Wedding Bells Don't Hurt

There was a ruckus outside my tent; some loud voices and the sounds of someone scuffling. Then the flap opened and light poured in blinding me something fierce. My hands flew to block my eyes and all the sleep this side of hell slid away like a dry gulch in a flash flood.

“What’s doing out there!” I hollered.

I sat up, pulling my buffalo robe blanket from my chest. In my right hand was my 1851 Colt Navy Yank. I levelled it somewhere close to the middle of the dark figure standing in the doorway. Earring back the hammer, my eyes swam in the blazing light.

“Step out or I’ll blow a hole in your hide the likes a horse could fit through!”

The words had barely left my mouth when the dark figure in the doorway bellowed.

“McPherson’s down to Skate’s place! He’s screamin at anyone that’ll listen. Says you fouled his sister somethin shameful.”

My head sat back a bit off-key, on my neck so it creaked a mite. Emily McPherson was a girl I’d taken a shining to, and that was obvious. True, I’d asked her to dance at a hootin annie a couple of weeks prior, but I’m a Tillerson and we’s all good God fearing folks with nary a stray kid in the mix that I can recollect.

“What’d he say Tok. What kind of story he be larnin folks?”

“He said you pushed her down and was kissing her something crazy. You was all about her face and neck like some sort of deers what’s ruttin and such.”

“That kind of talk won’t stand!” I barked.

I pushed past Tok and then Rug the other side of him. Originally Rug must of tried stopping Tok from going into my tent, but he was of no mind to get further involved. I dug my heels in, climbing the hill to where the paddock my horse was pastured in. This kind of reputation burning non-sense wasn’t going to stand, especially if I was to be marrying Miss Emily and having to shoot her brother in order to do it.

My horse Pockerton, rolled his eyes knowingly and flicked his tail as I threw a saddle on his back. I jerked and grunted, cinching everything down tight. He was a might more even tempered than myself. God help me, that horse knew better.

****

“Tic McPherson! You surly sow belly! You got some splainin to do!”

The entire room heard what I’d said as I split the bat-wing doors sharply with both hands. The rinky tink piano player in the corner spun around once on his stool and then continued with “Three Blind Mice.” A row of rough cases lined up along the bar glanced up briefly and then continued on with their drinks. The farrow table in the middle of the room, chocked full with some real dandies, ignored me completely, continuing to jostle their chips and suck on their soggy cigars. The two whores flitting about the room like humming birds, suddenly swept there wide skirts about themselves and tinkled lightly up the stairs to parts unknown. Yeller Steve, the fat barkeep, yawned loudly as I stepped through the doorway.

“Where’s Tic?”, I growled. “Git him out here and let’s have us a little palaver.”

I pushed my way back through the bat-wing doors and onto the front stoop. Then I jumped down into the dust of the street, skipping three steps and jangling my spurs for good effect. A choking cloud of dust wafted up covering my already soiled boots. Then I turned to face the door and began adjusting my gun belt. I’m a cross-over kind of guy, with only the one gun that faces backwards! My right hand swept over to my left hip as I began moving and worrying away at everything; making ready.

“Bart honey!”

It was Miss Emily, she’d just stepped out from behind a buckboard.

“My brother Tic’s got yella fever when he was knee high to a grasshopper. He ain’t all there. The brake comes off his mouth from time to time. Don’t pay him no mind.”

“Now Miss Em,” I said cooly, “How’s a man to court you proper if her brother is set to have him look bad?”

“I aim to have you dead!”

It was Tic and he’d just slid out from behind Emily.

Tic was big, and like Em had said, dumb as a bucket of chop. He was a head taller and a hell of a lot wider than me. He threw two bales at once and when his rope stuck, calves flipped on their sides like flap jacks on a plate.

I stepped back, opening my arms wide.

Tic stood wide legged, facing me with that stupid grin on his face. He had two guns to my one and I swore they were slung a little lower than I’d remembered. Had he been practicing?

He spit a long stream of tobacco juice out next to his left boot.

“You know I didn’t touch your sister and everyone knows we’re going to be married before you even shave that girly mug of yours for the first time!”

He went for it!

I was so surprised that I twitched my left hand instead of my right. When I finally corrected and grabbed my heat, a shot rang out, then another. I locked up and looked down. No wounds. He’d missed me clean.

I eared back my hammer and Blam!

Emily stood over me with a shovel gripped in her hands. She’d wakked me upside the head.

“You are going to get back to that camp and earn us some more money. And we’re going to be married and you’ll build us a cabin out near Baxter’s Creek! You will not be cannon fodder for my idiot brother and his ranting ain’t nothing. Now git!”

Even Pockerton was neighing with what sounded suspiciously like a laugh when I got aboard and started back to camp.