Bookshelf Battle

Charlie and Stephen were on their knees, hands behind their heads with their fingers interlocked. Their captor paced back and forth, eyeballing them. His hefty gut overflowed over the top of his pants.

“Name’s Dapper Dan,” the bald man said. “On account of my impressive physique.”

Normally, Charlie played it cool in such situations, but his face betrayed him as he shot Dan a look as if to silently ask, “Really?”

“Name made more sense twenty years ago,” Dan said with a frown. “I’ve let myself go.”

Charlie and Stephen exchanged confused looks.

“Noooo,” Charlie said. “I don’t see that. Stephen, do you see that?”

“Not at all,” Stephen replied.

“It’s like we’re staring at an Adonis,” Charlie said.

“Stop,” Dan said. “It happens to the best of us as we get older. Russ!”

Dan’s sidekick, a goofy looking doofus with a bowl haircut stepped over with his pistol drawn.

“My assistant,” Dan said. “Big Russ.”

“Howdy,” Russ said.

“Hello,” Charlie replied.

Russ seemed to be of average height and weight, prompting Dan to explain the irony.

“He’s big elsewhere,” Dan said.

Charlie and Stephen had no comment.

“It’s time to pay the toll, boys,” Dan said.

“What?” Charlie asked.

“We’re the toll collectors,” Dan said.

“Toll collectors?” Charlie asked.

“You got shit in your ears, boy?” Dan asked. “Toll collectors. It’s time to pay your fucking toll!”

“Fellas,” Charlie said. “Maybe I’m missing something here. Is this some new thing Al Swearengen has set up? Because he and I have an understanding. I kick up to him once a month and he leaves me be.”

“Fuck Al Swearengen,” Dan shouted. “We’re self-appointed toll collectors! We don’t need anybody’s fucking permission to collect a toll!”

Charlie gulped. “No problem, gents. We’re just talking about material possessions here. Wagon’s yours.”

“I know it is,” Dan said.

“Take whatever you want,” Charlie said. “You won’t get any sass from me.”

“We want more,” Dan said.

The day before in Cheyenne, Charlie had done a lot of business, charging fees to transport packages and letters to Deadwood. All the coins he received added up and he kept them in a little burlap sack that he kept tied to his belt.

“I’m going to reach down for something slowly,” Charlie said.

“Don’t you try nothing,” Dan said.

“I won’t,” Charlie said as he untied the sack from his belt. He jingled it to prove that it was filled with money, then tossed it at Dan’s feet. “How’s that for a toll?”

Dan kept his gun trained at the Utter brothers as he nodded at Russ. Russ picked up the bag and looked inside.

“Oh,” Russ said as he handed the sack over to Dan. “That’s a good toll.”

Dan took a peak. “Yeah. That’s good. But not enough.”

“Not sure what else I have that I could offer you,” Charlie said. “You got something in mind? Maybe we can make a deal.”

Much to Charlie’s surprise, Dan stepped closer and started rubbing his greasy mitts through the businessman’s clean hair. “Oh I got something in mind, alright. Such a pretty, pretty man.”

Stephen dropped his head down in defeat. Charlie closed his eyes in disgust and took a moment, then tried again.

“I was thinking more along the lines of a promissory note?” Charlie said.

Blam! A gunshot interrupted the conversation, a development that Charlie did not mind at all.

Dan kept his shotgun pointed at the Utters but turned his head just enough to see that Jane was standing behind him.

She was holding a gun.

“Nick?” Dan asked.

“That his name?” Jane asked. “Fucking face down in the dirt dead is all he is now. Just like you’ll be if you don’t point that twelve-gauge away from my friends here.”

“Jane,” Charlie said. “Maybe a more diplomatic tone is in order?”

“Shut the fuck up, Charlie,” Jane replied. “No one asked you.”

“Fair enough,” Charlie said.

“You got no play, bitch,” Dan said as he pointed his shotgun at Charlie. “You shoot me I shoot him.”

“I’ll take my chances,” Jane said. “You look slower than molasses in January, lard ass.”

“Then Big Russ will shoot your other friend,” Dan said as he nodded his head towards his partner in crime, who had his pistol trained at the back of Stephen’s head.

