The fifth installment of my steampunk story featuring Wyatt Earp in the Pan Historia collaborative fiction novel The Crossroads:

He brought her a tray with supper. It was not unusual so Wyatt hoped she wouldn’t be suspicious of the almond flavored cordial he included on the tray along with the softly poached fish, her favorite, and the fresh vegetables he’d practically had to kill a man to obtain. Sulkies were picky eaters and even though they modified their diets to adapt to land dwelling, it was still no easy feat to keep a Sulkie’s belly in good eats.

He laid the tray down on the floor in the hallway, next to the door, and fished the keys out of his coat pocket. He’d been locking her in for days now. Maddie’s temper was getting worse, and, naturally, she was looking to get to the river. She knew where her skin was even if he didn’t. She’d liked him well enough in the beginning to only need a guard and an admonishment not to leave, but now she was more determined and Wyatt was going to have scars to prove it.

“Maddie, I’m coming in. I’ve got you a nice supper and if you behave you can have it, and we can enjoy a pleasant evening, but if you choose to be troublesome, I reckon it won’t go so well for you.”

“Fuck you, you bastard.”

Wyatt felt encouraged enough to pick up the tray, balance it in one hand, and open the door with the other. It was her tone of voice that indicated she was willing to accept his terms, not her exact words. Once inside the door he laid the tray down on the side table by the door and carefully locked the door again. His every move was watched by Maddie. She knew exactly where that key was in his pocket. She wasn’t very adept at pick pocketing but Wyatt knew better to sleep in the room.

“Now, now, Maddie, is that anyway for a lady to speak?”

“I’m no lady, you flipperless landlocked son of a monkey.”

“I’ll grant you that, but I believe you are a princess of your own kind, and your father would not like to hear you carry on so.”

Wyatt decided that geniality was the best course of action so he ignored the insults, even though she was coming up with some of the worst her kind delivered. Still – he could not resist:

“That’s a landlocked son of an ape, not monkey, sweet heart.”

Maddie rolled her eyes, pulled herself to a sitting position on the bed, careless let one flawless breast the color of fine bone china slip from under her flimsy dressing gown, and patted her lap.

“Whatever, monkeyman, bring me my vittles.”

Dutifully Wyatt brought the tray over and placed it on her lap. He sat down on the bed beside her and laid out her napkin over her chest to catch the crumbs. In about five seconds she gulped down the fish. She was clearly feeling her roots tonight. With greasy yet divinely dainty fingertips she reached for the cut crystal glass of cordial and brought it to her nose and sniffed. She wrinkled and sniffed again.

“Almonds?”

“I believe it’s an almond cordial indeed. The barkeep said that it was a favorite of all the young ladies hereabouts.”

“Oh goodie, you brought me a monkey whore drink.”

Wyatt fervently hoped that once Maddie consumed the love philter she would stopping calling everyone ‘monkeys’. It was tiresome from a creature whose more normal form was a plump furry creature with a face like a cat and whiskers.

Finally she decided the drink smelled good enough to drink and she tilted the glass to her lips and swallowed it down in one greedy gulp. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, ignoring the napkin that Wyatt had laid out for her, and then devoured her vegetables. When she was done with the meal it took all of Wyatt’s rather considerable reflexes to manage to catch the plate and place it safely as Maddie clearly intended to fling it away – smashing it against the wall.

Now it was just wait and see. Wyatt pulled a cigar from his pocket and leaned back.

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