by India Heath
1885. St Elmo, Colorado.
"Damn it, Charlie," said Hank, "what the hell is all that racket going on outside my saloon? Can't a man get a decent morning's sleep around here any more?"
Charlie continued to clean whisky glasses without even looking up. "Sorry boss. My guess is it's that new little lady in town - the one holding meetings every Sunday after church. She's been preaching about the sin of alcohol and gambling and getting the women folk hereabout all fired up."
Hank Reynolds frowned and scratched his dark shaggy head. "What new lady? For crying out loud, why would anyone be against a man having a drink and a game of poker?"
Charlie shrugged. "Don't ask me, boss. I ain't even married. Women and the way they think is a total mystery to me. But there's a whole bunch of females outside who wanna see this place shut down... reckon it's a den of wickedness, they do."
"A den of what?" Hank stopped trying to work out what his barman was going on about and instead marched out through the swing doors to assess the situation himself. There in front of his saloon were a group of women holding placards. Their annoying chants reinforced the messages on the white-painted boards, clearly aimed at ruining him. Slogans like 'Wicked Whisky' and 'Satan's Saloon' caught his eye. He held up his hands to attract their attention and hopefully shut them up. Their high pitched squawking was giving him a headache.
"Whoa there," he finally shouted as their raucous protests grew louder. "Hold up there and quit all the yelling, will ya?" His deep voice must have penetrated their determined throng, for the voices petered off and a dozen pair of female eyes turned on him with resentful glares. "You ladies are blocking my doorway and making a racket. You all have five minutes to disappear before I send for the Sheriff and have you arrested for disturbing the peace." His piercing blue eyes scanned the cluster of indignant protesters, recognising the majority of them. "And I'm guessing most of your husbands and daddies won't be too pleased about you causing trouble in town either."
There was a low ripple of muttering across the group and Hank hid a grin of triumph as several of the protest boards were lowered dejectedly into the dirt.
"My Sam would take his belt to me if he knew I was here," one woman admitted loudly. Several others nodded and there was a low murmur of assent.
"Daddy said he'd whup me if he ever caught me within ten yards of the saloon," announced a young girl. "And Daddy's strap hurts something awful when he takes it to my bare backside. I'm sorry, Eliza but I think I'd better be getting home."
As the women all began to slowly disperse, a petite figure dressed in black stepped forward and raised her hands urgently. "Ladies, ladies, we have a worthy cause here. Saloons like this one are the Devil's gateway to hell. It is our duty to save the men of this town from poison and promiscuity. You cannot give up at the first hint of trouble."
"That's easy for you to say, Eliza," the young girl replied. "You're new in town. You don't have a man to answer to. With all due respect, Miss, it's not your fanny on the line here."
Eliza Cooper scanned the worried faces of the women in front of her and nodded. "Okay, fine. Those of you who are afraid to stand up and fight for the salvation of this community may as well leave now. But I for one intend to stay and fight." She turned to face Hank and raised her chin defiantly. "I will not rest until this den of iniquity is shut down."
Eliza didn't want to look behind her but she gathered by the smirk on Hank's face that all the local women were deserting her. A part of her wanted to run away with them. Maybe if she had a father who would turn her over his knee, she wouldn't be so full of anger and resentment. But her daddy had slowly drank himself to death, spending all his time and money in hell holes like this one, oblivious to his little girl alone and hungry at home. Whisky was the soul instigator of the untimely death of her father and for all the misery she had endured whilst growing up. "You don't scare me, Mr Reynolds," she said defiantly. "No man does."
Hank folded his arms and leaned lazily against the post that supported the overhung wooden roof. "That so?" he drawled, studying the little woman standing boldly before him, back straight and eyes spitting venom. For two cents he'd turn her over his knee right here in the street and set a fire blazing in her shapely rear. If ever a woman needed her bottom spanked, it was this little upstart. But he had a gut feeling she'd fight like a tiger and holler like a banshee from the very first slap, and his sleep-fogged brain just couldn't handle it this early in the day.
"Charlie!" he yelled into the bar. "Get your ass out here, will ya?" Charlie came running. "Go find Sheriff Turner for me. Tell him there's a wild cat outside my saloon, making threats and being a damn nuisance."
Charlie studied Eliza and scratched his head in dismay. The girl was a tiny bastion of indignation. But her head barely reached Hank's shoulder and she looked to weigh no more than a little kid. Surely involving the sheriff was unnecessary? "Boss, you want me to escort the little lady over to the diner and -"
"No!" Both Hank and Eliza shouted in unison.
"I will not be shuffled off like a child, with a pat on the head," Eliza snapped. "I intend to get this place shut down."
"I want this little baggage arrested," Hank growled at Charlie. "Now go fetch the Sheriff." His gaze swung back to Eliza. "And believe me, darlin', you attempt to damage my business and it won't be a pat you'll be getting from me but a darn good paddling."
