Chapter 1 |
Renita Hayweather, Frontier Duchess, sipped at her coffee and watched the dusty street over the lip of her mug. The look was both unguarded and possessive. This was her town, her peeps, every wooden building, every horse rail, every dirt clod, and she guarded them jealously. She was the Duchess and so the look was also given without apology. The sign at the edge of her little whistle-stop said "Hot Kiss – population 217". She gave a mental shrug at the name, it was before her time and no one knew where it had come from but they were all sure it had an interesting story behind it.
The Duchess looked to the church first, knowing that Pastor Joe was sitting in his study and staring out the window, mind not on his studies. Her eyes flicked sideways to Cornucopia Mercantile and Feed. Sure enough, Miss Kathy was busy with a broom, cleaning the wooden steps in front of her store. She stopped, glanced at the church, and waved happily. "Those two have quite the appetite for picnics," Renita mumbled, then laughed at her own shameless pun. "Romance does seem to thrive in Hot Kiss. I do hope that Marshall Travelers doesn't find out Pastor Joe is teaching Kathy how to fish with dynamite. I wonder if he has told Kathy of his past as a moonshine runner?" she whispered and laughed again, then turned toward the Marshall's office.
Federal Marshall Gale Travelers was the only female in the territory wearing a badge and a Colt and possessing the hard won skill to use both. Circuit Court Judge Cora Brandt had once said that Gale Travelers could hit a 'runnin' rabbit with a two dollar pistol'. No one challenged the Marshall to find out. Travelers was also the only Federal Agent in Colorado who smelled like rose water.
The sound of glass breaking drifted out through the double swinging doors of the saloon. "Stop dropping them," Romaine shouted. Renita didn't even flinch and continued studying the dusty street. Romaine Ferdinand el Toro had arrived one day and wanted to be a suitor, not realizing that Renita's heart had already been stolen. So instead he had become friend, piano player, bartender, dance instructor at the saloon, master mixologist searching for the perfect Kombucha, and chef.
The breaker of glass was Nester Numbcicle, part time dishwasher, part time bartender and part time bouncer. What Nester wanted most was to work alongside Marshall Gale Travelers and learn how to shoot. Renita laughed quietly. "Not going to happen," she mumbled softly. "The day that man picks up a gun is the day I leave Hot Kiss. Besides, everyone in town knows there is only one man in Hot Kiss that Gale wants to teach how to shoot, and Oviler is oblivious to the fact."
The sharp ring of a heavy hammer against heavier anvil reached her from the Livery and brought a smile to her face as she pictured Normando's sweaty chest and heavily corded thews. Normando was the thief who held Renita's heart in the palm of his hand, the only man who could make the Duchess breathless with a single glance. He had once winked at her and she had to sit down and fan her face for an hour. The now retired gunslinger had settled in Hot Kiss after one look at her, and taken over the job of Town Smithy. The exercise had changed his body dramatically, much to her thinly veiled pleasure. "Oh Norman," she sighed, and then trembled as a gentle shudder traveled through her body, a shudder she would not confess to Pastor Joe.
Still smiling, she turned away and stared at the opposite end of the street, pushing away the warm thoughts of Norman. Hot Kiss was small, two dirt streets, eighteen buildings, some forty houses and dozens of surrounding ranches. A person could walk every inch in a half of an hour and have time left to stop here at Apple Jack's for refreshment. Apple Jack's Saloon was pride and joy to the Duchess, open from dawn to late and served gourmet meals and an assortment of Coffees, Smoothies, Kombuchas, Spirited Ciders and a nice Pinot Noir for celebrations. She was the only one who knew that Romaine was planning a Taco Wagon to reach some of the outlying ranches at lunch time with hot food.
"Renita, stay alert," she scolded herself. "These are dangerous times." The proof of that was tacked to the board outside Marshall Gale's office, a simple, hand drawn wanted poster that warned that the insidious Snake Eyes Marek had been seen in the territory once again. "Protect the peeps," she mumbled as a tumbleweed rolled by on its way to somewhere else. "Why always with the tumbleweeds?" she muttered.
