Bad Luck In A Bottle

By WritePassion

Chapter 1:

I Dream of Genie With the Dark Brown Hair

The trail was long, dusty, and devoid of any other humans. Only a fool or a stranger to these parts would traverse the road that was known for its dangers from rock slides to robbers, but Lord Bowler was neither. The tall, sturdy black man had a streak of Cherokee in him, and he could outride and out-track just about anyone. He was on the trail of his latest bounty as he surveyed the roadside looking for clues. He spied a broken wagon rotting in the sunlight, the sun-bleached canvas cover ripped and flapping in the breeze, a sad testament to the families who gambled everything to come west, only to be stopped by tragedy. A few hasty graves marked the rasacked site, and just by scanning the debris Bowler could tell that the owners of the wagon had fallen victim only a few days earlier.

He would normally have kept on his way because he had business in the next town, and he still had almost twenty miles to ride with night falling in a few hours. He didn't want to be caught on this road after dark, despite his experience and skills. He should keep moving, but the bright red paint on the wagon drew his eye, decorated with curling strokes of gold paint. A detailed painting of a desert, pyramids, and camels covering one side intrigued him, and the people in the picture wore strange billowing outfits. He'd only seen such things once before, when he read an illustrated book about Aladdin and forty thieves.

Bowler got off his horse and decided to poke around the fabrics and personal effects that spilled out of the back of the wagon like the innards of a treasure chest that had been broken open. Strange to see such rich looking fabrics just lying there. Surely someone would have considered them valuable enough to pick up and take with them. He hefted a bolt of bright red fabric with sparkling strands running through it, and he thought of Brisco's girlfriend. He imagined Dixie Cousins wearing a skimpy little show costume made with the fabric. He grinned. Most likely the former owners wouldn't care, if they were dead. Bowler glanced at the graves again before turning back to his horse to stow the fabric in his saddle bag.

"Help. Help me!"

The soft cry stopped Bowler in his tracks. He glanced around and didn't see anyone. He must have been hearing things, or his conscience was trying to play tricks on him. Lord have mercy on me. I didn't think I was stealin' or nothin'. Honest!

"Please, Sir. Help me!"

Bowler turned toward the broken wagon. "Who's there? Where are you?" Just to be on the safe side, he drew his weapon, a Colt revolver, fully loaded. With each step, he kept his eyes moving and watching for a trap.

"I'm in the wagon. Please, Sir, if you rescue me I promise I will make your wishes come true!"

It sounded like a woman, a sweet, soft-voiced one at that, and her lilting tones made his imagination conjure up a dark haired beauty he'd known once, with blemish-free cocoa skin. She was the daughter of a couple of former slaves who had bought their freedom before the War Between the States, and the memory of her sometimes filled his lonely nights. Bowler realized his mind was drifting off the matter at hand, so he shook his head and closed in on the opening at the back of the wagon.

"Okay, I'm here. Where are you? I don't see nobody."

"You're close. I can see you! Pick up the blue bottle!"

He saw the intricately decorated bottle with a wide bottom that gracefully transitioned to a long narrow neck, encrusted with sparkling stones like sapphires and pearls. It was heavy, but he was able to heft it in one hand. He peered inside, only to find that it was as black as night in its depths.

"Oh, there you are! Please, get me out of here!"

"Huh?"

"Rub the bottle on the side. Polish the stones, and you'll see. You won't be sorry." She giggled, and the sound echoed inside the bottle.

Bowler's brows shot up. He looked around and thought maybe one of those ventriloquist jokers was playing him. If not, could this be a real genie? Nahhhh, he thought. Such things are only in fiction. Still, what did it hurt to take a chance and rub the bottle? Bowler set a skeptical expression on his face as he stuck his sidearm in its holster and used his gun hand to polish the stones just as the woman instructed.

He rubbed as a ray of sunlight poked through the clouds and glinted off the facets. A thin, light blue vapor rose from the opening, twisting and growing, creating a column before him. It cascaded down toward the ground and continued to spin like a small tornado until he saw something forming. He couldn't believe his eyes. It was a body, a woman from the looks of the curves, and her arms swayed and took form above her head.

