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Sheriff Molly

A novel By Gene Cox Published December, 2011 Paper edition published December, Third Revision January 2014

Meet Sheriff Molly, a woman dedicated to keeping the law in Gunbarrel. As fast at the draw and dedicated as John Wayne, she is constantly in pursuit of Virginia Steel, Texas’ most notorious cattle rustler. Virginia is head of the Lone Star Cattle Rustlers Association. Virginia’s gang, Steel’s Steer Stealers, devise one plan after another to rustle cattle from Texas largest ranch, owned by Ma Barker. Ms. Barker and her daughters, with the help of Sheriff Molly and her deputy, Holy Hell Holly, persistently pit their wits against Virginia Steel. Meet the Indians, Squatting Elephant, Dancing Deer, and their mother, Chief Sitting Cow, who only want to live in peace. They manage to make ends meet by selling spirit weed to the cavalry. Their problem is Captain Godsby, head of Detachment A. Along with Sergeant Bell and Private Honnicut, Captain Godsby’s assignment is to rid the world of Indian evils. However, the Indians do not agree that it is the white woman’s land. The battle for territory is personalized by the competition between Sergeant Bell and Dancing Deer. Sergeant Bell wants to be a model and knows she has the body and looks. Dancing deer thinks she is the most beautiful and considers herself woman of the year, hence the competition. Meet the twins, the town drunks. Jamie and Heather are orphans who live by loading wagons in front of Gunbarrel’s store. Their only thought is a bottle. The citizens of Gunbarell, having both disgust and compassion for the orphans, encourage them to clean up their lives. Jamie and Heather are a problem for Sheriff Molly since the owner of Lucky Cowgirl Saloon complains about their panhandling in front of the saloon. Deputy Holly loves the girls. They are her only real friends, and she helps them get booze. Once the girls get something to drink, they look in the window of the saloon at the two bar guys, dreaming of one day being able to be one of the cowgirls inside.

Molly is married, but is not a dutiful wife. Her husband gets fed up with her being married to her job and tells her that it is either him or her job. She realizes that she has a near perfect husband, quits her job, and they move to a ranch to start a new life together. Jamie and Heather get tired of being broke, looked down upon, and getting into trouble. Sheriff Molly helps them to get a job on Ma Barker’s ranch and they give this new life a shot. Virginia Steel tires of the illegal life she lives and runs for the sheriff position recently vacated by Molly. Deciding she has to follow her dreams and be a model, Sergeant Bell runs off to Kansas City. Her mother is devastated since she had tried so hard to get her daughter this job which helped support the family. The women find that they must follow their own path, not paths of others, even though there are pressures to do so. After seeing that the pressured changes do not work, they and everyone else are now content and happier than ever when they return to their former ways of life.

Gene Cox Books 827 W Harwood Rd. Hurst, TX 76054 10 digit ISBN 148181351X 13 digit ISBN 978-1481813518 Print Edition Copyright 2011, 2012, and 2013. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher. Printed in the United States of America

Other books by Gene Cox

The Senechal If You’re Scared of Me Now, Wait Till I’m Dead

Chapter 1 Saloon Arrest of Virginia Steel It had been dark for hours when the sheriff and her deputy arrived in Gunbarrel. Noise from the Lucky Cowgirl Saloon could be heard a mile south of town. Other than that, it was quiet. The general store, bank, restaurant, boarding house, and beauty salon occupied the north side of the main Street. The saloon formed the head of the street. The sheriff's office and jail was a small three room frame building in the middle of the south side of the street. The doctor's office was toward the saloon, and a dress shop next to that. They walked their horses and prisoners to the hitching post in front of the jail. The three live cow rustlers were led into one of the three jail cells. The three dead ones were heaped in another cell. In the morning Sheriff Molly would have the bodies identified and taken to the undertaker. The horses and cow obtained in the raid were led to a pen behind the jail. There were only two horse stalls. The other six horses and cow stood in the lot. Having been used in the crime of cattle rustling the horses would belong to the sheriff and the town of Gunbarrel 50/50. Molly would have the cow butchered, keep some of it to dry, sell some, and give most away. The sheriff and deputy sat down in her office for a minute of rest. Two shot glasses, a bottle of whiskey, and a cigar appeared. Molly took out her right six-shooter and struck a match on the handle and lit the cigar. They tried to relax, but the belly aching of the prisoners made it hard. The sheriff got up and walked to the door of the room where the jail cells were. With a grizzly bear like firmness, she yelled "shut up or I'll fill all your holes full of cement.� The scare tactic worked. They shut up. Molly walked back to her chair and put her boots up on her desk. The spurs found the holes that had been wallowed out by them and Molly leaned back in her chair. Two more shots of whiske and Molly sat up in her chair. "Well, let's go get her."

