The Incident at Last Home

This story was a collaboration with someone who doesn't want to be associated with it anymore.

***

"At long last!"

"Well bless my soul," the bartender said, looking up with a grin, "Crazy Walt Higgins."

Walt smiled, a largely toothless affair, and capered around one of the mismatched tables. The bartender, the eldest Tatum brother, stamped his heel into the bare floorboard to keep time as Crazy Walt weaved and danced across the room. His gnarled beard was too stiff to do much more than lay against his chest, and he laughed as he bowed with a flourish of his broad hat. "Thank you, thank you."

"I heard tell you and yer boys've been havin' quite a streak."

"Aw c'mon now, Jesse," Walt said, leaning against the bar. "Gossip ain't worth a shit." He shifted his weight, casually crossing one dusty boot over the other while looking around the otherwise-empty room, and grinned. "But yeah."

Both men howled with laughter. Walt slapped his open palm down against the polished wood repeatedly.

"They can't stop us," the outlaw cried, pronouncing it like kaynt.

"They can't," the bartender repeated, matching Walt's cadence with a red-faced guffaw.

"Soon as they start lookin' one way, here I come from th'other side!"

The bartender chuckled and shook his head. "Shit, Walt. Heard you hit a train this time."

"We did," Walt said, settling onto one of the barstools. His eyes grew wide as he eased into the tale. "We surely did. Hit a payroll transport. Only we hit 'em when they's stopped in Golden. Me an' Trigger slipped on and held 'em up real quick like b'fore the driver knew anythin' about it. Then we caught a couple stagecoaches coming up around Saratoga and, uh..." Walt grinned. "... lightened their load a little."

"Hoo-wee," Jesse said, grinning ear to ear. "What was yer take?"

Walt leaned forward, letting the moment grow pregnant with anticipation "Four. Hunnert. Dollars."

"Shoot!" the bartender scoffed. "I ain't never seen that much money in my whole life!"

Another man, several inches shorter than Walt, came in out of the mid-morning sun and immediately mimicked the smiles of the other two, laughing without having been in the room. Jesse pulled out five mismatched cups and started pouring out their whiskey.

"Ahhh," Walt said, raising his eyebrows. "Best pull out one more."

"Oh? A new man?"

"Crack shot too," Walt said, leaning in conspiratorially. "Killed three Pinkertons on our way outta Golden."

"Thought Riley only shot the one," said the shorter man, as he sat down on the next barstool.

"Shut up, Trigger," Walt cried, rounding on the other man. "You were up in the front. You didn't see Smilin' Riley pop up on the back 'a that gray mare he rides and BLAM!" Walt rose up, feet on the rungs of his barstool like stirrups, and mimicked a rifle shot from horseback. "BLAM! BLAM!"

The bartender repeated, "Smilin' Riley," softly, with reverence.

"Oh yeah," Walt said, turning back around and knocking back his first glass of whiskey. "Yeah, I tell you what. He is cold-blooded."

"Yeah," Trigger brayed.

"He's a killer," Walt said, turning serious for a moment. The door opened behind them, and a third, even taller, man came through. "We hooked up with him 'bout three months back. Game of cards went wrong south of Denver. Worthless shit called Little Hugo here a cheat."

"What'd I do?" Hugo said, as he lumbered across the room.

"Ya didn't cheat!" Walt cried, furious at being interrupted.

"Yea I did," Hugo said, furrowing his brow.

"Will you..." Walt shook his head and sat back down. "Point is, they pulled on us quick-like."

"I can't win none if I don't cheat, so-"

"Hugo, I'm in the middle of this here!"

Hugo frowned as he sat down, and Jesse slid him his glass of Whiskey.

"Anyway," Walt said, stretching and twisting, "they had us by numbers, and all of a sudden this kid come outta nowhere with a Spencer carbine. Drops two of 'em in one shot, surprised 'em, and we blasted our way outta there."

"I always wanted me a Spencer," Jesse said, nearly drooling.

Hugo looked down at his whiskey sadly. "Tector was cheatin' too."

"Dammit Hugo." Walt turned on his stool and fixed a stare on the big man that set him on his heels. "You wanna stay here in'is room all day?"

"No," Hugo said sullenly.

"Then shut up."

Jesse's brother, Emit, came in through the back and clasped hands with Trigger and Walt by turns. "Where's Black Rob and Tector at?" Emit asked.

"Aw," Walt said, turning and frowning, "they's likely over at the general store. They'll be along in a bit."

"So who's'at on the porch?"

Jesse leaned in close and whispered, "Smilin' Riley."

