"Breakfast is served," he said with a wry grin. "Bon appétit."

She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out.

"What's this?" he said. "No devastating comeback? No snappy, curt riposte?"

He cut a dapper figure in his neatly-tailored vest, and it only made the insult worse. She bristled like a wet-furred cat.

"Go boil your shirt," she spat.

"Ohoho, look at you – all puffed up and hissing. It's almost darling, if you ignore the claws."

"Run off at the mouth some more, and see what happens."

Light glinted off his badge as he moved closer. "You talk a big game, little hellion, but a spade's a spade, and a deal's a deal. Now tell me what I want to hear."

She crossed her arms. "Not until you tell me how you did it."

Mr. Neutron plucked a strip of bacon from her plate. He turned it over in his hands, admiring his handiwork, before taking a bite.

"Are you familiar with the wider world of Texas vice?" he asked. "Not just killers, mind you. The whole lot: robbers, gamesters, reprobates..."

Tex was taken aback. "I mean, we don't send each other Christmas cards, but I know the major players. Why?"

"There's an outlaw down in Alamo City – skinny little whelp with a bald head and a bad temper. Goes by the name 'Eddie the Baby'. Ever heard of him?"

"The famous gambler? I've heard the stories, same as anyone. Kid's got a hell of a reputation."

"Eddie's my cousin," he said flatly. "He taught me every trick I know."

She gaped in disbelief, and he grimaced.

"He was a wunderkind of sorts, when we were young," he went on. "We had a lot in common. Eddie had a head for numbers, and a mad knack for cards – Blackjack, Faro, Three-card Monte – you name it, we played it. Trouble is, greed was in his bones, and he never rose above it. He tried to kill my aunt and make off with her inheritance. We haven't spoken since."

Tex blinked. "Christ on a cracker. Your family really is the gift that keeps on giving."

"You have no idea."

"I've gotta ask – is there anyone back home you don't wholeheartedly despise?"

"There was a wasp that stung my father, once. I hope it's doing well."

She couldn't help but smile. "All right. So your homicidal cousin taught you how to cheat...but what about the Ace? You were cork-high and bottle-deep by the time our match was over. How'd you keep your wits?"

"Wits?" His mouth twitched as he struggled not to laugh. "Wits didn't enter into it. When I awoke this morning, the whole damn deck was in my pocket. How it got there, I will never know."

"You don't remember taking it?" It was more guffaw than question.

"My dear, after a certain point, I don't remember anything. And it gets worse. The cards weren't the only thing I stole - I made off with Libby's heirloom pitcher. How I got it home, I haven't a clue, but when I opened my eyes at first light, there it was, sitting on my pillow. Imagine my confusion."

She threw back her head and laughed. "Sheriff, you boozed-up, thieving fox – arrest yourself this instant."

"I can't. It's too late. I'm already on the lam."

"Well then," she said, sidling close, "you won't be needing this." She snatched the badge from off his vest.

He tried to grab her sleeve, but she spun sideways, light as a dancer on her feet. She held the silver star out of reach.

"Hey!" he shouted. "What ever happened to honor among thieves?"

"What a childish notion. You should thank me for dispelling it."

"Thank you? I should as soon thank the devil for putting out a welcome mat."

He darted after her again, and she ducked beneath his arm, reversing their positions. "Over here!" she called.

He bumped the chair as he turned, and the clink of cutlery drew his attention to the table. He reached for the butter knife. "En garde," he teased, and held it like a sabre.

The playful threat delighted her. In a flash, Tex grabbed the fork and slashed it through the air. Metal clanged on metal, and the knife went flying; it pinged off the wall before clattering to the floor.

"Holy shit," he said.

"Don't bring a knife to a fork fight," she smirked, and wiggled it at him.

He lowered his arm. "You...are a terrifying woman."

"Aw shucks. Cut it out."

"No, I mean it. Here, let's have a rematch – hand me my revolver, and I'll give you the spoon."

"Ha!" She tossed the fork aside. "Nice try, but if you want your piece, you'll have to come and take it from me."

Tex was itching for more, but he demurred with a quiet chuckle. "As tempting as that sounds, Vortex, we had an agreement. So go on, out with it – tell me you're impressed. Shout it to the rooftops."

She pinned the star on her lapel, just above her bandolier. "I'm impressed," she said, admiring herself.

"You are maddening."

"And you're slow on your feet." She grabbed a biscuit off the plate. "Listen. Whether you realize it or not, you've chosen a very dangerous line of work. You need to be able to trust your reflexes. And that takes practice."

He looked her up and down. "I don't doubt it."

She jammed the biscuit in her mouth, only to discover that the hangover concoction had rendered her unable to taste. Dismayed, she set it down again.

Of course there's a catch.

She was quick to shrug off her disappointment. Breakfast could wait - there were bigger problems to solve.

"Come on," she said, nodding toward the door. "I'm feeling generous. If you help me track down my horse, I'll teach you some techniques for disarming an opponent."

He raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure that's wise? I might use them against you."

"Oh please. I would trounce you."

He laughed again. "All right. I accept your offer. And Vortex –"

"What?"

"The badge looks good on you."

I'm sorry this chapter isn't more substantive, but I wanted to at least post something, even if it's just a wee morsel. My health continues to be very poor (I spent most of April in the hospital), but I haven't given up, and I still intend to finish this story someday. As always, you can reach me on deviantArt at Acaciathorn.

HISTORICAL SHIT AND BULLSHIT SHIT

- When you think of gambling in the Old West, you probably think of Poker - but in actuality, the most popular game at the time was Faro. From 1825-1915, it could be found in every gambling hall in the country. Most betting games are skewed in favor of the House, but Faro is an exception (a fact that contributed heavily to its popularity). To even the odds, dealers often cheated using trick decks, sleight-of-hand, and rigged automatic dealing boxes. By 1925, the game had fallen out of favor, due to its low profitability.
- The custom of sending Christmas cards dates back to the 1800s. It began in the UK in 1843, when Sir Henry Cole commissioned an artist to design a card that could be mass-produced using lithographic printing. By the 1850s, the tradition was in full swing in Britain, and by 1860, Christmas cards surpassed New Year cards in popularity. The trend came to the United States in 1873, when German expat Louis Prang began manufacturing them for an affordable price in Massachusetts. Victorian artist Kate Greenaway is credited with introducing the focus on children in Christmas cards, painting standalone, idyllic images of children dressed in festive holiday garb.

-Vocab:
* Go boil your shirt - go eff yourself
* Wunderkind - child prodigy
* Cork-high and bottle-deep - drunk as a skunk