#cowboy rescue

[rizlowwritessortof]

Cowboy Rescue - Part 1

I have had this WIP going for AGES. I’ve finally decided that maybe if I start posting chapters, it might drive me to get it completed. (It’s complete in my head, but just getting the words down... that’s another story) I’m going to post a chapter at a time, once a week (working on the 4th, and there will probably be a total of 5 and probably an epilogue) and a fic master list once it’s done. I hope you enjoy it!

Cory makes an impulsive decision to drive from Tulsa, Oklahoma, to Montana, accepting an invitation from an old boyfriend, hoping to put closure to their failed long-distance relationship. When circumstances leave her lost in the Montana countryside in the blizzard of the century, local rancher Dean Winchester comes to her rescue. He is far too tempting to resist, but is she getting herself into just another hopeless long-distance situation? 

Pairing: Rancher Dean Winchester x OC Cory Tate

Word Count: 2839

Warnings: None. Fluff, a little angst, and eventual smut. 

Dividers by the ever-lovely @firefly-graphics​ - thank you, Daisy! 

Cory fought the steering wheel, trying to regain control, but her little SUV headed straight for the ditch. A cloud of white engulfed her as the front end completely disappeared into a huge drift, the back end sliding slowly farther in as it settled and sank into the ever-deepening snow.

“Fuck!” She slammed her hands against the wheel, throwing her head back against the seat in frustration. Now what was she going to do?

Worst day ever. First of all, the bridge on the main highway was out due to an ice jam that had damaged it, and the detour took her into a maze of gravel roads that soon had her lost. Then this unexpected blizzard, slowly worsening to the point of zero visibility, and now her car was buried in this frigid hell and she had no idea where she was. She picked up her cell phone, not surprised at all to see ‘no service’ on the screen.

“Of course. I always wanted to freeze to death in the wilderness of Montana.” A baleful glare aimed at the sky, she shouted, “If you wanted to kill me, why didn’t you just drop a meteor on my head!”

She shut off the engine, glancing at the fuel gauge. The tank was about three quarters full, so at least there was that. She’d have to bundle up and make sure the tailpipe was clear of snow so she didn’t gas herself, but she could run the heater intermittently to keep from freezing, at least. The emergency kit in the trunk had water and candles, protein bars, all the necessities for survival, but it would definitely not be fun.

She was deep in thought, preparing herself for the trip outside to grab her supplies and clear the exhaust, when a pounding on her door made her shriek in fright. Heart hammering in her chest, she peered out into the snow to see the dark silhouette of a rather large person looming outside her window. She could make out a muffled man’s voice as he shouted to be heard through her car door. “Are you hurt?”

She squinted her eyes, looking out in his direction, and shaking her head. “No, not hurt. Just stuck.”

He nodded, and spoke again. “Well, bundle up, you can ride with me to my place, it’s just down the road.”

“Oh, thank you!” she replied, relief flooding through her. She grabbed her gloves and stocking cap, wrapped her scarf around her neck, and took a deep breath before opening the door. It would barely move, and the man outside took hold to force it open far enough for her to slide out. “Thank you!” she shouted again, her voice almost lost in the howling wind.

They got the door closed again, and she locked it, shoving the keys deep into her coat pocket. The snow was mid-thigh high on her, and she gratefully took the man’s hand, letting him help pull her up to the road. It was still deep, but at least she could navigate somewhat, and she looked around for his vehicle.

“This way,” he yelled, and she followed him a few yards, then stopped dead in her tracks.

“That’s a horse!”

“Yep!” he answered. “Nothing with four wheels is gettin’ around in this mess.”

Okay, maybe freezing in her car wasn’t all that bad, she thought in a panic. She followed him closer, watching as he effortlessly climbed onto the animal’s back. “I don’t know how to ride a horse,” she yelled, her voice mostly lost in the storm.

“It’s okay, I do.” She could almost hear the smile in his voice, and she blushed, not that he could see it. “Here, give me your hand. Put your left foot up in the stirrup and just boost yourself up, swing your leg over. I’ll help you.” She grasped his large hand in both of hers, and after a couple of false starts, she launched herself upward with his help, managing to straddle the huge animal behind her benefactor. “Now, scoot up close behind me and put your arms around my waist. We don’t have too far to go.”

She did as she was told, thankful that his broad back blocked most of the wind from her face, and she held on for dear life as he urged the horse forward. “How can you even see where we’re going?” she shouted, completely disoriented by the swirling white around them.

“I can’t very well, but don’t worry. Whiskey knows her way home.”

She was sheltered from most of the wind, but in the ten to fifteen minutes it took them to reach his place, she was shivering uncontrollably from the bitter cold. He urged the horse forward until they stood right in front of the large barn, then turned slightly to speak again. “Okay, just take hold again, step in the stirrup, and I’ll help you get down. We’ll have to go in the barn for a couple of minutes so I can take care of the horse, then I’ll get you inside. It’s warm in here,” he promised. She let go of his waist, taking his proffered hand and slipping down sideways until her foot could reach the stirrup. He held her securely until she was on the ground, then swung down himself, reaching for the reins to guide the horse inside.

She followed, pulling the big door closed behind them, instantly grateful for the barn heater up high on the wall, keeping the interior livable for the animals inside. There were a couple more horses in stalls farther in, and empty stalls on the other side. “Can I help with something?” she asked, rubbing her hands together and looking up into his face, what she could see of it. The collar of his shearling coat was pulled up, his cowboy hat securely in place and his eyes were barely visible above a snow-crusted bandanna.

“Yeah, that storage closet right there? Can you hand me a couple of towels?”

She nodded, grabbing two of the big, fluffy towels from a shelf and handing them over. He proceeded to rub his horse down, drying her off and warming her up, and Cory could hear him talking softly to her as he worked. “Good girl, Whiskey,” he said as he finished up, reaching deep in his pocket for a couple of sugar cubes. “You deserve a treat. You got us home safe.” Whiskey nickered in reply, nudging her nose into his shoulder before ducking her head to nibble the sugar from his gloved hand. He turned to lift the lid on a wooden container nearby and scooped some oats into the feeding trough, then gave the animal a final pat and left the stall, latching it securely behind him. He turned to face Cory, nodding his head towards the house. “Okay, let’s get you inside.”

She followed closely behind him, still blinded by the swirling snow, and he pulled off a glove, reaching down deep into the pocket of his jeans for the key. He switched on a light as they stepped into the house, and she breathed a sigh of relief at the warmth. “You can hang your stuff up there, I’ll find you something dry to put on.”

Cory removed her outer layers, amazed at the amount of snow clinging to them, and took off her boots, brushing the snow from the legs of her jeans onto the rug by the door. A shiver ran through her, and she turned to face her rescuer as he kicked his boots off. “Thank you again. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t come by. I was just planning to get my emergency stuff from the trunk and clear the exhaust pipe so I could keep from completely freezing to death, but it would have been miserable.”

“I’m glad I saw you go in the ditch, otherwise I might’ve missed you.” He stood,  setting his boots next to the door, and turned to look at her with a smile. Her breath caught for a moment as she stared back at him, stunned into silence as she took in his appearance, finally remembering to smile back. He was a breathtaking specimen of a man, tall and lean, his green eyes crinkled at the corners, his tongue darting out over his perfectly-shaped lips, which were framed by a well-trimmed beard. He ran his fingers through his hat-tousled hair, and she forced herself to breathe and respond.

“Well, thank you again for the cowboy rescue.” He laughed, and she grinned back at him. “Hey, you picked me up on a horse, so… it fits. I’m Cory, by the way. Cory Tate.”

“Dean Winchester. Cowboy rescue. Nice. So – let me go find you some dry clothes.” He disappeared through a doorway, returning shortly with some folded garments in hand. “Sorry, these are gonna be way too big for you, but at least they’ll get you by until yours can dry out. There’s a shower in the guest room, if you want to take a hot shower.”

“That sounds awesome, thank you. Which way?”

Dean pointed to a doorway. “Down that hall, second door. I’m gonna go shower, then I can rustle us up some food. Maybe a drink.” He winked, then turned to head back towards his room.

Cory stood in front of the mirror in the guest room, feeling like a child wearing her daddy’s clothes. The sweat pants he had given her were miles too long, and she had tucked and rolled them as much as she could manage, but the waist was another issue. The sweatshirt was huge, but she didn’t mind that as much, as long as she could keep the pants up. Maybe Dean had a safety pin somewhere she could borrow. His socks were way too big as well, but at least her feet were warm.

She peered out the door timidly, then stepped out, one hand holding the pants up, and let her eyes wander around the room. The house was beautiful, old but obviously well-cared-for. The glow of real polished oak and gleaming hardwood floors gave it a warmth that she admired, a far cry from her cold, neutral color apartment. A large stone fireplace, fire just beginning to crackle and pop, took up a big portion of one wall, and a comfy-looking sofa sat nearby, a gorgeous woven rug and large coffee table completing the cozy area.

She heard a sound from the next room and ventured further, stepping through the doorway into a large, homey kitchen. Dean was just putting a skillet on the stove, and turned to face her as she shuffled in. A little burst of laughter escaped before he clamped his lips shut, his eyes shining with suppressed mirth. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t laugh, but you are drowning in my clothes.”

Cory joined in, blushing a little. “Well, I could really use a safety pin, if you have one. Or a belt? I feel like I’m going to walk right out of these pants.”

“Sorry I don’t have anything that would fit you better. Hang on, I’ll grab the belt from my robe, that should work.” He left her there alone for a moment, returning with the belt, and she took it gratefully, turning her back to get it in place, much more comfortable now that her – well, his – pants wouldn’t wind up around her ankles.

“Thank you! This is so much better. I still look like a little kid playing dress-up, but...”

Dean laughed again, grabbing a carton of eggs from the fridge. “I promise, tomorrow I’ll take the snowmobile out and bring your bags from the car. So, omelets okay with you? I’ve got bacon, mushrooms, cheese, onions – whatever you want in it.”

“That sounds amazing. I didn’t realize how hungry I am. Can I help cut veggies or anything?” Soon she was perched on a bar stool next to the island, chopping onion and cutting up mushrooms while Dean whisked the eggs. Her eyes kept roaming as she worked, watching the play of muscle in his back beneath the soft ivory henley he was wearing. And his sweat pants fit him much better than they fit her. Much, much better. She mentally shook her head at herself and tried to focus on the task at hand before she cut off her own finger.

“So, Cory – where are you from?” Dean asked, pouring eggs into a skillet.

“Tulsa, Oklahoma. I’ve lived there for a couple of years now. I grew up in South Dakota, though.”

