Smilin' Jack - Historical Western Comedy- long (standard:humor, 6339 words)
Author: hvysmker	Added: Dec 18 2003	Views/Reads: 3644/2295	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
A Pinkerton Detective's Adventures Chasing a Beautiful Lawbreaker Across the Old West.

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story

As Julie led him across the platform, Sam felt under his coat for his
revolver.  Smiling Jack was not considered too dangerous, but you could 
never tell what he would do when cornered. 

Julie nodded her head at a young cowboy standing at the edge of the
platform.  “I'll talk to him while you study him good.  Listen to his 
voice too.  You might recognize it.”  Sam instructed his new partner. 

“How you doing, Sir?”  Sam asked the young man, trying to curb his
nervousness. 

“What the hell you want, Mister?”  The man stared at him.  “You trying
to pick me up?  You're the third queer in the last half hour.” 

“NO, Sir.”  Sam was shocked by the reply.  “Nothing like that Sir.” 

The cowboy just stared at Sam, who looked at his partner.  She shook her
head.  “Sorry Sir, my mistake, I thought you were someone I knew.”  The 
Detective hurriedly backed away. 

“Yeah, I'll bet you did.”  Sarcastically. 

“Oh, honey, why didn't you tell me you were THAT way?”  His partner
joked, as they edged away. 

Julie eyed all the passengers as they waited.  They could see smoke in
the distance as the train approached.  When the train stopped alongside 
the platform, Julie picked up her things and started toward it. 

“Wait a minute.  We'll get on later.  Keep searching.”  Sam instructed
her. 

She kept searching with no result.  A couple of men looked like they
could be the fugitive but she was not sure.  She told Sam, who studied 
them and figured they would find out during the trip.  They could not, 
reasonably, stop them to find out before the train left.  They finally 
boarded the train, just before it left. 

Leaving the luggage in their compartment they headed for the dining car.
 It would be as good a place as any to start the search.  Once the 
train got under way they ordered a meal and Sam outlined his plan. 

“I'll wait here while you search the coaches.  If you see him, come back
and let me know.  We'll collar him at when we get close to Yuma.  I 
have to inform the conductor that we're aboard.” 

Finishing their meal, Julie left to begin her search, while Sam also
left, to find the conductor.  He then returned to the dining car, to 
wait. 

The Detective was idly watching the arid landscape whiz by them when his
excited partner returned.  She slipped into the opposite seat and 
smiled. 

“I found him Sam.”  She blurted out, with a grin.  “In the third coach
from the front.  You can't miss him.  He's wearing a bright red jacket. 
I even heard him talking.  I know its him.” 

Sam left to check the man out.  He walked forward along the train until
he passed the suspect.  Smiling Jack looked like a middle aged 
businessman.  He was attempting to sell something out of an open case 
to his seat mate.  Sam returned to the dining car.  Julie had a big 
grin when he returned.  His long quest was about over. 

“You better go back to the compartment and wait, Julie.”  Sam told her.
“I'll tell the conductor that I found the outlaw and then sit near him. 
 I'll arrest him when the train stops.  I don't want to endanger the 
other passengers.” 

“All right, Sam, and good luck.”  She left and walked toward the back of
the train.  Sam sat for a minute, watching her posterior as she walked 
away.  He shook his head and, getting up himself, headed in the 
opposite direction. 

The detective found an empty spot just behind his query and waited.  
The train finally pulled into Yuma.  With a squealing of the brakes it 
slid to a stop and the passengers disembarked onto the nearly empty 
platform. 

The businessman closed his sample case and stood up, to feel Sam's
pistol jabbing into his back.  The man tensed and asked.  “What is 
this, a holdup?” 

“You're under arrest Smiling Jack.” 

“Who the hell's Smiling Jack, you asshole?” 

“You are, I've been tracking you for the last six months.”  Sam told
him. “I'm from the Pinkertons.” 

“The hell you say?  My name's Peterson.  Harry Peterson.  Here's my
Identification.”  He started to reach into his inside coat pocket. 

“Hold it.  Put your hands up, Jack.” 

“Up yours” He kept reaching and pulled out a wallet.  He showed it to
Sam.  Sure enough, He had a plenty of identification.  Even a picture 
of his wife and kids. 

“Sorry Sir, my mistake.”  An embarrassed Sam managed to placate the
businessman, who was starting to enjoy the mistake. 