"Colder than the shady side of a witch's titty. You cross 'im," Walt added with a grin, "and he'll smile while he fills your belly with lead."

Emit nodded, leaning away. After a few minutes, Tector and Black Rob joined them, and the celebratory drinking began in earnest.

***

Walt leaned heavily on the bar, whiskey weighing him down. Tector and Trigger were already upstairs enjoying themselves, while Black Rob and Hugo kept company downstairs. A girl sat in each man's lap, giggling and helping them decide which cards to play. The two Tatums stood close, staring out into the bright afternoon at the silhouette that had been perched on their porch for hours.

"He don't look so cold-blooded to me, brother," Emit said, his voice low. "Looks like one of the girls when they's sulking. You know, after gettin' slapped 'r somethin'."

"I don't know," Jesse said slowly, in equally hushed tones. "I don't like the way he's smilin'. Like he knows somethin' we don't."

Emit grunted. "It's just a scar, ya idiot."

Walt had never been one for whispering, but the drink had emboldened his flair for the dramatic. He leaned further towards the men on the other side of the bar and spoke low. "That ain't no reg-uh-lar scar neither. That's the handy work of a giant wolf who thought to make a meal outta that man. Took a few chunks, too, before Riley killed the creature with his bare hands."

"Walt," Hugo chimed in, looking up from his hand. "Riley said it was a dog-"

Walt glared over his shoulder and hissed, "A dog as big as a wolf!" He stared at the big man for another second and then leaned in towards the Tatums again. "This thing lands on top of him, knocks the kid to the ground, tearin' at his throat and face. And Riley's thrashin' around, trying to get his gun to shoot the thing but it's too far away, and the beast is drinkin' his blood like it's mother's milk. So he reaches up-"

"I thought he shot the dog?" Hugo asked.

"Who's tellin' this here story, Hugo?" Walt roared again. "I ain't 'gone say it again. You keep your trap shut or else."

The large man frowned and nodded, and the girl in his lap nuzzled against him. Both Tatums turned back to Walt, who in turn took a long draw from his newly-refilled glass. He paused, seeing his audience was riveted again, to let the tension build.

"So wha'd the kid do?" Jesse prompted.

"Well," Walt said slowly. "Only thing a man can do. Use any weapon he got."

"The fuck does that mean?" Emit hissed impatiently.

"Means the kid punched the beast in the throat 'til he let go."

"What?!"

"There ain't no wa-"

"How do you think he's standin' there right now?" Walt gestured toward the door. "You think a man like that'd just let the thing eat his face? Uh-uh! Riley started crawlin' fer his gun when the thing come back at him! I mean, the animal's had a taste of his blood now, no way it's leaving 'til it's had its fill." Walt's voice dropped low. "And it took its fair share, boys. Yes indeed."

Both Tatums leaned in while Walt took another long swig.

"Riley gets his Spencer." Walt curled his hands in the air, one above the other as if grasping an invisible rifle. He twisted his substantial body around, stumbling as he leaned away. "And he flips on his back, the wolf in his cross hairs. But the thing was already on top of him again. This time, he takes a bite right between the kid's legs, rippin' into the boy's willy with its massive teeth."

The men behind the bar winced. Emit put a protective hand over his own crotch while Jesse made a pained sound in his throat.

Walt nodded knowingly. "Now most men woulda give up then and there, but not Riley. Now the thing's gonna pay. So he tosses his gun away, jumps up on the wolf's back and starts whalin' on the thing with everything he's got." Walt's large body twisted and fell against the bar as he continued acting out the battle. Fists flailed at the air and stools crashed to the floor as Riley wrestled with the beast, finally strangling the thing to death with his bare hands.

Walt panted as he straightened his collar, "And now he never stops smilin', thinking about how he paid that beast back, blow for blow, and lived to tell the tale."

The brothers stared at him wide-eyed, Jesse barely glancing at the cup he was filling again. Walt nodded his thanks and took another long drink, smacking his lips and looking back over his shoulder.

"That's hardest man I've ever ridden with right there."

"Have you seen it?" Emit whispered.

"Seen what?"

"Whatever's left!"

"What?" Walt's voice climbed to a high, harsh note. "I ain't never wanna see nothin' like that. No sir." He winced, adjusting his own pecker as if making sure it was still there. "Bad enough just knowin' that shit happens."

Jesse nodded. "You tell 'em, Walt. That's just not right."

"Well how can he be such a man if he ain't got no bits left?" Emit insisted.

"Well," Jesse started, thoughtfully, before turning to Walt.