Holly finished her shot and loaded her rifle. The sheriff checked both of her six-shooters and placed them lightly in their holsters. She tucked her shirt in and pulled her pants up. Holly straightened her dress. Molly led the way out of the doors and turned right, walking down the middle of the street toward the saloon. The Lucky Cowgirl was brightly lit. Every window in the rooms upstairs glowed and a flood of light escaped the hole in the front guarded only by batwing doors. Cowgirls cursing, glasses clattering, and a piano making noise flowed out of the Lucky Cowgirl’s central orifice. The sheriff and deputy walked to it like death approaching. Upon reaching the bat-wing doors Molly stood on one side and Holly the other. They listened, trying to determine who was sitting where before they made their grand entrance. Molly looked at Holly and they both jumped in the doors, which battered around behind them before finally stopping. Everyone inside knew that particular entrance. Someone who at least thought they were important had just entered. Hands and mouths stopped and everyone looked in that direction. Everyone knew the Sheriff's look of "I'm here on business." They then tried to quickly determine who she was after so they would know which way to run when the shooting started. They knew Virginia Steel was the only major outlaw in the saloon and carefully migrated away from her, leaving a wide path between her and the law women. Tex was standing beside Virginia and had his hand on her shoulder. He was her favorite bar guy. Henrietta, a woman with a lot of healthy red hair was behind the bar wiping glasses and the bar. When one was clean she would wipe another until something actually got dirty enough for her to decide to wash it. Usually a cigar in the mug prompted this. It was her bar and the Lucky Cowgirl was her saloon. She cleared her throat and Tex and Tom, the two bar guys she had working the tables that night carefully made their way behind the bar to stand by her. She wanted her flock in a safe place when the shooting started. "When I finish this, Tex, bring us another bottle,� Virginia said, her hands motionless on the table.

Tex and Tom wore red and white striped shirts and khaki pants. They were closely shaven and well groomed, something Henrietta demanded of her bar guys. Six other cowgirls were at the large round table where Virginia was sitting. They looked like the saddle bums and were probably rustlers. They laid their hand of cards face down on the table, took a gutsy last swig of beer or whiskey, then slowly stood and backed away from the table. Virginia brought her hands to the edge of the table. "Move those hands again and you'll never spread those worn out legs for Tex again,� Molly said. No one thought of coughing. The deputy was surveying the crowd for someone wanting to help Ms. Steel out. In an explosion Virginia flipped the table on its side sending cards, money, and beer mugs clattering to the floor. Quicker than a fly Virginia turned sideways and drew her sixshooter which hung from her waist. Her left-hand crossed the top of the pistol to pull the hammer back for a quick fire. Molly knew this was coming. Virginia had used four actions. Molly only needed one. Her right six-shooter twisted sideways out of its holster and fired. Fast, but accuracy was difficult. Molly had practiced this move a million times and the bullet flew true. Virginia's pistol was shot from her hand. She closed her right fist and winced in pain, the side of the pistol having clawed grooves in her hand as it was shot away. "You'll never take me alive Sheriff." "What are you going to do about it?" They stared at each other. Molly had butch cut blond hair with no graying. Her eyes were crystal clear and blue. They sat in a fairly rugged face. Virginia Steel had graying black hair that was put up in a bun. Steel was 15 to 20 years older than Molly. She had coal black eyes and an intense stare that would cause a buzzard to fall out of the sky. "Tie her up, deputy,� Molly said. With her free hand she took the cigar out of her mouth and threw it out of the batwing doors. Holly had a small manila rope tied around her thin waste. It was good for tying up cattle and outlaws. Standing, you could

