So without further ado, let's get into the first of February with a new challenge. You prompt is fittingly,
You're mine
But that doesn't have to be a love story. It's surprisingly menacing said by the wrong person.
What are you waiting for? Get writing!
rachel741
Posts : 102 Join date : 2019-09-15 Age : 50 Location : United Kingdom
Subject: Re: You're Mine Wed Feb 16, 2022 11:56 am
Heyes looked at his hand and realised it would be a very hard one to beat. But well-schooled in keeping a poker face, he let none of his certainty of success to show on his face and only said calmly, with no inflection. “Raise you, five dollars.”
He was careful not to seem too confident as he made his bet, though the main thought in his head as he looked at not insignificant pot, was. “You're mine!”
The player to his left threw his cards on the table, looking disgusted and said morosely. “Fold.” The man was probably close in age to Heyes, not a bad player exactly, just a little over cautious and more likely to fold than risk making too big a bet and therefore losing money. A family man thought Heyes, with a loving wife and not that far up his career ladder- banking or clerking he figured.
The player to his right, older, rich, overly confident and obnoxiously loud. Expensively dressed, with a blonde that definitely wasn't his wife hanging on his arm said confidently. “I raise you ten dollars, Mr Smith.”
An older man, the town doctor who had intelligence and a sharp eye faced him, he was the only person in this bunch that Heyes felt was any competition at all. He looked down at his cards and then between Heyes and idiot as his mouth quirked up in a slight smile as he said dryly. “Call, let's see what you got, fellas!”
Heyes laid down his cards and grinned at the collective groan that went round the table. He quickly gathered the pile of money and leaving enough coins on the table for the remaining players to have a couple of drinks on him, stood. “I'm gonna call it a night folks- don't want to ride my luck too far!”
As he stood to leave, there was an ominous click from the other side of the table. The quiet man, who Heyes hadn't really paid much mind to, beyond noting the fact that he was under forty and decently dressed was holding a gun in his hand. “I think you're cheating Smith- It isn't natural you winning as often as you have.”
The Doctor sighed and shook his head. “Don't be a bigger idiot that you have to be Arthur. He hasn't needed to cheat. He's just a better player than we're used to seeing. It isn't as if any of us had lost more than we can afford tonight, so don't be making a scene and getting Sheriff Marks over here."
The man with his gun still drawn, glared at the doctor and looked about to argue, when Heyes felt a presence loom up behind him on his right and recognised it instinctively. He hid a smile as the next words confirmed that it was indeed his partner. They were issued with a deceptive calm, that nonetheless suggested that the listeners should beware. “We got a problem here, boys?”
“What's it to you mister?” The quiet man seemed determined to be belligerent, and Heyes felt his friend shift his stance into his 'I mean business' pose as he said still calmly, but with an increased underlying menace, that usually gave most folk, except for the most stupid, pause. “He's my partner and my kin- so I ain't real keen on folk calling him a cheat.”
The man was obviously only slightly stupid, as he recognised that it was smarter to just fold and smiling a little nervously, holstered his gun. “No problem, Mister, just a little misunderstanding.”
“Well, I'm real pleased to hear that.”
“Well, thank-you gentlemen for an interesting game.” Heyes lied straight-faced, it'd been one of the dullest in several weeks, though definitely profitable. He retrieved his hat and backed away, careful not to block the Kid's line of fire and waving at the money he'd left on the table. “Enjoy a drink or two on me.”
With that he pushed his hat back on his head and together he and the Kid walked towards the door. On the street, Heyes glanced over at his friend. “You cut that mighty fine, Kid, you getting distracted?”
The Kid glared at him in some disgust as he said. “It don't seem fair, that a man can't even answer a call of nature without his partner getting drawn on. I hung on for as long as I could. " He paused and added reflectively. "I didn't figure on him being the one who'd cause the problem, Heyes.”
Neither had Heyes, but he was damned if he'd admit that to his partner and said with a smile. “Well, not everyone can be as good a judge of character as I am, Kid.”