“What the hell brought you to Montana in the middle of a blizzard?” he asked, tending to the bacon, which was making her stomach growl.

She laughed. “Well, mostly stupidity. Kind of a long story...”

“I got no place to go,” he said, shooting her a grin over his shoulder.

“Okay, you asked for it,” she smiled back. “So, I dated this guy for – well, pretty much from the time I moved into Tulsa. A couple of months ago, he got a job in Billings, and that was that. We did the whole ‘we’ll visit each other’ thing, but – never happened, and the phone calls died pretty quickly, too. But last week he called me, said there was a party – tonight, actually – with some new work friends he’d met, and he invited me to come up.” Cory slipped off the bar stool and took the plate of chopped veggies over to Dean, who began to add them to the eggs cooking on the stove. She leaned back against the counter and continued. “I debated, because obviously, neither of us was desperately dying without the other, you know? But I decided, if I just came up here, and it felt like it was over, then I could just close that chapter and move on. I mean, I could have anyway, but – since he called… I don’t know. See? Stupid.”

He smiled over at her. “No, not stupid. Nothing wrong with making sure before you close the door. I get it.”

“Well, obviously I’m not going to make it to the party, so…”

“Yeah, sorry about that.”

“Oh, well. Everything happens for a reason, right?”

When the food was finished, Dean handed her a plate and pointed to a nearby drawer. “Silverware’s in there. Want to eat in front of the fireplace? I usually do, but we can go to the dining room if you want...”

“No, that sounds great. I wish I had one at home. I always loved our fireplace when I was growing up.”

They carried their plates with them into the living room and settled in on the large sofa, and Cory sighed contentedly. “This is nice. So – your turn, I spilled my love life, so it’s only fair,” she teased with a smile. She took a bite of her omelet and closed her eyes with an appreciative “Mmmm. This is amazing.”

Dean grinned. “Thanks. Being really hungry makes everything taste better.” He finished a bite from his own plate before speaking again. “So, love life. At the moment, I don’t have one.”

“I can’t believe there’s not someone out there dying to be Mrs. Dean Winchester.”

“I’ve dated a couple of women over the last two years. The first one for over a year, but when I finally brought her out here – let’s just say the shine wore off fast. She was definitely not up for country life. She was too afraid of breaking a nail or getting dirty to do anything, and she hated the animals. They were too big and they smelled bad.”

“Oh, no...”

“Yeah. And the next one – all she wanted to do was go out. Clubs, restaurants, theaters, shopping - she always wanted to do something noisy and crowded and expensive. I don’t mind spending money, don’t get me wrong, but – I like to just sit and watch the stars sometimes, or take a walk, be somewhere I can hear myself think. I finally came to the conclusion that it takes a special kind of woman to want to live this kind of life. It’s not for everybody. Definitely wasn’t for those two.”

They chatted as they finished their food, and Dean laughed softly as Cory yawned. “Sorry. Guess I’m more exhausted than I realized.”

“Here, I’ll take your plate. Go, get some sleep. If you need more blankets, there are extras in that chest at the foot of the bed.”

She gave him a grateful smile as she stood. “Dean, thank you. For the rescue, and the hospitality. I wish I could repay you.”

He responded with a crooked smile, shaking his head. “No need. It’s been nice to have somebody to talk to.” He watched as she headed for the bedroom. “Sleep well. Yell if you need something.”

“Thanks, Dean. Good night.”

He watched her disappear down the hall, then smiled to himself as he grabbed their dishes and headed for the kitchen.

Tags for my lovelies:  @saenalife    @deanscarlett    @jensensgotyoudean    @jinkieswouldyoulookatthis    @deansdirtylittlesecretsblog    @geeklibrarian    @leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid      @mrswhozeewhatsis    @littlegreenplasticsoldier    @sleep-silent-angel    @darcia22    @winchesterprincessbride    @ellen-reincarnated1967    @eyes-of-a-disney-princess      @deanslittleangel2y5    @melanie451        @spectaculacular-sammy     @bookchic20    @jodyri    @selma-jean-blog           @savingapplepie-eatingthings    @kittenofdoomage    @masked-maiden42    @lean-mean-deanwinchester    @ericuhlorain    @undecided-garden    @ceeceewinchester    @typicalweirdbookworm          @callmesweetheartifyoumeanit    @youtoldalie    @tanithlowisabamf-blog    @deandoesthingstome    @jxackles    @nerdwholikesword    @soivebuiltupaworldofmagic    @kreweofimp  @gabavaldman    @chaos-and-the-calm67-blog    @darkx143    @disassociativedogma    @ioanashalala    @jencharlan    @deansthirstblog     @dorky-and-i-know-it    @mischief-maker1    @winchestersandwordprocessors    @percussiongirl2017    @bringmesomepie56   @akshi8278    @torn-and-frayed    @sandlee44   @wingedcatninja  @evansrogerskitten   @emoryhemsworth  @peaceinourtime82  @dean-winchester-is-a-warrior  @sarcasmqueen74        @mrsjenniferwinchester  

[jaredwalkertexasranger]

Walker 2.18 || hat

[skeledorky]

I love Blades from Rescue Bots

the silly man (he’s a cowboy!!) ✨✨

[loversandantiheroes]

On the upside I now feel absolutely zero pressure to adhere to any form of canon for Din Djarin because I am confident that even the most rushed, malformed, half-baked idea I could pull out of my ass would be better than what's actually going on. It's kind of freeing. Mostly depressing, but also freeing.

[t0bey]

Entering my cowboy main flop era just after unlocking him cries

[front-facing-pokemon]

[lactosegremlin]

guess it’s bernie spam night.

[bluarabian]

First mountain ride of the season!

[pmakuma]

08 / 28 / 23

still one of my proudest moments

[teenageoaffireknight]

Villains

[rizlowwritessortof]

Cowboy Rescue - Part 2

Cory makes an impulsive decision to drive from Tulsa, Oklahoma, to Montana, accepting an invitation from an old boyfriend, hoping to put closure to their failed long-distance relationship. When circumstances leave her lost in the Montana countryside in the blizzard of the century, local rancher Dean Winchester comes to her rescue. He is far too tempting to resist, but is she getting herself into just another hopeless long-distance situation?

Pairing: Rancher Dean Winchester x OC Cory Tate

Word Count: 2668

Warnings: None. Fluff, a little angst, and eventual smut.

Dividers by the ever-lovely @firefly-graphics​ - thank you, Daisy!

Cory could still hear the wind raging outside when she woke the next morning. It was so cozy in her cocoon of blankets that she didn’t want to move, but her stomach growled impatiently, so she reluctantly threw back the covers.

Her jeans and sweatshirt from the day before were neatly folded and sitting beside her door when she walked out. Dean had apparently washed them for her, and she smiled at his thoughtfulness. She dressed, glad to have clothes that didn’t try to fall off with every step she took, and headed for the kitchen.

There was a note on the kitchen island, and she picked it up, smiling again. ‘Help yourself to whatever you want. The coffee is in the cupboard above the coffeemaker. I have to check on the cattle, so I’ll see you when I get back. Make yourself at home.’

There were bagels in the old-fashioned bread box on the counter, and she toasted one while the coffee brewed, then carried both into the living room. The fireplace was still going, so she fed it a couple of logs to stoke the fire and wandered over to look out the window. It was a little better than the day before, but she could barely make out the barn across the yard from the house and the wind still howled, snow whirling wildly about and adding to the already huge drifts. She went back to the sofa and curled her legs up beneath her, eating her breakfast and enjoying the fire.

It was afternoon when Cory went to the window, wondering how Dean was faring. Silly to worry about a grown man who had lived here his whole life, but… As that thought crossed her mind, Whiskey came into view. She watched as Dean dismounted, then reached up to lift something from the horse’s back. She squinted to see through the swirling snow, gasping softly as she realized he was carrying a calf. He disappeared into the barn, and she hurried to pull on her boots and bundle up quickly in the rest of her outdoor clothes, rushing out the door.

Going down the stairs was treacherous - Dean had cleaned them off earlier, but the wind had begun drifting them full again. Cory made her way through the snow to the barn, struggling with the heavy door in the wind, and pushing her way inside. Dean was just laying the poor creature down in an empty stall, and he turned, surprised to see her. “Dean, how can I help?”

“Well, she needs to get rubbed down, warmed up. I need to mix up some milk replacer, try and get her to eat. Mama didn’t make it. I’m not sure she will either, but we’ll do what we can.”

Cory went to the closet and grabbed an armful of towels, then headed into the stall. Dean had just broken a bale of fresh straw, and bent to lift the poor animal into his arms again, laying it on the soft bed. Cory was on her knees before he could say a word, grabbing a towel and beginning to dry the shivering calf, speaking softly as she worked. She crawled up onto the straw next to the baby, working as quickly and gently as she could, rubbing the poor thing’s fur to dry it and warm it up.

Dean watched her work for a moment, a slightly bewildered smile curving his lips. She was right down there on the floor, getting wet and dirty, completely absorbed in taking care of the helpless creature, and he had to admit he was impressed. “I’ll be right back, need to get her some milk. And take care of Whiskey.”

She nodded with a quick smile, then turned her attention back to the calf. By the time he came back with the calf bottle in hand, she had the animal half on her lap, covered in dry towels, still rubbing to get it warm. “It’s okay, little one, you’re gonna be just fine.”  She looked up as he entered the stall, eyes widening at the size of the bottle. “So, how do we get her to drink?”

Dean went to one knee beside the calf, setting the bottle down. “I’ll have to try and keep her upright, and we might have to teach her to suck. Get a couple of fingers in her mouth, and instinct will kick in. Then we can hopefully get her to do the same with the bottle. You don’t mind a little calf slobber?”

Cory laughed. “Well, I guess we’ll see. We have to help her, so whatever we’ve gotta do.”

Dean grinned. “Okay. Ready?” She nodded, and he lifted the calf, holding it steady as she petted and spoke softly to it.

“Okay, girl. You gotta eat now. Let’s give it a try.” She lifted the bottle to the calf’s mouth, but she just jerked away, shaking her head as Dean tried to hold her still.

“Not gonna work. Try to get your fingers in her mouth.”

Cory nodded. “Okay, here goes.” She kept talking, her voice soothing, petting her with one hand and working a couple of fingers into her mouth with the other. The calf bucked a little, but then started to suck, and Cory let out a little cheer. “Good girl! Good girl. See, it’s not so hard. Let’s try this again.”  She picked up the bottle again, and Dean reached forward to squeeze gently at the hinge of the animal’s jaw, forcing it to open enough that Cory could work the bottle into its mouth. After fighting for a few seconds, she finally began to suck and Cory let out a relieved sigh. “Such a good girl. You’ll feel better after you eat, little one.”