not tell she was bowlegged because she wore a dress. But when she walked it was obvious. She handed her rifle to the sheriff and walked behind Virginia, spurs clanging and making small trails in the sawdust and tobacco spit on the floor. After untying the rope from her waist, she roughly pulled Virginia's hands behind her, one at a time, and grinned at tying them tight. Then she took the small pistol out of Virginia's left boot and huge knife from her right boot and shoved them in her own boots. There was nowhere else to carry them. "March!” She ordered and shoved Virginia ahead. "I am not going to your jail, Sheriff. They tell me you torture girls, which is against international and federal laws. Not me, sheriff. I am not the one." "Yah you, Virginia, you’re the one. “Take her in, deputy. You girls get back to your drinkin’ and gamblin’”. Molly nodded to Henrietta then followed Holly out the door who was being as rough as possible with Virginia . "What's the charges sheriff?" "Cattle rustling." "I've been in this saloon since noon, ask Henrietta." "It was your girls who done it." "My girls? I don't have any girls. I don't know what you are talking about, sheriff." "We’ll see." "If you touch me, sheriff, I'll have your badge." "It don't work that way. You’re the crook and I’m the law woman. You've enough wanted posters to have killed a field of trees.” Molly walked ahead and opened the door for Holly, who bulldogged Virginia through it. "Put her in the empty cell then go get Dancing Deer,” Molly said. "Oh, hell no. You're not going to use Indian Boarding on me. It's illegal." "So is cattle rustling, and we can because you're a terrorist. New law." "A terrorist! Who said?" "I did."

"Know any of these girls?" Holly asked Virginia as she backed her into the cell then untied the rope on her wrists. "No. I don't know them." Sheriff Molly sat in her chair and put her feet up on her desk. The spurs sought out their holes on the desk top and she leaned back, striking a match on the butt of her gun and lit a cigar. Holly stomped out of the jail cell, got her hat off a hook by the door, her rifle, and left. Molly got a bottle and a shot glass and tried to numb the pain. A half bottle of liquor later the door opened and in swayed the sexiest Indian squaw that ever wore a feather. She was young, probably about 20. Her black hair flowed down her back to her waist, glistening like it had been polished. She wore a small deer skin halter top and short skirt. Half of her large cantaloupe sized breasts were exposed. Her waist had a wasp look. Below that was a full butt. The skirt abruptly ended and legs that every man dreamed of continued to the floor. She knew the effect she had on people and used it without remorse. "Dancing Deer, we need a confession out of the lady in the cell by herself. Holly will tie her to a board for you." "Yes sheriff,” she said with a teasing voice and showed them what a woman's swaying hips could look like as she walked to the jail room. When Dancing Deer stood in front of the door Virginia yelled "NO" loud enough to set the guns off. The sheriff and deputy smiled at each other and Holly made her way to the cell to tie Virginia to the board. She positioned the feet end of the board on the bed and the head end of the board on the floor. "She's all yours Dancing Deer." Holly walked outside the room and Dancing Deer went in. It did not take long, just a couple of minutes. Virginia started by saying "NO" "NO." They heard the sound of material tearing and her cries became louder "No!" "No!”"Damn you, don't you dare. Nooooo!” "No. No. No. No." A little more clothing tearing. "Oh, oh, oh, oh." A little more tearing.

"Oh -- yes." "Yes" "Yes" Holly walked to the jail cell door. "Victoria Steel, were those girls hired by you to rustle Barker cattle?" "Yes, yes. Oh - yes." She was breathing hard. "There is your confession, Sheriff." "That will do, Dancing Deer." Dancing Deer swayed her way out of the room and over to the Sheriff Molly's desk. Molly gave her the other half of the bottle of liquor and a five dollar gold coin. "How’s your mom and sister?" Molly asked. "They are good. You need spirit weed?" "No, I'm good. Thanks for your help." Dancing deer turned and walked to the door. Her hips rotated an impossible figure eight. Molly and Holly watched them and shook their heads. "My whiskey level is low,” Molly said. Molly reached in her bottom desk drawer and pulled out a fresh bottle. She opened it and she and Holly took several quick shots. Holly gulped down another one then took her rifle to the storeroom. Molly put her feet on her desk, the spurs finding their holes, and leaned back in her chair. A hard day’s work well done. Molly pulled a cigar out of her vest pocket and put it in her mouth. She pulled out her right six-shooter. She held the barrel with her left hand and rested it on her crotch. She struck a match on the gun butt with her right hand and lit her cigar. Molly took a big puff then blew it out. She closed her eyes and took another puff. "BAM!" The gun went off. Molly's eyes shot open. "Oh – shit," covered her face. Her mouth opened wide and the cigar felt out of her mouth and onto her shirt. She stopped breathing, scared to look down at her crotch. Holly burst into the room. "Gun went off cleaning it. Sorry sheriff." It was a full 30 seconds until Molly could draw a breath. "Gawd dammit Holly, warn me before you do that next time." Her face still looking horrified. "How am I supposed to warn you when a gun is fixing to

