PET THAT?

"I am telling you Mad Jim....

I swear it...

He's got this "pet" he brings in here every night...

They go and sit around that table , there...

And he points to a darkened corner of the Buckets O' Blood Saloon, in Omaha, Nebraska..

in which a table, and a few old chairs, was leaning partially into the light,

otherwise shaded in darkness...

I tell ya...one time I was taken my boot off...wore the dam leather right through on the right one....I was trying to figure out if I had to get new boots...or if I could use that old army trick....since we are already near summer...of stuffing the inside with cardboard and gettin' through the summer...

Jesus,

Alex..you do run on....what in tarnation does this have to do with this crazy pet story uh yourn?

At that moment, the bat wing doors on the old saloon swung slowly inward.....

At first...

No one appeared.....

Then in stepped a dark haired, dark skinned woman, around thirty

of indeterminate ancestorage.....

Cloaked in an old dusty Nor'Wester...

which she began to brush off with her equally old, and dusty black stovepipe hat...

She stopped, straightened up, and carefully surveyed the room...

"Aw Right boys"......

the strange collection of three heavily armed men that followed her voice in, drew the immediate attention of all around...

and a sudden, eerie silence filled the room....

even the constant snick snick snicking of the roulette wheel ground to a halt...

Howdy Folks...

she said, waiving her hat around the room...

I am "Texas Jane" Killan....

And these are my boys...

We ain't looking for trouble......

and I would advised y'all to act the same...

We're just in town to wet our whistle, buy some grub and sleep in a real bed for a night...

Just came off a cattle drive..

Then we're headin' back to Texas....

She turns to the barkeep,

just holding the rag inside a wet beer glass...

apparently forgetting he was going to dry it....

"Set us up with 2 bottles of Ole Kaintuck...and a passel of glasses..."

She stops to look around...

and then points to the old table in the corner...

"That there will do fine...."

and so saying, she heads directly to the darkened corner...

the three dishevelled travellers,

following her closely, their eyes never stop searching the room...

Uhh..

Excuse me ma'am, meaning no disrespect..

That table is always held open on a thursday night for Black Jack Letrud.....him and his pet,

why, they will sit there for hours and never say a word...

nobody bothers them...

At first this was met by no response...

then after swallowing a half full glass of rotgut...

The woman says....

"This here Black Jack...he a sailin' man?

No ma'am...he got the name from just sittin' there ..playin' Blackjack with his pet...

Damn iffin it don't seem that that pet o' his beats him sometime...

Right, Mad Jim?...

Yup....seen it happen...damn thing could almost talk...

The mention of his name seemed to cause a nervous reaction among the men seated around the corner table...

This here Black Jack...

What's he look like....

Tall feller?...

Oh yeah, and lean...

but stronger than 2 horses....

I once seen him pull the beer wagon...

loaded to the top...

up the path to the cemetery...

At this point, Mad Jim kicked him hard under the table...

to stop him from runnin' his mouth...

But the unshaven half breed sitting to Texas Jane's left,

a patch over one eye...

didn't seem to want to let it go...

What he want with with kegs of beer in a cemetery?

Ah..I'm not sure..I don't ..uh...rightly know...I mean, I never asked him....but he said something about celebrating the passing of his ol pard...guess they got bush whacked on the trail little piece outside a' town...

That's all I know...

The woman looks up from her glass...

You at that shindig?

Well..uhh..yes...why?

Then ya aotta know what is was all about....

the celebratin', I mean...

What did his frien' look like?

How long ago?

Honest ma'am, I doan't know much about that...

him and me...well we ain't kinda friends...

his pet just got this crazy hate on fer me...

and I ain't agoin' to tangle with it...

Honest...that's all I know...

actually I was just leavin'...right Mad Jim?

SIT DOWN....I ain't done axin questions...

And why you keep callin that long drink o' water..."Mad Jim"?

"Well, cuz you sure do not want to go makin' ole Jim angry..."

He don't look like much to me......

all I see is a string bean...

drinkin' like he's a somebody....and given orders...

This from the mexican "cowpuncher" who slowly turned in his chair, one hand inside his long coat..

MR....

I ain't lookin' fer trouble...I came in fer one last drink...then I am off

However, I don't take kindly to people I don't know usin' my name in vain...

I would advise you to stop....