“Nice work,” Dean praised her, and Cory blushed a little as she smiled, holding the bottle up for the hungry little creature. She downed it in just a few minutes, and they got her settled in her straw bed, covering her with a couple of horse blankets Dean had grabbed from the closet. “Okay, that’s all we can do for now. We’ll see how she’s doing later.”

Dean went ahead of her, cleaning the steps off once again, and they entered the warmth of the house gratefully. “Glad you stoked the fire, feels nice in here,” he commented.

Cory looked down at her clothes with a sigh and laughed softly. “Well, I guess it’s back into your giant clothes again. I’m a mess.”

“Sorry about that. But thanks for the help, it was a lot easier with two of us.” He hung his coat on the hook and turned towards her. “Go ahead and change, I’ll grab us some coffee.”

They sat in companionable silence that evening, Cory absorbed in her reading and Dean working on the ranch books, a pencil between his teeth as his fingers flew over the calculator. He was so focused on his work that, when he looked at the clock, he was surprised that a couple of hours had passed. He stifled a yawn, glancing over Cory’s way and laughing softly. She was slumped sideways on the couch, her face half-buried in the pillow, her reading glasses askew on her face and the book still clutched in her hand.

He closed up the ledgers he’d been working on, putting it all on the large coffee table, and rose to his feet, stretching. He walked over and went down on one knee in front of Cory, taking her book and placing the bookmark inside before laying it on the table beside her. “You are so damn cute,” he whispered, smiling, reaching both hands to gently remove her glasses and place them on top of her book. She let out a little sigh and wriggled down into the couch, and Dean pulled the blanket from the back of the couch to cover her. He stared down at her for a moment, resisting the urge to touch her face. She was proving to be quite a surprise, a pleasant one, and he had to admit he was becoming very attracted to her. Not that it could go anywhere -  in a few days, she’d be back in Oklahoma, and he’d be back to being alone.

He rose to his feet, heading to his room to get ready for bed and crawling between the sheets with a weary sigh. In spite of himself he drifted off to sleep imagining the taste and feel of Cory’s soft lips against his.

The smell of coffee made Cory’s nose twitch, and she opened her eyes slowly, a little disoriented. “Morning, sunshine,” Dean teased, setting a steaming mug of coffee on the table beside her as she sat up, peering up at him with a shy smile.

“I fell asleep here?” she asked, her voice still a little raspy from sleep. “I’m sorry.” She pushed the blanket aside and picked up her cup, cradling the welcome warmth in her hands. “Thank you – for the coffee, and for the blanket. Was I snoring and drooling all over your pillows?”

Dean laughed softly. “No. But your glasses were all smashed into your face, so I took them off for you.”

Color rose in her cheeks, and she took a sip of her coffee, her eyes closed in appreciation. “Thanks. Not embarrassing at all.”

“Kind of adorable, actually.” Dean moved to the kitchen doorway, turning to speak to her again. “Another cow dropped a calf yesterday, so I bedded them down in the shelter. But the snow’s really light today, so I’m gonna lead them back with me, see if mama will adopt our orphan calf. Then I’ll go dig your car out enough to get your bags. Sorry I couldn’t get it done yesterday. I’m sure you’d like to have your own things.”

Cory showered and dressed in her once-again-laundered clothes, then busied herself in the kitchen for a time. Once she had a chicken and vegetables simmering in a stock pot, she searched for cleaning supplies, dusting the beautiful hardwood floors and then tackling the furniture. By the time Dean made his way inside with her bags in tow, the house was clean and a delicious aroma filled the air.

He dropped the bags beside the door and pulled off his boots and coat, inhaling the mouth-watering smells with his eyes closed in bliss, then letting his feet carry him to the source.

Cory was singing softly to herself as she cleaned off the island, and he cruised right by her, heading for the stove and reaching for the lid to the stock pot. “No!!” He snatched his hand back as if he’d been scalded, his eyes wide, and Cory giggled. “Sorry, but if you take off the lid, you’ll ruin the dumplings.”

Dean shrugged with a sheepish little smile, stuffing his hand into his pocket. “Sorry, my nose carried me away. Smells amazing in here, what...”

“Chicken and dumplings. My grandma’s recipe. And if you take the lid off before they’re done, the dumplings won’t be fluffy.”

He held his hands up, stepping back from the stove. “Hey, never let it be said that I un-fluffed your dumplings.”

Cory laughed. “In about 20 minutes, you can dig in and let me know if it was worth the wait.”

“Good. Just enough time for a shower. Don’t start without me!”

Dean let out a well-satisfied sigh as he finished his meal, and Cory breathed in silent relief. She was not sure how much longer she could have listened to his unabashedly lustful moans at almost every bite he put in his mouth. She was having a hard enough time trying to ignore his ridiculously attractive appearance without the soundtrack putting more thoughts into her head. After all, she’d be gone in a few days, and the chances of their meeting again were very slim. She pushed that thought from her brain, not liking the feeling that came in its wake.

They cleaned up the dinner dishes together, moving around each other in the kitchen as if they had done it together many times. “So, now – back to the books?” she asked, laughing as he made a wry face.

“Not tonight. I need a break. Something’s messed up and I don’t have the brain cells to tackle it tonight.”

“Want me to have a look?” Dean looked at her in surprise, and she shrugged. “Not trying to be snoopy, just – it’s what I do. Every day.”

“Bookkeeping?”

“I do the books for several of our larger clients.”

“Wow – well, maybe… maybe a new set of eyes wouldn’t hurt. If you wouldn’t mind...”

“Of course I wouldn’t. Besides, look at all you’ve done for me.” He looked into her eyes, finding nothing but an honest desire to help, and nodded.

“Okay. But you’re not spending all night on them like I did last night, just look things over and see if something jumps out at you. Deal?”

“Deal.”

They sat at the dining room table together a little later, and Dean wondered why he hadn’t asked for her help sooner. The only trouble was that it was way too tempting. He’d almost kissed her earlier when she had looked up to show him something, barely restrained the urge and turned his eyes to the page where she was pointing. There was a definite attraction between them, and it was getting more difficult all the time to keep his distance.

In spite of his distraction, they managed to get the books back in order in less than an hour, and he thanked her with enthusiastic gratitude and a cold beer. He set a couple of bowls on the table and sat back down at the table, putting his own beer down along with a deck of cards and a large bag of candy.

“What’s up with this?” she gestured at the items, and he smiled.

“Blackjack. You know how to play?”

“Blackjack?” she laughed. “Yes, I know how to play. But...”

Dean tore open the bag of M&Ms and dumped a generous amount into each bowl. “High stakes in this house. And you can eat ‘em if you want, but don’t blame me if you run out.”

“So we’re playing for M&Ms? My kind of stakes. Deal ‘em out!”

It was almost midnight before they realized it, several beers and a lot of laughter later. Cory helped clean up, turning to Dean as he tossed the deck of cards into a drawer. “Thanks for that, it was really fun. It was nice to do something besides read by the fire.”

Dean smiled through his yawn, nodding. “Yeah. Used to do that with my dad sometimes.” He leaned a hip against the counter and looked at her, his mind made up. Yeah, she was leaving in a few days, but – fuck it. “So glad to have those books straightened out. It was driving me crazy. And I was wondering, you know, if I could take you out tomorrow night, as a thank you.”

Cory’s eyes widened a little. “Take me out?”

Dean nodded, watching her face a little nervously as he spoke. “Yeah. I mean, I know I can’t really take you out, but – I know this place, it’s got a great atmosphere, and the cook’s a little weird but he grills up a mean steak. It’s within walking distance and everything. And then I thought maybe a movie?”

A smile was teasing at Cory’s lips as she listened. “Walking distance, huh? So, is this place like, four star?”

“Well, not really, but there is a dress code. Got anything fancy in that suitcase?” His eyes were sparkling with humor, but she played along.

“Oh, hell, yeah. I was coming to Montana for a party, remember? I think I’ve got something.”

Dean grinned. “Great – so I’ll pick you up at your room, 7 o’clock?”

She looked at him, her eyes smiling back. “7 o’clock.”

Tags for my lovelies:  @saenalife​    @deanscarlett​    @jensensgotyoudean​    @jinkieswouldyoulookatthis​    @deansdirtylittlesecretsblog​    @geeklibrarian​    @leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid​     @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan    @mrswhozeewhatsis​    @littlegreenplasticsoldier​    @sleep-silent-angel​    @darcia22​    @winchesterprincessbride​    @ellen-reincarnated1967​    @eyes-of-a-disney-princess​      @deanslittleangel2y5​    @melanie451​        @spectaculacular-sammy​     @bookchic20​    @jodyri​    @selma-jean-blog​           @savingapplepie-eatingthings​    @kittenofdoomage​    @masked-maiden42​    @lean-mean-deanwinchester​    @ericuhlorain​    @undecided-garden​    @ceeceewinchester​    @typicalweirdbookworm​          @callmesweetheartifyoumeanit​    @youtoldalie​    @tanithlowisabamf-blog​    @deandoesthingstome​    @jxackles​    @nerdwholikesword​    @soivebuiltupaworldofmagic​    @kreweofimp​  @gabavaldman​    @chaos-and-the-calm67-blog​    @darkx143​    @disassociativedogma​    @ioanashalala​    @jencharlan​    @deansthirstblog​     @dorky-and-i-know-it​    @mischief-maker1​    @winchestersandwordprocessors​    @percussiongirl2017​    @bringmesomepie56​   @akshi8278​    @torn-and-frayed​    @sandlee44​   @wingedcatninja​  @evansrogerskitten​   @emoryhemsworth​  @peaceinourtime82​  @dean-winchester-is-a-warrior​  @sarcasmqueen74​   @maliburenee      @mrsjenniferwinchester​  

[curlysgirl0202]

When Curly Bill Fell in Love (in progress)

When a beautiful single mother arrives in Tombstone from California, she becomes the town's most desirable woman. Not only beautiful, but a wonderful mother and she is kind to everyone. Curly Bill desperately wants to court her and so does John Behan, who will do anything to be with her and when Behan forces himself into her life, Curly quickly sees the opportunity to be her rescuer. 

