...both of 'em?
You two have missed each other, is that not why you're here?? And she cares about you. Go ahead, deny it.
Instead she only shook her head, saying nothing, mind a million miles away...
..."This piece of silver here says my friend here can whoop up on a game of billiards."
Her back was to the felted table, one foot cocked on the brass bar that ran the length of the wooden counter. Shooting the drink in her hand down, she turned to face the rest of saloon. The man standing next to her, clad in reconoitering canvases steadily flipped his coin. He easily outsized her two-to-one, emphasizing her tightly laced frame in a sea of ruffles.
"Both of 'em?" a doubtful glace slid over at her companion.
With a wink in her direction, he slapped down the coin on the smooth-worn edge of the table and she sighed, seeing that the two miners thought this was a fancy deal. After chalking up her cue and mapping out the break, their previous assessment changed rapidly.
With a sharp crack on her turn, she began to run the table, ball after ivory-painted ball. The expressions of surefire triumph on her opponents faces quickly turned sour, and a hand came down atop the one ball that she had in her sights.
"Game over, little lady." the bearded man slid her ball into the woven pocket.
Brown eyes rose up to him, followed slowly by her straightening form. "I wouldn't do that if I were you."
"Oh yeah, why not?"
"'Cause my friend here, will kick your asses." she cocked her head at the man who'd made the wager in the first place, to his surprise.
Pushing back his hat he looked at her skeptically, "What, both of 'em?"
This time she winked at him.
Several hours, fractured cue sticks, cracked heads and smashed saloon tables later, their horses were tethered to a cactus out in the deserts of the Nevada Territory. They were laid out head to head at ninety degrees in the dirt, staring up at a sky of scattered diamonds and discussing everything from the evening's activities to what the impact of the locomotive on the western territories would be. Intimate and platonic, all at once.
Slowly her mind ebbed away from the tidepool of the past, with a sort of empty, sinking feeling. Old friend, all the stories to tell... She ached for that kinship once more and couldn't bring herself to look at either of them when she finally answered: "Is it not plain?"
Instead she only shook her head, saying nothing, mind a million miles away...
..."This piece of silver here says my friend here can whoop up on a game of billiards."
Her back was to the felted table, one foot cocked on the brass bar that ran the length of the wooden counter. Shooting the drink in her hand down, she turned to face the rest of saloon. The man standing next to her, clad in reconoitering canvases steadily flipped his coin. He easily outsized her two-to-one, emphasizing her tightly laced frame in a sea of ruffles.
"Both of 'em?" a doubtful glace slid over at her companion.
With a wink in her direction, he slapped down the coin on the smooth-worn edge of the table and she sighed, seeing that the two miners thought this was a fancy deal. After chalking up her cue and mapping out the break, their previous assessment changed rapidly.
With a sharp crack on her turn, she began to run the table, ball after ivory-painted ball. The expressions of surefire triumph on her opponents faces quickly turned sour, and a hand came down atop the one ball that she had in her sights.
"Game over, little lady." the bearded man slid her ball into the woven pocket.
Brown eyes rose up to him, followed slowly by her straightening form. "I wouldn't do that if I were you."
"Oh yeah, why not?"
"'Cause my friend here, will kick your asses." she cocked her head at the man who'd made the wager in the first place, to his surprise.
Pushing back his hat he looked at her skeptically, "What, both of 'em?"
This time she winked at him.
Several hours, fractured cue sticks, cracked heads and smashed saloon tables later, their horses were tethered to a cactus out in the deserts of the Nevada Territory. They were laid out head to head at ninety degrees in the dirt, staring up at a sky of scattered diamonds and discussing everything from the evening's activities to what the impact of the locomotive on the western territories would be. Intimate and platonic, all at once.
Slowly her mind ebbed away from the tidepool of the past, with a sort of empty, sinking feeling. Old friend, all the stories to tell... She ached for that kinship once more and couldn't bring herself to look at either of them when she finally answered: "Is it not plain?"