The breeze that had been blowing all morning suddenly gusted, tugging at the hem of the ankle length gingham dress she wore. It was a very modest cut but could not completely hide the slinky figure of the well-proportioned, raven haired filly. Normando loved that dress and its pattern made up of little cats. Especially when she wore it with the wide, black leather belt.
At the end of the street was the Not So OK Corral, popular hangout for horses, other itinerant mammals, and the occasional gun fight. A small dust devil spun around the corner of the barn, tossing half a dozen more tumbleweeds into the street and sending them her way.
"Clang!" the anvil shouted to her from the Livery, causing her to shudder and smile.
Opposite Renita's saloon was the train station and she snapped her head around when the entrance opened and she saw Oviler Oldschool leave the safety of his office and start towards her. Oviler was both ticket agent for the railroad and duly appointed - and bonded - US Postal Representative to the territory. His job was to meticulously sort both arriving passengers and mail and route both. Being a meticulous man, he was very good at his job. Passengers were easy, they already knew where they were going. Letters and parcels not so much. The Frontier is not kind to the US Mail.
Renita grinned as she watched Oviler pause to allow a tumbleweed to roll by in front of him. Polite to a fault that one. Her friend was wearing a blue plaid vest with a dark blue tie tucked inside, a green eye shade and arm garters to hold up the long sleeves of his white shirt. The stubby pencil tucked behind one ear was a new addition and she was't sure she liked the way it changed the aesthetics.
"Why is it always tumbleweeds?" she asked him as he stepped up onto the wooden sidewalk next to her.
"Well, a tumbleweed is a structural part of the above-ground anatomy of a number of species of plants, a diaspore that, once it is mature and dry, detaches from its root - ."
"Oviler. It was rhetorical."
"Oh."
Shaking her head, she gave him a hug to salve the wound she had unintentionally left on his feelings. She had known him for years and had never considered him to be an insecure man until he'd lost his wife two years prior. The story he told was that she had been taken by an outbreak of diphtheria while visiting a sister in St. Louis, but Renita knew the truth. Holly had run off to Paris, Texas in the middle of the night with a fertilizer salesman and sent him divorce papers soon after. Surprisingly, he prolonged the hug as if needing the gentle encouragement. A shy man, Oviler was not normally a hugger.
"Anything special on the menu today?" he asked, peeking over the double swinging doors of the saloon. "Something smells good."
"Yeah," Renita said. "Romaine is experimenting with a Mexican Lasagna and seems to have a handle on how many layers it needs. Nester is working on developing a mad-mango smoothie."
"Darn it all to heck!" was a sharp exclamation that sailed out the doors.
"Is that blood?" came Romaine's voice.
"Nester is also trying to figure out what to do with the crate of coconuts that arrived from Denver," she added and then laughed with Oviler. "Poor dear just can't figure out how to get the juice out of those things. Just stands and looks at them like a confused cow staring at a new gate. Doesn't know what to do next. As you just heard, a knife won't do the job."
Oviler looked along the street toward the Marshall's office. "Dale said at church on Sunday that Snake Eyes Marek has been spotted in the territory again. A bad one, that. Some say he is so mean that even stink won't follow him out of a pasture."
"Yup. He was seen just over the state line at Longbottom, Nebraska. Held up a bank there."
"Longbottom? That is one story I do not need to hear," Oviler said, giving his head a shake.
"So tell me Oviler, where are the two crates I have coming from New York City? They should have been here last month."
"I don't know Renita. If there is any news from back East, it will arrive on the noon train." He looked at his pocket watch. "Which is due in about ten minutes." Renita and Oviler both stopped, closed their eyes, and leaned toward the east. Then both smiled as the quiet sound of rumbling reached their ears, the sound of the afternoon train climbing the grade to Hot Kiss. "What is it you are expecting?" he asked her.
"I ordered a Nutcracker in the shape of an owl from Switzerland to set on the bar at Christmas. I thought it might be festive. Also, a new carved oak door for my residence upstairs."
"Carved? Big city sort of frilly isn't it?"
She shrugged. "It, well, it's a carving of a group of owls. I fancy owls. The owl is a symbol of wisdom and femininity. Some say that Annie Oakley's favorite bird was the owl." Renita sighted along her index finger and let her thumb be the hammer of a pistol which she dropped. "So," was the report the pistol would have made. "Let me know if there is news on the train. Even you, Mister Oldschool, have to admit that at times the telegraph could be useful, and faster."
