Dance With A Gunfighter Read Free

tonight. Hah! She would know better next time--if there’d
ever be a next time. Her pa and brothers would show up here at the family’s
buckboard eventually, and she could go back to the ranch where she belonged. At
least her pa’s horses wouldn’t laugh at her, even though everyone else seemed
to.
    Absent-mindedly, she reached for the pocket where she
always carried a few oats for the horses at the ranch, but stopped herself when
she felt the thin, cotton material of her dress. When she wore trousers, shirts
and vests like her brothers, she could carry all the things she needed. She
despised this dress and she hated herself for bothering to get gussied up like
one of those town girls with all their lady-like airs. She felt like a
roadrunner sporting eagle feathers.
    Tears stung her eyes, but she wouldn’t let them fall. The
thought of how she had run, crying, from the dance made her mad enough to spit.
She would never demean herself that way again. Never!
    She yanked the yellow ribbon from her hair and threw it on
the ground, then ran her fingers through her short, curly strands, letting them
loose to cap her head the way they usually did. She didn’t care if her hair was
ugly--or if she was ugly. She didn’t care at all.
    She blinked hard. She would not let herself cry any
more. Still, she couldn’t help but remember how time and again Louisa Zilpher’s
mother, among other busy-bodies, had told her pa to make her grow her hair
long, to force her to wear dresses like a "proper" young lady, to
stop swearing like her brothers and to stop running wild like some tomboy. Just
because her mother was dead, the town biddies thought her pa needed their
advice in raising her. They didn’t consider it ladylike for her to doctor
horses either, although they surely hotfooted it to her door for help when all
else failed.
    She had nearly burst with pride, love and gratitude the
day she overheard her pa telling Mrs. Zilpher he would find Gabe proper even if
she were bald and dressed in sackcloth. Battle-ax Zilpher left in a snit.
    Her older brother Henry’s interest in Louisa Zilpher was
nothing less than the worst sort of familial betrayal.
    With a loud sigh, Gabe leaned against the outside wall of
the stable. The scrap of yellow ribbon she had thrown away lay at her feet and
beside it was a cigarette. It looked like someone had rolled it, taken a puff
or two, and then tamped it out before going into the stable.
    Proper ladies never smoked. Mrs. Zilpher turned green at
the mere smell of tobacco. Gabe picked up the cigarette and tore off the
charred tip. Just holding it made her think of Preacher Carson’s warnings about
the road to damnation.
    She should toss it away. Her pa and Henry smoked every
evening after supper. She would clear the table and make coffee, then they’d
all go out and sit on the porch. Her pa would lean back in his rocking chair
and look at the stars while talking to her and her brothers about all kinds of
things, but particularly about the ranch and his plans for building the few
head of cattle they owned into a thriving business. To sit on the porch on warm
evenings, watching brilliant desert sunsets, listening to the security and
promise of her pa’s voice, were the happiest minutes of her day.
    She had always wondered, though, watching her pa and older
brother’s obvious pleasure, how a cigarette would taste. Louisa Zilpher didn’t
know and never would. The same for Molly Pritchard. Maybe not even Johnny
Anderson....
    Just the thought of him made her heart ache once more.
    Inside the door of the stable a tin match holder hung on
the wall. She plucked out one of the matches and hurried clear of the building.
Shoving her skirt to one side, she balanced on one foot and struck the match
against the bottom of her shoe, nearly toppling over as she did.
    The match burst into flame. Holding the cigarette to her
lips, she slowly brought the match closer. As it touched the tip, she sucked on
the cigarette as