“He doesn’t look that big,” Jane said.

Charlie piped up again. “You don’t want to know.”

“Well fuck me,” Jane said. “Looks like we got ourselves an honest to God Mexican standoff here and not even a damn Mexican in sight.”

“Looks like it,” Dan said.

“We’re all just destined to stand here like a bunch of assholes forever and ever until one day someone happens by and finds a bunch of fucking skeletons pointing guns at each other,” Jane said.

“Or you just walk away, cunt,” Dan said.

“What did you just call me?” Jane asked.

Charlie winced. “Oh now you’ve done it.”

“Don’t call me a cunt you fucking cunt,” Jane said. “Why the fuck would I walk away when I’m the only one without a gun pointed at me? ”

“She’s got you there, boss,” Russ said.

“Shut the fuck up, Russ!” Dan shouted.

“Can either of you jackasses read?” Jane asked.

“Huh?” Dan asked.

“Jesus Christ,” Jane said. “Did I just have a fucking brain fit and start talking Chinese and not know it? Do either of you know your letters?”

“I know my letters,” Russ said.

“Why don’t you read what it says on the side of that wagon?” Jane asked.

“Don’t do it,” Dan said. “It’s a trick.”

“Shut the fuck up mongoloid,” Jane said to Dan, and then to Russ. “Do it.”

Russ looked like his brain was about to explode from the pressure. He looked at Dan, then at Jane, back and forth. Finally, he kept his gun on Stephen as he turned his head to read what was written on the side of the wagon.

“Utter Freight.”

“Holy shit,” Jane said. “Down at the bottom, you slack jawed monkey.”

Russ squinted at the bottom of the wagon. “C. Utter, M.J. Canarry and J.B Hickok, Partners.”

The scumbags each did a double-take. “Hickok?” Russ asked, as he began to tremble nervously.

He looked at Dan. “You didn’t tell me this was a Goddamn Wild Bill Hickock outfit!”

Dan stuttered. “I…I…I..didn’t…shit…you think I fucking knew that?!”

The duo dropped their weapons and shot their hands straight up in the air.

“Yeah,” Jane said. “Now you know.”

A stream of hot piss ran down Dan’s leg. “Please Ma’am…”

“Oh its Ma’am now huh?” Jane said. “A minute ago it was ‘cunt.’”

“Just a little misunderstanding,” Dan said. “There’s no need to tell Bill about this, is there?”

Jane walked around Dan and stood behind Stephen and Charlie. She motioned for Dan and Russ to back away. They complied like obedient worms.

“I don’t know,” Jane said. “I’m feeling chatty as fuck. On your knees.”

Dan and Russ obeyed.

“Hands behind your heads.”

More obedience.

Jane looked at Charlie and Stephen. “What the fuck are you dummies waiting for? An engraved invitation? Get the fuck up!”

“Just following your lead,” Charlie said as he and his brother rose to their feet.

Jane pressed the barrel of her gun against Dan’s forehead.

“How’s that feel?” Jane asked.

“Not good,” Dan answered.

“Jane,” Charlie said.

“Get ready to meet your maker…”

“Jane!” Charlie shouted.

“What?!” Jane shouted back.

“Maybe a little clemency is in order?” Charlie asked.

“Goddamn it, Charlie!” Jane barked. “I don’t tell you how to do your job. Don’t you tell me how to do mine!”

“The threat’s been removed,” Charlie said.

Jane was furious. “These two shitheels were going to rob you…”

Stephen butted in. “And rape us.”

Jane’s eyes widened as she stared at Dan and Russ. “You were going to rape them?!”

“What?!” Dan asked incredulously. “No!”

Russ added. “No, no. Not at all.”

Jane waited for the confession.

Dan pinched his thumb and pointer finger together. “O.K. maybe there would have been a small to moderate amount of rape.”

“A very brief amount of rape,” Russ said.

Jane’s finger hovered over the trigger.

“Jane,” Charlie said ever so calmly.

“Ugggh!” Jane cried. “Fuck you and your sanctimonious conscience, Charlie!”

And then to the two galoots on the ground, “Up!”

They stood up.

“Take your clothes off,” Jane ordered.