accidentally go off sheriff?” "I don't know, but it's your job next time it happens." "Gawd dam!" She shouted again. She was still scared to look down, fearing she had another hole to contend with. The cigar burned a hole in her shirt and her skin started to sizzle. Molly jumped up and brushed ashes and sparks off her shirt. She poured a shot of whiskey and threw it on her stomach. She holstered her gun, shook her head side to side and finally sat back down. Not wanting to laugh in the sheriffs face Holly went back into the storeroom. "Hey, untie me,” came from the jail cell. Two women who looked like their horses had been riding them burst in the door and stomped to the sheriff’s desk. "We’re here to bond out Victoria Steel,” one said. "Well, let's see," the sheriff said. "I just got the new bond amounts for a terrorist. 200 gold." "200 gold! That's outrageous." "Do you want her or not?" "Okay. Okay. We’ll pay." The women pulled gold coins out of their bodices until they had $200. They also lost about 10 inches of their top measurement. "Holly, go bring Virginia here." Holly walked out of storeroom. "Yes, sheriff." "I'll be back in the morning for my girls. And I'll have you arrested for Indian boarding me,” Virginia said on the way out. "So now they are her girls." Holly told Molly. Virginia and her bond makers left and Holly and Molly sat down at her desk. Holly lit Molly's next cigar.

Chapter 2 Indian Move Request One - Gun Trade Captain Godsby struck a regal figure. Her dark blue uniform of the United States Cavalry was expertly tailored, pressed, and spotless. The jacket buttoned up with brass buttons. On her shoulders were Captain’s bars. Her pants were equally well tailored and pressed and tucked in her knee high black riding boots. The gold tassels on her Cavalry hat showed she was an officer. Her face was plain and serious. Black, neatly cut hair came to her shoulders. One gloved hand held the reins. The other hand she held beside her. She wore a small pistol and a rifle was in a harness tied to the saddle. Her horse trotted with as much dignity as the rider showed. Detachment A of the 223rd Cavalry followed her. Sergeant Bell was blond and beautiful. She obviously had a different tailor than Captain Godsby. Her uniform had lumps in them. Big ones. She wore the same jacket with the brass buttons but it was very tight around her waist and held her breasts at attention. They resembled large oranges and the tops and middle were open and ready for inspection. When she was not on a horse her snug pants showed an exceedingly round rear end. Her Cavalry hat was worn on the side to show beauty rather than bearing. Her body moved sensually in the saddle. She looked at her face in her small mirror she carried more than she did at the trail ahead. At the rear rode Private Honicutt. She rode rigid in the saddle and never smiled. She was thin and there were no lumps in her uniform. Fairly long straight dark brown hair was kept in a pony tail. She constantly waited for Captain Godsby to give a command for her to obey. She was a soldier. She ignored Sergeant Bell, considering her not worthy to wear a uniform. The Cavalry detachment was out scouting for Indians. Those were their orders from General Cornwall. They wound their way through Mesquite trees in the sandy soil of East Texas. The Captain stiffened, raised her right hand at a perfect right angle and stopped her horse. Sergeant Bell was looking in