OR WHAT YOU SKINNY PIECE OF TOWN SHIT....

with that, both men jumped away from their table...reaching for their holstered pistols...

Three shots rang out....

And Mad Jim was blown half way across the knocked over table...

The mex just stood there laughing...his hand still on his gun..

Smoke rose, greyly,

like a departing ghost..

From the six shooter Texas Jane had fired from under her table..

It was self-defence...he went fer his pistol first...

and I ain't havin' none of my boys kilt....

One of the "hangers on" ran quickly out the doors....

the constant smack of the busted door as it swung back and forth was the only sound, other than the scaping of chair legs.

Don't y'all plan on movin', or goin' somewhere...

we got a piece of unfinished business.....

The bartender...gathering a bit of courage, said...

Ma'am...

You all best git otta here...I heard him say that there weren't no cattle drives for fifty miles around, and he was goin' to get the Marshall...

If you leave now, quietly, we will call it all square...

She shot him twice in the chest,

and he disappeared behind the bar....

"And I'll shoot the next bastid that gives me any grief or makes any sudden moves......the Marshall....that still De Silveira...from down Sonora way?"

Yes ma'am....and he don't take to kindly to folks shootin' up his town....

Well...Alex...that is what your dead friend called you, wasn't it?

Well alex, why don't we all just wait and see what the old marshall has to say about it....

after all...you all saw it was self defence...

With that she turned back to her table...holstered her six gun and proceeded to have another drink.

A short time later a rangy bull chested barrel of a man...

with a star on his chest,

wearing two guns tied down low, and carrying a shotgun, burst through the batwing doors.......

Four gunshots immediately drove him through the air and right out of the saloon..

De Silveira never learned not to rush right in......I tole him it would get him kilt one day",

said the mex,

casually picking his teeth with a vicious looking "Arkansas Toothpick"

NOW WE WAIT.....

any way to get some grub here?

Well,

We got the Desert Rose Cafe.....

She looks after meals for any prisoners...and brings three set ups here every day...

when Dirk...the man you killed..

calls on her too...

There's some crackers and pickled eggs on the bar.....

WE'EL WAIT...

You...

Get us a deck a cards...and another bottle of Old Kaintuck...

Things slowly returned to a semblance of normal as quiet conversations began among the men scattered around the dozen tables...

no one remained at the faro or black jack tables....

Ma'am..

Now please don't take this wrong.....

Black Jack and his pet always git here on the spot o nine...and it's five minutes to...

Maybe it would be best if you just moved tables......or left...

They don't take kindly to anyone usin' that table thursdays...

Mister...and all ov you...listen careful...

We ain't on no cattle drive...

We're here to kill Black Jack Letrud cuz him and that dead guy kilt 3 of my men in Vera Cruz.....I weren't around....

But I found him...

Now you sit your ass back down and don't be gittin' up again...

That goes fer all uv ya...

Any one moves.......yer dead.

At that moment the bat wing doors swung slowly open...

In walked a fancy dressed middle aged man with a black and silver cane and a Colt 45 tied down to his right leg...

Right beside him walked a.......

"What in tarnation is that?"

Calmly ignoring the question...both of the figures headed straight for the table where the four were sitting.....

Howdy Jane....

can't say it's nice to see you.....

But your sitting at my table...and you weren't invited....

So....invite me...Jack....

Can't say as I want to......

I hear you already been disturbing the peace...

Where's Dirk?

You mean that loud mouthed string bean...well, I figure he is takin' a nap behine the bar.....

You Killem?

Yup...

That was a mistake.....

Now you gonna move?

The sudden burst of action was blurred, bloody and barbarous.....

and ended quickly...not a shot had been fired...

but all four of the outlaws lay torn to pieces around the bloody table....

Black Jack just stood, quietly for a while....

No one made a sound......

Then he turned on his heel....

Come DRAGG....let's head home...

Mr. Letrud......what is that?

That is my pet DRAGG......

We look after each other...

Your pet?

How can that little thing do what it just did...

before anyone could even git a gun out.. and I swear..it looked six feet tall fer a minute...

Well...

She is the last of her breed...a strange creature I found while travelling Tibet....

I removed her from a deep trap...and we been together ever since..

But what...what is "she"?

DRAGG is the only known successful joining of a Tasmanian Devil and a Werewolf...

And the best darn pet a fella could have.....shes a pard...

A PET......................THAT?