The choking sound Oviler made was pure derision and sarcastic. "I am not against technology," he insisted softly. "But HG Wells warned against unbridled scientific advancement in his latest book. He warned that one day mankind would add #hashtags to the telegraph to replace the word, "STOP" and that would lead to complete and eventual social breakdown. I agree with the author. We should move carefully into the future."
"Oh Oviler," Renita sighed. "Wouldn't it be nice to send a message to New York City and receive an answer on the same day instead of waiting two weeks or more?"
"I warn you," he said. "The time will come when same day won't be fast enough. Eventually, it will have to instantaneous letter delivery across the nation. Mister Bell's invention is already causing a stir, now people want a wire that can carry a picture. And then what? Pictures that move and talk and be recorded on discs to play – on – a – Gramophone?"
The last had trailed off at the end because Oviler had turned and was eyeballing the lumbering iron beast huffing and puffing its way into town amidst an expanding cloud of sighing steam. Renita watched the happy look of anticipation on her friend's face and knew what caused it. She turned to study each passenger as they disembarked, paying particular attention to the reason Oviler was oblivious to Marshal Gale's considerable wiles. That reason was the blonde stepping confidently off the train wearing a long riding skirt and leather boots, a matching suede jacket that looked like store bought, and had her hair put up in a ponytail that stuck out the back of a Lady Stetson. Cheryl McMickenmack, Territorial Agent for the Bureau of Land Management, had been in Hot Kiss for almost a year as a surveyor planning the arrival of telegraph technology. Oviler might be reluctant to embrace technology but had no qualms about embracing Ms McMickenmack. Judging by the way Cheryl and Oviler flirted, Renita suspected a relationship that had the potential to produce more steam than that huffing-puffing locomotive.
"Oviler Oldschool!" Renita scolded. "You are watching the way that woman sashays aren't you?"
Oviler grinned from ear to ear. "She is very bright and has a wonderful mind."
"Uh-hum. You aren't staring at her mind, but then those hips aren't bad either," and then she gave him an elbow in the ribs.
Oviler reached out to offer his hand to Cheryl, to help her up the steps. At the top, she stood up on tiptoe and locked lips with the straight laced ticket agent right in front of God and everybody. Renita gave Oviler the one eyebrow up look, an indictment that it was time to come clean with the Duchess about his relationship. PDAs were common in Hot Kiss, with that name they have to be, but Oviler Oldschool was uncommon and not a fan of PDAs.
"How is your mother?" Oviler asked as his neck slowly turned red.
"She is fine, says hello. We went through every book and ledger she had and could not find anything about her time at Break Your Heart Pass. She remembers it well, but there is no physical evidence that points to – ." she stopped and glanced at Renita. "Well, you know."
"Yeah, I get it," Renita said. "You two are treasure hunting, looking for the legend of Break Your Heart Pass."
"Is it real?" Cheryl gasped, nearly pleading. "If we can find it, well, it would mean – ." She stopped and gave Oviler a loving glance. "It would mean a lot. My mother says she saw it once upon a time, but now, it's been so long she can't be sure."
Renita gave Oviler another hug. "Don't forget the definition of legend is, "a traditional story regarded as historical but unauthenticated". Unauthenticated Oviler. They call it legend for a reason. Might be no more than words. Everyone who comes down from Break Your Heart Pass comes through Apple Jack's and not one of those has seen a hint of the Lost Love Diamond. If it were real, a diamond half the size of a hen's egg would be big news and, well, someone would have said something."
Oviler and Cheryl watched until Renita was inside the saloon and then shared another kiss that filled the town with silence from one end to the other. "Oh my," Cheryl gasped at last. "Have to run, have a report to finish for tomorrow's mail." As she turned to leave, she found herself face to face with the other blonde in Hot Kiss, a frowning Marshal Gale Travelers.
"Ms McMickenmack," the Marshal said.
Cheryl was now blushing a deeper red than Oviler was. "Gotta go," she offered as an excuse. Then a mumbled, "Wow, but that man can kiss."
