"I'm here to collect a debt. Specifically, the debt on these notes." The pistolera brandished the fistful of papers in Emmie Lake's face.
The elder lake sibling was real tall. Bound up and squatting on her knees she was still looking the pistolera eye to eye. Squinting, she diverted her gaze over to the notes and tried to read them through the thick plaster that was her hangover.
"That's my brother's signature." Emmie nodded her head toward the still snoring lump of her brother and her greasy unkempt hair followed the movement in waves. "So you ain't got nothing on me, sister."
The pistolera stepped back and flipped through the notes again. "That's true. This one here does have your bother's signature on it. But then this one... " She pulled a single note out of the stack and held it up to her face. "This one for a haircut and color has your signature. So's this one... and this one... and this one. Here's five notes in your name for watch repair. Then here's two more for pocket watches purchased on credit. All in all, Emmie, the notes with your name on it total almost forty pesos and go back nearly two years. "
"And now I'm here to collect. From you. And your brother."
"Well, we ain't got it, sugar." Emmie slumped back on her haunches and leaned against the dirty wall before barking a wet laugh.
"I figured as much." The pistolera stuffed the notes back into her jacket pocket. "Once your bother comes to we'll take a little walk down to the jail and chat it out with the sheriff. I've heard debtor's prison in Mountain Home can be pretty rough."
"Now hold on right there one rotten minute, dumpling!" Emmie got back up to a kneeling position fast enough to pull the rope between her wrists and ankles tight, snapping her shoulders back. It looked painful. "You can't do that. They'll put me in a mining gang. Look at me! I'm not made for work like that!"
The pistolera could see what she meant. As tall as she was, Emmie would likely have to spend a lot of time ducking in a mine shaft, when she could stand up at all. She also doubted that those thin soft hands of hers had ever held a knitting needle, much less a pick axe.
"Look... baby doll... Just let me go. You bring my brother down to the jail with those notes in your hand and they'll pay you for 'em just as well if you brought us both, yeah? Maybe better even!"
Emmie had a point. Whichever mine was paying for laborers usually bought out debts at a fraction of their value. And when the debtor in question was lame or sickly that fraction got a little smaller. Now Emmie might not be an ideal miner but her brother certainly was. Where she was tall and gangly, he was built like a pile of river stones. He was short, stocky, and heavily muscled. A perfect miner.
The pistolera walked over to Trubor Lake's snoring form, planted a boot on his shoulder, and spun him over, landing him on his back.
Emmie started shimmying sideways to put a little room between herself and her now wincing brother. "Ah, baby doll, you didn't have to wake him up, did you? I mean, just cut me free and I'll be on my way, okay sweetness?"
"Hey, Trubor. Trubor Lake. Wake up. I'm getting tired of waiting on you." The pistolera planted a few kicks on Trubor's shoulder. Not hard enough to break or bruise him, but not exactly gentle kicks either.
When his eyes finally came open, they only did so begrudgingly. When his mouth opened, it only let out a loan moan and mumble.
The pistolera squatted down next to him and spoke firmly into his ear. "Trubor, your sister says that you're willing to take on her debts. You good with that?"
"Who the fuck are you?" Trubor's voice made him sound like he had spent the night eating dry sand and gargling raw eggs. She could barely hear him. That wouldn't do at all.
She stood up and strode over to the wash basin. Empty. She looked around and spied the bottles of bourbon the two had walked in with the night before. That'll do. As she was pouring it over his face, allowing just a little to get into his mouth, she caught him up on the situation.
"There ain't no need for any of this, okay? Take a look under my bed, there's a loose floor board. There's a tin box in there with, shit, must be a hundred pesos in it now. Well, don't just stare at me like that, go look you crazy bitch!"
Instead of going over to the corner where the two beds were at, the pistolera went over to their little table instead and retrieved a little tin box off of it. "This one?"
"Yeah! Shit, lady, if you found it already then why the fuck are we here? Take the debt or rob us or whatever the hell you're doing and let us be, for fuck's sake!"
Squatting in front of Trubor, the pistolera opened the box and poured out the handful of centavo pieces inside. "Eighty centavos isn't going to even start to cover it, Trubor. You got anything else or are we going to get on to the sheriff's office? I've been up all night watching you two idiots sleep, I need coffee and a bath just from being in here and it's making me kind of edgy. You should really keep some coffee on hand, you know?"
"Jesus, Emmie! What the hell did you do with all our money! A hundred fucking pesos, Emmie! It was in there just last fucking week!"
"I got bored and went to play some cards, brother of mine. Harmless fun, harmless fun. I would have come back with more than I took if that albino cheat hadn't rooked me out of all my winnings!"
The siblings were shouting at each other louder and louder and the pistolera was getting tired of it. A fraction of the debt, split between herself and the barber was better than nothing at all. She pulled her knife from her boot and cut a single knot between Trubor's wrists and ankles. It wouldn't free him, but it would allow him to stand up and walk with a shortened stride.
"Okay, get up. It's time to go. You too, Emmie." She made the same cut for the sister. "Now, don't you two be stupid. A year or two in the mine won't kill you. But I will. Don't give me a reason."
"Wait, sugar doll, just wait now." Emmie struggled to her feet. "What if I said that I could get that debt covered before sunrise tomorrow? Wouldn't that be better than the jail payment? What are they gonna give you? One peso in ten? You let me go now and I'll get you the fifty we owe plus another fifty and you don't even have to do anything!"
"So, I just let you go and tomorrow morning you'll grease my palm with a hundred pesos? Gee that's tempting. I'm sure you wouldn't just skip town and disappear forever." The pistolera drew her revolver and leveled it at Emmie. "Just shut up and walk. I really need a cup of coffee and you aren't helping my mood one bit."
The walk from the flop house to the jail was about ten blocks. A casual stroll most days, but considerably longer this day since Emmie just utterly refused to shut the hell up. Something about an albino gambler and a treasure trove. The pistolera didn't bother listening to her but kept on pushing them towards the jail house.
They were within sight of the goal when all hell broke loose. By this time in the morning the streets had become crowded with carriages moving folks from place to place and the passengers of the morning inbound train moving up the hill from the station.
At the same time the trio was walking by a little cafe, a wagon carrying lumber passed on the other side. The pistolera turned to gaze at the tray of coffee a waiter was delivering to a table at the window when Emmie screamed "I'll get the money!!", pulled free from her wrist bindings, and yanked herself up onto the lumber wagon.
By the time the pistolera pulled herself away from the window, one of her debtors was already ten yards away and fast disappearing into the crowd.
"Dammit!" She kicked out Trubor's legs, sending him into the mud of the street, and leveled her gun where Emmie used to be. The crowd screamed and scattered. She cursed again, holstered her gun, and pulled Trubor up to his knees.
"Well. I guess now we find out if the law will let me collect all these notes from just you. Come on. Dammit all."
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