A Western-Horror.  Untitled.

Part 1:

Getting off the train the first thing Ash noted was how bright everything was.  He was unsure if this was to do with being in the desert, being drunk or a combination of both.  The train ride was a miserable affair of rickety tracks and bad company.  People he would never associate with had been jammed up with him almost shoulder to shoulder.  It wouldn't have been so bad if he didn't have to smell them.  So when he was offered a drink - he took it.  That was back in Kentucky and he didn't stop drinking until just a few minutes ago when the train stopped moving and his last bottle ran dry.  Ash slurred out a question of how long the train was going to be stopped when a conductor passed by.  He was told at least 30 minutes or so… maybe longer.  Ash stepped off the train and stumbled in the general direction the street was heading.  There was a store off in the distance or so it seemed… there was a sign hanging but he couldn't tell because he had to squint so hard due to the somehow overly bright sunlight in this place.

Bethany was in a foul mood.  She had been baking sweet-rolls all morning trying to perfect a recipe her late mother once told her.  The rolls never turned out very well.  That would normally be more than enough to cause her some temper, but today she had another reason.  She had been trying to charm a certain young man in town and it seemed everything was going her way until just a few minutes ago when she looked out the window to see Richard strolling arm in arm with Sara, the town slut and nothing less than a complete bitch.  Sara was wearing her blue "Look at my bosoms!" dress and Richard was looking.   She turned back to the rolls with anger burning.  This is when she noted a bee hovering over the sticky rolls about ready to touch down.  Well, Bethany may not have such an ample chest as Sara, but she had a better swing.  She snapped up a skillet and went after the bee with a fury.  With a ferocious swing the skillet whistled through the air only to have the bee move in on her.

The bee was having a great day going about its' bee-business and was lucky to find warm and tasty smelling rolls.  It was about to sit down for a snack when all of the sudden the lady of the house attacked him with a giant club!  The bee thought such rude treatment deserved an answer and went to give it. 

Ash was disappointed when he found the sign to belong to the Post Office.  How stupid to put the post office near the train station when they needed to have a tavern there!  Ash was fully intent to acquire a new bottle of rum or three and return to the train to get back to being drunk.  He was heading to San Francisco and was determined to avoid being sober for even a moment on this trip if he could avoid it.  Being drunk seemed to make the trip more tolerable.  Just down the street a little further he could see the tell tale signs of what he was after… a tavern.  Just past this little miserable hovel of a house.

Bethany was whirling and twisting like a tempest trying to avoid a sting and at the same time deliver a death blow to this contemptible bee.  She needed some more elbow room for a better wind up so she backed out of the door.  When the bee was hovering right in front of her she let swing the best back-hand she could muster.  The little bee was finally struck and sent sailing backwards into the wall where it bounced off and onto the ground to lay still and silent.  She was just about to let go a victory grin when something else happened.  Her follow through was interrupted by the sound similar to that of a church bell, followed by the sound of a large bag of potatoes being dropped to the ground.

Mack had been the town Marshal for almost seven years.  He knew everyone in town like it was just one big messed up family.  So when a young lad almost busted down his door it was no surprise when he heard "Marshal!  You’d better come quick! Bethany went and killed a fella!"  A little while ago he had noticed Sara wearing her blue dress walking down the street with Richard drooling all over her.  They would have passed by Bethany's house who, by the smell, had been burning her momma's sweet-rolls all morning.   Mack picked himself up out of his chair, put down his hand of cards and said to Cliff his friend and partner "Cliff, you better go muster up Doc Willow… he is probably down my the stream pretending to be fishing."  Cliff pulled himself up to his lean six foot seven height said "Yep" and ducked out the back door to go wake up Doc Willow who every day would go put a stick in the water and then lay back for a nap under the shade of his favorite willow tree.  Doc's name was Williams, but after a few years of napping every day under that tree, a new name sort of developed.  He was a great medicine man, schooled in London and New York.  He could tell you if you had a cold coming on from across the street.  He was just very predicable when the weather was warm.  Cliff had known Mack for over twenty years.  They were good buddies and worked together on everything even before Mack some how got saddled with the job of Marshal.  Mack was a good fellow, but could sometimes run his mouth and get himself in trouble… like this Marshal job. 