Wondering what had gone wrong, Sam rushed back to his compartment.  He
found Julie and her things gone, except for an empty hatbox and the 
clothes she had been wearing.  There was also a little note saying.  
“Bye, Bye, Sucker.”  Signed Smiling Jack. 

******* Pinkerton Detective Sam Johnson was, again, hot on the trail of
the notorious outlaw Smilin' Jack Jackson.  A few weeks ago he had 
discovered, somewhat belatedly, that Smilin' Jack was a woman named 
Jaqueline.  She had escaped his clutches once again. 

Sam had received a wire that the outlaw had been seen just south of
Seattle.  She had apparently robbed a transportation company of a load 
of copper. 

Sam was on his way to Seattle to try to track the culprit down.  He had
just arrived at the town of Sweaty Blanket Utah, and was on his way to 
pay his customary call on the local Sheriff.  Although it was almost 
midnight the detective could see a light through the open door of the 
Sheriff's Office. 

He slogged through the muddy Main Street and, stepping up to the board
sidewalk, stomped most of the mud off his boots.  Striding in through 
the open doorway, Sam approached the lone occupant.  The deputy, seeing 
a well dressed stranger, quickly threw his feet off the old desk and 
came to his feet.  “What can I do for you, Sir?” in a nervous voice. 

“Howdy, son, Is the Sheriff around anywheres?” 

“I guess you could say so since he's in the JackPot, down the street.” 
The deputy told Sam, “maybe I could help you, though.  Sheriff Peters 
is off duty tonight and getting drunk.  He might not be too sociable 
about now.” 

“Guess you can, I just wanted to tell him I'm in town is all.”  Sam told
the deputy, “My names Sam Johnson, with pinkertons.” 

“Jethro Peters, Sam.  The Sheriff's my pa.” 

“Nice little town you got here, Jethro.  Ceptin' for the mud that is.” 

“What you doin' here anyways, Sam?” 

“Just going through.  I'm after an outlaw named Smilin' Jack.” 

“Well, don't that beat all?”  Jethro broke out with a shit eating grin. 
“We got him right inside here.  Been here for over a week, on a thirty 
day sentence.” 

“Are you sure about that?  I hear he robbed a wagon in Seattle just
yesterday.” 

“Couldn't be surer.  Identified by two prospectors who seen him before,
in Yuma, He even had a bill of sale for his horse on him.” 

“Are you sure he's a man, Jethro?  You couldn't be mistaken?” 

“Done made him strip when we got him, couldn't be surer on that.” Could
I maybe see and talk to him, please Jethro?  It might save me a trip 
all the way north.” 

“I don't think pa would mind any.  You gotta leave your guns outside
though.” 

A perplexed Sam followed the deputy into the back of the jail, where
they saw a young man sitting morosely in a corner of the lone cell.  
Jethro looked at Sam, who passed over his gun belt and motioned to be 
let into the cell.  The deputy dutifully unlocked the cell and let Sam 
in, locking it again behind him. 

The man did resemble Smilin' Jack.  He was slim and fine faced.  Sam
looked him over carefully and thought that the man could, maybe, have 
tricked him dressed as a girl.  But, he just didn't know how it was 
possible.  Sam couldn't easily be fooled with something like that. 

“So, you're Smilin' Jack, uh?”  The man just stared through him without
answering. 

Sam grabbed him by the shirtfront and yanked him off his seat on the
hard bench. 

“How'd you trick me like that?”  Now that he was so close, Sam could see
that it couldn't have been him.  This man was not the Smilin' Jack he 
was searching for.  After all Sam had taken some very careful looks at 
the girl who had tricked him.  He threw the young man back on his seat 
and asked him, “Who the hell are you anyways?”  Again no answer. 

“Jethro, Let me out now.”  When they had returned to the office Sam had
an idea and asked the deputy.  “Can I see his property?  It might help 
me find the one I want.” 

The deputy showed Sam to a cupboard and left him alone.  Sam looked at
the effects taken off the prisoner.  There was a saddle and some 
personal property taken from the man's pockets, also a set of 
saddlebags.  Nothing seemed to help Sam though, He did note that the 
saddle had been made in Sidesaddle, Colorado though.  It had an odd 
design, one he had never seen before. 

The next morning Sam continued his journey.  Odd that he had been in
contact with two Smilin' Jacks though.  Just odd was all. 

