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Dakota.

EIGHT
    Clint was thinking about calling it a night—he’d had enough beer, and poker was still not a draw—when the batwings opened and a woman stepped in. He didn’t recognize her at first, but then he did, from the way her body looked and the way she moved. Her face and hair, though, looked as if they belonged to somebody else entirely.
    â€œDon’t tell me . . .” the bartender said, coming over to Clint.
    â€œI told you there was a woman underneath that dirt,” Clint said.
    â€œYou was right, friend.”
    Dakota saw Clint at the bar and came walking over. Apparently, she’d had some clean clothes in her gear, and she seemed very uncomfortable in them. She’d left the bandolier behind, but was still wearing her gun.
    â€œI feel funny,” she said when she reached him.
    â€œYou look great,” he said. “Your hair’s beautiful.”
    She touched it quickly and said, “It is?”
    â€œAnd it smells clean.”
    â€œThat’s just the soap,” she said, smelling her own hand and arm. “I think I used too much.”
    â€œYou can’t use too much soap, Dakota,” Clint told her.
    â€œWell, I still feel funny.”
    â€œWould you like a beer?”
    â€œYeah, I would.”
    Clint signaled the bartender. He brought one over and gave Dakota a long look before drawing back.
    â€œWhat’s his problem?”
    â€œDon’t think he’s seen a pretty woman around here in a long time.”
    She looked at him as if he was crazy.
    â€œYou think I’m pretty?”
    â€œI think you’re very pretty.”
    She blushed, and it embarrassed her and made her mad.
    â€œCut it out,” she said. She took a big swallow of her beer. “Okay, so I took a bath. Now you got to hold up your end of the bargain.”
    â€œI’ll talk to the sheriff about getting you in to talk to the mayor,” he said.
    â€œThat ain’t what you said,” she told him. “You said you’d come talk to the mayor with me.”
    â€œIs that what I said?”
    â€œI wouldn’ta taken a bath, otherwise.”
    â€œOkay, okay,” he said. “Don’t get upset. I’ll do my best to get the mayor to see us tomorrow.”
    â€œOkay.”
    A couple of cowboys walked past, looked Dakota up and down.
    â€œWhat are ya lookin’ at?” she demanded.
    Both men quickened their pace and went out, the batwings swinging hard behind them.
    â€œTake it easy,” Clint said. “You scrubbed the dirt off and now men are noticing what an attractive woman you are.”
    â€œStop sayin’ stuff like that!”
    "Why?”’
    â€œI ain’t used ta it.” She sulked. “I don’t know what to do.”
    â€œWhen somebody compliments you,” Clint said, “it’s usually polite to say thank you. That’s all.”
    â€œI ain’t used ta bein’ polite.”
    â€œWell, nobody says you have to get used to it,” Clint said. “If you don’t want to do it, don’t do it.”
    â€œReally?”
    â€œReally,” he said. “Also, the nice thing about a bath is that it doesn’t last very long. Once you step outside, you start getting dirty again.”
    She stared at him steadily for a moment, then asked, “Are you makin’ fun of me?”
    â€œMaybe,” he said, then added, “just a little.”
    â€œWho the heck is that?” Pat Sanchez asked when Dakota joined Clint at the bar.
    The two men with him turned their heads to have a look.
    â€œI don’t believe it,” Denny Blaine said.
    â€œIs that Dakota?” Largent asked.
    â€œIt sure is.”
    â€œI ain’t never seen her look like that.”
    â€œThat’s because you ain’t never seen her so clean,” Blaine said. “I wonder what made her clean up?”
    â€œMaybe it was the Gunsmith,” Sanchez