Good Girls Doing Wicked Things - A Short Story Collection

The Blood Moon Saloon

(1st choice - Overall Bookshop favorite for the Western Photo Prompt Contest)

I sat in my usual spot, nursing a tall glass of whiskey. Every night, with the exception of Sunday, this is where I could be found once my duties were complete. I had exactly two hours to drink enough whiskey to build up my courage to do one of two things – defy her... or satisfy her.

            "What would you do for love?" Those six little words, so innocently asked, had changed my life in unimaginable ways.

            "Excuse me?"

            The words startled me out of my reverie. I hadn't realized that the barstool next to me had become occupied. I made eye contact with the young man and touched the brim of my hat to indicate I heard him. He, along with the well-groomed woman next to him, was obviously a tourist. They were drawn to me because of my well-worn hat, boots, and spurs, all of which were as authentic as they'd ever see. I also take great care with my horseshoe mustache to match the re-enactment actors. Folks thought I dyed it darker for that reason, which was convenient.

            "Sorry, folks, I'm just an old cowboy who spends too much time livin' in the past." I turned back to my glass and took as big a gulp as I could without choking. I felt the weight of their stares as they figured out who I was.

            "Do you happen to be Clayton Pickett?"

"Guilty," I said as I gave his hand a strong shake. "And who might you be?"

            "I'm Bob," he replied and turned towards the blonde girl, "and this is Sally."

            "What brings two young 'uns like you to a borin' ol' town like St. Elmo?" I chuckled and took another gulp of whiskey. "Wait; don't tell me... you hopin' to spy a ghost?"

            "Well, it is what y'all are famous for!" Sally giggled and a healthy blush spread across her face, making her freckles stand out. A lump formed in my throat as I was reminded of another face, just as young and fresh, with a similar spattering of freckles.

            "Yeah, we saw the re-enactment today – out at the mine," Bob added. "Much of it focused on your heroics. The pamphlet we got also said you took over this Saloon after..."

            His words faltered when he saw the change in my expression. Nearly thirty years later and I still can't keep the pain off my face. "Well, trust me when I say that much of that show is a gross exaggeration of the events that took place at that mine." A shudder climbed my spine, which I covered by winking at Sally. "But, I am the proud owner of the Blood Moon Saloon, so let me get you nice kids a drink."

            I motioned to Emily, one of the bartenders, and she came to our end of the forty-two foot bar made of the finest European ash. Her long, curly black hair swayed across her back bringing sweet memories while she filled their drink order.

            After a healthy swig of his beer, Bob drew in a deep breath and asked the question. The one all the tourist want to know. "So is any of it true? Does the ghost of Mattie Murphy haunt this building... did you snatch her out of Satan's hands in the deepest part of the Murphy Mine?" He had the good manners to look almost apologetic for asking, but his curiosity over-ruled them.

            I cocked my head slightly and waited several beats before answering. In that time I made a quick decision. After all, it had been more than six months since that kid from Kansas. I needed to tell the story, like a good Catholic in a confessional.

            "You sure you want to hear the tale? Because you can't un-hear it once it's told."

            Bob and Sally exchanged a quick look and then turned towards me and nodded enthusiastically. Sally's face flushed again and her youth rolled off of her in waves.