her mirror and if not for the intelligence of her horse would have run into the Captain. The private saw the signal to stop, did so, stiffened even more and prepared to pull the small side arm they were issued. Her eyes were glued on the Captain, awaiting orders. Then they noticed it. The Captain did not have to say anything. Drums. Indian drums. The Captain looked like an alerted bird dog. Sergeant Bell was studying her nails. Private Honicutt had her eyes on her Captain, ready to pull her weapon if ordered to do so. The Captain’s hand still stuck out like a stop sign. She motioned for them to creep foreword. They tracked the drum beats until they knew they were close. They dismounted, tied their horses to a bush, pulled out their rifles, crouched over, and slowly continued toward the drumming. Captain Godsby looked carefully under a Bush. She stood up and pointed, holding up three fingers. She motioned for them to cock their rifles -- quietly -- then follow her. When she was past the bush the Captain sprang in into the clearing and aimed her rifle at the Indian with the most feathers on her head. Bell and Honicutt aimed their rifles at the other two Indians. An older Indian, in a full headdress was sitting on the ground. In her lap was a tray with an herb on it. She was picking out the stems and seeds. To her right sat an obese Indian maiden beating on a drum between her legs. Her hair was in a long braid and two feathers in a headband sat on top of her fat round head. To the Indian Chief’s left was a large tepee. In front of the tepee Dancing Deer was dancing erotically to the drumming beat. Her curves and the way she moved them caused the three Cavalry women to gawk. The Indian Chief looked up from her tray. The obese drummer stopped abruptly and looked up as well. She took a hit on a hand rolled cigarette lying beside her, held it, and blew out a cloud. Dancing deer stopped in a pose and with her liquid dreamy eyes surveyed what had just burst into their camp. Captain Godsby sat regal in a saddle but when on her feet she walked with a flourish of her long thin arms, flapping her elbows up and down. “We're the U.S. Cavalry,” she said. Her rifle was going up

and down like her arms. The chief looked at her for a moment with her blood shot eyes then turned to the obese Indian on her right. "Caterers. Did we call for caterers?" "No Ma," the fat Indian said, taking another hit off her cigarette. "Cavalry ma. Cavalry." "That's right, hold it right there. We’ve got you now," Captain Godsby said, her elbows flapping like wings. The chief looked at her daughter on the right. She shrugged. Then she looked at Dancing Deer, who also shrugged. "What you want?" Asked the Indian chief. While waiting for an answer she picked up a cigarette paper and rolled a joint. "You move,” said the Captain. "This land is property of the united states government." Captain Godsby arms were going up and down. She was stepping back and forth, getting different grips on her rifle. The fat Indiana maiden took a hit off her joint, coughed, and started giggling. Dancing Deer was eyeing Sergeant Bell. Competition. Sergeant Bell felt the eyes. What she wanted. She did her best to stick out her boobs and rotate her hips while her face said she was bored. Private Honicutt had her rifle pointed at the fat Indian maiden and waiting for the Captain’s orders to open fire. When the chief had finished rolling her joint and lighting it, she looked to the Captain. "You wrong white girl. I am called Sitting Cow. My mother Running Cow was born in that tepee. Her mother, Jumping Cow, was born in that tepee. And her mother, the great Humping Cow was born in that tepee. My daughters, Squatting Elephant and Dancing Deer born in that tepee." Dancing Deer and Sergeant Bell were still playing women's games with each other. Private Honicutt had not moved, and Squatting Elephant was smoking and laughing, enjoying the scene. Captain Godsby felt they were at a standstill. "When we come back, you and your tepee better be gone or we will attack." It was not obvious whether Chief Sitting Cow heard her or not. She stuck her hand out with the joint. "Try this." Godsby's arms were flapping up and down. She was

stepping back and forth. "No tricks now." Sitting Cow just looked at her. While still holding her in her sights the Captain reached over with her left hand and took the joint. Keeping her eye on Sitting Cow she took a huge hit then handed it to Sergeant Bell who was still modeling for Dancing Deer. Sergeant Bell smoked a few hits in a sexy way then tried to hand it to Private Honicutt, who ignored her. Captain Godsby was becoming less worried about her rifle and more interested in getting the joint back. Sitting Cow noticed this. "It Indian custom to trade." "Well, what do you have to trade?" Asked Godsby, her rifle now at ease in her hands. "Go get trade," sitting cow told her daughter. Squatting Elephant lumbered up and nearly fell on Sitting Cow, staggered around, and then went behind that tepee. She returned lugging a huge bail of marijuana. She sat it down between the Captain and the Sergeant. Their mouths fell open. "What do you want for this?" The Captain asked, obviously very interested. "Your rifles," said Sitting Cow. "We get all this just for some stupid rifles?" Chief Sitting Cow nodded, smiling. "Sure!" Sitting Cow nodded to Dancing Deer, who swayed over to Captain Godsby and took her rifle with two fingers. Then she walked to Sergeant Bell. She looked at her from head to toe. Sergeant Bell threw back her head and arched her back. She was leaning on her rifle. Dancing deer took it, then walked to Private Honicutt who still had a deadly aim on Squatting Elephant. Dancing Deer smirked, snatched the rifle out of her hands, and then swayed to the tepee with them. "Carry this to the horses,� Captain Godsby commanded of the Sergeant and private. Each took a side of the bail and staggered back toward the horses. Captain Godsby followed. Sitting Cow and Squatting Elephant looked at each other and laughed. "White women crazy,� said Sitting Cow. Dancing deer walked out of the tepee to the circular trail