When Curly Bill woke up on that Sunday morning, his head was pounding from a night of heavy drinking. He and his gang of cowboys had been spending their ill gotten gains all around Tombstone; they frequented the bars for whiskey and to spend time with the pretty soiled doves, they ate well at the local restaurants and gambled away their money or doubled their dollars playing poker and faro. Curly Bill, the King of the Cowboys strutted through the streets of Tombstone, baiting the local law enforcement by taunting them by refusing to give up his guns. Curly Bill liked the fear he evoked in citizens and law enforcement agents; he knew they wouldn't dare to try to disarm him.

That never stopped the Cowboys from riding into town after a drive their pistols blazing into the air while they hooted and howled until they found a place to clean up, buy new clothes or have clothes laundered and spend their earnings at the houses of fallen angels.

Curly Bill woke up later than usual with one of the worst headaches he could remember. His head pounded from the tornado juice he downed the night before in an attempt to cure his mind of a lovely vision he could not shake. He emerged from his tent, limping from his hangover and from sleeping on the hard ground. He looked around and saw a few cowboys still slumbering off their barrel fever. He stumbled to a small fire that was burning out and picked up the coffee pot. He poured himself a cup and downed it quickly and looked around for something to eat. He rummaged through the chuck and found some jerky. He munched it and poured more coffee. He knew the hotel would not be serving breakfast and they did not serve lunch until one o'clock. He didn't want to go for the free chuck at some of the older saloons. He put his boots on, brushed his unruly hair with his hands and mounted his Appaloosa. He rode into town and went to the restaurant and ordered breakfast, although it was close to noon.

Pistol Joe, a self proclaimed reformed man walked to Curly's table; the restaurant seemed slower than usual and although the citizens conversed with each other, they ignored Bill unless they were taking turns giving the outlaw looks that bordered on disgust. Pistol Joe poured coffee.

"You thinkin about a reform, Curly?" The waiter asked, eyeing the other patrons. "It ain't easy at first," Joe began. "The way folks look atchya when ya enter their place of worship."

"Not now, Joe," Curly answered, taking a sip of coffee.

"Well, I spect so, cowboy. I'll bring you the usual. Lessen you want something else sides steak and eggs."

Curly gave the waiter a look and Joe turned and left.

"Ain't never too late to give yerself over to the light," he said as he walked into the kitchen.

When Pistol Joe returned with Curly's breakfast, he asked, "What's with you, cowboy? Some of your friends have already been here. You're usually the first one in, laughing off your barrel fever with them boys. You sick or thinking about reforming, Ace?"

Curly began eating and did not bother looking at Pistol Joe, who left quickly.

Curly cursed his headache. He felt disgusted with himself because he was not able to stop drinking. He finished his breakfast and set out to find members of his red sash gang. He knew as early as it was that they were already drinking up the town.

The streets were busy with folks moving through the boomtown, some on their way to gambling houses and others headed to the restaurant or the ice cream parlor or to the social clubs where people of substance could puff on expensive cigars and drink more expensive cognac. Members of the community eyed Curly like they always did and usually he would like to indulge their concerns with a wink and a tip of his hat. On this day, he felt different...Almost vulnerable. The old cowboy shook it off and figured without Ringo around, he didn't know who to talk to about the affliction he was experiencing.

He went into the Dead End, a bar at the end of Allen Street, where some of the older saloons were. He saw Ike and Billy Clanton drinking beer and looking at some of the soiled doves. Florentino Cruz, Stillwell, Indian Charlie and McMasters were talking to other whores and offering to buy drinks.

Big Nellie, an older lady who was large and loved to eat sat at one end of the cantina helping herself to the free chuck. She indignantly indulged in the beans, rice and meat that the bar offered up at no charge.

At the other end of the bar, a few of the Fletcher boys sat, draining whiskey and sharing stories of daring feats. "I robbed that bank in broad daylight faster than any of them James boys!" Pete Fletcher boasted.

Sad Sally, a young woman who never seemed to smile, looked at Billy Clanton and then slowly rose to meet him halfway. The young buck chuckled and followed her up the stairs, admiring her curves. She turned and her blond hair flowed free her sad green eyes looked the cowboy up and down. Ike looked over at Mary Ann, who ran the whores of the Dead End. He pulled some cash out his pocket and she moved closer to him. Ike looked up from the stool he was sitting and his eyes grew wide when he noticed her bosom and the smell of her perfume. Ike laughed sheepishly and eyed the woman as she fanned herself and moved toward the stairs. He smiled at Curly and left with her. Red, one of the other whores looked at Curly and smiled. Her fiery red hair hung to the middle of her back and her cute face was covered in freckles. She fanned herself and wandered over to the cowboy.

"You look like you could use some comfort, cowboy."

Curly looked at her and normally would have been delighted to take her up on her offer, but he couldn't bring himself to. "Maybe when my head feels better," he mumbled.

"I got a cure for that, fella. You know it all costs the same."

"I'll keep that in mind." Curly did not feel like waiting for the Clanton's to be done, he could already hear the two cowboys hooting and shouting.

"What's it for polite conversation?" Curly asked Red, who turned and laughed.

"People go elsewhere for that, Curly!" She retorted.

"As long I'm drinking hooch, I'm spending money in here," Curly growled.

Red looked him up and down.

"Suit yourself, cowboy. But I can't make heads or tails of whatever is spinning through that mind of yours. When you first got here, you and your boys were in here all the time. I told you your credit is good here. Your credit is always good here," Red said, putting a hand on his leg. Curly was tempted, but his mind could not escape the vision of a woman who had weakened his nerve.

"Wish I never saw her..." Curly whispered.

"Saw who?" Red asked, opening her fan to cool herself.

Curly shook his head. "You wouldn't understand," he answered. "Specially in the business you're in."

"Well," Red began. "That's why I come here. To make money. Now are you paying for more than some hooch?" She demanded.

"I ain't paying for that," Curly said as he rose from the stool.

Red laughed out loud. "if you ain't paying, you ain't gettin! Don't forget who you are, cowboy. We're from the same side and it ain't never gonna be no different."

Curly reached for the bottle and poured himself one last drink.

"Well, Red," Tom Claury began. "I'm in need of some lady comfort. You can go first, Curly."

"He ain't payin," Frank answered, puffing on his cigar.

"Then he ain't gettin," Red said again.

"Lay off Curly," McMasters said. He flashed a look at the older cowboy.

"Have fun drinking hooch," Tom said as he left with the whore.

McMasters poured drinks for himself and Curly. McMasters raised his glass to Curly Bill. "Here's to bow-legged women!"

Curly took the glass and smiled.

He guzzled it and slapped the shot glass on the bar and turned to leave. He could not shake the feeling of vulnerability. He never had anyone to truly care about, except for this red sash boys. He could live without a few of them and now with Ringo in California, the big rustler just moved through the town, his headache slowly going away. Pony Diehl and Indian Charlie walked a few steps behind Bill and for a few moments. Curly felt his blood begin pumping. The town was lined with all sorts of shops; antique shops, a bookstore, hardware and general merchandise, a liquor shop, a large bank and assay office, three gun stores and other places such as a teahouse, a museum and a small library.

Curly looked over at Pony. "Books! There ain't nothing in books," Curly guffawed loudly and his companions joined in. "Some folks waste all their time reading books. Where's the funnin' in reading books?" Curly flicked his tongue and began to feel like he felt when he first arrived in Tombstone; eager to enjoy everything the town had to offer. His head was spinning from whiskey and his emotions were deadened a bit. So what if he had to pay for comfort? Better than being a lonely fool...

"I'm feeling like I wanna..." Curly began. "Where's the Chinese medicine man? I need to get sozzled." Pony and Indian Charlie watched their boss walk quickly to the opium tent.

"Hey, China Man!"

The sun began setting on the town as Curly sat in the tent and took a few puffs on the pipe that was passed to him. The medicine mad held one hand and Curly gave the old timer some cash. His mind began to spin and Curly Bill chuckled softly while laying on a make shift bed, letting his mind wander. When he closed his eyes, eddies of color whirled around him like a spring scene with hundreds of butterflies. A soft sun shone down on plush green grass and he could feel himself reeling with wonder and euphoria. He laid his head and decided to stay and enjoy these visions. A woman began rubbing his black hair and his eyes closed as a secret dream bloomed in his mind. He moved through the green grass which seemed to grow around him and then shrink back and rise up again. The butterflies surrounded him and he reached out to touch them, but they fluttered quickly away. The hands massaging his head along with the kaleidoscope of beauty drive him to breathe heavily. "Danielle," he whispered. "Come on." He turned and saw her face, her hair blowing in the breeze, her yellow dress flowing with the summer air. Her arms were out and she walked towards him, her lips turning into a gentle smile. He took her in his arms and kissed her. She pulled away and ran from him, inviting him to chase her. He laughed and ran after her, not able to keep up. She turned and smiled, holding her dress with her hands. Curly could almost smell the sweet floral and citrus perfume that emitted from her warm body. She turned to face him and she began taking her dress off.

"Niúzǎi!" The Chinaman shouted.

Curly looked over at the medicine man and then noticed the woman who had been rubbing his head. "Where is she?" Curly asked, covering his eyes.

"Time up, niuzai!"

Curly rose slowly and exited the tent. He stumbled to the Oriental and walked dizzily to the bar where Ugly Dave eyed him cautiously.

"You feelin alright, Curly?" Ugly Dave asked. "You ain't been in that China tent, have you?" Ugly Dave leaned over eyed the cowboy. "I don't want no trouble in here!"

Curly grinned and flicked his tongue. "What trouble? I'm feeling great, Ugly. I don't want to cause you no trouble. I don't want to cause no one no trouble. Just wish I never saw..."

Curly recollected the conversation he had with some of his boys from the night before. He had been drinking with the Clanton's and McClaury's, McMasters, Indian Charlie, Barnes and Stillwell. Curly mentioned the woman who came to Tombstone just a few weeks prior. A woman named Danielle had arrived in Tombstone and she quickly gained the attention of many of the men in Tombstone-including Curly Bill. When Curly saw her step off the stage, he became entranced and could not take his eyes off of her. Her dark hair flowed to her shoulders and he could see her soft, liquid eyes as they looked around. He was tempted to go help or, but Billy Breckenridge and Behan beat him to it. Curly Bill saw Behan hold his hand out to help her and she accepted with a skeptical look on her face. Her beautiful daughter exited the stage and when Behan tried to pick her up, Curly noticed her mother quickly take the girl in her arms. Billy motioned where the hotel was and she followed him and Behan, holding her daughter, who seemed to be falling asleep. Then Curly watched them disappear into the hotel. He glanced over a few of his cowboys who were standing there watching their boss drool over the newcomer.