Walt bristled. "Way he tell it, part of it's still there. Probably mangled and hard like his face." He swept his arm up towards the staircase leading to the whores' rooms. "And a good thing for you or he'd be fucking every girl in this place 'til they weren't no good to work for a week!"

Black Rob nodded in agreement, raising his voice for a moment to join the conversation. "Damn straight!"

Emit looked properly taken aback before a smile crossed his face. "Say, that's an idea, gents."

"What's an idea?" Jesse asked.

"I think Walt here should buy a girl for Smilin' Riley, say thank you for savin' his ass with them Pinkertons."

Walt snorted. "That don't make no sense, Emit. Ain't you been listenin' to this here story I been tellin?"

"Yeah, well I don't wanna see that wolf's handy work." Emit laughed. Another protective hand brushed breeches, "But I sure as shit want someone to. We should give him Virginia Alice. Give her a start, see if she's really as quiet as she been keepin' herself these days."

Walt perked up. "Glad to hear she ain't given ya'll the slip yet."

Jesse snorted. "Last time she high-tailed it with the squaw girl. We gave the injun' a beatin' to end all beatin's."

"Then we discounted Virginia Alice for a few weeks," Emit added. "Nothin' like a few dozen miners every night to put her back in her place, and they both been quiet as mices since." The laugh turned cruel. "Mayhap we get to see how accommodatin' she is when we get a full report on what that wolf left behind."

Walt's eyes slid toward the door. "That ain't half bad, Emit," he said thoughtfully. "Not half bad at all. While we're at it, I think I'll go'on 'n visit your little squaw girl and, uh, reinforce your discipline." He cracked his knuckles against the wood with a savage grin the brothers were quick to return. "You know, because we're all such good friends."

Jesse slipped upstairs to inform Virginia Alice that she'd have company soon while Walt leaned back against the bar.

"Riley!" Walt called.

Two of the boards on the porch creaked as the shadow of Smilin' Riley turned.

"We gotcha little gift." Walt's grin widened. "A special one t'thank ya fer comin' on with us."

"Yeah," Hugo said, raising his head. "You... you saved my life! I'll put part of my take to that!" He looked across the table, and Black Rob nodded in agreement.

"No, thanks," came the voice, the tone firm and final if a bit thin.

"Aww," Walt laughed, "this ain't... this ain't a casual request, son. We got the prettiest little thing in three counties up there all wet 'n ready for ya."

The figure on the porch grunted. "No need fer all that."

"No!" Hugo said, standing up quickly, tumbling the thin brunette from his lap. "You don't understand! Shit! Virginia Alice? She-she's right purty!" His whore huffed and sat back down in his chair while the lumbering giant made for his crewmate. "You don't wanna miss this." Hugo hustled through the twin spring-loaded half-doors and came back a second later, pushing Smilin' Riley in front of him.

"This ain't necess'ry," Riley said, glaring sourly at Walt.

Emit took his first close look at his newest customer. By his estimation the outlaw was too skinny to kill anything more than a rabbit with bare hands. Then the long scar came into view, even half-hidden under the low-slung brim of the weathered hat, and it made Emit Tatum think again.

"You'll be thanking me later," Walt laughed, as Riley reluctantly climbed the stairs with Hugo blocking any retreat. "Now... Where do ya'll got Annie kept these days? She still right up at the top of the stairs there?"

Emit shook his head. "She's chained out back with a cot. You want I should move her first?"

"Naw," Walt said, hitching up his belt. "Don't expect I'll be layin' down too much." He gave Emit a wink and headed out the back entrance to the shed.

***

Virginia Alice looked up from tipping the steaming contents of her bucket into the tub at the sound of boots scuffing against floor at her door. "Can you help me fill this? I've got one comin' up in a minute."

"That's me," Riley said, shifting uncomfortably. "I'm... I'm him."

Virginia Alice looked up again and studied the figure in the door with a longer look. "No you ain't."

"I ain't your next customer?" Riley took an uncertain step back into the hall.

Virginia Alice narrowed her eyes. "You ain't no him."

Riley quickly changed directions, slammed the door, and stormed across the room. "Yes I am," she snapped.

"But you ain't-AH!"

Riley gripped her tightly by the arm and pulled her in until they were nose to nose. Virginia Alice's eyes darted to the vicious scar, but even that wasn't enough to distract her from the fire in Riley's eyes.

"You need to bite down real hard on that tongue of yours," Riley hissed. "Do you understand me? You are not 'gone ruin this for me."

"Okay," Virginia Alice whined. "Okay!"

"Those men down there... they don't know. Alright? They don't know, and I aim to keep it that way."