she had danced into the earth. Squatting Elephant saw her and began to drum again. Dancing Deer’s body undulated like a snake and began to dance. Sitting Cow rolled another joint.

Chapter 3 Twins Background The Twins stood in the warm spring sun of Northeast Texas. The weather was comfortable but they were not smiling as far as you could tell. Occasional baths in the river west of town kept them and their one dress marginally clean. Other than their one dress they had a round black hat with a small dome top, a boy’s hat. They each carried worn out purses church ladies had given him years ago. They went barefoot often, but had a set of worn out shoes with their coat and blanket which stayed in a corner of the town's stable where they slept. There was plenty of warm straw and they were used to the smell. Wherever they went they went as one, not a pair. Jamie had an arm hooked around her smaller twin Heather's neck. They were a four-legged staggering unit. Both of their faces were red and purple from alcohol poisoning. They might have been pretty otherwise. What they lacked in looks and smell Jamie made up for in personality. Jamie did all the talking. Heather only talked to Jamie and then in a whisper. Without her larger twin she would be as lost as a newborn puppy. Jamie and Heather were Gunbarrel’s town drunks. Most of the people tolerated them because they did not cause problems. Some pitied them and gave them food when they saw them on the streets. They also gave them change telling them it was for food knowing it would be spent on booze. But they could pretend. They would have a clear conscience and have done a good deed. The Twins were twenty two. Seventeen years ago they were traveling across the West in a covered wagon. Their mother was a snake oil saleswoman and their father stole chickens when he could. One night they camped in a dry gully. The twins slept in the wagon and their parents and older brother slept under the wagon. In the middle of the night a flash flood washed them away. The Twins floated along the canyon in the wagon until the storm ended. They were found a few days later by cowgirls inspecting their ranch after the flood. Their parents and brother

were never found. Jamie and Heather lived with the cowgirls until they were ten years old, always hugging each other as they had done in the wagon during the storm that had washed their world away. The Twins showed no interest in school or socializing with others and were ‘let go’ from the ranch. They wandered from ranch to ranch until people tired of them and eventually they wound up in the town of Gunbarrel at age 20. There, for the last two years, some of the town’s people watched after them. Gunbarrel had a fairly large general store. Settlers and travelers as far away as half way to Ft. Worth came for their sugar, beans, coffee, tobacco, and a drink in the Lucky Cowgirl Saloon. The rest of their money would be taken by the card shark cowgirls that hung out in the saloon for that purpose. The settlers then moped their way back home in their wagons. Jamie and Heather were in front of the general store when a wagon pulled up to be loaded. Jamie offered their help in loading their supplies. Some needed the help. Some gave them change as a friendly gesture. The rest ignored them. That was okay. Rejection they had learned to live with. Their only true friend was a clear bottle with brown liquid in it, and Deputy Holly. A well dressed woman that was in town with her family let Jamie and Heather load her supplies then gave them a silver dollar. When she left the Twins raced around to the side of the store and sat down. Jamie emptied her purse on the ground in front of them. They had made three dollars that day. Jamie hugged Heather tightly. Heather then laid her head on Jamie's shoulder and hugged her back. They both had big smiles on their faces. "Wait here,” Jamie told her twin. Heather reluctantly sat there alone, but knew she had to. Jamie ran to the sheriff’s office and burst in the door. Sheriff Molly was at her desk reading law books. Holly was polishing her rifle. Jamie walked to the deputy and smiled. The deputy set the rifle to the side and hugged her. Jamie held out her hand. Holly took the money and headed across the street. Jamie ran back to her sister and sat down. In a couple of minutes Holly brought a bright shiny new bottle to the girls. She smiled and then went back across the street to polish her rifle again.

