t decide to shoot anyone. I’m going back out to the herd and relieve my hand. Oh, and I’d advise you not to annoy Tyra too much. She isn’t in a very good mood. Don’t know what exactly is wrong, but you know how women are. She’s shot you once, so be forewarned.”

  “Well, I reckon I know how she is, at least when prodded.”

  James Lee laughed, and so did Zach. Seemed a personable fella, considering his history with Tyra. In fact, he liked him.

  After taking care of Morgan, Tyra made her bed on the other side of the campfire. She lay under a blanket on a waterproof overcoat to keep out the cold from the wet ground and listened to them talk. Men were such fools anyway. If it weren’t for some obvious reasons to keep one around, she’d run off and never again speak to any man alive.

  Not even that good-looking gambler with his smooth talk and pretty eyes so bright blue with thick lashes matching his hair. Where James Lee was wiry tough, Zach was built like a blacksmith, all muscle-y, and skin the color of honey. He could probably soothe her into anything, should he set his mind to it. Make a fool of her, given the chance. If he hung around too long, she’d probably end up taking a shot at him. And James Lee too, if he didn’t stop bossing her around like he did.

  Still, neither one of them was worth the shot it’d take to send ’em back to Victoria. So full of themselves, so sure they had the right to tell a woman what she could and couldn’t do. Well, not this one. No way in hell.

  Lying there in the dark of night, an owl hooting in the distance, she vowed not to marry James Lee or any man. What he’d displayed while they lay on the blanket together had frightened her, gave her cause to keep her distance from men. She could soon grow to like it too much. She would be her own person, like Calamity Jane, and run her life the way she wanted. She could take lovers or not. Probably not. And ride off when she took the notion. Maybe she’d buy a freight wagon and run deliveries all over Kansas. Or she’d move someplace else. Up in Wyoming women were thought better of. She’d heard tales about them being allowed to run for public office and even to vote.

  What she’d wanted since coming to America was to be a sheriff or marshal. One of the men she met in Victoria, an out-of-work puncher named Abner Dolittle, had taught her how to shoot. She’d spent hours each afternoon practicing, her head filled with dreams of becoming a lawman. Dolittle finally pronounced her a crack shot. So far, she hadn’t been able to convince anyone to hire her. And she sure wasn’t going to keep house, wash clothes, or have half a dozen babies with any man. Only thing she could do was head for Wyoming, where women were looked upon different.

  Wait till she told James Lee of her decision. He’d cloud up and turn fourteen shades of red, but it couldn’t be helped. Loving a man didn’t include becoming a slave to everything he wanted, leaving nothing for herself. And since he was the first man she’d ever laid with, how did she know what she felt was love? She had nothing to compare it to. Besides, he could easily find himself a woman who catered to him better.

  It was said that Calamity Jane loved Wild Bill Hickok, yet they weren’t married, nor even always together. Each went their own way and it was only on some occasions that they ran across each other. It was told that their lovemaking could set the world on fire. Too bad he’d been killed up in Deadwood. Playing cards, holding aces and eights. A gambler. Like Zachariah Benson.

  On that thought she closed her eyes and remembered nothing till a bright sun peeked above the horizon and laid its warm rays over the soaked land. She rolled up her bedding and went to the smoldering coals to fan new life into a breakfast fire. Even the dead wood was wet, but she finally got flames licking the logs. Piling on more, she ground some beans, spooned them into a coffeepot of water, and scooted it into the fire. Layering fatback in the cast iron skillet, she raked out some coals and set it on them.

  Zach lay still as could be under his horse blanket. Didn’t look like he even had a bedroll. Renner was asleep nearby, so she crept off into the trees to do her morning business. She came back and went to the fire to turn the sizzling fatback.

  “Smells good,” a voice said behind her.

  She jumped, turned to see
Zach easing to his feet. “You startled me.”

  He groaned and straightened. Sunlight poured through his hair, turning it gold. “Looks like a beautiful morning. By noon we’ll be shedding coats, I’d wager.”

  Without replying, she eyed him through the smoke from the wood drying in the flames. Blinked her eyes and looked again. He was one handsome devil. Breakfast smells mixed with the rain-washed air. A nice life, living out in the open like this. Maybe she’d sign on to a cattle drive. Help herd those longhorns up north to Wyoming. Then she could get a job as sheriff of some small town where women could vote.

  “Quiet this morning, compared to last night, I mean.” With a grimace Zach lowered himself onto a nearby log. “Might I get you some more wood?”

  “Looks like there’s enough here for breakfast. We’ll break camp early. No need to be bothered.”

  “Maybe you’ll be needing water to wash up with.”

  “What’s with you? You don’t have to be helping me. Especially since, as you pointed out last night, I shot you.”

  He smiled a nice smile, the blue eyes sparkling so you could tell he meant it. “Well, you couldn’t help yourself, though I sincerely hope you don’t take such a notion again. I’m going to do my best not to annoy you, at least till this leg has mended. And you’re right. I don’t expect I have to help you. But it’s the least I can do, seeing as how I’m bumming breakfast after bedding down by your fire last night. Be out of your hair today, though. I’m on my way to Cuero.”

  She enjoyed the pleasing cadence of his words. He sure had a fine way with speechifying. “Cuero? What are you going to do in Cuero? Not near as many saloons there as in Hays City. Doubt you can get up enough hands for a poker game.”

  “I’ve got other business there. You been to Cuero?”

  “No, I haven’t. I was just supposing, from what I’ve heard of the place.”

  He didn’t say anything for a while. Poked at the edge of the fire with a stick while she turned the browning fatback. “Did you ever go to a hanging?”