Two days later, Sam was waiting to change trains in a little town in
Nevada, for his last leg into Seattle.  He left the station to find 
somewhere to eat.  He stopped in midstride, across the street was a 
large sign saying, “Smilin' Jack's Investment Services, Come in for a 
Stock Smile.” 

He went in the storefront to find a fat little middle aged man behind a
desk.  The man rose, upon seeing Sam, and reaching out his hand with a 
smile.  “Why hello there, Sir.  I take it you want to buy some stock.  
I have the cheapest Railroad Stock within hundreds of miles.  Get a 
step up in the right direction to Utah's Future.  This is not only a 
railroad, but the Road to The Future.” 

“You're not from Colorado are you, Jack?” 

“Oh, No, I'm from Ohio, Sir.  I'm not one of THOSE Smilin' Jacks, No
Sir.” 

“What do you mean by THOSE?” 

“Well sir, everyone around here knows about THEM.  I'm no relation
whatever.  My name is Carpenter.  Jack Carpenter.” 

“Tell me about the other Jacks.” 

“Don't know much, just no relation is all.  Can't say anything else, No
Sir.  If you don't want to buy any stock, its time for me to close up.  
Goodbye Sir.”  He ushered Sam out of the storefront and closed his 
door.  It was only three pm. 

The detective had wasted so much time with the stock seller that he had
to return to the station or miss his train.  As Sam resumed his 
journey, he wondered what the merchant had meant by “Those Smilin' 
Jacks.” 

******** 

Sam arrived in Seattle and  went to the Sheriff's Office before getting
a room for the night.  He left his saddle and gear checked at the train 
station.  In such a large city he needed to get there during normal 
business hours, or wait until the next morning. 

The Sheriff's office consisted of a large two story building.  The front
entrance even had fake Grecian columns on each side, with a large sign 
stating that, “Joseph Madison, County Sheriff” amid various swirls and 
official verbiage.   Sam entered to find himself in a marble hall.  The 
walls covered with pictures and lined by wooden benches.  A desk with a 
uniformed deputy sat in one corner.   He went over and introduced 
himself, showing his identification.  Sent to a bench to wait he 
eventually was let in to see the illustrious Joseph Madison, himself. 

“How you doin' Sir, How you doin'?  The Sheriff clasped Sam's hand in a
vigorous shake.  “We're glad to have you here, Sir.  Any help you can 
give us will be appreciated.” 

Sam thanked him, wondering why the grand reception, He had expected to
have a hard time getting cooperation. 

“I wonder if I could see anything you have on that robbery, Sheriff?” 
Sam asked.  “I would be glad to tell you everything I know about Jack.” 


“Certainly Detective Johnson, Certainly.”  The Sheriff rang a little
bell on his deck and, before the third ring, another deputy appeared to 
lead Sam to the property room.  Sam examined the scant evidence and 
police reports.  The only thing of not was part of an envelope found 
near the scene, where the culprit, apparently, waited for the wagon.  
It had a partial address saying “–saddle, Co----.”   Sam thought he had 
better pay a visit to Sidesaddle Colorado.  There were far too many 
Smilin' Jacks coming from that place. 

******* 

The town of Sidesaddle was not on any railway stop and no tracks were
laid within about thirty miles of the place.  The detective had to rent 
a horse to get there.  Being a city boy, he didn't really enjoy riding, 
and was sore by the time he arrived. 

Sidesaddle consisted of a General Store, with a livery stable in back,
and three bars.  He hitched up in front of the cleanest looking bar and 
ordered a beer.  Pushing his change, from a quarter, toward the 
bartender Sam asked where he could find a room for a day or two. 

“You could try the Tyler's, about a mile south.  They have a spare room.
 We don't have too many visitors here, so it should be empty.”  Was his 
answer.  “What you here for anyways?” 

“Just a little business.  Won't be long.”  Sam answered.  Finishing his
beer.  “You got a lawman around here anywhere?” 

“Na, don't need one.  We do OK by ourselves out here.” 

“Thanks, probably be back for another beer tonight.” 

He left and headed South to see about a room.  The Tyler's were a
typical Western farm family.  Man, wife, and four and one half kids.  
The latest still in the oven.  They welcomed him warmly and charged an 
exorbitant rate of fifty cents a day, with meals. 

“What can you tell me about Smilin' Jack?'  He asked Janet Tyler, while
she was fixing supper for the family. 

“Which one?”  She answered, guardedly. “We got a lot of Smiling Jacks
around here.” 