Dan and Russ looked at each other, confused.

“Fuck!” Jane shouted. “Am I speaking Chinaman talk again?!”

The bandits pulled their shirts off.

“And your trousers!”

Both sets of pants dropped to the ground.

“And your drawers!” Jane insisted.

The criminals were now standing before Jane, butt naked.

“Russ, you are a fucking liar,” Jane said.

Charlie stifled a chuckle.

“Turn around you Goddamn perverts,” Jane ordered.

Charlie, Stephen and Jane found themselves staring at the two most hideous, pimply, sweaty, rash infested derrières they had ever seen.

“Don’t you two pieces of shit ever show your ugly mugs in Deadwood or that will be the end of you, you hear me?”

“Yes ma’am,” they replied in unison.

“There’s another town about ten miles south,” Jane said. “Start marching.”

Dan and Russ walked away.

“Stop! Jane shouted. They did so.

“When you get there,” Jane said. “You both have to stand in the town square, naked as you are, and publicly declare that you’re a couple of lowlife dumb as fuck inbred perverts who were bested by a woman.”

“Oh come on,” Dan said.

“Wild Bill’s got friends everywhere!” Jane shouted. “If you don’t do it, he’ll know!”

Dan sighed. “Alright.”

“March!”

Dan and Russ walked away, defeated. Jane uncoiled her whip.

“Hey Charlie,” Jane said. “You ever seen one of these? It’s a fucking rope you can put wherever you want it to go.”

Jane whirled the whip around and around over her head then released it, sending the end sailing through the air until it landed on Dan’s backside. He jumped and grabbed his pained cheeks.

She cracked the whip against Russ’s ass so he wouldn’t feel left out.

“Fun toy,” Charlie said. “I’m sure it will provide you endless hours of pleasure.”

“It will,” Jane said.

“Thank you, Jane,” Charlie said.

“Aww don’t mention it.” Jane coiled up her whip, returned it to her belt, then climbed into the back of the wagon. Seconds later she called out, “Ready when you are, Mr. Utter!”

The Utter brothers remained in place for awhile.

“You were not pulling my leg about her,” Stephen said.

“Nope,” Charlie said.

Charlie pointed at Dan and Russ as they walked towards the horizon.

“And that, dear brother, is how Wild Bill Hickok earns his keep.”

August 2, 1876

A covered wagon rambled through the countryside. Painted across the canvas in black lettering were two words, “Utter Freight.”

Charlie Utter sniffed in the morning air and felt mighty proud of himself. He was a meticulous man, a true believer in the old adage ‘a place for everything and everything in its place.’

The inside of his wagon was immaculate. Boxes, crates, parcels, letters, tools, goods, equipment and supplies all stacked in an orderly manner. The only thing that looked out of place was the woman sleeping on the floor in the middle of all of it.

Martha “Calamity Jane” Cannary was a beautiful mess. As she slept, she snored loudly and her mouth was open wide enough for flies to not only buzz into but stay awhile. Her long black hair was a tangled shambles and a strand of it blew up with every exhale and fell down with every inhale.

Her hat had fallen underneath the back of her head and was getting crushed. A cord fastened to it dangled around her neck, keeping it from getting lost.

She wore a white shirt, black vest, trousers, leather riding chaps with fringe on the sides and boots with spurs. Two six-shooters were holstered on either side of her belt. A rifle wasn’t far out of her reach.

And much to Charlie’s dismay, she clutched a nearly empty whiskey bottle under her arm as if it were a teddy bear.

Charlie, in contrast, was a teetotaler. He never drank anything stronger than coffee and wore a very clean outfit. His coat and pants were both made out of buckskin, which he washed regularly, whether it stank or not, a practice that was simply unheard of at the time.

He kept his blonde hair slicked back with pomade and shaved daily, again, another rarity in those days.

Charlie’s black haired brother, Stephen, was wide-awake and sat up front to keep him company.

“I have to say it, Charlie,” Stephen said. “I thought you were exaggerating in your letter, but you have truly made something of yourself out here.”

“I told you I wasn’t just whistling Dixie,” Charlie replied. “Fully established delivery route between Deadwood and Cheyenne. I can’t keep up with the demand. I need to start running a second wagon and I’d rather keep the business in the family. You say the word and that wagon is yours.”

