Cowboy from Hell

Chapter 1-2

The next day, Storm walked into the saloon with the thought of getting drunk on his mind. “Give me a whiskey, Clem,” he called out to the barkeep.

Just then a cowboy walked up and pushed his hat back on his head as he leaned against the bar alongside Storm. “Well, what’d ya know? A hot wind just blew in from hell. What the hell are you doin’ here, Storm? Ain’t you supposed to be out scarin’ small children or somethin’?”

“Shut up, Slim. I just came into town to get some things I need.”

“Does that include a gut full of whiskey?”

“It includes a woman,” Storm said irritably.

“A woman? What’s the matter? Got a little itch?”

“Not that kind of itch,” Storm said as he looked at the cowboy with a question in his eyes. “Hey, Slim…you and me, we’re about the same age, ain’t we?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

“So, how come you ain’t got a woman by now?”

“You mean married?”

Storm gave a slight shrug. “I guess.”

“I don’t know. I guess I just ain’t found the right one yet.”

“The right woman?”

“No, the right horse.”

“Slim…”

“All right. I just mean that every man has a woman that’s just right for him.”

“I don’t,” Storm said, looking down into his glass. “They don’t take to me.”

“Sure they do, it’s just that they’re afraid of you.”

“Why? I ain’t gonna hurt any of ‘em.”

Slim looked down at his clothes. “Storm, how come you wear black all the time? Hell, you look like a fuckin’ gunslinger.”

“I don’t have many clothes, and you can’t see the dirt on black like you can on other colors. I live in a cave, so who cares anyway?”

“That’s another thing. Get outta that damned cave and get yourself a decent place to live and a decent set of clothes. While you’re at it, you might tame that hair of yours. If you did, hell, you’d have to fight the women off. Now they’re probably afraid of you.”

He looked at Slim’s sturdy body. “You ain’t no wimp, Slim. Why ain’t they afraid of you?”

“Because I like women. It’s as simple as that.”

Storm had his answer. Since he didn’t like women, he had no chance of getting a wife. With a craw full of anger, he looked over at Slim and said, “Ever f**k a cowboy? If you did, you’d never touch another woman.” While Slim looked at him with surprise in his eyes, Storm put his glass down, turned to go, and said, “You think about it.”

After Storm stomped out of the saloon, he turned and headed over to the newspaper office. As soon as he walked in, he grabbed a paper and began flipping through it.

“Hey, what the hell are you doin’?”

“I’m lookin’ for the mail-order brides.”

The clerk smiled. “You gonna get hitched, Storm?”

“Shut up, and tell me how to find one.”

“First of all, you can’t get married until you have a place to bring a wife to.”

“I got a place.”

“What? Thunderbolt Mountain? Storm, you ain’t gonna get a woman to live out there. You may be used to livin’ in the wild, but they ain’t no woman alive who’s gonna live there with you. They have to have pretty things. You know, silk, satin, lace, and things like that. They like to drink tea instead of coffee, and they eat them stupid finger sandwiches. Besides, it takes money, and you ain’t got any.”

“I got a little money the Benedicts left me.”

“Ain’t you got all that spent by now?”

“Not all of it.”

“Okay,” he said and shoved a few thin sheets toward him. “This catalogue here’s all I got.”

“This? Three fuckin’ pages? Catalogue, my ass. That ain’t even big enough for a dog to piss on.”

“It’s all they sent this month. Take it or leave it.”

Storm looked down at the small catalogue entitled Sweethearts of the West and began looking through it. “Where are these women from?”

“Most are from the east. Boston, I think.”

“Then why do they call ‘em Sweethearts of the West?”

“How do I know? I just get ‘em and put ‘em out on the counter.”

“Real smart, Clancy,” Storm said as he turned to leave.

“Hey, that’ll cost you fifteen cents.”

Storm stopped and turned around. “Fifteen cents? For this little old thing? I can get a damned beer for a dime.”

“Fine, get yourself a beer, but if you want that catalogue, it’ll cost you fifteen cents.”

“It’s robbery, pure and simple!” Storm said as he began digging in the pockets of his pants.

“You think that costs a lot, try buyin’ a subscription to the paper. I charge five dollars for a year.”

“Who’s fool enough to spend that kind of money on nothin’ but paper?”

“Some people like to know what’s goin’ on in the world.”

“Robber,” Storm mumbled as he slapped a couple of coins down on the counter and walked out.

As soon as Storm got back out on the street, he saw the general store and thought about what Slim said about his black clothes. He looked down at himself, and then over at the general store across the street. He stepped off the boardwalk and was crossing the street when he saw a woman who was walking toward him. When she saw him, she turned to go another way. Storm stopped his stride and watched her hurry away from him. “What are you afraid of?” he finally called out. When she didn’t answer him, he mumbled, “Rotten stinkin’ females. You’d think I had two heads or somethin’.”

He stood watching her as she rushed away, and then looked up at the sign that said General Store, even more determined to change his appearance. Hurrying in, he felt like the i***t the town fathers were calling him when he began to pick out some clothes. He didn’t trust his own taste, so he asked the store clerk to help him. By the time he left the general store, his black outfit had been left behind, and he had on a new outfit. A little stiff, but okay. Just then, a woman was walking toward him, coming from the opposite direction. He expected her to cross over to the other side, but instead, she smiled and watched him as he passed her. Once he had passed her, he looked back, and she was looking at him. His eyes widened when he saw her wink. It reminded him of something Slim had said.

If you did, hell, you’d have to fight the women off.

* * * *

Feeling a little better about getting himself a wife, when he got back to Thunderbolt, he sat down at a crude table and opened the pages and looked at each of the pictures in it. Some were so ugly he thought they’d make a good scarecrow for his garden, but there were others that weren’t so bad. He finally saw one that was pretty enough, but she looked scared, kind of stiff, and solemn. It had him wondering what she would look like if she smiled. Others were okay, but for some reason, he kept coming back to the one who looked scared. He noticed that she lived in the east and had graduated from the East Coast Conservatory for Genteel Women. She could cook. She liked children, and could crochet, sew, and play a lute.

Storm frowned, and mumbled, “What the hell is a lute?”

She sounded like one of them snobbish women who would slap your wrist with a wooden spoon if you slurped your soup. He knew he would have to hide certain facts about himself to get her here, but she would eventually find out. He thought about being honest with her from the start, but he couldn’t make himself do it. He would have to tell her on their wedding night. She would yell and scream at him and call him names, but he would have to sit back and take it like a man. After all, he’d have it coming. He finally sighed, thinking there must be a better way.