Ralph Compton - Death Rides a Chestnut Mare

“What’s upstairs?”

“High-stakes poker and faro,” the waitress said. “It’ll cost you a hundred dollars to go up there, but you get a hundred dollars’ worth of credit at the poker or faro tables.”

While Danielle didn’t care for poker, she had played faro—or “twenty-one”—with her father and brothers many times, and she understood the game. She still had more than $3,300, and feeling bold, she took five double eagles from her Levi’s pocket and exchanged them for chips.

“First door on the left, at the head of the stairs,” the waitress said.

Danielle climbed the stairs, opened the door, and got the shock of her life. All over the huge gambling hall there were young women who wore nothing except a short jacket that covered the arms and shoulders and red slippers on their feet. Danielle had no interest in naked women and was about to leave, when she recalled she had paid a hundred dollars to come to the second floor. Obviously, the girls were there to take a man’s mind off how much he had lost or was likely to lose. Danielle took her handful of five-dollar chips to one of the faro tables.

“Minimum bet five dollars,” said the dealer.

Danielle lost five times in a row, and then she started winning. One of the naked girls was at her side, urging her to visit the bar, but Danielle wouldn’t be distracted. Not until she had won more than three hundred dollars did she leave the table. There were some vain attempts to lure her to the poker tables, where the saloon might recover some of its money, but Danielle wasn’t tempted. With a last look at the naked women, she stepped out into the hall, closing the door behind her. Reaching the street, she walked for an hour before returning to the hotel. She secretly hoped Sellers and Burris were as broke as they had implied, so that Burris wouldn’t be hung over and sick when it was time to visit the Pinkerton office.

Danielle was awake at first light. She was sitting on the bed, tugging on her boots, when there was a knock on her door.

“Who’s there?” she inquired.

“Sellers and Burris,” said a voice.

Danielle got up, unlocked the door, and let them in.

“We got in a poker game and, between us, won more’n five hundred dollars,” Jesse Burris said.

“That’s risky when you can’t afford to lose,” said Danielle.

“Hell, we know that,” Sellers said, “but we had so little, it didn’t make much difference between that and stone broke. Let’s get breakfast. We’re buying.”

After eating, they returned to the hotel, where they paid for another night.

“You want to go with us to the Pinkerton office?” Jesse Burris asked.

“I reckon not,” said Danielle. “You’ll likely be more successful if they don’t think you have a gang of bounty hunters. I’ll be here when you return.”

Danielle waited for almost four hours before the young bounty hunters returned.

“We got a list of thirty men with prices on their heads,” Jesse Burris said. “Look at it and see if any of the names sound familiar.”

Eagerly, Danielle took the list, reading it twice.

“Well,” said Herb, “have you found any of ’em?”

“Just two,” Danielle said. “Rufe Gaddis and Julius Byler.”

“Since you already knew their names, and the same names are on the Pinkerton list, it sounds like they’re using their real names,” said Jesse Burris.

“It does seem that way,” Danielle said. “I just wonder if some of the others on this list are the men I want, using different names.”

“One thing I learned from the Pinkertons might be helpful to you,” Jesse Burris said. “In southern New Mexico, southern Arizona, and other territories where there’s a lot of silver and gold mining going on, there’s plenty of outlaws.”

“I’m surprised the Pinkertons would tell you that,” said Danielle. “Seems to me they’d be anxious to cover that territory themselves.”

“They’ve tried,” Burris said. “Three Pinkerton men were sent there almost six months ago, and they haven’t been heard from. They’re presumed dead.”

“Damn,” said Danielle, “I can’t believe the Pinkertons would take that without fighting back. I thought they were tougher than that.”

“They’re plenty tough and dedicated,” Burris said, “but they bleed just like anybody else when they’re bushwhacked or shot in the back.”

Danielle sighed. “I don’t know where to start.”

“Neither do we,” said Herb Sellers. “Now that we got a stake, we’re gonna stay here one more night and try our luck at the poker tables.”

“Don’t risk all you have,” Danielle cautioned. “These outlaws may be scattered from here to yonder, and it may take some time to collect a bounty.”

“That’s good advice,” said Jesse Burris. “I think we’ll do well to take it.”

“I think so, too,” Herb Sellers said. “You’ve been a lot of help to us, Dan. In a way, I reckon we’re all in the same business. If you ever get your tail caught in a crack, be sure we’ll side you till hell freezes.”

“I’m obliged,” said Danielle. “If I’m there, and you need me and my gun, you got it.”

Danielle had supper with Sellers and Burris. Afterward, the pair set out for the saloons and poker tables. Danielle, still two hundred dollars ahead after the previous night at the Pretty Girl Saloon, decided to return there. It seemed immoral to her, naked women wandering among the tables, fetching drinks. More and more, however, Danielle was becoming accustomed to this man’s world. The naked girls drew men like flies drawn to a honey jug. She wondered how a man kept his mind on the game, with a naked female to distract him. Suppose they discovered she wasn’t a man? Would she be asked to leave?

Reaching the saloon, Danielle paid her hundred dollars, received her credit in chips, and made her way up the stairs. She opened the door into the gambling hall, and immediately a pair of the naked women were there to greet her.

“I remember you from last night, cowboy,” said one of the women. “You won big.”

“I reckon,” Danielle said. “You just have to keep your mind on the game.”

Danielle headed for a faro table, while the two naked women looked at one another questioningly. It had been their specific duty to watch for the return of this stranger who seemed to have no interest in naked women and kept his mind on the game. The naked pair hurried to the faro table and watched Danielle win the first three hands. She lost one and then won the next two. Occasionally she lost a hand, but won more often than she lost. So engrossed was she in the game, she failed to see the man with a tied-down revolver quietly leave the hall. Danielle decided it was time to back off after she had won four hundred dollars.

“You’re on a roll, cowboy,” one of the girls said. “Don’t be in a hurry.”

“Thanks,” Danielle said, “but it’s past my bedtime.” She had taken seven hundred dollars of the saloon’s money in two days, and she fully understood the hard looks she had received from the dealers as she prepared to leave. She had ignored the naked women, defied the odds, and she had won. Now she had only to cross the street to her hotel. She felt like her luck had run out at the Pretty Girl Saloon. Her feeling was confirmed when, from the darkness between the hotel and the building adjoining it, there came a blaze of gunfire. The first slug ripped through Danielle’s left arm between wrist and elbow, but it didn’t affect her aim. Lightning quick, she drew her Colt and fired twice. Once to the left and then once to the right of the muzzle flash. Three men—one of them the desk clerk—rushed out of the hotel.

“What’s going on out here?” the desk clerk demanded.