Cowboy Girl Annie (3 page)

Chapter 4

As Annie headed toward the shops on
Main Street, she had no doubt she'd better get rid of that gun
fast. Maybe she'd be lucky enough to sell it before word got out
about whatever despicable thing it had done in some desperado's
hands.

If this worked out all right, she
might have time to hustle back after her ballerina and put the old
gal back in the jewelry box.

When the bell tinkled over the pawn
shop door, the owner was cleaning a show case glass. The case was
full of watches and clocks. Making a final swipe with a drying rag,
he didn’t bother to look up before he spoke, “What can I do for you
today?”

Annie didn't answer. The pudgy,
balding guy thought he had a customer. When she talked to him, she
wanted his full attention.

The prune faced man turned around
and critically surveyed Annie. He stared at her slumping brimmed,
faded tan cowboy hat and worked his way down to her faded red
blouse and the worn brown full skirt to her knee length cowboy
boots.

He sneered at her. “What do you want
in here?”

Annie swallowed hard as she looked
the man right in his cold blue eyes. He wasn't any friendlier than
a rattler, but she was used to his kind of attitude. None of that
mattered if she was successful in selling the gun to him. She
wouldn't have to deal with him ever again if she was
lucky.

“
A friend of mine found a pistol he'd
like to sell. He sent me in here to see if you would be interested
in buying it,” she said.

“
No deal. The cops were in here early
this morning, checking to see if anyone had shown up with a
revolver to pawn or sell. I was able to truthfully tell them no,
and I want to keep it that way.”

“
Surely it wasn't my …. my friend's
gun. Why, he's as honest as the day is long,” Annie stammered and
swallowed hard.

The man grunted and slanted his head
to the side while he gave this nervous woman a curious look. “Sure,
if you say so. It doesn't matter to me one way or the other what
your friend is like. The police say they need the gun they're
looking for to pen a murder on someone.

Now that crime matters to me if that
gun was to be in my shop when the cops come back. It would be my
hide they'd nail to the wall of one of their jail cells.” The man's
voice rose as he continued. “If I'm not making myself clear to you,
lady, what I'm telling you is in my line of work guns are too hot
to handle right now. I ain't buying any guns. You got that? No
guns. That's my final word.”

Annie thanked the pawn shop owner
politely for his time. She made sure to mention she'd pass the
information on to her friend before she hastily retreated out the
door. After taking a look both ways, she pushed her cart across the
intersection.

So now this was a fine skillet of
fish she was in. The cops were already checking the pawn shops.
That gun was going to be harder to get rid of than she first
thought so no use going to another shop. One of the pawn shop
owners would be sure to turn her in to the cops.

While she pondered, she slowed her
cart down. Maybe she was going about this whole thing the wrong
way. She should rethink getting rid of the gun. She could keep it
for protection.

After all, cowgirls had guns back in
the old western days. It didn't matter to Annie if no one knew she
had the gun like a real cowgirl. She'd know, and that was all that
was important.

In the past, she'd run into some
mighty rough hombres living the life she did. One of these days,
she might not be able to talk herself out of a dangerous scrape.
She'd need a gun to defend herself.

What was that cowgirl’s name I used
to read the stories about? She was such a crack shot years ago. Her
name was Annie just like mine. Annie? Annie? Annie something. She
puzzled over the last name and couldn't come up with it. “Oh well,
maybe I’ll think of it later,” she mumbled.

A male voice behind her shouted,
“Hey, Cowboy Girl Annie, wait up for me, will you?”

Annie cringed as she sped up her
cart to get away. Her first thought was the pawn shop dealer had
called the cops even though she knew that was foolish. Not many of
the cops knew her full handle so as to be able to call out to her
by name.

Her problem was she purely was
feeling guilty and nervous right now. She had to take a deep breath
and calm down. She needed a clear head to decide how she intended
to ditch the gun if that sour puss pawn shop man had squealed on
her.

If one of the cops stopped her,
she'd need to come up with a good story. She could say she threw
the gun away, because she knew she couldn't sell it.

If he asked who the friend was the
pawn shop owner said she mentioned, she'd have to be honest and say
she found the gun. Because it was none of that old man's business,
she'd lied to the pawn shop owner.

If the cop believed all that she
hoped he'd believed she threw away that gun. What if he decided to
search her shopping cart?

I'll be up a creek in a canoe
without a paddle when the cop finds the gun in my jewelry
box.

What was she going to do
then?

Chapter 5

Once Annie got hold of herself, she
took a good look over her shoulder at who called to her for the
second time. A tall man was hurrying in long strides toward
her.

Annie calmed down at the sight of
him. The guy was her friend. He not only was harmless he didn't
know anything about her finding the gun. All she could do was hope
the pawn shop owner minded his own business so she wouldn't get
into trouble with the law.

Watching the man hustle in her
direction made her smile. She was never sure if Skinny Jake got his
nickname because he was skinny, or if it was because the clothes he
had the misfortune to find in the trash were three sizes too big
for him.

“
Looks like you’ve been lucky
lately,” stated Annie, eyeing with envy the bulging, canvas
knapsack slung over Jake's shoulder.

“
Some.” Jake stared at her cart. “You
should talk, Annie Girl. From the looks of your cart, you haven't
been doing so bad yourself. Got anything you want to trade for a
half full bottle of whiskey?” Jake asked, taking the knapsack from
his shoulder.

