The Bounty Sisters: A Story of Romance in the Old West

By Charles J. Hemphill

The Bounty Sisters is the story of two women that enter the male-dominated world of bounty hunting in order to gain their financial freedom and unexpectedly find true love along the way. It’s a story about having the courage to go against the status-quo in order to gain you independence.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Sep 7, 2012
• ISBN: 9781483508474

Book preview

9781483508474

CHAPTER ONE

In 1876, Caldwell, Kansas was known as the Border Queen because it was the terminus for the Chisholm Trail and the southern half of Sumner County butted up against Oklahoma. It was a railhead town where thousands of head of cattle were driven up from Texas to meet the Santa Fe Railroad and then shipped off to the slaughterhouses in Chicago. It was also a violent town. Caldwell lost more law enforcement officers in the line of duty than any town in Kansas and had a higher murder rate than some of the state’s largest cities. The majority of the shootings involved intoxicated cattle drovers. During cattle season the population of Caldwell tripled as hundreds of drovers filled the streets of the city with drunken and raucous activity. Transients with money in their pockets were good for the local economy but tough on both law enforcement officers and the citizens that made Caldwell their home.

For the locals even the simple pleasure of going out to dinner took some pluck. Fortunately Poor Richard’s Café was one eating establishment in town where you could get a good home cooked meal without being bothered by fresh-off-the-trail drunken cowboys. Of course there were other places in Caldwell where you could get a decent meal. However, the locals tended to avoid them and not just because of the rowdy cowboys. The owners of the bars and restaurants frequented by the cattle drovers added a surcharge to everything they served to the cowboys, while they were in town. The owners knew, from past experience, the cowhands that patronized their places tended to break things when they got drunk, thus the surcharge was one way for them to recoup their losses. The owners passed on their cost of doing business in every shot of whiskey and every meal the cowboys bought. Therefore, locals wisely avoided these establishments until cattle season was over.

Poor Richard’s, clean well-lit café, had enough blue gingham-covered tables to seat up to 40 people. The patrons enjoying dinner tonight covered the gambit of Caldwell’s social strata, well-dressed businessmen and their wives and farmers wearing bib overalls. Also having dinner tonight at the well-patronized establishment was Rebecca O’Reilly, a comely woman in her early thirties with ginger-colored hair and apple green eyes. She was sitting alone, as usual, at a corner table in the crowded restaurant. Years ago when she worked as a laundress at The Pink Garter brothel, she could sit anywhere she wanted in the cafe. People saw her as an honest woman trying to make a living the best she could. However, after she inherited the mantle of Madame at The Pink Garter some five years ago, that all changed. She could sense that the more lady-like patrons of the cafe took offense to her being there. She saw it in the smirks on their faces and the whispered conversations whenever she entered. She also became tired of the cold shoulders she received from the self-righteous patrons that sat near her when she dined.

Now whenever she dined at the café, she routinely sought out a corner table and ate alone. Even though she had become the symbol of a house of ill repute, she was not going to give the local snobs the satisfaction of preventing her from eating at the hometown cafe. As she took a sip of strong aromatic coffee, she saw her sister Cassie walk in and her face brightened. Cassie, her younger sister by four years, was a fetching woman in her own right with her father’s hazel eyes and her mother’s auburn hair. Rebecca watched as Cassie scanned the café. When Cassie saw Rebecca, she smiled and without saying a word quickly made her way over to her table.

I’m so glad you could make it, said Rebecca as Cassie pulled out a chair and sat down.

Hans got started early tonight. He’s probably feeling no pain by now.

I swear I don’t know why you stay married to that man, Rebecca truly wondered.

How did I know he was going to turn out to be a drunk? It wasn’t like he was wearing a sign or something, Cassie replied in her defense.

Father, God rest his soul, would be turning over in his grave, if he knew what he was doing to you.