The Kid looked at him suspiciously, but only said. “Guess we oughta be moving on tomorrow. There's a train heading to Yuma at ten tomorrow morning. I checked for asterisks before ya ask, Heyes.”
Heyes was a little reluctant to leave somewhere with such easy pickings, but he knew that it was time- that little confrontation might lead one of the players to consider that Smith and his partner Jones weren't quite what they seemed and then to start wondering loud enough that the sheriff took notice. He nodded. “Yuma it is, Kid.”
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Kattayl
Posts : 47 Join date : 2020-08-10 Age : 69 Location : Los Angeles, Ca
Subject: Re: You're Mine Mon Feb 21, 2022 7:07 pm
This is the second part of the next Amnesty but First Penance Chapter. I will post it in its entirety in FanFiction and AO3 the beginning of March. Nod to the Cheyenne Social Club in the naming of Daisy's.
Rebuilding Daisy's
After spending the night in the cramped room, Marshal Maderas, Curry, and Heyes were all anxious to be on their way at dawn the next morning. Enjoying the taste of the fresh air, each found themselves caught in their own thoughts for miles. Their horses, not used to such early starts, were nonetheless glad to be traveling again.
Maderas broke the silence. “I arranged for Zach to stay in the hotel until Trevors comes tomorrow. Talked to the barkeep; he’ll keep an eye on him. He goes way back with him, considers him a friend.”
Unable to shake the penetrating sense of loss and the wounds that Zach’s story had reopened, Heyes rode quietly, not even badgering Maderas about their penance. Once in Colorado, they turned south quickly to New Mexico.
Although Heyes’ questioning guesses had driven him to distraction, Maderas found his silence more worrying. “Aren’t you going to ask me where we’re headed?”
As if he had been jolted from sleep, Heyes looked blankly at Maderas. Then he slipped a smile on his face. “I know we’re in New Mexico. We close to where we are going?”
Relieved that Heyes seemed to have left a bit of the sadness behind, Maderas wanted to keep him engaged. “How about we stop here and water the horses? Might even give you a clue about your penance.”
Curry smiled. “Just tell me, is it hard on the back?”
“Most probably.”
A sigh escaped from Curry. “Why do I even ask?”
Watching the horses drink from the small stream, Maderas waited for Heyes’ curiosity to return. Resting on a log, the three men stared at their horses. The only sound breaking the silence was Curry eating jerky.
Usually, Maderas felt he had infinite patience, but not today, not with this silence. “You remember the bank you robbed in Arrowhead, Colorado?”
Heyes shared a glance with Curry then answered proudly, “No security at night. Not too close to the sheriff’s office. We robbed it on a Friday night and got clean away. No one hurt. Probably no one knew until Monday morning.”
Studying Maderas, Curry nodded in quiet agreement.
“Okay Heyes, how did you get away?”
Heyes eyes smiled then grew darker. “First part of getting away worked perfectly. Fifteen minutes after we left the bank, we caught the train south to New Mexico. Bought our tickets earlier that day. Plan was forty five minutes after we boarded, we were to get off the train at the first water stop and walk about an hour into Daisy, New Mexico.”
Curry took over. “Heyes had sent Preacher and me to Daisy, New Mexico, a couple of weeks earlier. It’s a small town and didn’t have a sheriff or any law so we thought we’d be safe. They didn’t even have a telegraph. We made…er...arrangements for the gang to get off the train near there and …er…er…celebrate the successful robbery. We set it up to let everyone stay there at Daisy’s Social Club a few days in style. Heyes wanted no expense spared. Ordered good food, the best whiskey and er…er…er…” Curry looked to Heyes for words to use in front of Reverend Maderas.
Smiling at making the famous gunfighter uncomfortable, Maderas helped him out. “You mean you ordered the best in twenty-four-hour female entertainment. Did you pay for all of this extravagance in advance?”
“No, the Kid and Preacher came back to the Hole bragging about Daisy’s Social Club and its charms.” Heyes answered in a measured tone, figuring out where this conversation was headed.
