Chapter 9

Alan and I moved along our relationship while we waited for a new assignment. Hell, I was to the point where I was going to ask him to marry me if he didn't say something pretty damned soon! Well, eventually it did happen. We were sitting in the swing on the front veranda one evening when Alan said, "Kitty, I ain't one for showing my emotions very much, but I just got to tell ya that I can't stand it any longer. I jus' gotta ask. Will ya marry me?"

Now, I want everybody to know that I can be as proper as the next girl, but this was too much for me. I shouted, "YES!" and grabbed Alan in a kiss that you wouldn't believe. It wasn't one of those chaste, closed mouth kisses that you give your great aunt, either. From the look on Alan's face, you'd think that I had tried to swallow his whole face. Well, maybe I had. I really ain't quite sure. I was so happy that I damned near busted a seam. I dragged Alan in with me to tell Juanita the great news, and she reacted the way I had hoped.

Alan and I were practically married at that point under Texas law, and we both knew it, so I didn't waste any time. I dragged him to my bedroom and made sure that he was absolutely committed.

The next morning, I found out how sore it was possible to get down there, but I noticed that Alan was a little sore, himself, so we both laughed at the situation as we got dressed. Juanita had breakfast waiting for us, so things were off to a great start. We sent Alan off to town while Juanita and I got down to the details of planning the public wedding. It turned out that Juanita already had most of the details worked out, all but for choosing the church. She, of course, would have chosen the local Catholic church, but she was willing to let me choose the Methodist church if I wanted. Singer Flats was large enough to have its own half-time Methodist preacher who split his time with Ruby Ridge. He lived in Singer Flats, so we didn't have any problem getting in touch with him to set a wedding date.

It took three days of constant work to get all of the invitations written, and another week to get the replies. Even Judge McAllister said that he would be there, so we were all set. Both Alan and I were in a hurry, so the wedding took place as soon as it could be held. Everything went great, and we all had a wonderful time.

Alan and I retired to our, well, now his, house under Texas law, but I didn't care. Even the Oldsmobile was now his, but we were so in love that the technicalities did not phase either one of us.

Judge McAllister gave us two weeks without cases, so we spent most of that time in bed.

Our next case was chasing an inmate what escaped from Federal Prison and was known to be headed toward El Paso. The assumption was that he was trying to reach Mexico, so Judge McAllister sent us to head him off. The road to El Paso was in real good shape, so we took off lickety-split in the Oldsmobile. We made the trip in two days, at least a day faster than by any other means of transportation.

I put on my male disguise, and Alan and I started our search through the saloons and bordellos of the city. We made no secret of being Federal Deputy Marshals, so we got no shit from any place we visited. We were looking for Homer Simpson, who was easy to spot from his description. He was so damned big that he couldn't ride a horse. It wasn't fat either, it was all muscle. He was 6'-8" tall, so he "stood out" in a crowd. Of course, his specialty was strong-arm robbery, and he had the body for it. His weapon of choice was two double barrel 10-gauge shotguns that were sawed off to be much like pistols. He could shoot one-handed with either hand, so he was nobody to trifle with.

He was traveling, of necessity, by buckboard, so we had no trouble beating him to El Paso. We had made the rounds of every saloon and bordello in town describing Simpson and leaving word on how we could be contacted. We weren't worried, even the shady places didn't want to get on the wrong side of federal lawmen, so we knew that we would get the word as soon as Simpson showed himself anywhere in town.

We had to hang around El Paso for a week before we got word that Homer Simpson had been seen. He had spent the night at Mrs. Ogden's Boarding House for Young Ladies, and showed no sign of being in a hurry to leave. Several oversized whores worked there, so Simpson must have felt at home. Whatever the reason, he was still on the premises when Alan and I arrived.

We talked to Mrs. Ogden and found out that he had commandeered her suite, and he was currently ensconced in there with her two largest whores. We didn't want either of the two women to get hurt, so we had to be careful how we made the arrest.

Luckily, there was a spy hole that let us look into the room. In fact, the spy hole gave a direct ring-side seat view of the oversize bed. At one time, when Mrs. Ogden was turning tricks, herself, she used to sell tickets to special customers to watch the action. She had not done that in several years, but she had never gotten around to sealing up the spy hole. Well, we made good use of the spy hole to observe the room and plan our campaign. By the way, I was really surprised and pleased to see that Simpson's tool did not in any way approach the size of Alan's.

We decided to wait until Simpson ordered a meal. He should be so distracted by the waiter bringing the food through the door that we could be able to barge in and make the arrest. To facilitate this, we had steel handcuffs and leg irons.

Simpson had already ordered in and eaten breakfast, so the pattern was established. Alan and I planned to hit him when he ordered dinner, and that was still likely to be an hour away.

As expected, all three people in the room were naked, and the two women looked exhausted. We had a half-hour wait before Simpson pulled the bell-cord to summon a waiter. He ordered a large meal and two replacement whores. He said that these two were worn out.