“What you mean by a lot of them.” 

“Well, way I hear it is that the great grandfather started a tradition
of naming everybody Smiling Jack, male or female.  To keep it from 
being too confusing they have different middle names.  Right now we got 
us Smiling Jack Jimmy, Smiling Jack Mary, Smiling Jack Pete, Smiling 
Jack Jaquline, Smiling Jack Harry, and a whole slew of others that I 
don't know.  All Jackson's of course.” 

Sam was not too surprised by the revelation, he had suspected something
like that.  He asked where they were living and was directed to a farm 
on the other side of town.  He was anxious to complete his mission but 
decided to wait until the next day for the confrontation. 

******* 

Sand fleas and ants were vying with the mosquitos to eat his more
sensitive parts as the detective lay in a little patch of woodland a 
little ways from the Jackson ranch.  The ranch consisted of a new 
looking farmhouse with a few out buildings and a small corral 
containing only two horses.  Sam had gotten there just before daybreak 
and was trying to find out how many Smilin' Jacks were home at the 
time. 

Just after six am he saw smoke emerging from a little chimney and
movement through a window.  He figured it to be the kitchen, since the 
smell of bacon cooking came soon after.  A little later two men came 
out and, saddling horses, left in a direction away from town.  He had 
been waiting ever since.  Nobody else had left the house, but there was 
still occasional movement through the windows. 

About ten am a little girl came out and wound a bucket of water out of
the well before going back in, struggling with her burden.  He was 
finally rewarded with a view of his quarry.  A young woman came out and 
stared over the prairie for a moment, at one point causing him to duck 
his head as she looked directly at the woods.  When he raised his head 
she was gone again.  He had recognized her as the girl who had 
previously made a fool of him in Yuma. 

Now, Sam figured he had better collar the woman before the men got back.
 He snuck out of the woods and approached the house from the rear, 
trying to keep to cover whenever possible.  Coming up to the house he 
flattened against it and sidestepped to an open window.  Peering in, he 
saw an empty bedroom.  Fearing he might be seen at the door, Sam 
hoisted himself up and over the rough wood of the window sill, and into 
the room. 

He tiptoed to an open doorway on his right and peered, carefully, into a
short hallway.  Sounds came from another doorway.  Creeping out and 
drawing his revolver, the detective looked carefully into the other 
doorway.  The little girl was playing with, and talking to a doll. 

Advancing to the end of the hallway, he found himself looking into the
kitchen where the wanted woman was peeling potatoes.  He approached her 
softly, only to have the lady ask him, “What took you so long?  I've 
been waiting for hours.  Those skeeters must have eaten you alive.” 

She hadn't turned around, forcing him to come around the table, keeping
an eye on the knife she was using. 

“I'm taking you back with me, Jack.  Now put down that knife and put
your hands behind you.”  He took out his handcuffs. 

“You can give me time to change clothes can't you, Sam?”  She finished
the last potato, and put the knife down.  “Mary can finish supper now.  
I don't like her using knives yet.” 

“Mary, come here a minute, honey.” Jack called.  When the little girl
came in she was instructed on how to finish preparing the meal.  “I 
guess I gotta go with this man for a while.” 

Jack, or Jaq to be more precise, led Sam to another bedroom and closed
the door. She got some clothes out of a little built in closet and 
started changing.  Sam noticed that she seemed pretty nonchalant about 
the whole thing.  He took a seat on the unmade bed while she changed. 

The detective had no trouble keeping his eyes on her as she stripped
down to her bloomers and bra.  Facing away from him she took off the 
rest of her clothing.  Despite himself, Sam was aroused and crossed his 
legs to hide the fact.  As Jaq was taking her last leg out of the 
bloomers she stumbled and fell across him. 

Half turning she clasped her hands around his neck and planted a long,
moist kiss directly across his lips.  Being only human, Sam responded 
and they were soon engaged in an act as old as Adam and Eve producing 
Cane. 

A sated Sam was surprised to hear a loud ratchetting “Click'.  Trying to
stand, he found his left wrist handcuffed to the old iron bedstead.  
Giving him a last hug, she kissed him again and got dressed, in her 
fresh clothing. 

“I'll see you later, baby,” she told him, “I gotta finish supper.  The
boys'll be back soon.” 

When she left, Sam tried to get loose.  His clothes were lying across
the room and the bed was bolted to the wooden floor.  He tried to take 
it apart, but couldn't manage.  It seemed to weigh a ton.  He could 
only wait. 

