Ralph Compton - Death Rides a Chestnut Mare

Danielle went out, thankful the Carlyles had a large house. What would she have done had Mrs. Carlyle suggested Danielle share a room with Tuck? She sat down on the porch steps as the last rosy glow of the western sun gave way to purple twilight. To her total surprise, Carrie Carlyle came out and sat down beside Danielle. Uncomfortably close.

“May I sit with you?” Carrie asked.

“It’s all right with me,” said Danielle.

“What will you do when you’ve tracked down the men who murdered your pa?” Carrie asked.

“I haven’t thought much about it,” said Danielle. “It may take me a lifetime.”

“Then you’d never have a home, wife, or family,” Carrie said.

“I reckon not,” replied Danielle. “Is that what you want, a place of your own?”

Danielle could have kicked herself for asking such a perfectly ridiculous question.

“I want a place of my own, and a man,” Carrie said, moving even closer. “That’s why I was thinking . . . hoping . . . you might come back here. I’ve never been with a man before, and I’d like you to . . . to. . . .” Her voice trailed off.

“Carrie,” said Danielle uncomfortably, “you’re still young. I’ll have to settle somewhere after this search is done. I can’t say I won’t come back here, but I can’t make any promise either.”

“I hope you do,” Carrie said. “There’s nobody around here my age except Dumont’s son, Barney, Baldwin’s sons, Abram and Clement, Chadman’s son, Eric, and the sons of old Wallace Flagg, Floyd and Edward.”

Danielle laughed. “Hell, Carrie, there’s six of them. Can’t you be comfortable with at least one?”

“Damn it, you don’t understand,” said Carrie. “They’ve all been looking at me, but all they want is to get me in the hayloft with my clothes off. You’re not like that, are you?”

“No,” Danielle said, more uncomfortable than ever. “I’ve sworn to find Pa’s killers, and that comes ahead of any plans of my own. Until you find a man who appeals to you, stay out of the hayloft.”

“I’ve found one, and he doesn’t want me,” said Carrie miserably.

It was well past time to put an end to the conversation, and Danielle did so.

“With Tuck and me getting an early start, I’d better get some sleep.”

Tuck and Danielle were ready to start at first light. Along the way, they rattled past the Wallace place, waving their hats. Traveling due south, they stopped only to rest the mules. They saw nobody else. Reaching a creek just before sundown, they unharnessed the mules, allowing the tired animals to roll.

“I aim to dunk myself in that creek for a few minutes,” Tuck said. “How about you?”

“No,” said Danielle, her heart beating fast. “I’m hungry, and I’ll get supper started.”

She tried her best not to notice Tuck Carlyle as he shucked his boots and clothing, but found it an impossible task. She watched him splash around in the creek, and unfamiliar feelings crept over her, sending chills up her spine. Tuck caught her watching him, and he struck a ridiculous, exaggerated pose. Danielle forced herself to laugh, hoping she was far enough away that he couldn’t see her blush. Never having had experience with a man, she was becoming far too interested in Tucker Carlyle. She tried to rid him from her mind, but there was always that vision of him standing there naked in the creek, laughing at her. She lay awake long after Tuck began snoring, and when she finally slept, he crept into her troubled dreams.

Dallas, Texas. August 10, 1870.

There was no trouble along the trail to Dallas. The only difficulty was Danielle’s newly discovered infatuation with Tuck Carlyle. There were times when she dreamed of donning her female clothing, telling him the truth, and allowing him to have his way with her. But she quickly put all such thoughts from her mind. She must avenge her father before she did anything else. But there was a troublesome possibility that kept raising its ugly head. Suppose—now or later—when Tuck learned she was a woman, he didn’t want her? There was no accounting for male pride. She swore like a man, looked, sounded, and acted like a man, and could draw and shoot like hell wouldn’t have it. She found herself worrying more and more what the consequences might be of her having assumed the role of a man. Just as they were approaching Dallas, Tuck caught her off guard with a question.

“Dan, you want to find a cheap hotel room? Ma gave me the few dollars she had.”

“Save it,” Danielle said. “The weather’s warm, and our camp won’t cost anything. With so much to buy, you may have to add your few dollars to mine.”

“Yeah,” said Tuck, “I keep forgetting just how much we need. Since we have all of the afternoon ahead of us, let’s find a mercantile and get them started on our provisions and ammunition list. Meanwhile, we can track down a gunsmith for the parts we need.”

With the roll of bills she had taken from Levi Jasper, Danielle had well over six hundred dollars, but she had set a limit of three hundred for the trail drive. However it came out, she would still need money to keep herself fed and supplied with ammunition. But there was much to be gained. Unanimously, she had been promised a hundred head of cattle, and if they brought as much as thirty dollars a head, that would be three thousand dollars! They left the wagon at the mercantile with instructions to load the supplies and ammunition as their list specified.

“Dallas is a right smart of a town,” Tuck said. “If we ride, it’ll have to be bareback, on a couple of the mules.”

“Then let’s ride the mules,” said Danielle.

Tuck laughed. “We won’t have to worry about robbers. They’ll figure if we had anything worth stealing, we wouldn’t be riding mules without saddles.”

Eventually they found a gunsmith and, for fifteen dollars, got the springs and various other parts needed to restore all their Colts to working condition. Tuck insisted on paying the gunsmith from the little money his mother had given him.

“You should have let me pay for that,” Danielle said.

“We’ll be lucky if you have enough to pay for all the provisions we’re getting at the mercantile,” said Tuck. “It’s still too soon to return to the mercantile. Let’s go into some of the big saloons and see what they’re like.”

“I don’t drink,” Danielle said.

“Neither do I,” said Tuck, “but I may never get to Dallas again, and I’d like to have a look at some of it.”

They entered a prosperous-looking place called the Four Aces, and it being early in the afternoon, there were few patrons. Five men sat at a table, playing poker. Two women sat on bar stools and eyed the new arrivals with interest.

“Let’s watch the poker game a few minutes,” Tuck said. “Maybe I can sit in for a hand or two. I still have five dollars.”

“Table stakes, dollar limit,” said the house dealer as Tuck and Danielle approached.

“I’ll stand back out of the way and watch,” said Danielle.

She didn’t approve of Tuck taking part in the game, and she was sure Mrs. Carlyle had not given Tuck her last few dollars for such a purpose. But she said nothing. Tuck hooked the rung of a chair with his boot, pulled it out, and sat down. He lost three pots before he started winning. He seemed to have forgotten Danielle as she stood with her back to the wall, watching the game. To her dismay, one of the painted women approached her.

“Hello, cowboy,” drawled the woman. “I’m Viola. While your friend’s at the table, I can show you a good time upstairs. Just twenty-five dollars.”

“No,” Danielle replied. “I’m not interested.”

“So you don’t have twenty-five dollars,” said the whore. “How about fifteen?”