Mack was never afraid of anyone nor was he surprised at anything.  As he was making strides to the Bethany house he took in the commotion.  There was a gaggle of onlookers already trying to get a look at the fellow Bethany had killed.  This was when he was almost surprised.  As he approached the gaggle he noticed two things: Sara's breasts and Richard who was still drooling on them pretending to be interested in the day's newest event.   If Bethany didn't kill Richard, then whose boots were sticking out of the throng of Good Samaritans and Gossips?  

Ash felt the most exquisite pain he had felt in a long time.  Not only did he have a ringing headache, but he also had the sensation that his face was on fire; that and the trickle of blood running from his nose… some going down the back of his throat.  This made him cough.  "Well," he heard someone say "He isn't dead yet."  Ash tried to stand up but was hampered by so many people pushing in on him, and the fact that he was dizzy from something hitting him and dizzy from being completely drunk.  The situation was not one he was accustomed to and this upset him.  The last thing he remembered before waking up was this pretty little thing jumping out of the house at him and before he could say "good day" to the little lady, smacking him square in the face with a frying pan.  The people in this town are not the most polite of sorts… "Get away from me you… you people!"  Ash not being one to ever really get drunk before this trip was not the most articulate of drunks… or the most coordinated.  So he ended up falling over again, back on his face, and passed out.   "Nope," someone else said "he's dead now."

Mack pushed his way into the center of the crowd and stood over the again crumpled form of this obviously drunk character.  "Get on with your day 'you people', Beth didn't kill anyone…go on now… day aint over yet and she has more pans!"  To this everyone chuckled and most of them went on their way knowing Bethany could pitch a fit like hell hath no fury.  She was famous for it.  She had even slugged Ol' Cliff square in the jaw last year when he tried to politely refuse a dance with her at the Christmas party.  Not that Cliff didn't want dance with the girl, it was just that Cliff had never danced before and just didn't know how. So when he said no thank you, she threw a right hook thinking he was putting her off because she wasn't good enough for him.  Bethany was firecracker to the core… a strong and beautiful young lady that grew up the youngest in a house full of boys.  If she wanted to eat anything at the dinner table, she had to fight for it.  These days all the brothers had rode off seeking futures elsewhere in the world and mother had died last winter on New Year's Day.  This left the fury known as Bethany to live alone in the house.  She wasn't mean by nature, in fact, most of the time she was the sweetest little thing ever- pretty enough to light up the room when she walked in.  Just don't get her worked up because this little fire cracker was just waiting for something to light her fuse.  Mack was certain the fuse igniter this time was Richard.  Bethany had been after him since he moved into town.  He was the only young man new enough, or stupid enough to spend much time with her.  Then the other day Sara came back from Denver.  Sara was the town's prodigal daughter.  She was a looker for sure and endowed with a figure to turn even the Preacher's head.  She was well aware of it too.  She used her charms to her advantage.  She never wanted for a new dress or trinket.  She used men without remorse. She was like a predator.  Sara saw easy prey in Richard… hence the walking arm in arm.  This reminded Mack of a Black Widow with a fly caught in a web - poor Richard.

When people had moved off enough he could hear Bethany in the house sobbing "I didn't mean to hit him, honest!"  Mack was thinking "Sure thing, just like you didn't mean to break Cliff's nose either."  But he didn't say that out loud.  Mack was learning an important survival skill was keeping his mouth shut.  Cliff would be proud he bit his tongue… but he had kept his mouth shut this time mainly because he had his back to Bethany who undoubtedly had more lethal instruments in her kitchen than a frying pan.

Mack stooped down and rolled the bleeding figure over at the same time the man was opening his eyes again.   Mack, in a very rare moment, was surprised.   He couldn't tell who the bleeding man was… but evidently the man knew who he was.  "Mack?  Aw shit… the girl sent me to hell."

It was in that moment Cliff loomed over Mack's shoulder.  "I'll be damned… looks like our little Woman Scorned crowned Ash Bradley!"