"What the hell are y'all staring at?" Curly growled. Ike Clanton took his hat off and wiped the sweat off his brow. "She's mighty pretty, Curly," he sighed.

"Hold your horses, Curly," Tom McClaury grinned. "I don't think she's like us or looking for anyone like us." He shot tobacco out of the side of his mouth.

She stayed at the hotel, but visited Fred White often with her daughter. The old marshal loved having a lovely woman help him and her sweet little girl seemed to enjoy having Fred in her life and he treated the girl like she was his granddaughter. Bill made the mistake of talking about Danielle to Billy and Ike, Stillwell, Barnes and the McClaury's and it became evident about how the big rustler felt about her. Frank McClaury snickered. "We all seen her. Behan's been following her around looking to show her a hog killin time. Ain't she a ramera, Curly?"

"Shut your mouth, Frank," Curly growled. "She ain't like that. Anyone can see that."

Frank shook his head and lit a cigar. "We're cowboys and we rustle cattle. Why the hell would a self respectin lady want that?" Frank blew smoke from his cigar. "You ain't hoping to court her, are you?" Frank asked, looking over at Stillwell who took a swig from his whiskey flask and eyed Curly Bill inquisitively.

"You don't know nothing about it," Curly snapped.

"Shut up, beef head!" Stillwell remarked, staring down Frank McClaury.

"Oh the hell with y'all!" The cowboy shouted as he made his way towards the batwings.

"Your brother needs his ass whooped," McMasters said quietly, staring at Tom McClaury.

McMasters watched Curly as he left and walked slowly to where his Appaloosa was. His mind stirred up memories of her.

He saw a second time at Fred White’s small home. Apparently, she left California with her child, Dominique, a three year old with the same large brown eyes as her mother. Curly had gone to Fred’s place to check on the town Marshal; Fred was hoping to keep peace between the Cowboys and the Earp's and wanted to know if he could count on Curly Bill to keep his boys from causing too much trouble.

The Cowboys were known for riding into boomtowns after a drive of rustling stolen cattle and spending their plunder. Most of the time, Curly Bill kept a good watch on his boys, but other times, no matter how many times he argued, “This won’t do boys,” sometimes, it fell on the deaf ears of his red sash gang members. These men had lived outside the law after the end of the civil war. It was 1881 and the civil war had been over for sixteen years, but to men like Curly and the many others that were outlaws, it was not over. Johnny Ringo, Curly’s lieutenant rode with the James-Younger Gang and they robbed the railroads and stagecoaches, “collecting” what they considered payback from those damn Jayhawkers and Yankees that destroyed their way of life. The Cowboys endured the horrors of war and the aftermath of watching everything they loved be plummeted by the Union they despised.

When Curly and Pony Diehl were serving time in a Union camp after being captured for shooting a Union guard, the two outlaws were tied up to posts with their arms over their heads for long periods of time and the guards watched the summer insects swarm around them. Curly Bill and Pony managed to escape when one of the guards slipped them a hacksaw to cut through their chains. They stole two horses from an Apache camp and rode like hell.

Now Curly Bill Brocius was letting his mind wander and flow freely with thoughts of a mysterious woman who caught his attention. Curly Bill thought he knew what a beautiful woman would be like; then he saw Danielle exit the stage a little over a month ago. When he first saw her, his mouth fell open and he simply admired her from afar.

He did not even know her name upon seeing her and he had no idea anyone was coming in on the stage that day. He saw her again at Fred White's house several days later and she was more beautiful than he remembered. He recalled how he entered the house and noticed the beautiful Danielle sitting at the table, filling a muffin tin with batter. Her dark hair flowed to her shoulders and her large brown eyes looked innocently at him. Her daughter ran into the room and did a somersault on Fred's couch. Danielle’s expression turned to fear and she stood up, crossing her arms and moving close to her daughter. Curly looked down; his hips were decorated with his six shooters and his image of a gunfighter along with his Ace of Spades Calvary boots only added to the ferocity of his appearance.

He realized how he must have looked to her. But he couldn’t help but be intrigued by her large liquid brown eyes, her soft lips and wonderful curves. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words escaped and Curly, for a moment wondered if her mind was flooded with wonder. He dismissed the idea. He knew she was afraid. A woman that beautiful would want nothing to do with him or any of the cowboys. Maybe Ringo, Curly thought.

Women always seemed eager to shower Ringo with affection. Curly reflected on how Ringo seemed to be the perfect gentleman; a gentleman born. Curly envied Ringo’s gentleness towards all women and how effortlessly he courted them. When Curly and Ringo went to houses of soiled doves, the ladies of the night seemed to shower Ringo with affection while they simply did their duties when it came to Curly Bill. They laughed at his jokes and vied for his attention as long as he was buying drinks and squandering away his earnings, but Ringo never seemed to have to partake in any of that. Ringo seemed to have a power over women and even prostitutes offered their services to the gunfighter without expecting payment. Curly Bill never understood how he himself did not possess such a presence. Ringo could read Latin better than Curly could read English and sometimes Curly became frustrated that his “second” in command seemed to know things before he did.

Danielle slowly rose from the table and she seemed to want to back away from him. Curly slowly began to remove his hat and realized he had not said a word to her. Her chest heaved up and down and Curly wanted to move closer to her, but her eyes still welled with fear.

As soon as Curly Bill removed his hat, Fred White walked in. Danielle’s daughter, Dominique ran up to Fred and jumped in his arms. Curly Bill held his hat in his hands watching with wonder in his eyes.

“How’s my best girl?” Fred asked the little girl who suddenly wrapped her arms around Fred and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

Too moved to speak, Curly stepped back and admired the scene before him.

“How are both my girls?” Fred asked, moving toward Danielle, who was wiping muffin batter on her apron. Danielle glanced at Curly and then hugged Fred.

“We’re great, Fred!” Danielle answered.

“You get prettier everyday, Danielle!” Fred told the pretty mother.

“Aww! Thank you, Fred!”

Fred put Dominique down and the little girl did a somersault on the throw rug that sat in the middle of the main room of the house. Danielle turned to Curly and smiled and his heart lifted with excitement and he could feel his manliness begin to grow with throbbing curiosity.

“Danielle, this here is Curly Bill! He’s the leader of the Cowboys.” Fred gestured his hand towards the rustler who was grateful that White did not introduce him as an outlaw. He hoped the title, "King of the Cowboys," would stir intrigue within her.

Danielle smiled softly and looked away. Dominique did another somersault onto Fred’s couch and Danielle shrugged and smiled, putting a hand over her mouth in an almost child like manner.

“My daughter,” Danielle said softly. "Dominique."

At that very moment, Behan walked in, tipping his hat to Danielle and giving Curly Bill a harsh look.

“Well,” Curly Bill began. “She’s real pretty.” Curly shifted his feet, feeling insecure and out of place, but tried his best to compose himself.

“Like her mama,” Curly said without thinking.

John Behan chucked.

"And what are you doing here, Curly Bill?" Behan asked.

"I asked Curly here, Behan," White began. "It's between me and his boys. Sides, we ain't looking to bring the county into this anyhow." Fred White took off his hat and wiped his brow.

Curly Bill felt his face and neck grow red and he immediately regretted the compliment. He felt like a fool especially since Behan seemed to be more of the type that Danielle would want to be with. When Curly reflected on his chances with Danielle, he felt a rage that overwhelmed him like a relentless virus.

At first, Curly Bill thought he could put on the charm and win the beautiful mother over, but when he saw the fear he evoked in her, his heart sank. When Behan entered the room, Curly felt even more defeated. He felt like a fool for giving Danielle a compliment and watched how Behan showered Danielle with meaningless compliments and shallow praises.

“What a lovely lady you are and your daughter’s beauty parallels yours!” Behan stated, looking at Fred and Curly Bill.

Behan looked at Danielle's daughter and then tried to put his arm around Danielle. To Curly Bill's amusement, Danielle pulled away from Behan.

"Don't worry about those boys. They won't bother you. "

“I will keep you safe from those Cowboys!” Behan said to Danielle.

Curly Bill’s heart raced at that moment. “Keep her safe? If I had the chance, nobody would ever hurt her!” Curly raged in his mind while he looked at Behan. Behan was an ally to the cowboys, but was also a self-serving jack ass that would gladly throw any of the cowboys under the wagon to save himself. But they needed him and Behan knew that.

Behan sat at the table and looked at the muffin tin filled with batter. "Muffins? I am sure they are delicious."

"I have to put these in the oven, but I do have some that should be ready in a moment." She walked nervously to the kitchen and removed a tray of freshly baked blueberry muffins and put them into a basket. Behan couldn't keep his eyes off of her. He made himself comfortable and took a muffin from the basket. Danielle motioned to Bill. "Please have a seat."

Curly knew he was no competition when it came to Behan; Behan could shower women with eclectic charm, order wine in French, throw money away on lavish trips and jewelry and of course lay on the charm in ways that Curly could never; Behan wore the best suits, smoked the most expensive cigars with a standing order from Cuba, he drank the best whiskey and cognac and was a member of most the organizations within the territory such as the Alliance Against Criminal Activity, Co-Curator of the local museum and a benefactor to a number of up and coming business associates looking to make money in Tombstone real estate. It was this along with his charm that made Curly feel out of place and even jealous of Behan who he thought would take or steal Danielle away from him.

“Ya got no shot with her, cowboy,” Curly mumbled to himself as he watched Danielle.

Danielle to Bill’s relief, did not seem to reciprocate her beau’s affections. If anything, Curly Bill witnessed that she seemed unhappy, stressed and clearly uncomfortable.

“Would you like a muffin?” Danielle asked Curly, her eyes to the ground. Her voice trembled and Curly Bill hoped it was because she was overwhelmed by him and his masculinity, but he soon dismissed the idea because he knew he would never be good enough for her.

Curly Bill, without thinking, answered, “Well, that’d be real nice.” He couldn’t believe how his confidence was cracking; Curly had been in fist fights, had robbed stagecoaches and been in a number of shootouts. None of those events made him as nervous as he was standing in the presence of a beautiful woman who was being pursued by every eligible man in town.

Danielle’s daughter ran to the table and sat on Fred’s lap.

“I want a muffin!” Dominique said while reaching for the basket with freshly baked muffins directly from the oven.

“Ok, but they are still hot,” Danielle said, hugging her daughter.

“I want to put butter on by myself!” Dominique said with confidence and Curly Bill let out a loud chuckle, amused by a little girl’s desire for autonomy.

Danielle looked at Curly Bill and to his relief, she smiled at him. His heart soared.

“Let me help you,” Danielle stated and Curly watched in awe as he observed a mother providing love and life lessons to her child.