“And no, we didn’t pay in advance…or ever. We didn’t know it at the time, but while we were on the train, Wheat and I were recognized as having been part of the Plumber Gang.”
Curry remembered and continued, “When we got off that train at the water stop, I knew we were bein’ followed, just not who was followin’ us. They kept their distance, so I let them be at first. Couple of miles before we got to Daisy’s, I dropped back and listened. That’s how I knew they recognized Heyes and Wheat. The two followin’ us were just doing that, followin’ us. When we got where we were goin’, one was supposed to stay with us and the other get help to arrest us.”
Heyes nodded. “We never got to Daisy’s. We split up. There were nine of us. We went in groups of three. I gave everyone money for a horse and enough to get back to the hole. Since we were the ones recognized, I stayed with Wheat.”
“And I stayed with them to keep them out of trouble.” Curry grinned at his cousin.
Heyes stopped reminiscing. Looking at Maderas, he asked, “What’s this got to do with our penance? The money from the robbery let us spend a comfortable winter down south. Ain’t got none of it left.”
“You never thought of the chaos you might leave behind, did you?”
“You mean by not paying Daisy’s Social Club in advance? I’m sure the food and drink and the girls were all enjoyed by someone. Hey, is that where we are heading, Daisy’s Social Club?” Heyes smirked at Maderas.
“Yes, we’re going to where Daisy’s Social Club used to be.”
At the quizzical looks from the ex-outlaws, Maderas knew he had given them something to think about for the rest of the ride. “That’s enough for now. I’ll tell you the rest when we get there.”
“No, Maderas, sir, marshal!” begged Heyes. “Tell me now, please.”
“It can wait.” For a second Maderas enjoyed the look of panic that crossed Heyes’ face at his words.
“Marshal Maderas, sir, please tell us the rest.” Seeing Maderas start to shake his head, Heyes hurried to continue, “If you tell us now, we can think about it and get a proper apology ready for whoever wrote the letter.
“I better hear a proper sincere apology when we get there.”
“Yes, sir,” was the eager reply.
“Turns out Daisy’s borrowed money to have everything ready for your arrival. Instead of you coming through, a posse rode in and tore the place up looking for all of you. Someone on the train overheard an excited Kyle asking Preacher about Daisy’s Social Club so they knew you were going there.”
Starting to feel guilt in their gut, the cousins avoided looking at each other as the story continued.
“That posses was led by a sheriff but the rest were railroad employees anxious to be the ones to capture the Devil’s Hole Gang and collect that reward. They ate that good food without paying. They tore up that place until there wasn’t a floorboard left nailed down. They noticed that good whiskey all right. Each of them took a bottle when they left. “
Curry looked at his partner thinking about this other person they hurt without knowing. “It was a real nice place.”
“Was.” Giving them a moment to think before he continued, Maderas stopped his horse where three roads crossed. After consulting a map in his pocket, he led them down the middle road.
“There was nothing left to salvage there. Not really even anything left to board up. James Michael and a couple of the ladies went to the bank in Arrowhead the next day. That’s where they had their savings.”
“Which we had already stolen,” Heyes finished, woefully. “Whose James Michael?”
Curry answered him. “James Michael Daisy. Daisy’s Social Club was his pride and joy. What happened to him?”
“He wrote the letter for the penance.” Maderas paused. “He got out of prison about two years ago.”
“Prison?” Curry asked as Heyes had fallen quiet.
“Prison. When the posse couldn’t find any of the Devil’s Hole Gang, they arrested him. With the celebration he had ready, the jury figured he was part of the gang or at least knew about the plan to rob the bank and didn’t tell anyone. He served three years.”
“He didn’t know us. Only met Preacher and me that once when we set everything up. What’s this penance?”
“To rebuild Daisy’s. Arrowhead City and the railroad are providing the supplies; you’re providing the labor.”