The Marshal was wearing jeans, a dark blue cowboy style shirt with button snaps on both pockets, a tin star pinned to the front, and a nickel plated Colt .45 low on her right hip. At the moment she was staring at Oviler and quietly caressing the handle of the Colt with two fingers as if making a choice between shooting him or finding out the truth of his kissing prowess for herself, and mumbling, "Eenie meenie minie moe."
Oviler looked from the gun to Gale's smoldering eyes. "Uhm, have to run check the mail," he said. Two seconds later he was halfway across the street, rushing in front of a tumbleweed rolling east.
Chapter 2 |
Oliver was washing dishes, elbows deep in hot, soapy water, and smiling at the frequent sound of giggling that came from the living room. Shane was curled up on the couch with Rita's new book and enjoying it.
"Hey Oldschool," she cried out.
"Yes dear," he answered, knowing that it didn't matter that he was elbow deep in soapy water.
"You have to come read this."
"Yes dear," he laughed, finishing the last dish, pulling the drain plug and drying his hands. He moved behind the couch and put his face next to hers, giving her neck a nuzzle on the way by. His reward was her contented sigh. "Now, what is this about Oldschool?" he asked.
"Well, you know how Rita's first book was a fantasy adventure about her and Norman, but the names were all changed so no one would guess the truth?"
"Yes. Remember it well. Cora Brandt loved that book."
Shane giggled. "Oh Lord. This is the sequel to the Frontier Duchess and it is more, much more."
"So our dear Rita has been letting her imagination run wild again?" he asked.
"She shore has Mr. Oldschool," Shane laughed.
"Pray tell, Mrs. O'Toole, are you in this masterpiece and what is your name?"
"I am Cheryl McMickenmack and I am bringing technology to Hot Kiss," she barely got the name out before bursting into laughter.
"Cheryl? That's the name I was going to call you the day you showed up in the DLO."
"Rita remembers, remember?" Shane giggled.
"And Hot Kiss? Well, we can see where her mind was while writing this," he grinned. "Can't say as I blame her, my mind goes there a lot too."
Shane stopped laughing, suddenly very serious, then tipped her head to the side to give him access to her lips. Being the gentleman, he was more than happy to oblige. "Oliver," was her breathless sigh, a whisper of promise, and the simple sound that filled his heart with joy.
"Sit with me," she said suddenly, patting the cushion beside her.
"Agreed," he said, I think I would like to hear more about this Hot Kiss. I might even want to move there someday.
Shane started reading out loud until she came to the part about Snake Eyes Marek. "Snake Eyes Marek? Is that how the DLO sees Steve?" she asked.
"Steve has no friends at the DLO, not after what he did to you."
"Well, he did turn out to be a stinker."
"Sweetie, I have many more colorful nouns and adjectives I could use for Steve."
She handed him the book. "Will you read for a while please?"
"Are you alright?" he asked, concern clear in his voice.
"I am fine. I just like to put my head on your chest and feel the vibrations when you talk," she smiled.
Oliver noticed the faint blush rising in her cheeks and took the book, then made room for her to rest her head on his chest. As the rumbling of his voice slowly lulled her into the very quiet place between awake and asleep, her mind started following the story for her by turning it into micro dreams, very short dreams part fantasy and part reality. Dreams about the old west and telegraph lines spoiling the view but so necessary to allow news to travel faster. About going to Apple Jack's and wrestling with a Kombucha smoothie, and Marshall Travelers giving her the evil eye for stealing her man right out from under her nose. Then she tensed all her muscles when Snake Eyes Marek grabbed her and took her away to Break Your Heart Pass.
"Shane, wake up."
Shane was trembling, weeping because Oliver had come to rescue her but had been bloodied in the process.
"Shane, wake up," Oliver was saying softly. "You're dreaming."
"You were hurt," she said, sitting up.
Oliver was laughing. "It's ok Cheryl. It was only a flesh wound.
"Name is Shane," she said and punched him in the arm.
"So what is the Legend of Break Your Heart Pass?" he asked when she had settled back under his arm.
"Don't know. We have to finish the book to find out. Why do you ask?"
Oliver was tipping his head from side to side as if bothered by the rattle of a déjà vu marble. "Not sure, but there is something very familiar about the name. Like something that I knew once but have forgotten."