Tombstone, Arizona, the silver crowned jewel of the rugged West. This was in a time when mechanical innovation and high fashion clashed with moral decay and what some would describe as tenacious grit. A place where saints and sinners alike could plant their roots in their eternal struggle for survival.
Some of the most thriving sinners in this untamed land were from the criminal gang, The Cowboys, and their leader, Curly Bill Brocius.
When the late sun was warm and the breeze was gentle, Curly Bill and his posse of equally lethargic outlaws sat on the outside of one of the local establishments. The townsfolk marched everywhere and nowhere, much like ants scuttling across a carcass. As he wiped the sweat that lightly misted his brow, Billy and Ike Clanton arrived with a bunch of beers in their arms. “Just in time.” sighed Frank Stilwell, the first to nab a glass from the brothers. Drinks were passed all around to the half dozen cowboys.
“Here’s to some relief in this hellhole.” Tom McLaury cheered while clinking glasses with those close by.
“Ain’t that the truth.” Curly Bill agreed, wiping beer from his stauche. The day had gone by much like any other. A few shootouts up and down the main street and a few bar fights blowing up into murders, the usual. There was never a dull moment in Tombstone, except for those who have already seen it all.
Billowing smoke pulsed from Frank McLaury’s cigar with his face buried in the Tombstone Epitaph. “Huh. Some poor bastard in Tucson got his train robbed the other night. They think it was a solo job, ‘cause only a couple of gold bars were stolen. But they still don’t know how the slippery son of a bitch even got in.”
“Maybe we should take a trip to Tucson and help ourselves to the rest of the train, it's gotta beat what we're doing here." Curly Bill stretched in his chair.
“Don’t think so, boss.” Frank shook his head, "Place is crawling with police now that the train’s been compromised."
“Well, shit. There goes that, I guess.” Curly Bill figured as such, but damn, was he craving for some fun. Even if it was just a wild goose chase.
“Hey! Professor Gillman’s gonna be at The Birdcage in a bit. Why don’t we go see him catch stuff?” Barnes suggested, having already guzzled down his beverage.
The group turned to Curly Bill who shrugged and simply said, “Eh, why the hell not?”
Truly, they all knew that the cheap entertainment would not cure them of their depressive boredom, but it was better than sitting around and moping about it. The Cowboys rose from their chairs, some gracing the ground with a hearty spit, and began their march. Townsfolk stepped aside in the presence of the pack of jackals. Unblinking stares showered them even if they had no intent for trouble. Some of The Cowboys, such as Billy and Ike, returned the sneers in kind and watched as some averted their gaze. Curly Bill, on the other hand, relished the attention and threw winks and waves lazily.
That is until he noticed someone in the crowd facing away from them. Normally, the thought wouldn’t even occur to him, but that person, a woman, caught his sight from her long strawberry blonde hair. A slight breeze blew through the curls, emphasizing their wild wavy nature. She wore a denim blue jumpsuit with bell bottoms that hugged comfortably around her frame. The woman faced their direction, appearing to be lost from the constant turning of her head. Her front revealed that her jumpsuit was unbuttoned halfway to her midsection. Underneath, a blood red blouse complemented her large cherry amber eyes. The wind picked up and she held her cream colored hat with her matching leather gloves as she pulled along a platinum blonde stallion to her next destination.
Curly Bill shifted his mustache to one side, curious about the peculiar woman. He wasn’t the only one, as Billy then hollered, “Hey there, gingersnap! You lost or something?” The crowd of onlookers shifted their attention to the lone woman, and she sequentially turned towards the gang. The rest of the boys fell in the trend, and began to whistle and howl. Although the woman was looking in their direction, it seemed rather that she was looking past them before silently pulling her horse away and continuing on.
Billy bared his teeth in a snarled smile, readying to catch up with the woman. Suddenly, Curly Bill wrapped his arm around Billy’s chest, “Aw, let her go, son. There'll be plenty of birds at the theater who’d love to sing for ya.”
Content with their boss’s optimism, The Cowboys pushed on their way without much further fuss. All the while Curly Bill looked back one more time, only to find the woman and her horse had escaped his view.