“We’re rebuilding a whorehouse? The Board that oversees our penances sent us to rebuild a house of ill repute?” Heyes started to laugh lowly.
Sternly, Maderas looked around. “You know what it is, and I know what it is, but in his letter Mr. Daisy called it a social club and made it sound like a soda fountain.
“An adult soda fountain,” Curry said, amused. “The Board ain’t that dumb.”
Maderas nodded. “You’re right. We’re not. We felt that Mr. Daisy was made the scapegoat. He should never have served time. He shouldn’t even have been arrested. Officially, you are rebuilding the community social place.” Maderas grinned. “Unofficially, you’re building a whorehouse. His sister and his ladies kept the business going in tents and a couple of small buildings while he was in prison. They're still there. The women who worked at Daisy’s Social Club lost everything they had, too.”
ASJ—--ASJ—--ASJ
Daisy, New Mexico, was situated just as Heyes had remembered from the maps. Sitting where three main roads crossed, a river provided the western border. It would have provided the perfect place for the gang to celebrate and still have multiple escape routes. It was not on the railroad lines but had now added a telegraph office and a library.
Curry drew in a sharp breath as they rode by where the whorehouse had once flourished. The glory of the building was gone. It was a collapsing stack of boards about to fall like a house of cards in a strong wind.
“Take a look, but we aren’t stopping here. Daisy Camp is just ahead.”
Surprised by the number of horses in the small livery at Daisy Camp, Curry studied it closely. The sign over the door said, “Welcome to the temporary home of Daisy’s Social Club.” The main one-room building might have once been painted yellow, but had surrendered its color to the sun. Following Maderas and Heyes through the open door, he realized it was small but efficient, smelling of alcohol and smoke. The left side was dominated by a polished mahogany bar with curved walnut edges that Curry recognized from his initial visit. Most of the oval tables were occupied by poker players. Empty glasses by each man suggested the game had been in progress for a while.
His eyes had just adjusted to the dim light when a curtain he realized served as the back door was pulled aside letting in sunlight and fresh air.
“Marshal Maderas?” James Michael Daisy was only a shadow of the man Curry remembered. Instead of a broad-shouldered man with a slight belly, he was rail thin with haunted sunken brown eyes.
“Mr. Daisy, how are you?” asked Maderas.
“Surprised that my letter was chosen to tell you the truth,” he answered in a strong voice that belied his weakened appearance and a faded eastern clipped accent.
“Well, you just never know, do you?” Maderas responded with a grin and a twinkle in his eyes. “Mr. Daisy, I’d like you to meet Jed Curry and Hannibal Heyes.”
“How’d you do, sir?” Heyes stepped forward and extended his hand, surprised at the firm handshake he received in return.
Jim Daisy turned to Curry. “You, I remember.”
“Sir, I’m sorry for what happened here and to you. I never meant you no harm. And we apologize for not even thinkin’ about what happened here when we didn’t show up.” Curry’s words were sincere, his gaze concentrating on the man to see if his apology was accepted. Hearing his partner cough to get his attention, Curry looked up. The working girls of Daisy’s had formed a protective half circle in back of Daisy.
Swallowing unconsciously, Curry gave an awkward smile that every female found endearing. He was relieved when Heyes started talking.
“And we apologize to you ladies also.” Heyes smiled warmly and he was gifted with many smiles in return. “We understand that you lost everything, too.”
“Apologies accepted on behalf of each of us.” Daisy turned as he was speaking. “Come and let me show you the plans for the rebuild.”
Feeling a hand on his arm, Curry turned and smiled into beautiful brown eyes. He put his finger to his hat as she caught his gaze. “Ma’am.”
She held him back, smiling. “You’re mine, blue eyes.”
Jim Daisy joined them. “Pamela Jean, he’s here to work, not sample your charms.” At her pout, he added, “Isn’t Timothy due here any minute?”
Watching the door, she smiled. “Yeah, he’s my sweetie. Very dependable, every Tuesday and Thursday.” As she walked away, she sighed and glanced back at Curry. “We could have had a lot of fun, darling.”
