My trip to Denver had been educational in many respects, but I sure liked it better in Cheyenne. I was welcomed by the management and ladies of The Cheyenne Social Club, and I was happy to be “home.” Not a one of these women smelled bad!I dropped in to see Marshal Brady to tell him that I was back in town and to ask what I might have missed in those two weeks that I was gone. It turned out that I had not missed anything of a professional interest, but the remaining two Fletcher boys were bragging about how they had run me out of town. The marshal warned me that those two idiots were bound to take a shot at me at the first opportunity. Their brother was deathly ill from buckshot wounds, and was not expected to live. The Fletchers were blaming that on me, but they had not said how I might have caused his problem.Okay, I had not forgotten the Fletchers, but I figured that none of them were smart enough to give me any real trouble. That was another case of arrogance getting in the way of. It wasn’t the first time she’d felt that way over the past year, but this time, it was more than just the weight loss that made her stare at her own reflection with a bit of confusion. The woman in the mirror looked confident, sensual and attractive. Powerful, even. To a perennial wallflower like Mary, it was as if she’d accidentally walked in front of a doorway instead of a full-length mirror. The costume did most of the work, really. The way the gauzy cloth wrapped around her, so thin in places that it was practically transparent, while in others layered and wound around her body until it obscured…Mary stared intently at her own crotch, trying to make absolutely sure that it did obscure what it was supposed to. She tried to hide a smile, knowing that the men in the audience would be doing exactly the same thing, but with entirely different motives. That was if she danced at all tomorrow night. Mary still wasn’t sure if she was going through with it. Her friends insisted that this.
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