Chapter 2

One of the hazards of the profession arose, namely, Jim Wallace had gotten bored with Kansas City and was ready to move on. The problem, as far as Sandy was concerned, was that he wanted to travel to St. Louis, and that was east of Kansas City. So Sandy bid him goodbye and ventured out on her own as a professional gambler. She stayed in Kansas City for another week, but it wasn't the same with Jim gone, so she decided to move west. She kept wearing her persona as a man, so she was not hassled as she settled down on the train, headed in the general direction of Santa Fe, even though the train didn't go that far.

It didn't take long for her to get bored, so she looked around for some entertainment. There was a poker game going on at the other end of the car, and it looked like there was room for one more. She remembered what Jim had said about never playing poker on a train or a riverboat, but what harm could there be in a friendly game of penny-ante poker?

Sandy ambled up to the front of the car and asked if there was room for one more. She was invited in, so she sat down and the introductions were made. It turned out that one of the players was a drummer selling whiskey and the the two others were ranchers headed home. She admitted to being a newly fledged poker pro and asked if they minded. Nobody objected to playing with her, so she anted up and was dealt a hand. The game continued for about 2 hours and paused for the lunch stop at a railroad restaurant. They had 30 minutes to eat and do anything else they wanted to do, so Sandy gobbled down her steak and beans, with coffee, and went out to walk around on steady ground for a few minutes.

Sandy was dressed in the height of men's fashion, so she was the object of curiosity from both men and women. Most people were dressed casually, and some were in work-a-day clothes, but Sandy was the only one dressed so well who was associating with the common people. Fortunately, she was wearing her Remington, she would need it shortly.

One rather crude individual had managed to find too much alcohol for his own good and had gotten very belligerent. He had been bullying several of the passengers, both male and female, and most people were sick of his antics. Once he spied Sandy, there was no holding him back. He came marching over to her and reached up to knock off her top hat. She avoided the indignity by leaning out of the way, but, otherwise, stood her ground. The drunk tried to get right in her face, but his breath smelled so bad that she pushed him back. He was unsteady on his feet and fell on his ass. This induced a howl of rage and he reached for his gun.

Now, Sandy was a long way from a gunfighter, but she did have some practice in a fast draw, so she was able to outdraw the drunk and put a bullet into his chest before he could get a shot off. There were a number of witnesses about, and everyone broke into applause. The conductor ran up and demanded an explanation. Before Sandy could get a word out, several of the witnesses shouted that Sandy had shot in self defense. The conductor asked her, "Is that what happened?" She nodded, and the conductor stomped away, muttering to himself, "That stupid bastard ought ta know better. Anybody what dresses like that has ta be good with a gun. Now I got a shit load of paperwork ta fill out. ALL ABORD! THE TRAIN IS 'BOUT TA LEAVE!"

The passengers returned to the train, and many people, both men and women, made a point of congratulating Sandy on her success with the drunk. She returned to the card game and was treated with new respect. The story of the escapade had grown some among those who had not seen it happen. Most notably, one story had the drunk already pointing his gun at Sandy before she deigned to draw. Such is the way reputations grow.

Sandy continued on the train until it reached the end of the line. She bought a stage coach ticket to Topeka and now launched her real Western adventure. The coach was very crowded, so she was asked to ride in the driver's box with the driver and the shotgun guard. Now, this was the way to travel, at least for the first 10 miles. The wind in her face was intoxicating, and the vast miles of open prairie were a great sight to see from this vantage point, but after about 10 miles, the pounding and jerking from side to side became very uncomfortable. Her ass and back began to hurt and there was no relief in sight.

Sandy asked the guard how he could stand the rough treatment, and he answered, "Oh, ya gits used ta it after a while. But this ain't so bad, wait 'til we gits ta the rough country, then ya'll really git bounced around!" The first town they came to, Sandy'd had enough! She got off the coach and refused to get back on. She took her carpet bag and limped to the town's hotel. It wasn't much, but, at least, the bed didn't bounce her around. She plopped into bed and slept for 14 hours, straight. She woke with a raging need to piss and a towering hunger.

She realized that this was an opportunity to practice pissing while standing up. She had slept naked, as was her practice whenever that was feasible, so all she had to do was find the chamber pot and let go. At first, she just stood over the pot, but she realized that no man who saw that was going to be fooled into thinking she was a man. She concentrated and stopped pissing while she considered alternatives. With some thought, she realized that all she had to do was spread her outer pussy lips and she could shoot as fine a stream as any man. Damn, she was right! It worked! What she needed was to experiment with several techniques for holding her lips open until she found the right one. She would try every chance she got until she solved the conundrum.

Problem number two: what was she going to say if some man saw that she didn't have a penis? She could claim that some Rebel or damyankee bullet, as appropriate, had caught her in the crotch and the surgeon had cut off her cock and balls to save her life. She had a thick bush, so it wasn't easy to see her pussy. That should be enough to satisfy most reasonable curiosity. She sure as hell wasn't going to let some stranger closely examine her crotch just to satisfy his curiosity!

She got dressed and made her way to the restaurant for some food. It was just after 10:00 AM, so she was too late for breakfast and too early for lunch, but the cook took pity on her and fixed her a giant sandwich. She blessed him and tipped him two bits, a munificent sum. That and a cup of coffee should hold her until lunch.

After breaking her fast, Sandy went looking for a poker game. There were three saloons in town, and she finally found a game in the last saloon of the three. She bought in and began playing. It took only two hands to find out that the other pro at the table was cheating. She might not normally had said anything, professional courtesy and all that, but the damn fool was cheating her, too. She put up with it for a few more hands, but couldn't take it any longer.

Sandy called the sharp on his cheating. "Mister, I know enough about poker to know that all of the cards should come from the top of the deck." He jumped up and tried to pull a derringer. As soon as he pushed his chair back, Sandy reached for her Remington. She had it aimed at his gut and pulled the trigger before he could get his derringer around to point at her. The sharp had cocked his gun, so it went off when he was shot, but, fortunately, it only drilled a hole in the table top. He might have lived a few more hours, but Sandy was tenderhearted, so she shot him between the eyes to stop his suffering. The town didn't have a marshal, and everybody agreed that it was self defense, so the swamper cleaned up the mess, and the players returned to the game after they divided the contents of the sharp's pockets according to their losses. They pooled a tip for the swamper, and he was given $4 to get rid of the body.

Sandy assumed the role of the Master of Ceremonies and it became her game. This was her first try at this position, but she must have done well, because she had no complaints and one compliment when the game shut down for supper. She went to talk to the bartender and asked what the sharp had promised him for the privilege of playing in his saloon. The cost sounded fair, so Sandy paid him and said that she would be back after supper.