Jamie opened the bottle and gave her sister the first swallow. Then she took a long drink. The stress of life melted away. Liquid warmth and comfort returned. A few more drinks and they were no longer shaking. Their sunny smiles returned and life was sweet. Another drink each and they got up. They were both thin as fence posts. Jamie put the bottle in heather’s dress to hide it. Then, with her arm around Heather's neck and Heather's arm around her waist they went to pursue their favorite pastime. The saloon was always open, so that was not the problem. Henrietta was the problem. She did not like the Twins hanging around her saloon because they begged drinks and change from her paying clients. The twins circled the outside of the town to the saloon. They hoped the bar guys were at work. It was still early. Jamie had a huge crush on Tex, and Heather liked Tom. They went to the window on the side of the saloon and carefully peeked in. They wanted to watch their dream boys moving around. Whenever a cowgirl would hug one or pinch them on the butt they would get jealous. Then they would pretend it was them doing the hugging and pinching. When a cowgirl took a bar guy to a back room they tried to watch in the window. It would make them flustered and cry, dreaming of the day they could try that experience. Maybe someday they would have a husband and family. Tex was at work but Tom was not. Jamie pulled the bottle out of Heather's dress and took a drink then gave her one. Then they watched Tex’s every move. Jamie talked to him through a window like they were having a conversation. Heather pretended her twin was married to Tex and her husband was Tom. They were both very handsome men. Tom was not effeminate at all. He was masculine in his walk, talk, and mannerism. They could nearly smell the musk of a man as they dreamed of doing things with their husbands. The Twins heard someone walk up on them. They froze. "Its okay girls,” said the deputy. “Just making my rounds. You girls stay down, hear? And don't go ask’in no cowgirls for no drinks." "Yes Deputy,” Jamie said. Heather was sucking her thumb

which she did when she was afraid. Holly smiled at them and Jamie smiled back. Holly could not blame the girls for watching the bar guys. It was a natural thing. "If you girls need another bottle come get it before dark. I'll be off duty then." "Thanks Deputy Holly." "See you girls later,” and continued her rounds. "Look at the way he walks,” Jamie told Heather for the hundredth time. "Oh, he is so handsome,” she quietly whispered back. "My Tom is handsome also." "Yes he is,” Jamie agreed. Another drink each and they stared in the window like two baby birds looking out of a birdhouse. Tex could feel eyes following him around. He knew whose eyes it was. He felt sorry for the girls and would never tell on them. In fact, sometimes a cowgirl would get drunk and leave a half-full bottle in the saloon. He would sneak it out to them. And he was flattered that they found him attractive. "Maybe for Christmas this year." He let his thoughts float. For another hour they slowly drank their bottle and followed Tex’s every move. Soon, the bottle was empty and it was back to work. They dropped the bottle in a pile of bottles by the window. Then, intertwined, they went around the outside of town to the general store. They would have to work hard to get enough money before dark to buy another bottle. If they failed Jamie would have to ask drunken cowgirls coming in and out of the saloon for a bottle to survive. But they had to be very careful. If Henrietta caught them they were in trouble. If she complained to Sheriff Molly, Molly would have no choice but to arrest them. Such was their daily life.

Chapter 4 Indian Move Request Two - Indians Pull Rifles Captain Godsby had spent an hour in General Cornwall’s office. She was still half deaf from being yelled at. "We found a group of savage Indians. But we were greatly out numbered and barely escaped with our lives. They had whole white settlers barbecuing over huge open fires. We would have been next if not for my quick thinking. I made a deal with the savages and traded our rifles for our lives. Then, holding off probably a hundred savages with our handguns, made our escape. I deserve a medal, general." "You lost your rifles." "We had to, sir.” "You’re interfering with my pay raise, Captain,” he yelled. "You're going back there. Give them an ultimatum from me. They leave this land or I will send in the heavy artillery." "Yes general,” said the Captain. She saluted smartly, did a military turn, and marched out the door. The Captain's ears were still stinging as she led Detachment A back to the Indian camp. Her regal bearing had returned and she rode forward like a goddess. Sergeant Bell followed, chest out, studying her face in a mirror. Private Honicutt had her hand close to her revolver waiting for an order to shoot something. The trio was observed as they proceeded through the bushes. The eyes were not sure what to think of them. They decided to go get the rest of the tribe. The Cavalry heard Squatting Elephant’s drum and proceeded slowly. They dismounted and tied their horses to the same bush they had last time. They pulled their small service revolvers and proceeded in a crouch. At the last bush Captain Godsby jumped into the clearing in front of Sitting Cow who was seated in her regular place cleaning spirit weed on a tray in her lap. The Captain tried to aim her gun at Sitting Cow even as