As expected, Professor Gillman and his performance was less than stellar and was quickly made to dance out of terror of his feet being shot. Disappointingly, The Cowboys left the theater, soon after, out of disgust.
“Way to go Barnes!” snipped Tom McLaury, shoving Barnes harshly into the others. Soon the rest joined in and pushed Barnes into a circle and batted him with their hats.
“Hey, c’mon fellas! It was just a suggestion!” Barnes pleaded, trying to regain his balance.
“Well, if I’m gonna waste some money, it’s gonna be from gambling. You comin’, Ike?” Billy asked, taking a few steps towards one of the many bars surrounding them.
“Maybe in a bit, Bill and Ringo wanna stretch their legs and I reckon I’ll join ‘em.”
“Suit yourself, what about you, Stilwell?”
“Nah, me and the McLaury’s are fixin’ to smoke for a bit with that geezer from Shanghai.”
Curly Bill stepped forward and suggested, “Why don’t you just take Barnes and see if you two can win us all a refund? We’ll all catch up with you in a little bit.”
With that, the boys went their separate ways while Curly Bill, Johnny Ringo, and Ike set off to see what kind of trouble they could get into. It didn’t take long, however, when a loud pop erupted from one of the establishments.
A man floundered out of the building’s batwing doors, gulping for air as he clenched his crimson stained shirt. Another younger man followed, scrambling to the injured one’s side. Last to emerge was the same strawberry blonde woman from earlier, with two pistols drawn. The folks who had been meandering in front of the bar scattered for cover.
Curly Bill crossed his arms, waiting for the drama to unfold. He tilted his head to Johnny and whispered, “Who do ya got money on, Juanito?”
Johnny rolled his eyes and replied, “The winner, I’d guess.”
Curly Bill tsked and nudged Johnny’s elbow, all the while Ike watched somewhat crouched, eyes widened, and mouth slightly agape.
The woman carefully kept her sights on both men as the younger of them hissed, “You filthy, cheating bitch!” Suddenly, he reached for his holster, but before he could even draw his gun, the woman blasted both of her pistols; sending him to his knees, then the ground.
Hanging on by a single thread of life, the older man feebly reached for his own weapon, and was swiftly met with the same fate as his companion.
“What a woman!” gasped Ike, running his fingers through his beard.
No sooner after the shoot out ended that ol’ Marshall Fred White waddled onto the scene, pistol at the ready. A crowd began to form around them, obscuring the view for the three cowboys.
“I suppose that’s that, then.” Johnny Ringo shrugged.
“Yeah, she seems like a good time though.” Curly Bill noted, leading the three away from the scene.
“Yeah she does! Did ya see that head shot?!” Ike asked, imitating the woman’s duel wielding posture.
“I wonder what’s a woman like her doing around here. You don’t see someone like her all too often.” Johnny Ringo contemplated.
“Probably for the same reason as everyone else, to get a piece of this town, that is. But I agree with you, Juanito,” Curly Bill scratched his scalp, “Ya can’t help but wonder what someone like her is all about.”
Further intrigue crept into Curly Bill’s mind. This mystery woman was already easy on the eyes, that’s for sure. But to know that she could handle herself the way she did, had his mind ticking away like a swiss watch.
“And she was mighty purdy too, I wonder if she smells like good perfume?” Ike mumbled to himself, splashing some water from his canteen onto his face.
Johnny’s composure was only lost by the quick dart of his eyes to Ike and then back to what was in front of him.
Curly on the other hand, sufficed with a simple, “Shut up, Ike.”
Their walk had only just begun, and yet, the shock of the shootout had jump started some liveliness into their spirits.
“I’m feeling all red-blooded now, boys,” Curly Bill concluded as he patted his sides, “What say we go and find us some action.”
Ike and Ringo nodded in agreement as the trio began to bar hop throughout the main street, having enough bravado between them to fuel a rampaging elephant. Yet, no one was willing to return in kind. Each bar they went to left them with the same disappointing outcome. Normally, the respect and compliance from the rest of the town would have been precisely how they like it, and yet, even a single ounce of push back would’ve been just what the doctor ordered.
Before they knew it, the sun had already made its last call. Begrudgingly, their journey eventually landed them back to where Billy and Barnes were currently gambling away their funds.
