The Gambling Lady

I met a gambler in Wyoming territory and learned something about the terrible war between the states. One tear, gentlemen. Herewith, an Englishman's account of life and death in the West.

As a reporter for the London Times, he writes his colorful and unusual stories. But as a man with a gun, he lives and becomes a part of the violent years in the new territories. Now starring John Dana, this is the story of J.B. Kendall, frontier gentleman.

When I returned to Cheyenne in Wyoming territory, I found that a new and thriving establishment had opened during my absence. I first heard of it over a drink with Carrie Chase, the editor and publisher of the Cheyenne Daily Press.

We were standing at the bar in the gold room saloon, and I remarked in the fact that the the adjacent gambling rooms seemed unusually quiet. Been like this over a week now. Any particular reason?

I guess you haven't heard about Madame Verde. No. Quite a woman. Sailed in here 10 days ago, in Denver, they say. Got the biggest painted freight wagon you ever saw, in some kind of an omnibus fort to travel in.

Well, I tell you, no ladies' boot war has ever decked out any better. Is she a medicine woman? Oh, no, no. Gambling. Set herself up near the depot. A big tent. Rulette Farrow, anything your name.

Brought in her own dealers, case-keeper, Spindleman. Day after she arrived, posters went up all over town. And since then, the local boys aren't very happy about it. Taking all that business, right? Just about. What sort of woman is she?

I tried to get an interview. Not much luck. Doesn't like talk about herself. But I'd tell you there's a story there. I'd like to get it. Yes, sir. Quite a woman. Mm. Pretty? Pretty and a lady.