"I always appreciate a woman who is a good mother," Behan started, reaching for a muffin from the basket. Curly Bill chuckled to himself when he saw that Danielle did not seem intrigued by the dashing sheriff. Curly Bill looked at Danielle and her daughter and saw how Danielle was obviously rejecting Behan's invitations to flirt.

Curly finished his muffin and washed it down with the coffee Danielle served him. He thanked her and she poured him more coffee. Curly was beginning to feel more confident about winning her over. He hoped that if he continued to get her attention, that he could work some magic into her; magic that would see past a lowly cowboy who never amounted to anything in his life and see the man he wanted to become for her.

"Well," Fred began. "Curly and I got some business to discuss.

"I can take you back to the hotel later if you'd like," Fred continued.

"I can take her," Behan said. Curly Bill hoped she would say no. She shook her head to Bill's relief and simply stated, "Fred can take us." Curly Bill almost offered, but feared what people would think of her if they saw her riding on the back of an Appaloosa with the "King of the Cowboys."

Danielle continued baking until the batter was gone and then she took her daughter outside while Curly Bill and the other two sat, looking at each other.

"She's lovely," Behan said, lighting a cigar.

"She's going to be teaching school in the fall," Fred eyed both men at the table. After they spoke for a while, Behan and Curly Bill rose from the table and left. Curly tipped his hat to Danielle before leaving and she smiled softly at him before letting her gaze fall to the ground, while flipping her hair.

For the next several days, Curly Bill could not stop thinking about her. He felt angry with the gods for sending her; she was like a mirage. You could admire her from afar, but the closer you got, the further out of reach she seemed to be.

Bill imagined rescuing them from peril, shielding them from danger and keeping them safe all while Danielle clings to his shirt with tenacity and confidence in him.

These types of fantasies permeated Curly Bill’s mind and he tossed and turned in his tent at the cowboy camp for hours while attempting to gain a few hours of sleep. He could not find rest as his mind wandered with thoughts of Danielle; he imagined her showing up at his cowboy camp, singing a soft song and sashaying over to his tent, undoing her dress so that it fell off her body, exposing her soft curves and voluptuous body. And then he could have her.

When Curly awoke the next morning, he wondered how long he had been asleep for. He looked around for Ringo and then remembered Ringo went to San Jose to see his family or at least see who was left of his family. Ringo had promised his niece, Judith that he would return to visit her one day and Ringo was not a man to break a promise.

Curly stumbled to his feet and splashed cold water on his face. He could feel his needed a shave and decided to head into town, get a bath, a shave and meet up with the Clanton's and Indian Charlie along with Stillwell and the McLaury's for some fun at the Oriental which always seemed to be the busiest place on Allen Street.

Milt Jice and Ugly Dave tended bar at the Oriental.

When Curly rode into town, he saw Phineas, who was as usual, flipping his knife. Phineas quickly put his knife away and walked to meet Curly Bill, who dismounted his Appaloosa and gave the reins to the kid.

"Some of yer boys was here before asking for ya, Bill. Saying "Son of a Gun" Silas is looking to arrest you for rustling." Phineas took the saddle of the Appaloosa and continued his work at the livery while he talked to Curly.

"Hell, Curly Bill, you don't think they'll lynch you or your boys, do you?" The boy asked, wiping sweat from his brow.

"Well, we got the Earps and they ain't the lynching type, boy."

Phineas looked unconvinced for a moment and then smiled. "Yeah, I guess they ain't!"

Curly patted the young boy on the back. "Take good care of him, son. He's one of the best things I ever owned."

"You got him from a Comanche?" Phineas asked, his eyes wide with enthusiasm.

"Yeah, kid. I'm just damn lucky no one has stolen him from me." The rustler chuckled. "I'm the one good at stealing and stealing was always one thing I was good at."

“They’re gonna arrest Curly!” Ike whined.

The bartender, Ugly Dave, stood behind the bar, eyeing the patrons with the one good eye he had left. He lost his eye in a handkerchief duel and now spent his days managing the meanest places in the town ‘too tough to die!” Curly walked through the batwings and strolled up to the bar. A few stools sat in front of the cherry wood counter that was lined with cowboys drinking up their wages. Beside some of Curly's boys were some members of the Fletcher Gang, a group of stage coach robbers who came to Tombstone more for the female element.

"Them Earp's are telling everybody you and Ringo robbed the Pine City Stage and that you rustled 200 cows from Grady's Ranch!" Ike continued.

“No they ain’t” Curly Bill retorted. “I ain’t done nothing to be arrested for. Hell, they should be grateful. Our rustling of Messican stock brought money to this town and they oughta thank us.” “Let them arrest me. I ain’t done nothing,” Curly moaned, holding his head with both hands.

"Sides, Ringo ain't even here and you know how them Earp's are about fairness," Curly flicked his tongue and chuckled.

"I don't want no trouble, boys," Ugly Dave said, pointing a finger at the cowboys.

"You ain't got that," Curly snapped. "You're getting fat off of us boys!"

Ugly Dave turned and continued filling drink orders.

"They ain't got nothing," Curly Bill said, reaching for the whiskey bottle and pouring himself a shot. After draining his cup, he helped himself to another.

Barnes and Stillwell eyed some of the ladies of the night that walked in; Strawberry Jane and Injun Sue walked in, flaunting their merchandise and moving close to Barnes and Stillwell. Stillwell took a swig from his whiskey flask and pulled some cash out his pocket. Barnes slapped a few dollars on the bar to pay for his and McMaster's drinks and they tipped their hats to the prostitutes. The cowboys followed the ladies upstairs. Curly Bill looked over at Ugly Dave, who was counting the till, a cigar hanging from his mouth.

"Ever been in love, Ugly?" Curly asked in a drunken voice. Curly shook his head and sighed.

"Sure, I was once and it was a damn sickness," Ugly answered. "Made me crazy with thinkin'! She was a beauty too. Why you think men like us wind up places like this? We ain't got nothing to take care of." He blew smoke from his cigar. "And no one to take care of us. Hell, Curly! You may find yourself working as a bar dog one of these days."

Ugly Dave didn't bother to look at Curly Bill, who shook his head. It would be nice to have something or someone to care for...

Some of his cowboys came back downstairs several moments later and they downed a few shots before exiting the batwings and firing their pistols in the air. Curly followed, drew his pistols and began shooting the red lights that decorated the establishments on that side of town.

Curly blazed away and growled while hooting with McMasters, the Clanton's, McClaury's and a few others. They mounted their horses and rode like hell up and down Allen Street.

"Let's give em a show, boys" Curly shouted, feeling hot blooded and young. He reloaded his pistols and continued shooting at anything that moved, relishing in the fear he evoked. He could hear the triumphant sounds of Indian Charlie, Barnes and the others.

"They ain't gonna take our guns!" Barnes shouted, waving both pistols in the air.

"Hell they ain't, boys!" Curly Bill yelled.

(After hours of drinking and gambling and telling the same stories, Curly Bill and some other cowboys including the Clanton's and McClaury's and McMasters and a few others left and went to the Grand Hotel to have dinner. When they stumbled in, they saw Danielle standing in the lobby, holding her daughter, her eyes wide with fear. ) to be moved

"Ma'am. I understand. But we can't give you no more credit."

"But I am going to start teaching in the fall," Danielle answered. (to be moved later)

Curly and his boys spent the next several hours drinking up the town and shooting at everything that caught their attention before heading back to the end of Allen Street to continue their party. Indian Charlie and Pony Diehl lifted their bottles of tarantula juice and cheered to their treeing. The other cowboys hooted and laughed while they bragged about how they would never surrender their firearms.

"They ain't gonna tell us what to do, are they, Curly?" Ike whined. "We'll show them Earp's, won't we?" Ike continued.

"Hell!" Curly began. "They ain't gonna do anything. Them boys profit off us! Sides, they ain't got nothing on me," the rustler continued. He took another drink and let his mind wander.

"You still thinking bout that cunt from Fred's-" Pony Diehl began.

"God damnit!" McMasters yelled back, "You lucky Ringo ain't here!" Pony shook his head and let out a shameful chuckle. "Yeah, I forget how touchy Ringo is about that. About women I mean," Pony rubbed his hands together and finished what was left in his glass.

Curly slowly rose to his feet. "Ringo ain't here. But I'm here, you bastard." Curly said with odd conviction in his voice.

"It's ain't hard to see that Danielle comes from a good family. Hell, maybe they even disowned her for gettin' a divorce and now she's got no family to help her and she's alone with a daughter. Why should Danielle have to work like that? It ain't bad bein' a school teacher. But when folks find out she ain't married, they may force her out and you think Behan would help her? That bastards would just use her. I know what I would do!" Curly raged.

"What are you gonna do, Curly Bill?" Frank McClaury taunted. Curly wanted to slap the younger cowboy; not punch or knock out, just slap.

"If you don't shut your mouth, Frank, you're going to be sorry!"

Curly nearly spilled his drink when he heard Wyatt Earp’s authoritarian voice and the echoes of laughter that trailed behind him that came from his brothers and of course Doc Holliday, who owed Wyatt as many favors as Wyatt owed him and their friendship although was an enigma to his brothers was a friendship both men valued and neither one would abandon a friend in need. Curly wasn't scared of the Earp's; they were a threat to the cowboy way of life and their damn holier than thou dispositions were misplaced as they did what the cowboys did, but had badges. Doc would never let Wyatt enter into a fight without him at least knowing about it. So naturally, Doc accompanied the Earp's while they strolled the streets with their self righteousness that drove Curly Bill and Ringo crazy. The certainty in their demeanor and how they were so sure of themselves; they often looked at the cowboys with derision that did not seem to fit with their self assurance. And that bothered men like Ringo and Curly Bill; it was not just that Earp's were interfering with their business; they were so sanctimonious and were sure they would win over the cowboys and that bothered them more than anything.

“Our local law. "Curly moaned, his head pounding. “I need to get some sleep.”

“I need to get out of here,” Curly growled.

“And go where,” Frank McClaury asked. He flashed a grin at some of the other cowboys who began hooting and whistling. Whatchya got planned, Curly Bill?"

"I swear if you keep talkin', Frank, a few unpleasant things are gonna happen!" At that moment, Frank backed off, not knowing what Curly would do if pushed hard enough.

Curly was almost shocked that Frank was being so brazen with the older rustler. Curly thought for a moment that perhaps he was getting too old for rustling stock with a bunch of younger bucks. It was hard work and rustling would eventually become a thing of the past like robbing stages; stages used to carry money and merchandise. Now they either lock it up, have a trigger-happy driver or don't carry anything worth stealing. Stealing was what Curly and his boys did best. In a way, he wished Ringo was back; some of the boys were less nervy around Johnny.