her elbows flailed up and down. Squatting Elephant continued drumming and looked at the apparition which had suddenly appeared. Sergeant Bell and Private Honicutt followed her into the clearing and pointed their service revolvers. The Sergeant was looking around for Dancing Deer. Then her eyes opened wide. Dancing Deer nudged her again with the barrel of her rifle and Sergeant Bell dropped her revolver and raised her hands. Captain Godsby sensed something was wrong and looked in Sergeant Bell's direction and saw Dancing Deer and her rifle, which was now pointed at her. She dropped her handgun, a silver handled one presented to her when she had made Captain, and raised her hands. Private Honicutt was frozen. She had not been ordered to do anything. Sitting Cow and Squatting Elephant took the rifles from under the blanket beside them and pointed them at the private. She then decided to drop her weapon and raise her hands. "Why you come back?" Sitting cow asked. "You need more spirit weed?" "No," said the Captain, put out with the situation she found herself in. "We bring an ultimatum from General Cornwall. He says that if you do not move he will send in the heavy artillery." "What's a general?" "He is our chief." "This is our land. "No, it's our land, we discovered it." "Why we both can't live together?" "You’re savages. We are civilized. We can't get along." Sitting Cow put her rifle down and picked up her rolling tray. "Dancing Deer, take white woman to tepee. Show her we can get along.� Dancing Deer nudged the Captain in the back and motioned for her to go to the tepee. "No! I'm not going in there with her." Squatting elephant raised her rifle and aimed at the Captain. Hands raised, the Captain slowly walked to the tepee. Sergeant Bell's eyes observed Dancing Deer’s every curve and move. Sitting Cow rolled a joint and lit it. Sounds started coming

from the tepee. "No! No! You wouldn't dare!" The sounds of struggling. "No! No!" More struggling. "Oh, oh, ooooh.," were the next sounds. Silence for a few seconds. Then "oh yes. Oh yes." There was silence for a little while longer then Dancing Deer emerged from the tepee with her rifle. She model walked over to Sergeant Bell, turned, held her hips provocatively, and then posed by her; looking her up and down. Captain Godsby staggered out of the tepee. Her jacket was buttoned one button off. Her hair was a mess. She looked dazed. “Go tell your chief you like Indians,” Sitting Cow told her. Captain Godsby staggered out of the camp. Sergeant Bell, after a last look up and down Dancing Deer, followed her. Private Honicutt, hands still raised, followed them out backwards. Squatting Elephant reached for the rolling tray and rolled a cigarette. Dancing Deer sat down by her mother. She had a rifle in one hand and bullets in the other. She tried to push a bullet in the end of the barrel. "Bullet too small,” she complained. Squatting Elephant and Sitting Cow considered the problem. Sitting Cow picked up a rifle and took a bullet from Dancing Deer's hand and tried to put it in the end of the barrel. She accidentally cocked it with the hand lever. It scared her and she threw it behind her. Dancing Deer and Squatting Elephant threw theirs in the same direction. Squatting Elephant finished rolling her joint, put it in her mouth, struck a match and lit it. She began to drum. Dancing Deer stood and walked to her circle. Her body undulated and she began to dance. Captain Godsby rode in a daze. She said nothing. Her regal bearing was gone. She just rode. Sergeant Bell was doing her best to look sexy and Honicutt awaited orders from

Godsby. There were arrows peeking out of the bushes as they passed but they seemed not to notice. Bell felt eyes and did her best to model on horseback. Whistles and cat calls began to come from the bushes. Sergeant Bell ate it up. They rode silently back to the fort. Captain Godsby was preparing her speech for General Cornwall.

Sheriff Molly  

Sheriff Molly, Western Comedy by Gene Cox