"You're a cheating, lowdown, double-crossing, lily-livered bitch...." His hand hovered above his six-gun. "Brodie." Millain's voice halted her in her tracks. So.She sighed and turned to face him. His head jerked up and he stared at her.
She kept her breathing slow and steady. She had been resting quietly for ten minutes when a knock at the back door dragged her from a very pleasant daydream involving Zee and the huge bed upstairs. The unexpected visitor turned out to be their neighbour, Curly Young. The big man, who owed his nickname to his riot of curly black hair, was bearing another of his wife's peach pies. She finished washing down the wall and stood back to admire the result, rubbing her itchy nose until she realised she was probably coating it with more dirt. What was one more blob, though, when she was covered from head to foot in the stuff already?
Beds Delivered
It was smaller than the Youngs' rambling old spread, but larger than the Old Barn. Its inhabitants clearly had money - a nice porch ran across the front of the house, which was painted white with a green trim, and the roof was shingled. As she crunched up the stony path towards the front door, between the tubs that someone had planted up with bay trees, she could hear dogs barking. Christie was sitting on the parlour floor, surrounded by lengths of sky blue cloth marked with tailor's chalk, when an odd sound caught her attention. She stopped cutting, and cocked her head to one side. He was nodding vigorously, clearly at ease once again.
While the other woman chewed contentedly, Zee popped a potato in her own mouth and reached for a slice of salt pork. "A lot of people seem to feel the way they do. Blue does." The sadness of her expression almost broke Zee's heart. "Damn." She sat down with a thump, feeling as though she had just wrestled a bear. One finger at a time, she pulled off her gloves. "Why can't I whup someone when I feel like it?" she complained, only half in jest.
Zee Smile
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Millain's pointed beard disguised a weak chin, she decided, just as he glanced up. His eyes widened as she caught and held his gaze, but he recovered his poise quickly, flashed her a charming smile that set her teeth on edge, and resumed his game of cards. Zee gave her an amused glance then tipped her hat to a passer-by.
Avg Cost to Provide Service Per Family
It would be nice to have a proper parlour in which to receive guests. The kitchen was all very well for informal occasions, but.... She glanced assessingly at the windows, which needed a clean. That surprise bolt of sky blue calico Zee had bought would not only do for curtains but matching tablecloths too.
"Mine will." In no time flat, Zee had stripped off the troublesome visiting dress, followed by the impossible petticoat and undergarments. Then Zee was back, and Christie was relieved to see that her gun was holstered. Christie blinked and tried to make sense of that. Then her cheeks grew hot, and so did the tips of her ears. Christie reached over and patted Zee on the leg. "It will do me good. And I have missed playing the pianola." She sighed.
donate household items
Then there had been the scuffle outside the Wells Fargo Office.... The mare was waiting patiently for her at the shady hitching post outside the jail. She tucked the burlap sack into a saddlebag and patted the horse's neck.
She emptied the dirty water over the vegetables in the front garden - at least she assumed they were vegetables - then put away the pail and mop. "'S alright, Darlin'," she said tenderly, recognising that their recent travelling, plus the day's excitement, followed by lovemaking had all taken their toll on the blonde. "I'll be here when you wake up. Sleep now. Sweet dreams." Once more she pressed her lips to Christie's hair.
Silas frowned, then laid out his cards - three of a kind. Zee bared her teeth at him and laid down hers - a straight. Having faith in the children she taught was wonderful, but being wilfully blind to their shortcomings was surely not toanyone's benefit. Resisting a strong urge to shake some sense into the dangerously naive woman, Christie had left. Jaw clamped against her anger, she turned the gelding up the track.
Life at the brothel had always been lively, full of music and laughter and dancing. She had never known what was going to happen next. Cat fights were frequent, and involved much name calling, hair pulling, and dress ripping. Not to mention the games of strip poker in the back room, which, when Zee was dealing, always seemed to end with Christie stripped down to her drawers.
As she worked, she glanced out at the Rikers' house, which was only a stone's throw away. A blonde boy was playing with a ball in their yard, but when he saw her glaring at him, he quickly disappeared. When she'd finished her food, she headed back indoors, grabbing a hammer and some nails as she went. In the bedroom, she rolled up her shirtsleeves and set about removing the damaged pane of glass and fitting its replacement. Christie herself wasn't home, she discovered as she dismounted and gave her horse some water.
"Why not? You're the Hellcat's whore," he repeated. It took an hour and much toing and froing before they got the supplies stowed and the two horses fed and watered and stabled in the barn with the buckboard. Then the little blonde cut them both some well-earned slices of bread and ham.
And after she and Zee had eaten, they would head over to their neighbours' social and spend a pleasant, and for once civilised, evening. Impatient to get this matter over with, she feinted with her left hand and, as she'd known he would, he fell for it. In front of witnesses, he drew first - pulling the gun on his right hip. "Thanks." He sat down, then twisted round in his chair, irritated to see that the Slipper's hostesses were all currently occupied. "Get me a whiskey," he told the girl in the jade green dress. "We were at our wits end," he continued.
