Birds of a Feather II

Bill

"This is horseshit!" Bill threw his cards down, frustrated at the poker game in front of him. He'd had a pair of queens, his first good hand in this godawful game, but Javier's flush had screwed him.

"Bad luck, amigo," Javier commented with a chuckle.

The third player, Cleet, joined in the mocking, collecting the cards as the next dealer. "Seems you got a gift for losin', buddy."

Bill scowled at the two of them and attempted to cross his arms. He was reminded sharply of the injury that had incapacitated him in the last week. Some Murfree asshole had sliced his gun arm to hell. Miss Grimshaw had stitched him up decent enough, but he couldn't use his arm much.

While Cleet dealt the next hand, Bill's attention wandered to the rest of them that were in camp. It was damn near peaceful for once in a long time.

Dutch and Hosea had their heads together over a map in Dutch's tent, hopefully cooking up something that would make them rich. Pearson was cutting vegetables and Abigail stood washing dishes. Jack was at the back of the food wagon, sneakily digging for a snack.

The women tittered with each together, Tilly, Charlotte and Miss Grimshaw on the other side of camp near their own wagon. Bill moved his gaze on without interest.

Charles sat between the wagons, nimbly tying arrows and sharpening their points. Morgan slept in his cot, hat covering his face and muffling his snores.

Lastly, Uncle was in the middle of some nonsense story at the campfire and the victim stuck suffering next to him was Joe. The brute with the scarred face was unable to put a stop to the rambling no matter how deeply he glowered at Uncle.

If everything wasn't about to go to shit, Bill would have said it was the start of a promising day.

Micah wandered past their table to Dutch, who was fully engrossed in his conversation with Hosea. Bill couldn't hear clearly what was said, but Dutch cut Micah short when he tried to interrupt. Dutch pointed away from the tent as if he were scolding a dog.

"Sorry, boss." Micah backed away, before turning around.

As soon as he turned away from Dutch, a thunderous expression took over Micah's face. He lifted his chin, eyes scouring the area. Bill looked away quickly, recognizing the gesture. Micah was on the hunt for a target. Bill weren't no coward, but he couldn't afford to tear his stitches throwing hands with Micah.

Bill had already torn a few of his stitches when he'd gone after that dynamite wagon Dutch had wanted. Miss Grimshaw had been pissed about it enough to threaten not to fix him up again. With Strauss gone, ain't no one else much for doctoring so he didn't have a choice except to be at her mercy.

Micah prowled over to the women and Bill focused on the card game again. He ended up folding two times in a row and regretted it the second time when the river revealed his chance at a straight.

"Goddamn bullshit!" Bill said angrily.

Across camp, the women erupted into laughter. Bill flushed, expecting them to be laughing at him, even though they weren't near enough to know about his losing streak. Bill looked up to see Miss Grimshaw squaring off with Micah.

Grimshaw's raised voice carried over to them. "You think you'd be the first bastard I've castrated? Away with you and take your bullshit accusations with you."

Micah stomped over to their table, his teeth gritted and face red as he plunked down in the open chair.

"Deal me in, Williamson," Micah snapped.

Javier smoothed his mustache, a smirk playing at his lips as he wasn't threatened by Micah's anger. "What's wrong? Did one of the ladies say something to piss you off?"