Miss Bonnie wasn’t exactly in a rush to get back to the dive she called home. She’d walked to the Bonnie Lass so many times before, but there was something about this walk that felt different. The business she’d been so proud of was about to become her tomb, a place where she’d be stuck forever, surrounded by drunks, gamblers and perverts while another woman would be married to the man she loved.
So the redhead took her time. She stopped outside Anderson’s front window, gawked at the gee gaws on display and remembered the muffins she bought for Slade. She was pretty sure Sarah was an uppity bitch that baked her own muffins, but who cares? Miss Bonnie was a business woman, after all. An entrepreneur. An earner.
Miss Bonnie spotted Miles standing outside the store, eating his candy. She’d seen the boy around town before but had never met him.
“Hello,” she said.
“Ma’am,” Miles replied.
“What do I now?” Miss Bonnie thought.
She was in the process of talking herself into believing that one day she’d get over her loss. Maybe she’d find a man that would make her say, “Slade, who?” Or maybe she’d just grow her fortune and have a good time counting all her money.
But she couldn’t help but notice how hard it was to think when there was an obnoxious hissing sound coming from directly behind her. She turned around, expecting to see a snake but instead refused to believe her eyes when she saw Hewitt holding a bundle of dynamite in his hand. The long fuse attached to it was lit and burning down.
Becker carried another bundle. He held a lit cigar against the fuse until it too sparked.
Both men were standing out in front of the Bonnie Lass. Hewitt hauled his arm back, creating an arc that led directly over the the swinging doors.
Miles had no clue what to do. Helplessly, he stood and watched.
The redhead lifted her skirt, pulled her derringer out of her garter belt and pointed it at Hewitt.
“HEY!” she yelled.
Hewitt craned his neck back.
“Douse it!” Miss Bonnie said. “Both of you!”
Hewitt faced the saloon again. He tossed his bundle in. Becker tossed his.
Miss Bonnie squeezed the trigger, opening a hole in the back of Hewitt’s head that instantly closed. He swung around, looked at Bonnie and smiled. His eyes turned yellow.
The redhead fired her second shot. It landed in Hewitt’s chest. Again, the hole disappeared.
From inside the saloon, Waldo the Barkeep screamed, “WHAT THE…”
Calmly, the henchmen ducked.
The explosion was massive. Miss Bonnie’s life’s work erupted into a giant fireball as pieces of wood, debris, and body parts sprayed everywhere.
But she wasn’t left with much time to worry about her lost business, seeing as how half of a flaming player piano was sailing directly towards her.
Bookshelf Battle 