"None of your damn business, Frank." Curly Bill answered.

“He wants to see Danielle,” Billy Clanton said, a cigarette between his teeth.

"Yeah," Ike chimed in. "He's gonna court Danielle." Curly Bill could handle the stupidity of Billy, who was younger than Ike. But sometimes he couldn't stand Ike, a blowhard who usually ran from the danger he started. But as the oldest son of NH Clanton, Bill respected that as he viewed Old Man Clanton has a father.

Just then Behan walked through the batwings, blowing smoke from his cigarette. He motioned to Milt to give him his usual and he gulped his drink in two shots and pointed to his empty glass and gestured for a refill.

“Danielle?” Behan asked. Curly could feel his neck grow hot and he suddenly felt flushed and anxious to be somewhere else; anywhere else. If Behan found out Curly was trying to court Danielle, he could easily humiliate the cowboy leader while swooping in to steal Danielle away from him. She ain't even mine! He thought. Curly shook his head and looked at his empty glass and ordered more whiskey. He feared his boys, as drunk as they were, would spill the beans about how Curly felt about Danielle and he already felt insecure enough. Even if he confessed out loud to the Clanton’s and the McClaury’s, they would just laugh and tell him he had no chance with her and Curly did not want to hear that. And he especially did not want to hear that he had no chance with Danielle or that he was making a fool of himself. And to think that he had spent weeks thinking about her and that Behan could win her over with just a few encounters infuriated Curly Bill.

“What about Danielle?” Behan asked, puffing on his cigarette. “I was hoping she’d have dinner with me tomorrow evening. We’ve been talking as of late.” Behan smiled at Curly Bill knowing the gunfighter wasn’t going to do anything; the Cowboys were having enough issues with the Earps interfering with their business and Curly and his boys needed Behan as a neutralizer.

Behan must have known how Curly felt about Danielle; she was in town often buying supplies and having dinner. She often sat with other ladies while sending many suitors on their way with a shy shake of her head. Whenever Bill saw her in town, he stopped and looked at her and it was obvious to anyone who saw him how he felt. Curly Bill dreamt about having that chance and that when he asked her to have dinner with him, that she would smile and say yes. He feared if he asked her and she said no, he would be a laughing stock. It was bad enough that his own boys would be laughing behind his back, but to have the Earp's look at him with their taunting eyes was more than he could bear. Curly Bill felt old and unsure of his ability to lay the charm on Danielle; she wasn’t a whore and so seducing her would take more than fancy gun skills and the tall tales Curly was known for. Bill also feared how people would look at her. Some of the more decent town folks may look down on her or refuse service simply because she was seen with Brocious. He would love to walk down Allen Street with her on his arm, soaking up the envious faces of his fellow suitors as they tipped their hats to the big rustler. But he knew people would look down upon her. And to imagine her forced to leave Tombstone and find work as a dishwasher or maid-servant at a restaurant or hotel, scrubbing floors and serving drunkards because it was the only work she could find caused his heart to ache. Because people would look at her the same way they looked at him. Her family may disown her. Curly looked down at his empty shot glass. He shook his tired head and poured himself another drink.

“I was at Fred White’s and we had a polite conversation,” Behan bragged. "Did you know she's going to be teaching school in the fall?" Behan grinned. "A lovely lady who is a school teacher. And to leave a man who was hurting her."

Curly glanced over at Behan. If I had been there, he wouldn't have laid a finger on her. The son of a bitch would be dead! Knowing that she was going to be a school teacher only put her further out of reach. A school teacher who is a single mother and allowing herself to be courted by Curly Bill Brocious could cause the more elite members of the community question whether a woman like her should be teaching children. With Curly Bill's past and his reputation, she would be forced to leave town and may even have her relationship with the gunfighter follow her so when she arrived in the next town, they may know...The beautiful school teacher who put herself, her daughter and her students at risk all because of her affiliation with Arizona's most famous outlaw.

“I think she just needs a little time, but,” Behan puffed his cigarette. “Danielle needs a certain type of man. A man who can provide what she is accustomed to. I can’t imagine someone like her wanting to sleep in a tent.” Behan chuckled.

Curly felt like he was just kicked by a mule; he knew what Behan meant and that was proof that Behan knew how Curly Bill felt about Danielle. Curly’s heart sank and he eyed Behan while he gripped the neck of a bottle of whiskey, wanting to bash Behan over the head with it.

“Don’t do nothing to the furniture, Curly!” Ugly Dave shouted shouted. “Lessen you want to pay for it or work it off!”

Curly put the bottle back on the bar and eyed Behan. “That’ll be the day!” Curly shouted.

The Clanton’s and Stillwell stood by Curly Bill, who regained his composure quickly.

“You don’t know what she needs!” Curly said through a drunken voice.

“Oh, we’ll see won’t we?” Behan winked and took a long drag of his cigarette.

Behan

“May the best man win,” Behan said before shuffling out of the Oriental and over to the livery. Curly Bill watched from the bar and saw Behan move towards Phineas, the kid who worked at the livery, who was as usual practicing with his knife. Curly saw Behan mount his animal and ride out. He was worried he was going to Fred's to see Danielle, who visited the old Marshall often.

She was the most beautiful woman in Tombstone and made Josephine Marcus look plain. Every man in Tombstone thought Josie was the prettiest dame in town; Curly Bill thought she was beautiful; until he saw Danielle.

Josephine Marcus

Danielle

“You think she’ll say yes?” Curly remembered Behan saying.

Curly walked over to the livery stable where Phineas, the skinny fourteen year old boy who was quick with his knife was standing. The boy was flipping his stockman's knife while smoking a cigarette.

“Phineas!” Curly Bill yelled.

“Yeah, Curly?” The boy answered. “You want me to saddle your horse for you? He sure is a fine looking animal. Say Curly, you didn’t steal him, did you?”

“Now what makes you think that? "Curly retorted, knowing the kid was right; Curly figured if he bought a good horse, someone would steal it and he preferred doing the stealing himself. Curly told everyone he flat out won the Appaloosa from a Comanche chief who dared the cowboy to shoot two flying arrows and the reward would be one of their prized animals.

Curly's Appaloosa

“Sure is a fine looking horse. Say Curly, you remember when you promised to teach me how to shoot as soon as I got a gun? You remember, Curly, dontcha?”

Curly smiled and flashed a grin through his headache. “You ain’t even got a gun to your name, boy. But you’re pretty good with that knife.”

“Hell I am,” The kid replied. “Being good with a knife ain’t as good as being good with the irons, right, Curly?”

Curly held his head and shrugged. “I used to think I knew, kid.” Curly Bill checked the saddle by habit and mounted the Appaloosa. He did not know where he was going, but he knew he wanted to see Danielle. He needed an excuse to ride out to old Fred White’s house. The sun was setting and he wondered if she was at the hotel already. But he dismissed the idea of checking at the hotel; he didn't want to draw attention to himself and the last thing he wanted was for people to think she was a soiled dove. She came from a decent family. If her reputation was compromised because of him, he would never forgive himself.

His horse walked slowly through town; Curly was proud to be on such a coveted animal. He passed the shops and bars that lined Allen Street. Tombstone was not as busy that day; the usual bustle of this small boomtown was silent now with only a few people walking up and down Allen. Curly thought it odd and then remembered it was Sunday and that most folks were either attending the church on the other side of town or having Sunday dinner with family. Some of the establishments on the street were built in the early days of Tombstone and they did not seem to fit with the newer architecture with places such as The Oriental which sported mahogany wood that was handcrafted along with molded ceilings and hardwood floors. Wine and beer glasses hung from a fixture that stood over the bar, a variety of whiskeys and other spirits decorated the sides of the counter and a small piano and a sofa sat in a corner behind the bar. Women would come and sing and the cowboys were grateful to be in the presence of a beautiful woman who seemed to be singing to them. Many cowboys came to listen to women sing and paid handsomely for requests.

The sounds of the town began to fade while Curly Bill galloped out of town and towards Fred White’s house. He did not have any reason or excuse to go there and he hoped that Danielle would be there. Curly moved along and while the wind blew through his hair, he began to feel young again. A strong horse between his legs and the land before him; he adored every cactus, every large boulder and every tree that spread its shade over the stubborn desert. He adored it all because this wild place was where he felt he belonged. He wanted someone to share these moments with him.

Curly Bill stopped in front of White’s small cottage and he saw Fred’s horse grazing in front. He felt relieved and hoped Danielle was there. Curly did not see Behan or his Gelding and he wondered if he had already been there. He dismounted and slowly walked toward the front door.

“Hi there,” a voice sang from behind him. Curly turned and saw Danielle walking towards the house, a basket of freshly picked berries in her arms. Her face did not express the intense fear she demonstrated earlier and that gave Curly Bill some relief. He was afraid of Fred telling him to stay away from Danielle and her daughter and then he would not be able to be seen with her at all. Curly took a deep breath and began taking his hat off while Danielle moved closer. Her brown hair shone in the sun and her large liquid brown eyes seemed more expressive since her hair was down and seemed untamed. Curly Bill did not know what to say because he never thought she would ever initiate a conversation with him. He could feel his mouth open and he felt like a fool standing there with no excuse as to why he rode out to Fred White’s in the first place.

Curly Bill stood there with his hat in his hands and watched Danielle walk towards him; she seemed more beautiful than before and somehow he felt he just had to be with her. In a way, he was grateful for the moment because it caused his mind to escape and he began to fantasize about her and that caused a throbbing in his body that he could not control.

Danielle came close enough for Curly Bill to touch her and as tempted as he was, he restrained himself from reaching out to hold her. Her eyes met his and the fear that was not present a moment earlier slowly crept into her eyes again.

Curly continued to hold his hat and his feet rocked back and forth nervously as he tried to think of something to say; anything but that he was desperate to see her again. He tried to think of something to say, but failed and just stood there looking into her eyes, savoring her beauty.

“You’re looking for Fred?” Danielle asked.

“Well, yes ma’am,” Curly replied, holding his hat in his hands.

“I’m sorry, but he is not here.” Danielle said, wiping sweat from her brow. The hot and unforgiving heat of the Arizona desert permeated the air like a blanket. Danielle had torn the sleeves off of her shirt so her arms showed and when she lifted her dress to wipe her head, Curly could see her strong and tan legs. He felt himself sigh and then suddenly felt he needed to leave; if Fred returned and saw him there with Danielle he would conclude the wrong thing. Curly Bill bit his lip and thought if it were Behan or Wyatt Earp, Fred White wouldn’t have a problem, but since it was Curly Bill, no one would believe he went to see her just to have polite conversation.