Later he blushed as the two men looked in on him and laughed at the
sight.  Even the little girl came in to chide him.  “Why you want Jaq, 
Mister?  I don't like you.”, while he tried to cover himself with a 
sheet. 

After supper, Jaq came back in and packed some clothes. 

“I gotta go, sweets.  Now you be good now.  I'll see you later, hear.” 
Giving him a final kiss, while staying out of reach, she left, for 
parts unknown. 

Later, that evening, the little girl came in with some food and water. 

“Jack and Jack are looking for the key to those things.  They said to
tell you it might take a week or so to find it.”  She laughed and left 
Sam to his fate. 

********** 

Dabbing the last bit of red polish on her last toenail, Jacqueline stood
and looked at herself in her bedroom mirror.  She looked like a typical 
late 1800's bar girl, which was both her intention, and fact. 

“That damn. Useless, bastard,” she thought, “I should have castrated the
son-of-a-bitch when I had him.”  She looked away from the mirror.  It 
was already cracked and she was afraid of breaking it with her angry 
stare. 

Pinkerton Detective Sam Johnson had come too close to catching the
attractive little thief.  She had left him chained to her bed, and 
suspected that he was hot on her trail again. 

Jacqueline was one of the notorious Smilin' Jack family.  All thieves
and con artists, since before the revolution.  A very traditional 
family.   Now Jacqueline couldn't even ply her trade. 

“I swear, that bastard is part bloodhound.”  She slipped on her bloomers
and, not needing the corset, her low cut red dress.   Lastly, her nails 
being dry by now, her high heeled shoes, also bright crimson.  Now she 
was just marking time cheating bar patrons, and building up her stake 
for a good con. 

“Well, I better get downstairs,” she fluffed her long red hair, “can't
make any money standing here.” and headed for the door.  “This damn 
town is so small it'll take me years to get a stake.” 

********* 

Sam had a hard time staying awake in his saddle, notwithstanding the
jostling of his horse, as he rode through the hot Nevada sunlight.  
After being let loose by Jaq's daughter Mary, at the ranch, he had been 
trying to find the elusive miscreant. 

His ears still burned from the dressing down he had received from his
boss. 

“You were sent to arrest her, not sleep with her,” his boss had
admonished, “you better get that bitch.  We don't get paid until you 
do.”  Mr. Peterson groaned.  “All the money and time we have invested 
in this hunt, and nothing to show for it.”  For Harry Peterson, it all 
came down to the profit margin.  “I have so damn many cases pending.  
This time try to arrest her, Sam.  You want to get laid go to a 
whorehouse,” he suggested, “And not on your expense account, either.” 

Since then he had tracked her to Nevada.  He was constantly reminded of
the scope of the Smilin' Jack family, finding Smilin' Jacks seemingly 
everywhere he traveled.  They were a large family and seemed to be 
involved in every crime and con game in the Western States. 

His dozing was interrupted when his horse began moving at a trot,
sensing water in the distance.  Sam almost fell from his saddle at the 
sudden motion. 

Riding over a slight hill in the predominately flat plain, Sam saw a
little dusty town in the distance.  It seemed to consist of a half 
dozen scattered buildings, half of them bars.  A typical cattle town, 
it would depend on passing cowboys for it's sustenance.  There were 
many of these towns, most without names, built around a water source, 
in this part of the State. 

Sam normally stopped first to notify the local law enforcement that he
was in town and look for information.  The habit had served him well.  
Having a rapport with the local sheriff or town marshal had not only 
given him information but avoid later trouble.  In this case, the town 
was too small to have either. 

Being hot and dry, Sam headed for the nearest bar.  They were too small
and simple to be called ‘Saloon's.  He could question people while 
having a few beers. 

The nameless bar was a typical western two story wooden building.  The
ground floor contained a large room with a bar, and a small kitchen.  
Upstairs would be a few rooms where the girls and other staff lived.  
When a herd was near the town, all the rooms, including the staff 
rooms, would be used by the girls.  Even shop girls and house wives 
would be helping out, to make a few extra dollars. 

The barroom was about twenty degrees cooler than outside.  Sam took a
table, waiting for a waitress to arrive.  Even though the place was 
nearly empty, the bartender and a lone girl just watched him, making no 
move to get his order.  He had to go to the bar. 