I know, Becky, replied Cassie as she averted her eyes in embarrassment. Ever since Hans’ true colors surfaced, his behavior had become a bone of contention between the two sisters. I know I went after him, said Cassie with more than a hint of regret. But I also thought I was in love. Or at least I thought I was in love. He was the perfect gentlemen while we were dating and his beautiful blue eyes just swept me off my feet. And during our honeymoon, Cassie took a quick glance around to make sure no one could hear her and whispered. He was wonderful.

Due to unfortunate circumstances beyond their control when Cassie and Rebecca arrived in Caldwell they were destitute and stranded. After Rebecca landed a job at The Pink Garter, Cassie grew frustrated. Her frustration turned to anger when every job she applied for, the men made it clear they expected sexual favors in return. Aggravated and disappointed Cassie, out of desperation, decided marriage was going to be her way out of poverty. She began to cross paths with the town’s handsome general store owner, Hans Zimmerman, a first generation German immigrant with blue eyes and blonde hair. She flirted with him at every opportunity until he finally asked her out to dinner. He turned out to be a perfect gentleman while he courted Cassie. Her engagement was the talk of the town and their wedding was the social event of the season. Only after they returned from their honeymoon did Hans show his true colors as an abusive drunk.

But, he still hits you, Rebecca replied critically.

Only when he’s drunk, Cassie said weakly in her defense. It was one thing to know she had made a mistake, but it was another to have her sister keep reminding her of it.

At least he doesn’t hit you when he’s not drinking, said Rebecca looking for even the slightest silver lining.

Cassie couldn’t look Rebecca in the eyes because she knew the truth. So when she said, Yeah that’s right. It didn’t sound convincing, because Hans was now hitting her even when he wasn’t drinking.

Cassie’s less than assertive reply made Rebecca suspicious. She hoped she was wrong, so she paused before she softly asked, Is he hitting you when he’s not drinking?

Cassie kept her eyes averted. She didn’t want Rebecca to see the tears welling up in her eyes. Hans had recently become overly critical of everything she did. It started one morning at breakfast when he asked her to cook him some eggs while he was still hung over. He wanted one fried egg and one scrambled and she dutifully complied with his simple request. But when she set the eggs down in front of him, he flew into a rage. He yelled at her because she fried the egg he wanted scrambled and scrambled the egg he wanted fried. He then smacked her hard across the face. All she could do in response was to say that she wouldn’t do it again.

Rebecca could tell from Cassie’s silence her suspicions were correct. Damn him, Rebecca cursed. Someone ever hit me I’d leave um or shoot um. Rebecca had a hard and fast rule when it came to dealing with men. If a man didn’t see her as an equal partner in a relationship, she would try and set him straight. If that failed, she would leave him. This was a pretty radical idea for a woman living on the frontier. A concept that didn’t sit well with men, who were used to being in charge and saw women as nothing more than chattel.

While her principles may have served her well, it also had unintended consequences, like keeping potential suitors away. Not many men were willing to see things her way. When she turned thirty-two, she stoically started to come to grips with the fact that at her age her chances of being married were becoming as the old saying goes, slim and none. At thirty-two, most women her age were already married and had children. The way things were going it looked like she was getting closer to earning the dreaded sobriquet of Old Maid, a painful thought indeed.

That’s easy for you to say, said Cassie. Then with a twinge of jealously she added, At least you can support yourself, I can’t.

I know, Rebecca sadly replied.

Unfortunately her younger sister was now paying the price for her decision to get out of the harsh grip of poverty. As Hans’ problem grew worse, Rebecca pleaded with Cassie to leave him. But Cassie took her marriage vows seriously. When she told the preacher in front of God and her guests that she would stay with her man for better or worse, she meant it. Rebecca knew it was a decision that she had to begrudgingly respect, even if it frustrated her attempts to get Cassie to leave the abusive man.

I’m sorry, said Rebecca. Both sisters had a mutual understanding that whenever a conversation appeared to be heading dangerously close to an argument, they would change the subject. This time, however, they didn’t have to artificially change the subject because their conversation was cut short by a matronly waitress named Bess, who walked up to the table.

