"Well, let me help you down from there." I handed off the reins and he tossed them over the hitching post at the other side of the wagon. He reached his hand up to me to help me step down. As he did, he spit tobacco into the dust of the road.
"Let her alone, Jeb."
I looked up to see a tall, rugged, handsome man under a black cowboy hat walking toward me.
"It's nunya business, O'Boyle. Just go find somethin' else to do."
The man he called O'Boyle brushed the first man aside, and stepped right up on my buckboard. He picked up my bag off the seat next to me, jumped to the ground with it and offered me his shoulder. I was pleased to oblige him, placing my hand on his shoulder to support my weight as I stepped off the wagon.
"Jeb, is it?" I said to the man with the cigar hanging out of his mouth.
"Yep."
"Jeb, I don't need your help now that Mr. O'Boyle is here."
"Ouch, Jeb. Guess she told you!"
These two, both acting like the cock of the walk.
"Really, I've been getting in and out of buckboards my whole life. I don't need either one of you to be acting like I'm some genteel, southern lady."
"Told you too, O'Boyle!"
I reached up and pulled my rifle out of the rack to let them know that I was not anyone's weak female. "I'm sure I'm not gonna need this around town, am I?"
"You shouldn't. There's a few outlaws that been comin' into town lately, we're all mostly nice here. As long as you stick with the locals, you'll be fine." Jeb tossed his cigar butt into the dirt and stomped on it with his left boot heel.
"But we got a new sheriff coming to town in the next day or so. So, you needn't worry 'bout the outlaws, anyhow. He'll be takin' care of 'em then. In the meantime, I'm known for protectin' the ladies." O'Boyle smiled as if he was naming himself my body guard. "Especially from Jeb over there."
I swung my rifle up over my shoulder and looked at O'Boyle. "Where can I find the Judge?"
"Well, he's in the saloon. But you can't go in there."
"I've been going places where I shouldn't since I was 11. I'll see you boys around."
I walked toward the saloon, my six-gun at my side under my leather jacket and the rifle in plain view. it's just as well neither of them saw my pistol.
"Feisty little filly, ain't she?" I heard O'Boyle remark to Jeb as I walked away. I'm sure he didn't think I heard him.
"You have no idea," I called back to both of them over my shoulder, never breaking my stride.
Chapter 3
I stepped up to the swinging doors of the saloon and looked in. One man tapped the man next to him on the shoulder and pointed in my direction. They both looked at me with interest. One sent something flying into the nearby spittoon as the other took a long swig of beer. A lady in a big hooped skirt and lacy blouse hurried toward the door, smiling broadly as she approached.
"What can I do for ya, honey?" She cooed. "We ain't lookin' for any new dancing girls, although I can see you could sure help me sell more beers here." She looked me up and down as if she was figuring out if she had any dresses that would fit me.
"I am not a dancin' girl – or whatever you and your girls actually do here."
The painted lady sneered at me. "Well, we don't really allow no female customers here, so you just move along there, honey."
"I'm lookin' for Judge Adams."
"He's busy. You can see him tomorrow over at the courthouse. He'll be there first thing in the mornin'." She turned on her heels and spun away from me.
"Hey. You're just a little bit rude. You know that? You got a name?"
"Name's Ruthie, and we don't need no outsiders comin' in here givin' lessons on how to behave. Be on your way, Missy."
"You tell the Judge that Jake is in town. I’ll be getting a room over at the hotel and look forward to seein' him."
Ruthie didn't even turn around. I decided I would respect their 'no females' policy for the time being. So, I turned around and walked back to my buckboard, picked up my bag that was in the road next to it, patted my horse on the rump as I passed him and headed over to the hotel.
Chapter 4
I walked into the hotel and the desk clerk gave me a bit of a 'side-eye.'
"What can I do for ya, miss?"
"I need a room… and bath privileges." I put my bag on the floor next to me and waited for the clerk to pull the book from under the counter.
The clerk put the registration book in front of me and handed me a stub of a pencil. "Just sign here. How long will you be needin' a room?"
"I'll need the room for about a week. I'll be lookin' for a long-term place to stay in town. Is there a boarding house nearby?" I took the pencil and wrote "Jake Kingsley" on the line he had pointed out.
"There's a boarding house down at the end of the road here. Just step out and look to the right, you'll see it. Old Lady Jamison runs a pretty tight ship over there, so you'll need to mind yer p's and q's over there. No rowdy folks in her place. But it's clean, not as clean as my place, but clean enough." He took the register, looked at it and back at me. "Jake? Jake ain't no girl's name."
"Well, I ain't your regular 'girl' anyhow." I held out my hand, "I assume there's keys to your rooms?"
The old man stammered, "Sure, of course there's keys." He reached in a cubby behind him and handed me a key, "Room