The smoke cleared, and suddenly Lord Bowler found a half naked woman standing before him. Her skin was a sunny bronze, her hair as black as coal, and her eyes a deep chocolate. Her full lips, painted a rosy pink, smiled at him along with the crinkle of her made up eyes. A strip of velvety material as dark as night covered her breasts, gold cording creating an opulent accent along with sequins that picked up the sunlight. Her stomach was flat, muscular, and bare with the exception of a belly chain and a navel piercing. Fabric matching her top hugged her hips in a seductive curving fashion, and a complementing filmy fabric covered her legs. With the sun behind her, Bowler could see the outline of her thin but shapely limbs.

"Damn," he whispered as he took her in.

She giggled and her pony tail, thick and silky, curled and bounced over her shoulder and down her back. "You like what you see, Master?"

"Master? No, I don't…."

Her eyes widened and she held her hands up to her open mouth. "You are unhappy with me? Oh, Master, please, tell me what I must do to please you!"

He took in her beauty again and dared to reach out to touch her upper arm. The bracelet she wore around her bicep felt like real gold. She didn't shy away, which was a good sign. Maybe he hadn't upset her too much. "I didn't mean anything like that, ma'am. It's just that, I ain't nobody's master, 'cept my own, that is." He gave her a toothy smile and tipped his hat back on his head as he continued to stare at her.

More at ease, the woman smiled in return. The sunlight glinted off a small diamond stud on the left side of her wide nose. "Oh, that is good! Now, what can I do to make you happy?"

"Well, uh, we can talk about that later." He forced himself to come to his senses. "Right now, I wanna get you out of here. It's not safe for a pretty lady such as yourself to be in the wilderness alone. Dressed like that, 'specially."

She looked down at herself and back up to him with a frown. "How should I be dressed?"

"Well," Bowler began, sorry that he upset her. She was beautiful, and when she grew upset, it broke his heart to see such despair marring her countenance. "A dress with a little more fabric would be good."

"Oh, you mean like this?" She blinked and nodded her head, just one sharp jerk, and instantly her clothes changed. She wore a figure hugging, long-skirted dress with a bustle in back, the height of fashion back in San Francisco. She smoothed the skirt in front and looked up from under the perky little matching hat on her head that tilted over her brow, thanks to the hair piled up on her head in a complex twist.

At first, he could do nothing but gape. "H-how did you do that?"

"I'm a genie, remember, Master?" She grinned and twisted her hips, causing her skirt to sway back and forth around her. "I told you, I can do anything, give you anything that you want. I must, because you freed me from the bottle."

"Oh, I see."

"Is my wardrobe more pleasing to you, M... Sir?"

"Yes, it's much better," Bowler answered, although she did look mighty attractive in the skimpy outfit, but that was just his hormones talking. He noticed the stud was still in her nose, but everything else had changed. Even her earrings were no longer heavy bangles but were replaced by dainty crystal baubles. "Now, we should get you out of here. Can you climb up on my horse?"

"Oh yes, Sir!" She eagerly stepped to the right side of the animal. The steed snuffled, took two side steps away from her, and turned until she stood on his left flank. She turned her head and gaped at Bowler. "Oh my, he's a smart horse, isn't he!"

"He has his moments," Bowler answered with a hint of amusement in his tone. "By the way, we ain't been properly introduced. My name's Bowler. Lord Bowler." He held out his hand and she took it.

"My name is Genie. Just Genie."

The way she smiled at him, Bowler realized that she had no idea how pathetic her name seemed. It wasn't a name really, more like who she was. That is, if he even believed in such things. She certainly did.

"Uh, yeah. Nice to meet you, Genie." Without another word, Bowler helped her mount the horse, and he followed, sitting back in the saddle. Genie slid forward and gave him more room, then rested her backside against him until she almost sat in his lap. If he hadn't been so concerned about getting her to a safe place where he could figure out the mystery of who she really was, a move like that could have distracted him. The more modest clothing was a good thing.