What’ll you two have? asked the pleasingly plump waitress as she brushed a loose strand of brown hair out of her face.

Cassie looked at Rebecca. What are you having?

I’m having the chicken and dumplings.

That sounds good. I’ll have the same, said Cassie as she looked up and smiled at the waitress, And some coffee.

Chicken and dumplings it is, Bess parroted back, And another coffee. She then reached into the pocket of her stained white apron, retrieved a set of silverware and placed it on the table in front of Cassie. Then as quickly as she had appeared, Bess was halfway back to the kitchen.

Taking advantage of the interruption, Rebecca brought up an article she read in the local newspaper about a cattle quarantine bill being debated in the state legislature. I finally got a chance to finish reading that article in the newspaper about the quarantine law they want to pass.

You think it’ll pass? Cassie naively inquired. The bill was the talk of all the border towns in Kansas because their livelihoods depended on Texas cattle. The law would prohibit Texas cattle from entering the southern half of the state in an attempt to keep Kansas cattle safe from the deadly ticks being brought up by Texas Longhorns. The ticks were killing indigenous Kansas herds by the thousands.

Like grease through a goose, Rebecca quickly responded.

That’s too bad.

I know, Rebecca sighed. The passage of that bill will hurt every business in the state that depends on cattle drives. What are they thinking?

Always the pragmatist Rebecca knew that with the almost assured passage of the damned quarantine bill, her way of life in Caldwell was going to end sooner than she had anticipated. She then waxed philosophically, Becoming the Madame of The Pink Garter has been a blessing and a curse. The blessing is that I’m bringing in good money. The curse is that I’m bringing in good money. I’m afraid I’ll never be able to make as much as I am now starting over someplace new. There are start-up costs to consider and overhead, not to mention a soon-to-be dwindling supply of customers.

But in your line of work, isn’t there always going to be horny cowboys? Cassie blurted out before she realized what she said, then blushed.

First off, Rebecca indignantly replied. It is not my line of work. I am the owner, not a contributor. It was a sore spot with Rebecca and the comment stung. Just because she was the Madame of a brothel, it didn’t automatically mean that she was also a working girl. She never went to bed with any of the men who patronized her establishment. However, she couldn’t blame the town’s folk for thinking she did. It was guilt by association and she had learned to live with it. She knew there was no way she could change the closed minds of some of the more self righteous citizens of Caldwell, so why try? Even if she told them the truth, they wouldn’t believe her.

Sorry, Cassie quickly apologized. I didn’t mean it the way it sounded. I’m just concerned about you.

Bess appeared carrying two plates of hot food and a cup of coffee dangling from a free finger. Her appearance was a welcomed truce for both sisters.

Here you go, said the now sweating waitress as she set the plates down in front of the sisters. You need anything else, just holler.

Thank you. We will, Rebecca smiled.

Bess wiped the sweat from her brow and left.

Rebecca took a bone-handled fork and silently ate a piece of chicken and then daintily took a bite of dumpling. She decided to let Cassie stew for a little while after her apology. Rebecca continued to enjoy her dinner and watched Cassie squirm while she waited patiently for her to restart the conversation. When she felt it was time, Rebecca set her fork down, took a sip of coffee and looked at her now penitent sister.

Rebecca restarted the conversation where she left off. It’s real simple, Cassie. No more cattle drives, no more cowboys. No cowboys, no money. Cassie was forgiven and her ill mannered remark was forgotten.

Good, thought Cassie. All is forgiven. I hate it when she does that. Cassie set her fork down and continued the conversation. Becky, I’m just concerned about what’ll happen if you have to shut down.

To be honest with you, so am I, Rebecca truthfully replied.

There must be another way you can make that kind of money, Cassie said naively.

Rebecca took another sip of coffee before she answered. I’ve been thinking about that all afternoon.

