Chapter 3: Rub-a-Dub Tub

Water pooled on the floor around the base of the tub, with more spilling over the side as time passed.

As the splashing water finally calmed and the swirling waves subsided, Dixie said, "Ooh, Brisco! I'm so glad you came!"

"Me, too—" he replied but was unable to say more as she resumed her apparent effort to smother him with her kisses while pressing tight against him.

While enjoying it immensely, he mumbled, "Mmm...mmm...Dix?" when he finally found an opening. "What's going on? Why'd you send for me? And did I really need to sneak into this place?"

She huffed lightly at him ruining the mood as she slid backward off his lap and rested her back against her end of the tub, her breasts once again sinking just below the water but this time being covered by her arms.

Brisco untangled his legs and took his spot at the other end. They both started laughing as they tried to reposition their feet and knees to mutually comfortable spots.

"This tub could be a little bigger."

"I don't know. I think it was just right," said Dixie with a grin. "I had it in my contract that it had to be so big. See, I was thinking I might have a certain special visitor sometime."

"Would I know him?"

She gave him a big splash, causing him to wipe his eyes, as she laughed, "Bastard."

He grinned but wasn't done.

"Enh!" she squealed. "Now, now. Seriously, Brisco! Enough of that! For the moment, at least. "

"Uh, sorry!"

"Sure you are," she giggled. Her face became more serious as she continued, "I need your help. I overheard Lon Laney talking to someone, a big bald guy with some type of foreign accent, about something supposedly 'huge' they're planning in Frisco. I couldn't hear it all, but it sounded like a bank robbery."

"Why would Laney pull something like that?"

"There's a rumor around town that the tentmaking business just isn't what it used to be. Turns out that half of the tents he used to make were sold to the military and most of the other half went to the railroads and settlers and such. We're at peace with the Indians now and most of the land is settled so the demand for tents has taken a huge dive. Railroads still use them when they're building lines, but they're mostly built. Maybe a prospector or two still has need of a tent occasionally, but there hasn't been a gold rush in, what? Ten or fifteen years? In our modern times, nobody, except maybe teenage boys, wants a tent just to go scooting around the countryside and go camping in."

"I don't know," said Brisco. "I've known a few girls who might want to do that, too. Maybe even more if there are boys in the tent."

She gave him a skeptical look while again splashing some water his way.

"Heh! Stop that!" He splashed a little back toward her.

Dixie giggled as she put up her hands, trying to keep her hair dry. Smiling happily, she slid forward to give him a quick kiss and then slid back to her end of the tub. More water sloshed out as she continued. "Well, Laney's business is in decline and his attempt to switch some of his tentmaking equipment over to making trousers, like Mr. Strauss supposedly did, didn't go over too well. The canvas was too thick and stiff. Nobody wants pants they can barely sit down in; I think he lost his shirt on that deal."

"Or his maybe pants?" They both laughed before Brisco continued. "Yeah, old man Strauss knew to get out of tents years ago and now already owns most of the pants business in San Francisco. Laney would have a tough go competing with him even if his changeover had worked. So what about this setup? Socrates and I played with the numbers on it; Laney's got to be making a killing."

"Except he borrowed the money for it this year and will have to pay it back with interest. When he settles up the books on this shindig, he'll make a pretty penny but not nearly enough to continue financing his other operations."

"Aah! Hence his interest in outside and possibly illegal income."

"Exactly."

"So," mused Brisco, "a failing industrialist decides to get into the bank robbing business. He meets up with an unknown party to set things in motion. Is he getting his own crew, is he going in with the bald guy, or is he doing it with someone else?"

"I don't think he's in charge of the actual heist; it sounded like he's essentially putting up his money to finance it. Therefore, if it works, he's gets a good return and is in good shape. If not, or if they get caught, he'll lose everything."

"If that's the case, he'll be like a cornered predator, very dangerous. Dix, we've got to be careful. There's good cloud cover tonight so I better get back outside to check on some things." He started to rise to get out of the tub.

"Brisco County, Jr.! Sit back down! I'm not done with you!" Dixie pulled him back down into the tub, leading to another big slosh.

As she drew close to him, Brisco's breath caught for a moment and he said, "Well, if you put it that way..."

~ABCJ~

"Brisco, do you really have to go back out?" Dixie was wearing her night clothes while brushing her hair.

The lawyer-turned-bounty hunter was buttoning his shirt. "Yeah, if this is what we think it is, I need to get some information to start proving it and establish a cover so I can operate in the open tomorrow to actually stop it."

"Wait...you're not coming back tonight?"

