Blonde, Bespectacled, and Dangerous

My first attempt at a western. Let me know what you think of the protagonist. This is a short sketch for the main character. Not quite sure if it's the right tone or not.

~~~

Dean Constance

“And that’s what happens when a girl tries to play a man’s game,” Cutter smirked, pulling the money to his side of the table.

“Oh, you’re right. When men play cards, they win every hand.” She glanced at him over the tops of her glasses, and pushed her cards to the dealer.

“Heh. Yeah we do.” Cutter crossed his arms over his chest.

Josh Garfield shook his head, “You’re an idiot, Cutter.”

“An idiot that’s been winning your money!”

“Another hand?” The dealer asked quietly.

The four nodded and the cards were moved across the table.

The brief interruption of silence ended as bets were made and cards exchanged.

Cutter swore, “What kind of hand is this?” He stood and grabbed the dealer’s shirt, “Are you settin’ the deck on me, you miserable sharp?”

“Sit down,” Josh leaned back in his chair, “Just a bad hand is all.”

“I don’t get bad hands!”

“Excuse me,” the woman knocked softly against the table with the barrel of her revolver, “I’d like to finish this game.”

Josh pushed away from the table.

Cutter blinked, “Are you threatening me?”

“Only by implication,” she smiled.

He reached for his gun, and she shot twice. Cutter stumbled away from the table, and his holster fell from his belt.

She raised an eyebrow, “Guess it’s not an implication anymore, is it?”

A step took Cutter back to the table, and he threw it onto the dealer. She shot again, and blood bloomed from a small hole in Cutter’s boot. He fell to the ground, his eyes bulging.

“This has been fun,” she handed her hat to Josh, and pinned her hair up with a small, sheathed knife. She took her hat back, and stood. “I pass through this town every few months,” she drew her revolver, and put the barrel against Cutter’s ear, “And I’ll make sure we finish this hand.” She pulled the trigger, and the man jerked away from the gunshot.

She holstered her gun and put her hat back on, hiding most of her blonde hair, and walked to the door. At the door she turned back to the silent room and touched the brim of her hat, “Evening, gentlemen.”

The door closed behind her, and Josh let out a breath. “Why the hell would you make a fuss like that, Cutter?!”

“Huh?” Cutter squinted at him, dabbing at the blood trickling out of his ear.

“You’re lucky she didn’t kill you.”

“A woman?” Cutter winced as he tried to stand, collapsing back to the ground, “Why? Who is she?”

“Dean Constance.”

The blood left the man’s face.

Josh Garfield shook his head, “You’re an idiot, Cutter.”

Mexico City

This is my take on two year marriage licenses. Enjoy!

~~~


Felicity

“It’s time David.”

He looked up the newspaper and smiled, “Of course, dear. You look beautiful, by the way.”

“You’re too sweet,” she waved a manila envelope at him, “now let’s work out our marriage like a good couple.”

*

“Salary has gone down, but so has the number of vacation days you were allowed to take.”

“I had to take a pay cut,” David looked uncomfortable, “It was that or lose my job. We’ve talked about this, Shelly.”

She nodded, “I know, babe. But we have to keep every detail fresh in our minds so that we can make an informed decision.”

“Right.”

Papers shuffled across the dining room table, “You only washed 40% of the dishes this past year. Down from 48% the year before.”

He blinked. “You were counting?”

“Weren’t you?” She raised an eyebrow. Then sighed and flipped open a top bound notebook, “It’s a little disappointing that you don’t care about the small things anymore, David.”

“I do care, honey.”

“Mmhmm,” she made a scrawling note several pages into her notebook, “We’ve been averaging less sex each week, and you haven’t been as attentive.”

“Um.”

“And you only got me two gifts for Christmas.”

“You said you liked them!”

“I did, dear. But if it’s a choice between two or three, what do you think you’d choose?”

He ran a hand over his face, “I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about.”

She sighed, “John. Makes six figures,” she met his eyes, “Three times as much as you. And he says he would get me at least five presents each Christmas.”

“This is not a big deal, Shelly! I can get you more presents!”

“It’s not about the presents, David. I can’t believe you’d make this about materialism. This is our marriage we’re talking about.”

“I know, Shelly. I’m just saying –ˮ

“Charlie,” she consulted her notes, “says he’s willing to make a contractual obligation of sex six times a week.”

“That doesn’t mean –ˮ

“He’s a masseuse, David.”

His shoulders slumped.

“It’s a tough field, babe. You won my heart, and I love you very much.” She pushed aside her notes, “But you can’t rest on your laurels. We can’t afford to be complacent.”

“I’ll try harder. I’ll do anything to make you happy.” He leaned across the table and took her hands in his, “I love you.”

She smiled, “And I love you too. But the facts are clear.” She gently pulled her hands away, “You can’t compete.”

The papers were carefully placed back into the manila envelope. She walked around the table and ran her fingers through his hair, “If things change – you can always re-apply in a couple years.”

*