Stephen took a swig of water out of a canteen. “I might just take you up on that.”

The sun rose higher in the sky as Charlie’s horses trotted onward.

“Charlie,” Stephen said. “This probably isn’t any of my business…”

“Let me stop you right there,” Charlie said. “If you have to say it probably isn’t any of your business then it definitely isn’t your business.”

“Even so,” Stephen said. “This arrangement you have with your partners…”

“What about it?” Charlie asked.

“You’re the only one doing any work,” Stephen said. “Seems to me like you’re being horn swaggled.”

“Oh,” Charlie said. “Don’t concern yourself. I haven’t made a bad deal yet.”

Stephen peaked into the back of the wagon. Jane was busily scratching herself in inappropriate places.

“She looks like a bad deal to me,” Stephen said.

“Who?” Charlie asked. “Jane? She’s my muscle.”

Stephen laughed and laughed hard. “Oh. Oh that was funny. Come on. What’s she really do?”

“I told you,” Charlie said.

“Are you two some kind of item or something?” Stephen asked.

“No,” Charlie said.

“I won’t tell Louise,” Stephen said.

“Tell her whatever you want,” Charlie said. “There’s nothing like that going on.”

“Then what is she here for?” Stephen asked.

“Sometimes on the trail you run across people who need to be shot,” Charlie explained. “Jane shoots them for me. She’s my bodyguard. Simple as that.”

“Fine,” Stephen said. “Keep pulling my leg all day then. But what about Hickok?”

“What about him?” Charlie asked.

“He’s not even here,” Stephen said. “How does he earn his keep?”

“That’s a longer story,” Charlie said. “You see…”

Charlie held that thought as he spotted half a dozen riders lined up on a hilltop off in the distance. One of them peered right at Charlie’s wagon through a spy glass for a moment, then collapsed it. As soon as he did, all six riders made their way down the hill.

“Tarnation,” Charlie said.

“What?” Stephen asked.

“It’s not good,” Charlie answered. “Jane!”

Charlie snapped the reigns. His horses picked up speed. The riders fanned out and flanked the wagon. Two on the left. Two on the right. Two at the back.

“Jane!” Charlie shouted even louder this time.

The bodyguard was lost in a deep sleep.

The riders opened fire. Bullets tore through the canvas.

Charlie drew his pistol but the trigger, the hammer, all the different parts…it was too confusing for him. He only really carried it to complete his frontiersman look. He passed it off to his brother.

“Here. Shoot someone will you? Jane!”

Stephen took aim at one of the riders and fired a shot but missed.

“Jane!” Charlie shouted. “There’s bandits trying to kill us! I need you to look alive!”

Inside the wagon, a bullet tore through a barrel of beer, causing a steady stream to trickle out onto Jane’s head. She sat right up and poked her head out through the front of the wagon.

“Hey you horse’s ass!” Jane shouted. “There’s bandits trying to kill us! You think you might have told me!”

Based on many, many past experiences with Jane, Charlie knew better than to argue.

“My mistake,” Charlie said as he ducked his head down and snapped the reigns again. “Think you can do something about it?”

Back in the wagon, Jane gulped the last bit of whiskey, then picked up her rifle. “For fuck’s sake, I have to do everything around here.”

Jane took a position at the back of the wagon and picked off one bandit, landing a bullet in his head that knocked him off his horse. She pulled the lever on her rifle to load up another bullet and was about to take another shot when…

Snap!

The second bandit riding behind the wagon cracked a whip that curled around Jane’s legs.

“Oh don’t you fucking dare,” Jane shouted.

The bandit, a particularly grizzly looking fiend with a scarred up face, smiled then pulled back on the whip and yanked Jane clear out of the back of the wagon.

As Jane’s arms flailed about wildly, she dropped her rifle. She soared through the air until she hit the ground hard only to find herself being dragged across the rocky ground at a rapid speed by a gruesome fellow who wasn’t too concerned about her well-being.

Stephen took a few more shots at the bandits on the right side of the wagon, then looked back.

“Charlie! You just lost your bodyguard!”