“Give me a beer, man.  It's hot out there.” To the rough looking
bartender, a large man with a dirty brown shirt.  The man looked him 
over and filled a glass. 

“Quarter.” 

“For a nickle beer?” 

The bartender made no comment, just reached to take the beer back. 

“Hold on.  Hold on.”  Sam dug into his vest for a coin, and handed it
over. 

“Dollar a pitcher.” 

Sam gave him a bill, it was hot outside.  Taking his full pitcher and an
empty glass he asked, “Got anything to eat here.” 

“Saniches, beef, two for a dollar.” 

“Bring ‘em over and I'll pay.”  He returned to the table with his beer. 

While waiting for the food, he looked around the room.  He would have to
find someone to ask about the local law, and if they had seen Jaq.  He 
doubted that she would stay in this little town, though.  She might 
have passed through.  He had missed her by only a week or so at the 
last town.  At least a girl who looked something like her.  He would 
also have to enquire on a room and a bath.  There might be a boarding 
house, or at least a tent, around here somewhere.  Anything better than 
sleeping on the ground. 

******** 

Jacqueline was halfway down the little staircase before she saw Sam
sitting there.  She hurriedly returned to her room. 

“How'd that asshole find me here?”  She thought.  “What'll I do now?” 

Her knees shaking, she sat on the bed to think.  Getting her composure
back, she started changing clothes.  “No time to pack.  I gotta get my 
ass out of here.” 

Cursing to herself, she dressed in her trail clothes, meanwhile trying
to set her mind on some plan.  If she just ran, where would she run to? 
He could see her for miles, on the dusty plain. 

By the time she had changed, her nimble mind had a plan.  “A Smilin'
Jack always has a plan.”  She told herself.  Going out the back window, 
she lowered her pants clad legs, finding purchase on the top sill of 
the downstairs window.  Letting herself go, she dropped and rolled.  
Getting to her feet she headed for the stable. 

“Gotta find Ned,” she told herself, “he'll take care of that bastard for
me.”  Ned was a local farmer who handled the drunken cowboys.  He was a 
former lawman who spent jail time for shaking down storekeepers in 
Abilene, Kansas.  He had saved his money and bought a local ranch when 
he got out of jail.  “Let a guy sleep with you once, and you can never 
get rid of them.”  She had her sense of humor back. 

********** 

Meanwhile, Sam finished his meal and beer.  Figuring that the
non-talkative bartender would be no help, he looked around at the other 
patrons, looking for one to question.  They looked like, mostly, 
farmers and a few cowboys.  Finally, smiling at the lone bar girl, she 
came over, sensing money. 

It cost him a few dollars in drinks and tips, but he learned that a new
girl, who looked liked Smilin' Jack was employed in that very bar.  The 
girl was peeved because that very person was already late to relieve 
her.  Maybe late because she had seen him.  He also found out that the 
closest thing to a lawman was out on a ranch somewhere.  No help from 
him. 

If she had seen him she would have run, or be upstairs getting ready to
run.  Sam jumped up and hurried over to the silent bartender.  He 
showed the bartender his badge. 

“Listen buddy, I have to get upstairs, right now.” 

“Sure thing, ten dollars.  Suzy'll take care of you.”  He smiled for the
first time.  “Fifty cents off because of that shiny thing.” 

Seeing that the guy both was not impressed with his credentials and
because he was in a hurry, Sam grabbed a perplexed Suzy under the arm 
and dragged her up the stairs. 

“Man, talk about horny.”  The bartender shook his head.  “Too much time
in that hot sun, I guess.” 

When they got to the second floor, Sam drew his pistol and asked Suzy
“Which room?”  Back in her element, the bar girl pointed at a door.  
Inside, Sam quickly searched for Smilin' Jack, his gun at the ready. 

“Ain't nobody else in my room.”  Suzy told him. 

“I don't want your room,” Sam told her, “where is the new girl's room?” 

“You don't like me?” 

“I like you, I like you,” he consoled her, “now show me to the new
girl's room.” 

“For five dollars, Mister.” 

He gave her the money and they went back into the hallway, where she
pouted and showed him the next door.  Forcing it, he found Smilin' Jack 
had fled.  The window being open, his detective sense told him how.  
Going over he looked out and saw the disturbed ground outside.  Sam 
shook his head and headed downstairs and out of the bar. 

“Damn, both horny and quick.”  Thought the bartender, as he wiped down
the bar. 