"No, Dixie. I'll have to ride into Lon's Valleys in the morning so people see me arrive. If I just walk out your door in the morning, there will be the question of how I got in here. No telling how Lon Laney would feel about that. Besides, Comet's probably ticked that I haven't come back yet. I told him it would be late, but you know how he gets."

"Comet could wait, but give him my love," said Dixie. "As for Laney, I know exactly how he'd feel, and it wouldn't be good. I don't know what it is about that guy but he gives me the shivers. Fortunately, I sneezed tonight when he first grabbed and I just couldn't stop. Not that I really wanted to; coming down with a cold seemed to be a great way of getting out of the late night encore performance that he was expecting. Believe me, Brisco, that wasn't in my contract!"

Brisco, now fully dressed, took her into his arms. "I know, Dix. Unfortunately, I have to go now. If anyone asks, we know each other and used to date, but we had a huge falling-out and can't stand each other now. That's the best way to keep you safe—"

The edge of the door splintered and it flew open as a big man came crashing into the room and falling to the floor. Brisco tried to shift Dixie behind him, but she clung tighter in the surprise of the moment. He was reaching for his pistol at the same time but stopped when he saw three pistols outside the door pointing right at them as the other man started to get up.

"That's right, Mr. County. Raise your hands!" called Lon Laney from the hallway. "And step away from the whore."

"Who are you calling a whore, you rat bastard!" exclaimed Dixie angrily, disengaging from Brisco and making a move toward the door.

One of the pistoleers stepped into the room, covering her. Seeing her way blocked, she made a lightening-like slap with her hand, only to have her wrist caught with her palm just inches from the man's face. He clicked back the hammer on his pistol even as the other two entered with their guns trained on Brisco.

"Now, now, Chauncey! No violence. To the whore, anyway," said Laney as he followed them into the room. He had a big, white Persian cat with blue eyes perched on his left arm and he was stroking it, with his other hand. The cat looked bored but seemed willing to tolerate the attention.

Brisco's eyes were focused on the men with the guns trained on them as he said, "Dix-ie..."

Understanding the situation, she sighed, calming herself as she stared at the cat to avoid looking at Laney and flying into him. "That's quite a pussycat."

"Isn't she?" agreed Laney. "I am actually fortunate in that regard. Pussies do seem to be a dime a dozen in these parts, but this one was a recent and very special gift from a new business associate. While sometimes demanding, as they tend to be, she's doesn't usually cause a huge mess, like some, or shred the furniture."

"Lucky you," said Dixie sardonically. "So, why'd you come barging into my room, anyway?"

"The fortune of circumstance. Someone downstairs reported a leak. With the nature of the prefab construction used for this hotel, it was easy to remove a panel or two and trace the water up to your room. I'd left orders for no one to bother you without me being present—"

"How sweet," she deadpanned.

"For your protection as well as protection of my own interest in your particular assets, of course—so the guards called me. I thought it would be simple to solve and we might even find that your cold had dissipated so we could have that nightcap and I could find out if you are as good as I'd heard; however, when we arrived, we heard a male voice so we took the liberty of listening to part of your conversation from outside your door. Now, instead of the simple leak we were expecting, it seems we have a broken door, a two-bit whore, and a real problem." Staring at Brisco, Laney added, "A really big problem."

"With you using that foul language about the lady and keeping those guns on us, I'd say so," agreed Brisco.

"Yes, but the guns will stay that way to help us avoid the other problems that the famous bounty hunter would most assuredly bring us." With the pistols covering his prisoners, Laney stepped closer.

It was at that moment that Dixie sneezed.

Author's Notes:

Thank you for reading. Please take a moment to leave a quick review to let me know if you're enjoying it (all of the reviews to date are spam and have nothing to do with the story!).

Levi Strauss was a major industrialist in San Francisco. His firm made tents before switching focus to the riveted denim jeans that are still commonly known as Levi's. As he neared the end of his life, he set up the Levis Strauss Foundation in 1897 and died in 1902, leaving his clothing company, valued at over $125 million, to his four nephews.

The next big gold rush was in Alaska, starting about three years after this story takes place. Prospector went north with their picks, shovels, tents, and other supplies.

Dixie's idea of boys "scooting around the countryside" may have become the Scouting movement, which was established in 1908 by Sir Robert Baden-Powell (Boy Scouts) and his sister, Agnes (Girl Guides in 1910). The Boy Scouts of America was established in 1910 and the Girl Guides of America followed in 1912, with the latter being renamed Girl Scouts of the USA a year later. Interest in camping soared across America among boys and girls. The Coleman Company, one of the largest makers of camping equipment in the 20th century, including tents, was formed in 1900.