“I don’t know why Bill likes to go to The Oriental.” Johnny Ringo grumbled as the group stalked near the entrance. “That knuckle dragger, Johnny Tyler, makes the joint deader than a funeral home.”
“Maybe that’s how Bill likes it.” Ike shrugged, stepping towards the establishment, “I like all the extra space it gives. I don’t need someone breathing down my neck while I’m playing cards.”
Inside The Oriental was just as barren as Johnny predicted, to no surprise. The marble statues, brass finish and floral décor was wasted on the presence of the low end, sloppy, sweaty, foul-mouthed dealer and the menagerie that orbited around him. Even Billy and Barnes, dusted as they were from the desert sands, were out of place next to the slobbish boars that sat around them.
“Howdy, Milt!” Curly Bill called to The Oriental’s owner and operator.
“Evening, Mr. Brocius.” Milt Joyce nodded with a welcoming smile, “What can I get ya?”
“I’m just gonna be at the faro table with my boys, we’ll see in a bit.”
Curly Bill walked up behind Billy and Barnes and gave them both pats on the shoulder. A sense of stillness and unease washed over the other patrons, despite the supposed friendly demeanor of The Cowboys.
“Say, you guys finally made it!” Billy remarked, peeking over his shoulder.
“Yeah, a shootout cut our walk short, and none of the bars were quenching our thirst. So we thought we’d drop in and see how you two were doing to help Barnes pay us all back.”
Barnes slightly shook his head, “We’ve been breaking about even so far. Not been all that lucky.”
“Well, keep at it!” Curly Bill chuckled as he slapped them both on the back.
“Hey, Johnny Tyler, set me up for the next round. At this rate they ain’t ever gonna get my money's back!” Ike said as he shoved another patron out of a chair.
“Y-yes, sir.” Johnny Tyler stuttered, his usual bravado shot, “Would anybody else wanna join?”
Always the hot shot, Johnny Tyler had the appearance and temperament of a bulldog. Rumor had it, he ran a lesser gang in Tombstone. But even he was wise to the fact that his pack was outclassed by The Cowboys in every sense of the word. In their presence, Johnny Tyler made sure that his barks and other overbearing acts were mummed.
Johnny Ringo and Curly Bill looked to each other with knowing grins. “Why, Johnny, thank you kindly for the invitation!” Curly Bill answered, pulling up a chair.
Things turned around and slowly they began winning their money back. Cigar smoke crept through the room, like the spirit of a serpent, billowing and coiling around the faro table. Despite this, Johnny Tyler showed saintly restraint with his throat scorched and his eyes on the verge of tears.
“Hey, Mr. Tyler, are you feelin’ alright?” Barnes asked with heavy smoked breath seeping between the cracks of his bobcat grin.
“I-I might have to head home soon, fellas. You'll wanna grab another table in a minute.” Johnny Tyler swallowed the heave back down his mouth. The group laughed and continued to blow noxious rings in his face.
Just when Johnny Tyler might’ve been ready to pass out, the front doors swung open. Rhythmic clicking of boots echoed on the hard wooden floor, turning all eyes towards the source.
“Good evening, Miss. What can I get for ya?” Milt waved.
“Just get me a beer, I’m parched.”
It was none other than the strawberry blonde woman, much to the surprise of The Cowboys.
Johnny Ringo leaned over to Curly Bill and whispered, “Guess she got off, huh?”
Barnes interjected, “From what?”
“Ya shoulda seen it, Barnes.” Ike butted in, “She gunned down a couple of fellas down the street for callin’ her a cheater. It was something else!”
The woman sauntered over to the bar, leaning on it while Milt served her a beer. Billy contemplated talking to her again, Curly Bill stood in preparation to approach her, as Ike floored it over to her side.
“Excuse me!” Ike called out. The woman turned her attention and found Ike unblinkingly staring inches from her face, “I saw what’cha did earlier to those fellas you banged up. I was just wonderin’, ma’am, are you married?”
Curly Bill grabbed the back of Ike’s shirt collar and hauled him off, shouting, “Get the hell out of here, Ike!” before sending him off with a kick in the rear. Ike waddled over to the faro table while Barnes and Billy barely contained their laughter.