******* 

Jacqueline was almost at Ned's little ranch when she saw him repairing a
fence around his little garden patch.  A dog alerting Ned as she 
approached, she hurriedly rubbed her eyes to produce a red tint and 
started crying.  By the time she rode up she looked like she was 
extremely upset over something. 

“Ned, Ned honey.  My ex-husband is after me.”  The distraught young
woman cried as she rode up.  “He threatened to kill me.  Please help 
me.”  She implored him.  Dismounting she ran into his arms to continue 
crying on his shoulder.  She made up a story about her ex-husband being 
a Detective and chasing her all over the West. 

An angry Ned took the weeping Jacqueline to the ranch house to be
comforted by his wife, Nellie.  Jaq, being an accomplished actress, 
soon had Nellie crying along with her.  Ned was occupied in checking 
over his guns.  Not much liking lawmen himself, Ned would get the 
bastard for Jacqueline. 

******** 

Unknown to the lot of them, Sam was innocently riding toward the ranch. 
He intended to enlist Ned to his cause. 

As the sun was sinking in the West, Sam found the ranch, and the little
ranch house, a small plank barn and an outhouse behind it.  A pretty 
picture, but one Sam could not appreciate, as he rode into the front 
yard.  Just as he dismounted, Ned happened to leave the house. 

“What you want mister?  I gotta leave right away.”  He had his rifle
with him.  “Some bastard is after a friend of mine.” 

“I'll help you, if you help me afterwards.”  Sam told him.  “We gotta
hurry.” 

“Sure, I could use some help on this one.” 

Not having much time to talk, both of them in a big hurry, they rode
quickly back toward the little town.  Sam figure to help Ned.  Thereby 
gaining his help and goodwill. 

On his part, Ned welcomed a little help on going after a lawman,
possibly a gunman.  Ned had a hard time hitting a rabbit with a 
shotgun.  His wife was a better shot, and did all the hunting. 

******* 

Mary, once she got over her anger and tears, listened to Jacqueline's
story.  It didn't seem to hang together.  She was the sensible on in 
her family.  She started thinking it over.  When Jaq tried to sneak out 
to her horse, after excusing herself to use the outhouse, Mary stopped 
her. 

“And just where do you think you're going, young lady?” 

“Ah, I'm just going back to town, Mary.” 

“No you're not, you're just coming back and sit until Ned gets back.” 

“I'm leaving now.”  Jaq dropped the charade.  “You can't stop me.” 

Jacqueline had seen Mary's suspicion and wanted to get out of there. 

“I have my old Henry rifle.  I can drop you at two miles.  You better
just come back in.”  Mary lied. 

A contrite Jaq, believing her, went back into the house and took a seat.
 She could handle men but often women saw through her ruses.  Not 
trusting the woman, Mary locked her in a closet, and waited for her 
husband's return. 

******** 

On getting back to town, After introductions, the two men started
talking. 

“I'm looking for this guy,  that's chasing one of the bar girls.  He's
her former husband and threatened to kill her.  He traced her here.” 

“Shouldn't be hard to find in this town, Ned.” 

“By the way, what's your problem?  Maybe we can solve it at the same
time.” 

“I'm a Pinkerton Detective.  I've traced a con-woman here.  She probably
saw me and ran away.  I might need some help, or even a posse, to find 
her.  After we get this bastard, of course.  She can't have ridden too 
far.” 

“Strange, Sam, the guy I'm looking for is a lawman, too.” 

It dawned on them at the same time.  Neither one being much good with a
gun, or of too physical a bent, they both pondered what to do.  Both of 
them were afraid to start anything. 

“Why don't we go in and have a drink, Ned?” 

They went in and compared stories.  After showing both his credentials
and papers on Jacqueline, Ned believed Sam.  Just as the third beers 
came, Ned had a thought. 

“I left her alone with Mary.”  He exclaimed, in sudden fear.  Leaving
the beer they hurried back to their horses. 

******** 

They barged into the ranch house to find a dozing Mary, her large Henry
rifle across her knees, dozing on a stuffed chair. 

“Where is she, honey?” A relieved Ned asked. 

“She tried to escape and I locked her in the closet.” 

There was a loud sigh as Sam released his breath.  He had not expected
to find Jacqueline there. 

Sam spent the night and left with Smilin' Jaq the next morning.  She
seemed subdued as she rode, handcuffed, in front of him.  He had 
finally caught her. 

Of course they had a long ride back.


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