"Where are we going," Genie asked over her shoulder.

"I'm takin' you to the next town, Spruce Creek. I'll find you a place to stay, but then I've gotta do some tracking."

"Tricking?"

"No, tracking. I'm lookin' for signs that the fella I'm searching for came by here."

Genie twisted until she was almost face to face with Bowler. She smiled, an eager light dancing in her eyes. Or maybe it was just the way the sunlight made her glow. "I could help you with that."

He smiled, because she sure did look pretty when she beamed at him. He chuckled and replied, "Miz Genie, I've been doin' this for a good part of my life. I know how to track anything."

"Is that so? Then you should really stop gawking at me and look at the ground. You missed some horse tracks and a pile of… droppings… a little ways back there." She leaned to point around him at the trail from which they'd come, but she tilted too far to the horse's left flank. The slick material of her dress, the horse's casual gait, and the change in balance conspired against Genie. She screamed as her body slipped toward the hard trail, the shrill noise startling Bowler's horse. He reared, throwing off Bowler and Genie and trotting to a safe distance.

The air rushed out of Bowler's lungs and his tail bone cracked against the hard packed earth as he hit the ground. He lay still for a few moments, mentally checking himself for injury as he got his breath back. He was fine. Bowler sat up, winced at the pain that lingered at the base of his spine, and glanced at Genie. She lay on the ground nearby, her skirt flared out around her and part of it raised, showing off bleached white skirts and a bit of stocking underneath. He scrambled to her side and patted her face. When she didn't respond, he felt a cold lump form in his gut.

"Miz Genie, Miz Genie! Come on, now. You gotta wake up!"

Bowler's horse clip-clopped to stand to Genie's right side, and he nuzzled her back as if in apology for getting spooked so easily. Bowler caressed his snout. "Aw, it's alright, buddy. She'll know you didn't mean nothin' by it." He returned his attention to Genie and ran the back of his hand over her cheek. She still didn't stir or twitch. "This is not good. She needs a doctor."

He exhaled as he rolled Genie to her back and it was then that he saw the bloody gash on her forehead. He pressed a clean handkerchief to it until it slowed, and he used a spare bandana from his gear to tie it. Then he picked her up. She was a slight thing, but she was also dead weight, hopefully not with an emphasis on the dead part. He draped her over the saddle and found a pulse at her wrist before releasing her. He felt a little better about that. Bowler sighed. This little wrinkle was going to cause him a delay, and he might never catch up to his quarry now.

Bowler walked alongside his mount and held the reins in one hand while the other spanned her back at the waist to keep her from slipping off the saddle. He didn't want a repeat and cause her further injury. A sign announced that Spruce Creek was only two miles away, but at this rate, it would take him an hour to get there. He was tired, he had an unconscious woman to take care of, and his bounty was getting farther and farther away. It was not the ending to a perfect day, that was for sure.

Hoofbeats sounded behind him, and in an instant Bowler stopped his horse and pulled out his short barreled rifle from the holster criss-crossing his back. He cocked the hammer and waited to see who was coming around the bend. He caught sight of a tan horse with a white star on his forehead and a flash of a tan leather jacket and dark brown, wide-brimmed cowboy hat. Bowler relaxed and lowered his weapon, returned the hammer to its position of safety, and holstered the rifle.

"Brisco. Funny running into you here," Bowler grumbled, even though he was happy to see his friend. He and the Harvard-educated bounty hunter had been competitors at one time, but after they allied and formed a bond beyond business, he was usually glad to see him.

Brisco County, Jr. didn't become a bounty hunter by choice. When John Bly and his gang killed his father, Brisco County, Sr., he was out for justice and blood, and not always in that order. Bowler was a thorn in his side, serving as a distraction and sometimes a wrench in the process, but when they banded together they were a formidable team. Lately, however, Brisco had been attending to business closer to San Francisco because of his feelings for Dixie Cousins. As much as he professed to like the open air and the freedom it offered, he became increasingly agreeable to the idea of being cooped up in the delicious saloon songstress's gilded cage.