He gently placed it on the sidewalk
and rummaged in it. “Here it is.” He came out with the bottle and
shook it at her as he took inventory of her cart, trying to figure
out what of her junk would be worth while to bargain
for.

Annie squinted down her nose at him.
She'd never known Jake to give up a whiskey bottle when it wasn't
empty. “I might trade, and I might not. Why you want to get rid of
that there whiskey? It tainted with something bad?”

“
Nah, of course not. I wouldn't make
you sick, Cowboy Girl Annie.” Jake offended as he walked along side
the shopping cart, checking out what items he could
see.

“
If it ain't tainted whiskey, and
you're wanting to get rid of it, what is wrong with it? Say, you go
on the wagon or something? You ain't sick are you?” Annie asked
suspiciously.

“
Nah, just thought I'd offer you a
good drink as a trade for something else. Business has been pretty
slow lately. Say, I figured you trusted me better than that,” Jake
said, faking a hurt face.

Annie grinned. “I do trust you,
Skinny Jake, as a rule, but I still figure there is something fishy
in Montana with this trade you're proposing.”

“
The saying is there's something
rotten in Denmark I think,” corrected Jake, poking his finger
through the shopping cart to move some of Annie's treasures
over.

“
That's not the saying where I came
from. Get your hand out of my cart before you set off the rat trap.
I'd hate to hear your whining, because you broke your fingers in my
rat trap,” Annie snapped.

Jake put his hand back on his
knapsack fast. “When did you start setting a rat trap in your
cart?”

“
Recently, when other polecats like
you had a notion they could rifle through my belongings when I
didn't want them to do it,” Annie said.

Jake eyed the cart again. “Say, how
about that jewelry box I see there,” he exclaimed, leaning over to
look through the bottom of the cart.

Great! He would have to pick on the
jewelry box now of all times. Annie had to get Jake to trade for
something else.

Since she wasn't much of a drinker,
Annie didn't really want the whiskey, but someone else might. She
knew plenty of drinkers. If she had that half full bottle, she
might be able to trade up for something better.

“
I won’t trade that jewelry box. It's
special to me.” Annie rammed her hand down in the pile and back
out.

“
Careful there, Cowboy Girl Annie.
You'll set your rat trap off,” Jake worried.

“
No I won't. I know where the trap
is.” Annie jerked out the long scarf. “Here’s a fairly good wool
scarf with only a few moth holes. Good enough to keep you
warm.”

She threw the scarf on top the pile
and rifled around for the gloves, thinking they might seal the
deal. “Here's a pair of black leather gloves with only two fingers
missing. They would be good for when the cold weather comes. You
can have both items for the whiskey,” Annie suggested, holding the
winter apparel up for Jake to inspect.

Jake's eyes narrowed. “Hey, ain't
you for sure afraid of getting caught in that rat trap?”

By doggies, no. I told you I know
exactly where it is,” Annie declared shortly, wanting to keep Jake
from getting sidetracked. “Now how about the gloves and the scarf
for the whiskey?”

“
Nah, that's not much of a deal, and
you know it. I cain't wear them things until winter, and I don’t
want to have anything extra to drag around all summer that I cain't
trade,” Jake declared. “Most people think like me which I reckon
makes gloves and scarves hard for you to get rid of. I figure
you've already found that out from the way you're pushing them at
me.”

Annie uncovered the men's shoes.
“Here's a snazzy pair of penny loafers.” She took time to study
Jake's large feet, tapping her lips with a finger. “From the look
of things, they might just be your size, and there's plenty of wear
left in them.”

Jake slanted his head over one
shoulder. “Not like you to give up a trade, Cowboy
Girl.”

“
Concentrate on what I'm saying to
you, Jake. I'm not giving up a trade. I'll even put a penny in each
one of these shoes. Now that's a real deal,” Annie pitched, trying
to get his fixated mind off the jewelry box.

“
Sure it would be if I needed shoes
which I don't. I'm just curious you understand. Does the jewelry
box still have a ballerina dancing in it and play music?” Jake
asked.

This man is like a dog with a month
old bone. He cain't get anything off of it, but he won't let it go.
“It did at one time, but the ballerina’s shot you might say,” Annie
hedged, grinning at him as she sort of enjoyed her pun. “Don't
matter to me none. I'm not trading the jewelry box so you never
mind.”

“
I figured the ballerina was missing.
That's what landed the box in the trash, or you wouldn't have
something that fancy looking. What’s so special about a broken
jewelry box then?” Asked Jake in a suspicious
tone.

“
Nothing at all special about the old
thing,” said Annie, searching for an explanation that Jake would
accept. “It's purely just a useful item to me. I use it to hold
small junk I find that will fall through the cracks in the bottom
of the shopping cart otherwise.”

Annie glanced up at the front of the
bakery shop. It was time she changed the subject since neither of
them were going to budge on the trade.

Food always got Jake's attention.
“Take a deep breath will you, Jake? Ever smell anything so great in
your whole life? Nothing I like better than fresh, warm doughnuts,”
she said wistfully.

“
Ah, you and that sweet tooth of
yours,” Jake teased.

“
I cain't help it,” Annie said
gruffly.

“
Wait here a minute. I have some
loose change. I’ll get us both a fresh doughnut.” Jake took off
through the door before she had time to say don’t bother. She was
just jawing to be jawing.

Not that she wanted to stop him very
bad since she had his mind off the jewelry box. Besides, she loved
doughnuts, and how often did she ever get Skinny Jake to buy one
for her. That in its self was a pretty good deal