Cassie swallowed a piece of dumpling and asked. Have you come up with any ideas?

Lots of them, Rebecca chuckled, But none of them on this side of the law.

Oh, come on now Becky. There’s got to be someway you can make money that’s legal, isn’t there? Cassie jokingly prodded.

Well, Rebecca began conspiratorially. There is one way I thought of.

What’s that?

It’s a little unorthodox, Rebecca whispered.

Tell me, Cassie whispered as she leaned in closer, her imagination taking off at the thought of what her sister’s secret might be.

Rebecca scanned the cafe to make sure no one was looking. She then reached into her draw string purse, pulled out a folded piece of paper and handed it to Cassie.

Cassie unfolded the paper and studied it. It was a wanted poster that spelled out in big bold, black letters that Happy Sam Riley was wanted for murder and there was a five-hundred-dollar reward for his capture. When Cassie finished studying the wanted poster, she gave her older sister a puzzled look.

What’s the matter? asked Rebecca when she saw Cassie’s baffled expression.

What does this have to do with anything? Cassie asked, still wondering why Rebecca handed her the wanted poster. It’s just a wanted poster.

It’s a wanted poster that tells me there’s good money in bringing in bad men, Rebecca confidently replied.

What? … Wait a minute. You’re not thinking of…

A mischievous smile appeared on Rebecca’s face.

You’re not serious, are you?

Rebecca silently nodded her head. She was as serious as a lynch mob.

You want to go after outlaws?

Rebecca nodded her head again.

You want to be a bounty hunter? Cassie asked incredulously.

Keep your voice down, Rebecca cautioned. She then quickly glanced around the cafe to make sure no one had heard her sister spout off about her unconventional way of making money. Apparently, no one in the cafe heard Cassie since no heads had turned in their direction and everyone was still eating. For once, it was good to be sitting at a corner table.

But a bounty hunter, Cassie said again as she lowered her voice.

Why not, responded Rebecca as she took the wanted notice from her sister and deftly stuffed it into her purse. She didn’t want to take any chances that someone might see the poster and start asking questions.

But, Becky, bounty hunting is a man’s job, Cassie admonished as she tried to keep her voice down.

Where does it say that? In some book, Rebecca quickly snapped.

No, Cassie found herself answering without much conviction. I guess not. But still, that doesn’t mean women should do it.

Why not? challenged Rebecca.

I don’t know … It’s just not done … It’s not ladylike. And it’s dangerous, said a frustrated Cassie as she rattled off what seemed like perfectly sound objections to keep a woman from entering such a dangerous profession.

It’s no more dangerous than what I’m doing now, said Rebecca.

But bounty hunting is different, Cassie countered. However, she knew there was a grain of truth in what Rebecca said. Rebecca had told her on more than one occasion about how she had to deal with rowdy cowboys and customers that wouldn’t pay. Although Rebecca never did elaborate, Cassie knew her sister had been in some pretty tough scrapes at The Pink Garter and had managed to get out of them unscathed.

Look, Cassie, said Rebecca, as her face took a hard edge. How else am I going to make it if my place closes? I’m thirty-two years old. I’m not married. And I have no real prospects of finding a husband any time soon. And I don’t relish the idea of going back to doing someone else’s laundry.

Don’t talk like that, Becky, said Cassie as she rebuked her sister and tried to stay optimistic and upbeat.

It’s the truth, said Rebecca with a flash of anger in her eyes.

You don’t need to be a bounty hunter, Becky. You’ll find a husband. You wait and see. You’ll find a nice man, hopefully not like Hans, and then settle down. Despite her unhappy marriage Cassie had not given up entirely on the institution of marriage. Let him take care of you. Have a couple of babies. Everything will be fine, she continued. Cassie’s heart was in the right place as she offered what she felt was a reasonable solution to keep her sister from chasing criminals but she could tell that her advice was falling on deaf ears. Cassie saw Rebecca roll her eyes, which confirmed what Cassie