Like the Cats of Kilkenny

For a long moment, the two women felt sure the bushwhacker would dismiss their pleas and resume his torture.  But, then, a sneer began to spread across his whiskey-flushed face and he finally answered in his usual less-dulcet tone.  “Well, you ladies just see what you can do about that.  My friend and I are goin’ to see if we can get one of the saloonkeepers to wait on us, but we’re takin’ this Yankee-lover with us.  If you can get us the balance of his fine by the time we’re done drinkin’, we’ll release him into your custody.  But, if you can’t . . .”

“You don’t need to finish that sentence, sir,” Fet interrupted.  “We’ll get you your money!”

And, so they did.  Hoisting their skirts, they practically ran to Aunt Lizzie’s home down the lane where they hoped she might have some of Uncle Thompson’s money hidden.  But, she had only a few hundred dollars, so donned her old bonnet and—despite her age and poor health—joined the two younger women as they went from house to house to beg their neighbors for the funds they needed to save Cousin Benjamin.

Most would not even answer the desperate knocking on their front doors.  Some that did answer wound up cruelly slamming their doors soon thereafter.  But, eventually, they found enough kind-hearted people—or, at least, enough folks who figured they might gain Lewis’ favor if he survived this episode as a result of their generosity.

Bloody Bill seemed almost disappointed when the three breathless ladies limped into the bar with four thousand dollar in cash.

Without addressing them directly, Bill made a great show of counting out the bills and coins.  “Gotta make sure they’re not short-changin’ us here,” he muttered to Ike.  But, the ladies had brought him every last cent they promised.

So, Bill pulled a saddlebag from beneath the table where he had been counting the money and tossed it inside with one quick swipe of his arm, leaving not so much as a penny to compensate the sweating foppish bartender for his liquor or his time.  Then, he strode over to the bar where Ike had laid-out their victim and mercifully piled chairs on top of his convulsing body to keep him from falling to the floor.  He bent down to Lewis’ ear and whispered, “Ain’t it funny how you can have a million bucks in the bank and still not be worth a damn?!”

Then, he turned to Cousin Benjamin’s saviors and resumed his former dulcet tone.  “You know, ladies,” he said.  “I’d much prefer to put a bullet in that Yankee-lover’s head, but I am a man of my word and am therefore pleased to release him into your worthy custody.”

Then, he doffed his filthy hat one last time, cuffed Ike as he tried to down one more shot of whiskey, and walked out the saloon doors to go wreak havoc in some other town.