The Heart of Bisbee, Chapter 2

A serialized lesbian western. Chapter 2: Jay

If you read my first chapter previously, you may recall that this was originally supposed to be a co-written story with me writing Cassidy’s chapters and my partner, Charlie, writing Jay’s. Alas, grad school has gotten the better of Charlie, so I will be continuing the project solo.

You can read Chapter 1 here:

Chapter 1

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Chapter 2: Jay

Cowboys in the saddle, Montana. From Library of Congress

I sat atop my horse and his flank twitched underneath my legs in the leather saddle. Heat baked my shoulders as I surveyed the town before me. It was a bit gangly and dusty but a smooth road ran through the heart of it and signs of prosperity abounded. Bisbee had boomed mightily since the mining companies hit paydirt years ago. Seemingly overnight it had gone from a small settlement in the mountains to one of the largest towns in the region. In the heat of the day though, not many people were out and about. I was appreciative, it’s good to draw less notice from passersby in a job like mine.

I was here to find a man; a criminal to be precise. “Lucky” Russ James, whose luck was bound to run out with my arrival in town. Lucky Russ had become rather well known these days for his work in the robbery business. Seems he had some expertise with dynamite and there ain’t too many safes that are dynamite proof.

The gang he was workin’ with started small, robbing wealthy travelers. But they’d worked up to banks in some of the towns around here. Lucky Russ helped them get what they were looking for, and his last job involved blowing up a safe on a train.

It didn’t go quite to plan, because the dynamite Lucky used caught a Pinkerton in the blast and killed him dead. The Pinkertons surely don’t like when one of their own agents gets killed. After that, the reward for Lucky Russ increased tenfold. The money I’d get from catching Lucky Russ… It could change everything. I managed to get a lead on Russ’s hometown from a gal I knew who was “familiar” with the sheriff himself.

A scared fox often returns to his den. That’s my theory anyway.

I wiped the sweat off of my forehead with my sleeve and spurred my horse, Bud, on and he plodded into town slowly. We were baking from the heat radiating off of the road, but neither of us could muster the energy for more than a walk. Sweat ran back down my temple and I scanned the streets for an inn. I was hankering for a drink. Not to mention, an inn was often the best place to get some information.

Just ahead of us, I saw the Tombstone Canyon Inn. I swung my leg over my saddle, shimmying down Bud’s side. I walked him over, and threw a penny towards the kid working out front. He nabbed it out of the air and hurried to grab the reins.

“Thanks kid.” I said.

The Inn at Castle Rock in Bisbee, AZ is located below Castle rock, in the bend of the road. Undated

I pushed open the doors to the inn. It was dark compared to the bald sun of the outdoors, and the relief of the shade washed over me even if it was still hotter than Hades inside.

I ordered a beer and some food, plain bread and dried beef. The inn was as blessedly empty as the street outside. Lucky.

The gal behind the counter brought me my food and I stopped her-

“I’m lookin’ for a man hereabouts. Who could I talk to that knows the people in this town?”

“Well that depends what yer askin’ about, sir.” I didn’t correct her. I knew what I looked like with my cropped blonde hair and men’s trousers. I didn’t hide per se, but most made assumptions and I found it best not to correct them. Safer. Not common for a woman to look like me, less common even to be in my line of work.

I slid another coin across the bar to her.

“I’m just lookin’ for a runaway husband.” I lied. “His poor wife is stuck at home, ready to pop any day now and we’re trying to find out what town he’s hiding away in. She’s awful anxious to see him home.”

“Men are dogs.” she huffed, “No offense of course.”

“None taken.” I smiled and sipped my beer.

“Well, if you’re wanting to find someone in town who knows just about everyone, I would talk to our librarian, Cassidy. I’d usually suggest the sheriff, but he’s been in Tucson for the last couple o’ days dealing with the robbery they just had there.”

Interesting. Sheriff aside, a local gossip can be the best source of information when you’re looking for someone. Generally, the most popular sources of information will only give you the basics of a situation. A gossip knows everything, not just the biggest puzzle pieces, but the intricacies of the town dynamic too. This Cassidy could be the key to finding what I needed to get Lucky Russ and get out.

I thanked the woman and put two bits on the counter. When I pushed my chair back, it squealed loudly on the floor and I gave her a sheepish grin.

“Thank you for your help, ma’am. I do appreciate it.”

I tipped my hat to her and strolled back out to the sunny street. It was still hotter than all get out, but I felt rejuvenated and encouraged from my conversation. I didn’t know where Lucky Russ was, but I had a lead on some local information.

The library was just around the bend so I left Bud to catch up on his beauty rest and strolled down the road, my hands in my pockets. I imagined the gal at the library, probably a stuffy indoors type who enjoyed looking down her nose at people and liberally shushing. Although, if she was a gossip, she was probably more likely to be bending people’s ears, whispering. Engaging in that sort of light schemery that so many seemed interested in.

I pushed open the door to the library. As I did a dirty lookin’ kid shot past my legs with a book tucked under his arm. He was halfway down the street before I could even think about getting my bearings.

“Ollie Buchanan, you get back here right this minute!” I looked up just in time to leap out of the way of a very fierce looking woman barreling towards the door.

She stopped at the doorway and shaded her hands over her face, watching the youngster disappear around the bend.

“Damnation, that was my last copy of ‘Robinson Crusoe.’”

I was struck silent. This woman was terrifying. Her reddish brown hair, although it was tucked in a bun, had escaped into unruly tendrils around her face. Her eyes were dark and stern, and her mouth was seemingly stuck in a frown.

I thought she was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen.

She turned to me, shifting her face completely in a way I was all too familiar with. Suddenly, she looked very young and welcoming.

“How can I help you?” she asked, her eyes looked me up and down, appraising.

“Well ma’am. I heard you’re the woman to talk to about the who’s who in town.”

“Hmm.” The response gave nothing. “Well, perhaps we better sit.”

She moved through the small building towards an immaculate desk in the corner. She sat at her domain and smiled politely.

“I apologize for the scene at the door. Ollie seems intent on stealing my best books. I never do get them back.” Her look turned frank, “I must ask again, though, how may I help you.”

I gave her my whole spiel about the missing husband I was looking for, I invented a couple of new details about this fictional wife whose cousin I was, apparently. No matter how I got on in my story, she looked on impassively. Eventually, she stopped me.

“And who is this mystery man?” she asked. It was apparent she was done with my story.

“Ah, he’s a local fellow I believe. A Russell James.”

As soon as the words left my mouth I knew they were a mistake. Her whole body immediately seemed to shutter and her steely eyed stare was back.

“I don’t believe I know him.” she said, her words clipped.

“Ah, I’m sorry to have caused you trouble ma’am. It’s just that his wife…”

A patron walked in to the library and Cassidy immediately turned her attention away from me. Well, shit. I thought.

She smiled brightly, her face doing that thing again where it seemed to change into something entirely new.

“Mrs. Reeves, it is so nice to see you! How did you like that last novel?”

Dismissed, I got up and turned towards the door. I knew a dead end when I saw one. I’d obviously need to be more careful about Lucky Russ’s name going forward.

“Thanks for your help ma’am!” I called, and tipped my hat to her. She did not spare me a glance, so lost she was in her new conversation. I wasn’t sure what I’d done to get that other version of the librarian, but the way she carried herself struck something in me.

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You can read Chapter 3 here:

Chapter 3