Excerpt from DULCIE CROWDER GETS HER MAN

  CHAPTER ONE

                          Hangtown, California, 1854

     Deputy Sheriff Tom Walker spotted the corner of the black ace peeking out from under Willie Crowder’s frayed sleeve, but he didn’t let on he knew the old boy was fixing to end the evening with a winning hand.

     Willie laid four aces on the table as easy as you please and looked up at Tom with a twinkle in his eye.

Tom shook his head and threw down his cards. “You’ve cleaned me out,” he said. “I never did see a man with such a string of good luck.”

     Willie chuckled as if he and lady luck were on intimate terms. He scooped up his winnings into a hefty pile.

     “Another cup of coffee?” Tom stood and stretched.

     “Don’t mind if I do,” Willie said with a voice full of gravel. He drained his mug and handed it over.

     Tom exited through the open cell door and poured two mugs full. The coffee had brewed for hours on the cast iron stove and was as thick as creek mud.

     The sky had gone from black to gray and a few birds were twittering, but Tom refrained from looking at his watch. Willie was going to hang at eight o’clock. Jasper would be along when the time was ready.

Hangtown had begun to settle down into respectability, the hangman’s noose being the preferred way to deal with criminals of all stripes. Dang it all if he hadn’t taken a liking to old Willie, a fatal flaw in a lawman sworn to bring law and order to the El Dorado.

He handed Willie his mug.

“I’ll send over to the Blue Stocking for some bacon and eggs,” Tom said, leaning against the iron bars of the cell.

Willie scratched his stomach. “Not for me, I’m off my feed.”

“Suit yourself,” Tom replied with understanding. Willie never wasted a drop of water or a crumb of his food. He didn’t intend to make an exception this morning.

Willie took out a dirty square of kerchief from his

frayed shirt pocket and gathered up his winnings.

“Sheriff, I do have one last request.”

“Shoot,” Tom said. He was the deputy sheriff. He’d corrected Willie a time or two but the old man insisted on the promotion.

“A small claim, my mule and a Kentucky smooth bore flintlock are the full extent of my worldly belonging, along with this cash money.” He nodded at the handkerchief tied up in a bundle. “I’ve left my daughter up at the claim. Could you take the mule and weapon to her?”

“This is the first you’ve mentioned you took a wife and had a child,” Tom said.

“My Mrs. died birthing. Dulcie is all the kin I’ve got.” Willie warmed his hands on the mug and became thoughtful. “I reckon I could’ve done better by both of them.”

It was the only regret Willie’d given voice to.

Tom was more than willing to help him. “Don’t you worry about your girl. I’ll go fetch her and bring her into town.”

Willie should’ve looked relieved but doubt creased his forehead.

“Fair warning, Sheriff. Dulcie has a mind of her own. She’ll not take kindly to any suggestions she’s not capable.”

“A girl shouldn’t be alone with desperadoes wandering these hills,” Tom reminded him.

“I don’t think she’ll take to city ways,” Willie said.

“She’ll need supplies one of these days. She’ll have to make the acquaintance of Hangtown sooner or later.”

Willie rubbed his scrawny beard, salted with stiff white hairs. “I reckon you’re right.”

Tom knew the old boy prided himself on being self-reliant and was as tough minded as any man he’d come across. No doubt Willie’s daughter was more of the same. As a deputy and as a man, Tom had a natural inclination to protect women folk, and he was confident his use of Walker charm would coax Willie’s daughter to safer surroundings.

     Willie slurped his coffee. “She’ll be as angry as a hornet at what I’ve done,” he said. “After she grieves, of course.”

     “Losing a loved one is never easy,” Tom answered. He emptied his mug and stepped back from the cell to let Willie mull over what must be a heavy heart.