"Okay!"

Riley held her for another moment before releasing her, and Virginia Alice slumped down onto the edge of her freestanding copper tub. Her jaw quivered and she placed a hand delicately against her chest, but it only took a few breaths before she had her composure. She could see how someone who wasn't paying attention could make the mistake. Riley was lean with wide shoulders. Her grip had been tough too, and Virginia Alice whimpered as she rubbed the ache left behind.

More than that, though, it was easy to look no further than the scar. The worst of it started right at the right corner of Riley's mouth and carved a path on an upward curve across her cheek toward the corner of her eye. There was more scar tissue near the temple, and a little underneath her jaw as well. Without the scar, Riley might have been the most handsome woman Virginia Alice had ever seen.

"Well," Virginia Alice said, tracing her fingertips across the exposed upper part of her chest in a manner that she knew would draw the eye where she wanted it. "I've never had a woman-"

"And you won't have to, neither," Riley interrupted, folding her arms across her chest and turning to scowl at the wall. "We're just gonna stay up here nice and quiet-like, and pretend."

"Okay," Virginia Alice said softly, relieved. Mostly.

"I'll go down later and boast. Tell 'em all how I'm sure I just got you pregnant." Riley narrowed her eyes just that much more. "Oh, they'll luuuve that."

"Why would me gettin' swole up and sore all over make them happy?"

"And you," Riley continued, "are gonna lie. You hear me?"

"Yes," Virginia Alice said, in a small voice.

"I told 'em a dog bit it, an' that's why I go piss b'hind a rock."

"Bit what?"

"My 'penis'," Riley hissed.

"You don't have a penis," Virginia Alice started, and then her eyes lit up. "Oh!"

"Yeah."

"Oh," she said, softer. "Oh."

Riley stared hard at the door as the silence between them moved from seconds to minutes. At the sound of footsteps in the hall, Riley began to slap her own thigh rhythmically. Not too hard; just enough to have the sound of her open palm against denim travel outside the room. Virginia Alice looked back and forth between the door and the other woman, and issued a delicate coo.

Riley looked at her blankly, and then nodded. As the footsteps continued past their room and down the stairs, Riley finally began to relax. The set of her shoulders came down inside of her button-down shirt, and her spine curled as she hunched against the wall.

"Thank you," Riley said softly.

"It ain't nothin'."

Another few minutes passed. Virginia Alice swallowed, licked her lips, and bellowed into the quiet, filling the room with her own agonized echo. It was low in her register but with all the flourishes of femininity she'd picked up over the years. Riley blushed in embarrassment, looking down and away, and nodded gratefully.

"You don't..." Riley bit down on her lower lip, pulling her cheek tight on her face. "You don't know how much that helped me."

"S'not the first time I faked one." Virginia Alice smiled nonchalantly and shrugged. "Ain't even the first one I faked today."

Riley nodded and sighed, and it was like watching weight fall from her shoulders. "It's exhausting. Keeping it up. You know? Pretending to be one of them?" She didn't look up to see that Virginia Alice was nodding. "I thought we'd be there by now."

"Where ya'll headed?"

"Oregon Territory."

"Issat far?"

"Hard to say," Riley said, shaking her head. "Not rightly sure where we are now."

Virginia Alice shrugged and shook her head but it didn't appear that Riley noticed that either, absorbed in her own thoughts as she was.

"What's in Oregon?"

"Not a what. A who."

"Oh," Virginia Alice said, pretending she had an answer to her question.

Riley leaned forward and slipped off her boots, and then cast a reproachful glare Virginia Alice's way. "This ain't nuthin, ya hear? I just like to pace, and I ain't keen on them all knowin' about it."

"Okay," she said.

Riley took off her hat next and hung it by the door. Her hair was a little shorter than shoulder length, and a pale brown like walnut after years in the sun. The blonde shifted how she sat, bunching some of the tulle in her dress for extra padding. The Tatums rarely let her keep her clothes on long enough to inspect them for wrinkles. Some of the other girls might snipe at her for it, but such was her lot in life. Virginia Alice gathered some of her hair from her right shoulder and ran her nails through it. It soothed her to work slowly through knots with her fingers.

The blonde found, though, that her usual habits for passing the time were ineffective. When the Tatums were charging like they should and she had enough time to breathe, Virginia Alice often found herself in rooms with men who, after the sex was over, wanted to open up to her. She'd found that the more she paid attention, or at least faked attention, the less likely she was to have to deal with them being inside of her a second time in as many hours. What's more was that they'd just as often leave her a little something extra.