Hell For Lather
This story was written for the UnConventional Challenge on the Yahoo group WipLashToo. The challenge was to write a bath story.
***
Scott sighed. "We'll share the room if you don't have two available," he said to the large woman behind the counter. "Can we get baths?"
She looked at him, and then over at Johnny, leaving no doubt that she thought they needed them. They were filthy, Scott thought, after more than a week on the trail. They were filthy, unshaven, exhausted, starving for something besides beans and thirsty for something other than campfire coffee. Not necessarily in that order.
"The barber is down the street," the woman said, peering at Scott's signature. She looked at the two of them with more interest. "Mr. Lancer. From the Lancer ranch?"
"That's right," Scott said, taking the key.
Upstairs, Johnny dropped his saddlebags on the bed. "Want to go get a drink?"
"First things first, little brother," Scott said. "I want a bath and a shave and some clean clothes."
"Before a beer?" Johnny said.
"Yes," Scott said. "And so do you."
Johnny didn't look too certain about that, but he shrugged. Scott led the way back down the stairs and out onto the boardwalk.
A body came flying out of the saloon doors as they passed, knocking Scott off his feet. He sprawled in the dust, watching as a half-dozen cowboys tumbled into the street, fighting.
When it was over, and the sheriff had sorted out the cowboys, they headed down the boardwalk again. Just then, a small girl ran out into the street as the stage came barreling down the road. Scott watched his brother leap after her, scooping her up and rolling desperately as the stage bore down on them. It thundered by with just inches to spare. Scott went over and pulled his brother to his feet, a bit shakily.
"Come on," he said.
Johnny picked up his hat, and eyed the barbershop, just a few doors down. "Dunno if it's safe to get a bath in this town," he drawled.
Scott pushed him the remaining feet through the door. A bullet whizzed by as they opened it, and Scott pushed his brother down and landed on top of him.
"Get offa me, Boston," Johnny said, wiggling free and pulling his gun.
"I'm so sorry," a female voice said from the door. "My little brother didn't realize the Winchester was loaded."
"That's quite all right," Scott said, smiling. The girl was bewitchingly pretty, with enormous green eyes and hair the color of sunset. "I know how difficult it can be to keep a younger brother in line. I'm Scott Lancer and this is my brother, Johnny."
"I'm Tess Sinclair," the girl said, smiling. A second girl appeared in the doorway, identical to the first. "This is my sister, Tory."
Twenty minutes later, the brothers settled into steaming tubs in the barber's back room. The Sinclair twins had invited them to supper.
"See," Scott said. "There are benefits to clean living."
Johnny slid down, his eyes shut, and smiled. "Never did mind getting into hot water."
THE END
Whistle, July 2004