Today, however, Brisco was on the trail looking for Bowler. He smiled at his friend and said, "Bowler, I finally caught up to you. I'm surprised. I think you're getting off your edge."

"No, I ain't off my edge. I had a… a distraction… that's all." His head inclined toward the motionless dark blue burden slung over his horse's saddle.

Brisco squinted at it as he dismounted and came closer He left Comet to munch on some grass beside the road. "What, I mean, who, is this, Bowler?"

"Her name is Genie, with a 'G'," Bowler replied. "It's a long story that I don't have time to relate. I need to get her to town and a doctor right now."

"You should ride with her in front of you, then," Brisco suggested with a helpful tone.

"That's how she wound up like this!"

Brisco gave him a strange look. He probably was better off not knowing what happened before he arrived on the scene. "Well, if there's anything I can do, let me know."

"Maybe you can take her, at least until I get back into the saddle."

"Sure."

It took a little finagling, but Genie soon lounged in Brisco's lap and Bowler mounted his horse. He glanced at the two, and with a sly smile said, "You should hang onto her. She looks mighty comfy like that."

"She's unconscious, Bowler. I don't think she cares either way."

"Well, I'm just sayin' that she might be better off with you."

"Afraid you'll lose her again?" Brisco smirked.

"No! It's just, some of us fill our saddles more than others, and I don't have no room for a passenger."

Brisco chuckled and shook his head, taking his friend's statement as fact. "It's alright, Bowler. I don't mind." Brisco clicked and Comet, his trusty sidekick, took a step forward. Brisco fell into his rhythm and held Genie with one arm around her. "See? It's easy, if you know how to do it." He threw a teasing smile and a wink at Bowler.

It would have been easy for Bowler to spew out a witty comeback, except he was too tired and he wasn't in the mood to spar with his friend. He just wanted to get to town, find a doctor for Genie, and fall into a soft, comfortable bed. In the morning, he would try to pick up the trail again.

What about Genie?

She'll be safe in town. Besides, a bounty hunter has no business taking some bottle woman along on the trail with him. Shoot, he wasn't sure what to do with her, and as he replayed the events in his mind, he began to wonder if he'd seen what he thought he saw. Perhaps it was some odd figment of his imagination. He'd been alone too long if he was imagining women in gauze-like outfits slithering around in smoke for his benefit.

By the time they reached the hotel, Bowler had made up his mind. As soon as he got Genie some help and she was taken care of, he would wash his hands of her. Part of him wanted to see if she really was some kind of genie that could fulfill his wishes. She could produce his quarry on the spot, eliminating the need for him to go out in search of him. His skepticism, however, won out. Weren't genies supposed to bring one good fortune? So far she'd done nothing of the kind and Bowler deduced that he was better off finding some other sucker to take her.

He liked Brisco too much to pawn her off on him.

"Brisco, what's going on? Who is that woman?" The men turned and saw a vision of blonde loveliness that was Miss Dixie Cousins standing on the sidewalk in front of the general store two doors from the hotel. She carried a package under one arm, and her face bore a puzzled expression mixed with anger. She didn't care to share Brisco with another woman.

"Uh oh." Bowler dismounted and pulled on Genie's arm to slide her off of Brisco's lap.

"Uh oh is right," Brisco replied. "Dixie wasn't supposed to be here until Tuesday."

"Well, good luck," Bowler said as he tip-toed away with Genie in his arms.

"Bowler! You haven't even told me what you're doing with her. How am I gonna explain it to Dixie?" His question fell on deaf ears, because Bowler was already inside the hotel.

"Brisco!"

He groaned into his gloved hand and hoped that he could come up with a good reason for having such a gorgeous woman riding with him. However, Brisco loved Dixie too much to lie to her, so he could only hope that his explanation was one that she would believe.