ASJ—--ASJ—--ASJ
Heyes admired the well-drawn explicit plans for the new Daisy Social Club. Anything planned with this detail was a thing of beauty for him. “Maderas, you do understand that the Kid and me aren’t too good at carpentry? Kid hits his thumb as much as the nails.”
“Never thought to ask you, but it isn’t hard to learn.” Maderas studied Heyes as he studied the building plans closely. He could see the interest and excitement as each detail was read, studied and understood. Not for the first time he thought what this man could have done with more education. He added architecture to his list of missed careers for Heyes. Then, as his thoughts always did, he figured that more education would have just led him to devise even more perfect robberies.
Listening to Daisy and Heyes again, he heard the ex-outlaw comment, “Mr. Daisy, if you move this wall forward seven inches with the space already there, wouldn’t you have room for a small corridor leading from the office to the stairs? Wouldn’t really be able to see it from either end unless you knew where it was. Might be handy.”
Leaning closer over the plans, Daisy used his thumb as a rough measuring tool. Smiling, he straightened up. “Yup, I think you’re right, Mr. Heyes. Also give us room for a deeper wall safe at the end there.”
“It’s Heyes, no mister.”
“And it’s Daisy, just Daisy,” he answered, slapping Heyes on the back and leading him toward the bar area.
ASJ—--ASJ—--ASJ
Maderas had taken Heyes at his word about their building skills and hired local men to help rebuild the social club. It was evident from the first hours that Curry was willing and trying, but a slow carpenter. He did discover that Curry had a knack for knowing which wood and support beams should stay and which should be replaced, so he assigned him to evaluate the structure of the walls and supports. What Maderas had thought of as a time waster to occupy Curry morphed into a vital part of the rebuilding. Heyes hit his thumb a few times but spent more work directing the men than working with a hammer.
The first day was spent dragging out damaged or worthless wood thatCurry identified. The basement supports were strong and well grounded. The floor was undamaged. Ruth Ellen and Pamela Jean showed up in men’s pants with their hair covered by bandanas. Without being asked, they proceeded to clean the basement walls and floors.
Stopping their work, the partners watched the ladies clean. When they looked up, feeling the eyes on them, Heyes smiled. “Ain’t never thought men’s pants looked so pretty before.”
“Honey, this was our house as well as our workplace. We been waiting for this day.” Ruth Ellen winked at the men. “Maybe after dinner you and I can spend some time together.”
Liking what he saw, Heyes took a deep breath and tugged Curry’s arms. “Come on, Kid, let’s get upstairs and start working on this ceiling.” Turning to the ladies as he pushed a protesting Curry up the stairs, he added, “Ladies, we gave our word to Marshal Maderas that we would abstain from spending time with any of Daisy’s er girls.”
“Too bad,” Pamela Jean added. “I already claimed that one with the trustworthy face and blue, blue eyes.”
ASJ—--ASJ—--ASJ
“Heyes, I don’t know which is harder, building a whorehouse or workin’ around all these women and havin’ promised we wouldn’t touch them.” On his knees, hammering the floor onto a subfloor, Curry sat back stretching his back.
Heyes, working beside him, did the same. “I like the way Daisy does things. We both know a lot of bar owners that leave wide spaces between the boards and keep the money that falls through. He has a subfloor here and boards tight to each other. Nobody’s gonna lose the coins they drop.”
Taking a moment, Heyes looked at the work his cousin had done on the floor. “Kid, you started on this floor before I did, right?”
“Right. You and Daisy were studyin’ those plans again. You’ve spent so much time lookin’ and talkin’ about those designs, you should have them memorized.”
“Just trying to make sure all the details are included. How come if you started half an hour before I did, I have more boards nailed down?”
Looking like he had been insulted, Curry growled, “Like you told Maderas, I hit my thumb more often than the nail. See this can?” He shook an empty peach can nearby. “It’s nearly full of bent nails. I ain’t been hittin’ my thumb but I have been bendin’ a lot of nails.”