"How dare you threaten me," Eliza hissed. "Not content with corrupting every man in this town with liquor and gambling, you sink to bullying women too. Well do your worst, Mr Reynolds." She grabbed a discarded placard and aimed it at Hank, stick end first. "You just try and... and..." Colour suffused her cheeks at the idea of him paddling her and the word 'spank' clogged in her throat. She abandoned the sentence and started again. "You make one attempt to manhandle me and I'll clout you with this pole."
Suddenly the placard was wrenched from her unsuspecting fingers and flung back into the dirt, and she found herself hauled up against a hard chest. Eliza gasped as Sheriff Vince Turner virtually lifted her off her feet and glared down at her with steel grey eyes. "I don't like people making threats in my town, young lady."
For a moment, Eliza was too stunned to react but seconds later she was wriggling for freedom. "Let me go," she demanded. "Take your hands off me!"
Oblivious to her struggles or demands Sheriff Turner maintained his tight hold on her as he looked at Hank. "What's this all about, Hank?"
"Sheriff, this man-" Eliza was given a short shake. "Oh!"
"I didn't ask for your input, little girl," Vince growled, "so keep quiet and quit fidgeting. You're in enough trouble as it is."
Hank chuckled. "She's a real wild cat, ain't she, Sheriff? Reckons she's out to ruin me. Had half the women in town ready to see me lynched."
"Where are the other women now?" the Sheriff asked, eyeing the abandoned placards.
"Gone home," Hank replied smugly. "I just needed to remind them that their husbands and daddies would probably take a switch to their butts and they ran for the hills."
"It's called intimidation," Eliza spat. "But it won't work with me. I don't have a man in my life so no one is going to beat me."
"I wouldn't bet your Sunday hat on that," the big man holding her drawled. "You carry on causing trouble, little lady, and I'll turn you over my knee and spank you myself."
Eliza glared. "You can't do that."
"I'm the law in this town, sweetpea. I can keep order in any way I see fit. That includes throwing you in jail, getting you digging ditches or baring your bottom and painting it red." His steel gaze bore into her flushed face. "Guess which one appeals to me most?"
Eliza squirmed as Hank chuckled. "You want me to go fetch a chair and a strap, Sheriff?"
Vince threw the bar owner a contemptuous glare. "You've had your fun, Reynolds. Go run your saloon and leave law enforcement to me."
Hank stopped grinning and warned. "Well you just better keep that little hellion away from me and my bar or I'll take that strap to her myself."
Vince waited for Hank to slouch back inside before he relaxed his hold on Eliza enough for her to feel dirt beneath her feet again. "Okay Miss, you've made your point. You don't approve of a man drinking and gambling. But the fact is, neither one is against the law in these parts so you'll just have to put up with it or leave town. But if you decide to stay then you'd better behave." He let go of her and folded his arms across a broad muscled chest. "What's your name, little girl?"
Eliza pouted and considered telling the tall Sheriff to mind his own damn business. But, surprisingly, manners got the better of her. "Eliza Cooper," she said, her chin raised proudly.
Vince smiled, revealing straight white teeth and a dimpled chin. He really was very handsome, Eliza decided... when he wasn't being an arrogant brute. "Well my name is -"
"I know who you are, Sheriff," she interrupted. "I also know you frequent this hell hole along with every other man in St. Elmo. It's obvious where your corrupt allegiance lies."
The smile instantly disappeared from Vince's face. "I don't take kindly to you maligning my good name, brat. I'm on the side of law and order. So unless drinking liquor becomes illegal in this state, I haven't got a problem with Hank or his saloon." The Sheriff towered over Eliza with a fierce scowl on his face. "However, I'm fast running out of patience with you though. So get your fanny back home before I decide an afternoon behind bars is what you need."
"You can't order me home, Sheriff. I'm not a child and there's no law against standing in the street either."
Vince took a deep breath, his jaw clenching. "Go home, Eliza - now! I won't tell you again."
Eliza raised her chin, folded her arms and shrugged impudently. 'Make me' her stance screamed silently.
Sheriff Turner had dealt with gun slingers, horse rustlers, bank robbers and land grabbers during his years of service to St. Elmo - he sure as hell wasn't gonna let one biddy little girl get the better of him. "Okay, brat, you asked for it."
Eliza yelped in shock as she was suddenly lifted and tossed over the sheriff's broad shoulder. "Put me down!" she shrieked, pummelling his back and struggling for all she was worth. "Put me down this instant." A heavy hand landed with a slap on her wriggling backside. Eliza yelped in shock. "How dare you hit me!"
There were a few cheers and even a whistle as the sheriff hoisted her over his shoulder and carried his bundle of spitting fury towards the jailhouse.
"You havin' fun there, Sheriff?" someone called with a chuckle.
"Hey Vince," called Jeb, the blacksmith. "Need a hand there?"
Vince spanked Eliza's bottom again. "No thanks, Jeb, I got this one covered."
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