“Oh, shut the hell up, the both of ya!” Ike sneered as he flopped down on an empty chair.
“Don’t mind him, we all thought you handled yourself pretty well out there. So what happened, if you don’t mind me asking?” Curly Bill probed as he leaned onto the counter.
“After you win ten hands in a row at poker, you start to seem a little suspicious to others. Those two men were no different, one swung at me and I shot him. He fell outside and, well, I’m sure you saw the rest.” the woman explained with a warm smile as she gingerly sipped her beer.
“And what about Ol’ Fred? What kinda trouble did he put you through?”
“You mean the marshal? He didn’t give me no trouble at all. There were more than a few folks who backed up my story. So he let me go without any skin off my back.” The woman continued as she turned to face Curly Bill with one hand holding her chin.
“I figured as such, but the real question is, did you actually cheat?” Curly Bill smugly asked as he raised his brows.
The woman laughed then tightly smiled, “That’s not part of the story, stranger.”
“Then how about we start with your name then, Miss?” Curly Bill leaned in a little closer.
“Suzette McCreed, it’s a pleasure, Mr…?”
“Curly Bill Brocius. It is a pleasure indeed.” Curly Bill agreed, taking her hand and pecking it.
“The leader of The Cowboys graces my presence? If I had known, I would’ve gotten all dolled up just for the occasion.” Suzette said coyly with half lidded eyes.
“No need, Ms. McCreed. You look lovely as is.” Curly Bill retorted, earning a cheeky smile with a half cocked brow. “But I must ask, what’s a lady like you doing here?”
“Ah, straight to the point, Mr. Brocius?”
“Please, call me Curly Bill.”
“Of course, Curly Bill. Well, I just got finished with a job back in Tucson. I’m only here to recuperate for a couple of days before I head out.”
“And what is your profession?”
Suzette briefly scanned the bar before leaning in, “If I may be honest, it wasn’t a wholly professional one.”
“Oh?”
“Yes, I… take things that people tend to miss, and when they do, I'll be long gone by then.”
“I understand now, we come from similar business backgrounds.”
“That's a good way to put it.”
“So who do you run with, then?”
“No one at all. Except for me.” Suzette admitted, downing the last of her glass.
Curly Bill titled his head and his smile dropped, “Is that so? How have you been handling yourself?”
Suzette leaned into her shoulder with a sly gleam in her eye, “I haven't stolen from The Queen of Britain, but a girl can handle herself well enough.”
Curly Bill began to rub his hands together. The Cowboys were always looking for new members and one who was easy on the eyes and an accomplished criminal was always a net bonus. He shifted his gaze towards Suzette and flicked his tongue through his smile, “We could use someone like you. In The Cowboys, we work together to bring in the big haul and we wouldn't mind sharing with ya.”
“Do you always offer memberships this quickly?” Suzette softly asked.
Curly Bill responded, all the while catching glances of her figure, “Your… attributes aren't something I want to pass up on.”
“Ahh, I see.” Suzette couldn’t help but chuckle, knowing full well what the brazen scoundrel was looking for, “Thank you for the offer. But I think I’ll be fine. Besides, I don’t know what I'd do if I’m surrounded by handsome men, like yourself, all the time.” She tossed a wink and a smile his way, and rose from her seat. A few crumpled dollars fell onto the bar counter before Suzette made her way out the door.
Dang nabbit! It was as if a one-of-a-kind treasure slipped through Curly Bill's fingers. However, he recalled that Suzette had mentioned staying in town for a few days. That might just give him enough time to find a way to convince her to stay. And just maybe, he could also convince her to be a cowboy… amongst other things.
Curly Bill clapped his hands together and felt the blood rush through them. His mind was hard at work scheming a way to meet his ends. Shooting himself off of the bar, he waved to the boys, hollering, “I’m gonna head out, boys. Gonna drop by and see if I can pay the ol’ Chinese geezer a visit for a smoke. I’ll catch up with you all tomorrow!”
Out into the moonlight, Curly Bill swayed to a beat in anticipation. It had been a while since he had his mind on a single woman in particular, but he couldn’t help but feel it was with good reason.