“Kid, how about I finish the floor? You help Daisy identify wood to make the staircase?”
“You tryin’ to get rid of me?”
“Well, we don’t have an unlimited supply of nails.”
ASJ—--ASJ—--ASJ
Curry, Heyes, and Maderas moved into the basement of the Daisy Social Club as soon as the floor above, which was their ceiling, was finished.
“Heyes, what is it you and Daisy find to talk so much about when lookin’ at those plans? They seemed straightforward to me.”
In the dark of the basement, Curry felt that Heyes was smiling. “It’s like a puzzle. We’re trying to include some hidden hallways and a bell system so the ladies can call for help if they need it.”
A loud silence fell over them until Heyes continued, “Daisy is a very clever man, but he tires easily. Miss Lora Anne said he always took care of his ladies very well and now it was their turn to take care of him.”
“When Preacher and I first met him, he was stout and healthy. He still has a warm smile, but he also had a warm hearty laugh that made everyone around him laugh. I don’t hear him laugh much anymore.” Laying on his back, he folded his hands behind his head. “Heyes, it does feel good to be helpin’ out.”
“I know Daisy ain’t letting you near a hammer and nails much. What have you been doing all week?”
“Well, those ladies need someone to help them move their furniture and things to their new rooms. They seem very happy for the help.”
“Remember Maderas said...”
“I know. I look but don’t touch. Anyway goin’ to finish paintin’ the outside tomorrow. A bright yellow paint came in yesterday. Miss Pamela Jean said it was called sunflower. After that we should be about done, right?”
Maderas stirred from his sleep. “Don’t you two ever sleep? And yes, we leave the day after tomorrow. That’ll be your fourteenth day here.”
“Another penance? Where are we going?” asked Heyes as he hoped that Maderas would be so tired he would tell them what was next. Otherwise, he knew sleep would not come to him until he knew.
“Be a shame to leave these lovely ladies,” Curry yawned as he spoke.
“GO to sleep. All I’ll tell you is you are going back to your roots.”
ASJ—--ASJ—--ASJ
Two long days later, Daisy’s Social Club held their grand reopening. The city of Daisy was small, but the draw and reputation of the social club reached throughout the county and all the way into Colorado. Curry helped the liveryman with the early guest’s horses. Heyes held court at a poker table.
When the horses were settled, Curry stood out in the street and admired the pleasant, welcoming, two-story building he had helped rebuild. Crossing his arms across his body, he felt pride in their work and the ladies that he saw through the door he helped build brought a big smile to his face.
Curry jumped as someone patted him on the back. He heard Maderas saying, “Job well done, Curry. Unorthodox job, but well done. Let’s go find your partner and have a beer before we head out of here.”
“Just watching the ladies,” answered Curry, eyes fixed on the porch where the ladies had gathered to welcome their guests.
“Curry?”
“That Miss Pamela Jean, her hair smells like sunshine and she’s partial to blue eyes..” He smiled at the gathering on the porch. “Miss Lora Anne, she's partial to frilly underwear and curly hair brings out that beautiful smile of hers.”
“Curry, how do you know…” Maderas started,
Interrupting him, Curry nodded his head as a buxom sandy blonde waved at him. “And Miss Ruth Ellen there likes red and plays the flute so well the birds listen to her. She also has a sweet spot for a man with a gun.”
“If I find out that you have broken your word and been with any of those woman…”
Again Curry cut him off with a teasing smile in his eyes and on his face. “Oh, I was tempted, Maderas, badly tempted but not enough to put amnesty in jeopardy. I helped each of those beautiful ladies move their things into their new rooms. A kiss on my cheek was the most I accepted in payment.”
Relieved, Maderas shook his head and with a rare smile, he repeated his offer. “Now let’s get that beer and your partner and get on the road.”
“To Kansas?” Curry asked. When he got a quizzical look in response, he added, “You said we were going back to our roots.”
“Did I? I must have been very tired. No, not Kansas. Banking.”
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