“Sorry to bother you,” Curly said, putting his hat on his head. “I best be gettin back.”

"Well, Fred just took a walk." Danielle removed the scarf from her head and let her hair flow effortlessly. Curly could see beads of sweat on her olive skin and it glistened on her chest that heaved up and down.

"He took Dominique with him. She wanted to pick some wildflowers."

"Well, ain't that mighty sweet," Curly remarked. Danielle smiled and took a deep breath.

"I made some lemonade," Danielle began. "Would you like some, Curly Bill? It is hot out here."

Curly felt apprehensive. He did not want Fred to come back and see him alone with Danielle. "Well, I don't want to trouble you, Danielle."

"What's the trouble? I was about to have some too and I am sure Fred wouldn't mind if you came inside and waited for him!"

Curly Bill found himself smiling. He flicked his tongue as he does when he confident and amused by something. He chuckled warmly and followed her inside, his eyes focused on her soft curves.

Danielle poured two glasses of lemonade and brought them to the table where Curly was already sitting.

"So, Fred says you're a cowboy! That's exciting." She sipped her lemonade.

"Well, it ain't that much," Bill began.

"Oh I think it's incredible! All that hard work on so little sleep."

Curly smiled, thinking she was so naïve...She clearly didn't understand that cowboying was something a man does when he can't do anything else and rustling is for cowboys who prefer to steal cattle from others. He didn't want to tell her he was a rustler and figured she would find out sooner or later so why ruin a perfectly good time with her?

"You must have some interesting stories!" Danielle beamed. Curly smiled widely, showing his teeth and chuckling a bit before finishing his lemonade.

"Billy Breckenridge said you killed a grizzly! Is that true?"

Curly Bill smiled, feeling very grateful to the younger deputy.

"It came into our camp when we was drivin' cattle from the Double O. Late afternoon we could hear some loud noise so we got a ropes and pistols. Me and Ringo and two others threw our lassos and got the beast by it's feet. Once it was down, I emptied my shotgun into it. Hate to kill animals like that, but them grizzlies can take our horses and some cows with them, not too mention I gotta look out for my boys. I'm the..." He looked down at his empty glass.

"The boss?" Danielle smiled, her eyes fixed on the old cowboy.

Curly smiled again, surprised at Danielle's charm and friendly disposition.

"Well, Old Man Clanton gave me that title when I come to work on his ranch! He got two sons already, but neither of them seemed to have enough grit for a job like this."

That caused Danielle to smile. "Sounds like you're in charge of a lot. And it's such dangerous work. You must be brave, Curly."

Curly Bill loved how she called him Curly since only his closest called him that. She seemed so comfortable even though he looked so fierce. Curly wondered if she was just friendly or was genuinely interested in him.

The sound of a horse outside got their attention and Danielle and Bill stood up to see Behan getting off his horse. Bill looked over at Danielle, who's smile faded into an uncomfortable frown.

"Everything alright?" Curly asked Danielle.

She shook her head and then looked at Curly Bill his eyes that seemed to beg for his intervention. Curly began to feel important and became increasingly hopeful that he could protect Danielle; especially from Behan who couldn't shoot worth a damn anyhow.

"I...he comes here sometimes. You see, I don't care much for him. Well, he seems so..." She shook her head again. Curly wanted desperately to save her, but was fearful once again for how his gallantry would be perceived.

Curly moved closer to Danielle to his relief, did not back away.

"So what?" Curly inquired.

"So...eager, I guess. I asked him not to..." At that moment, Behan knocked on the door.

"Hello, hello.." He said, throwing his cigar away.

Danielle's eyes fell and her sad face only grew more downcast. She locked eyes with Curly and started to speak, but was interrupted by Behan's entrance. He took her hand and kissed it, causing her to look incredibly uncomfortable.

"Curly, what are you doing here? Are you waiting to speak with Fred? I am sure he'll be back later so why don't you return then?"

"No, you can stay, Bill," Danielle began. "Honest. Fred won't be much longer." Danielle looked out the window, hoping to see Fred and Dominique walking back to the house, but they were not in sight yet.

"Oh, don't you worry, Danielle. I'll stay with you until Fred and your daughter return. No need for any other protection."

Danielle opened her mouth to speak, but couldn't find the right words. She stepped outside and began looking in all directions for Fred.

"Why don't you leave the lovely lady alone, Curly? She is clearly uncomfortable with you here. And why shouldn't she be? Does she know about you and your past and present and well, bleak future?"

"Why don't you shut up, Behan?" Curly Bill growled.

"Listen, Curly Bill..." Behan began. "You think you're the only man in Tombstone hoping to court this lovely lady? You are one of many and only one man is going to have her and that man will be me. Look at yourself, cowboy...What do you really have to offer a woman like that? You're going to provide for her by stealing cows and horses? Or end up like Ugly Dave and pouring drinks for younger bucks. You're getting too old to keep up this rustling and you're not as good at it as you were before."

Curly Bill wanted to grab the lemonade pitcher and break it over Behan's head, but though the better of it. He was not going to let Danielle witness any violence that he himself provoked.

"Don't do anything hasty, rustler. You don't want to spend the night in jail do you? Then Danielle would be-"

"I'm warning you!" Curly said in a loud voice. "You ain't gonna hurt her!"

"Me? I'm not the outlaw, remember? I'm the good guy and the good guy gets the girl in the end, Curly." Behan's lips curled into a cruel and condescending smile.

Danielle returned inside, her face still full of concern. Behan moved toward her and Curly kept his eyes on the brazen sheriff. If he couldn't have Danielle, that was one thing, but he wasn't going to let Behan lay a finger on her. If Danielle wants Behan, Curly would back off; it was not his style to steal women. He would respect what Danielle wanted.

"John, maybe you should come back later," Danielle suggested.

"Nonsense!" Behan answered. "And leave you alone with him?"

"Who? Curly Bill?" Danielle demanded, her eyes widening.

"Danielle, let me-"

"Mom! I got lots of flowers, mom!" Dominique ran into the house and Curly could see the look of relief on Danielle's face. He was relieved too. He did not want an altercation between himself and Behan.

"Look, mommy! Look at all the flowers we picked!" Fred took his hat off and wiped his forehead with it. Danielle handed him a glass of lemonade.

"Oh, thank you darlin'," Fred replied taking long gulps. Danielle poured a glass for Dominique who ran to the couch and did another somersault. Then Dominique returned and looked shyly at Curly Bill who smiled and waved to the little girl who responded with a beautiful and welcoming grin like her mother.

Danielle motioned for Curly to sit down again and he did as he knew she wanted him to stay and he felt rather heroic for a moment.

To Curly's surprise, the little girl jumped into his lap. Behan's mouth dropped as the child did not even acknowledge him. Curly Bill was so moved by the sudden affection of Dominique; a number of emotions flooded his heart and he had never felt more appreciated in his life. Dominique played with Curly's black mustache like she was petting a kitten. Curly Bill, not knowing how to respond just chuckled. Dominique got down and pointed to Curly's boots and the Aces on them.

"Why do you have letter A's on your boots?" Dominique smiled and spun around. Curly laughed at how sweet she was and if she was sweet, it was because of her mother. She began counting the Aces and then said to Curly, "you a have 8 A's on your boots!" Curly looked down at his cavalry boots and winked at Dominique.

"Mom! He has 8 A's!" Danielle looked over at Curly and the two shared a long smile which burned Behan with envy and jealousy.

"Well, isn't that cute!" Behan started. "What a darling little girl you are. Just like your mother. Did you help your mother make that lemonade?" Behan moved closer to Dominique in the same self entitled way he approached her mother and Curly waited in anticipation for what the little girl would do who seemed as uncomfortable as her mother. If Curly Bill could impress Danielle and rescue her and her daughter from Behan, it would be enough of an ego boost to last quite a while and the story he could tell. Wait until my boys hear about this...He thought.

Curly Bill got up from his chair and took advantage of his height as he stood about two and half inches taller than Behan.

"You're leaving so soon, Curly? That's too bad," Behan said, winking at Dominique.

"Um, no you can stay if you like!" Danielle answered.

"Well, I am sure he has work to do, don't you, Curly? Some planning...Heading to Mexico are you?" Behan wanted to bring Curly into a conversation where he would be trapped and then Behan could easily tell Danielle all the deeds the old cowboy was known for and if he had her alone, he could easily over-exaggerate Curly's reputation.

Dominique ran and did another somersault on the floor and then jumped back up. Then she ran towards her mother and accidently dropped a glass that shattered on the floor and getting lemonade on Behan's suit. "Damn it!" The sheriff blurted out. "Watch where you are going!"

Dominique, to everyone's shock, ran to Curly Bill and jumped into his arms the same way she did with old Fred. Curly held the little girl, feeling mighty important. He couldn't remember a time when he felt so big in his life. Dominique hugged the old cowboy who asked, "You alright, little one?"

"You yelled at me!" Dominique said to Behan, who was wiping the liquid off his jacket.

Behan pointed to the little girl who turned and continued clinging to Curly like a little girl would cling to her father. Curly Bill found himself rubbing the little girl's back and whispering, "shhh," which was not only a relief to her mother, but a tender moment shared between two unlikely beings; an outlaw and a lovely little girl who ran to him for protection when she felt afraid.

MORE TO COME!

More by curlysgirl0202

T

Literature

More by curlysgirl0202

curlylovemotherrescuetombstonebehanbill

When a beautiful single mother arrives in Tombstone from California, she becomes the town's most desirable woman. Not only beautiful, but a wonderful mother and she is kind to everyone. Curly Bill desperately wants to court her and so does John Behan, who will do anything to be with her and when Behan forces himself into her life, Curly quickly sees the opportunity to be her rescuer. 

© 2023 curlysgirl0202

Comments0

Newest

Add a new comment...

DeviantArt - Homepage

DeviantArt FacebookDeviantArt InstagramDeviantArt Twitter

About

[themancorialist]

Piccadilly Gardens, Manchester

[chicafinal]

i quite liked futureworld, i found the two main characters far more entertaining than the guys in westworld (1973). also i felt strangely attracted to peter fonda's character

[sparksfromthefire]

what are the optics on. swapping out a character in the middle of a campaign because your current pc is kinda making you Real Sad all the time KDJDJKSKS

[moon-drunk-monster]

Some more faves from the mobile game