Story 5: Showdown
By VStarTraveler

Summary: When Amanda Wickwire confronts Dixie Cousins over Brisco, harsh words may be spoken and feathers may fly.

This story was written for the WA Random Opener Challenge. The first sentence of the story was dictated by the challenge.

Author's Note: The story takes place in San Francisco in the summer of 1894. For more fandom information, a short primer is available at

fanfiction dot net/topic/92815/95652563/4/#175876017

Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction, written entirely for fun and not for profit. This interpretation of the world of The Adventures of Brisco County, Jr., is entirely my own. The Adventures of Brisco County, Jr., and any and all of its various components remain the property of their respective owners.

All right, maybe it wasn't the best way to start off a conversation.

Then again, maybe a conversation wasn't exactly what I wanted. Maybe a hair-pulling, knock-down, drag-out fight was what I was really seeking. Of course, I couldn't know for sure since I'd never actually been involved in one of those. Still, my fists, planted firmly on my hips, were clenched and ready to fly, if, as I suspected, she took offense at my admittedly crude comment and lit into me.

Dixie's breath caught as she glared at me in silence for several seconds while digesting my deliberately pointed insult and I waited for the coming explosion, for the fight to start. Then, to my great surprise, she exhaled slowly, stepped back, opened the door further, and, with a further sigh, said, "Come in. Welcome to Lord Bowler's home. I'm watching it while Bowler, Brisco, and your dad are out of town."

Somewhat disarmed by her action, I stepped into the foyer, unsure what was going to happen next. After putting my hat on a hook, I turned back toward her only to see that she was looking at me with a mix of understanding and compassion rather than the anger and contempt I was expecting. She had, after all, won, and now I was here standing before her giving up the last shred of my dignity while trying desperately to find some small hint that she was being as two-faced as I suspected, as conniving as gold-diggers usually tend to be. Even an inkling of duplicity would be enough for me to take it to Brisco, to make him reexamine the situation and, just maybe, give me another chance when they returned.

Instead of anger or scorn, she gave a compassionate smile as she took my hand, still loosely closed in a fist, and said, "I'm sorry, Amanda, for I know you care a great deal about Brisco. He cares a great deal about you, too, but with his relationship with your father, he seems to look on you more as a sister than as a potential lover."

"Sister," I replied with a huff as my hand slowly opened, hoping she hadn't noticed how tightly it had been clenched at first. "Always the sister, never the bride."

"Bridesmaid." Dixie nodded as if understanding, but she said nothing more when I gave her a questioning frown in response to her peculiar comment.

Seizing the opportunity, I said, "I think I'm a good person and that I'd be a good wife for him, but you...he seems to think you're so, so...perfect! Truthfully, no one's perfect, not you, not me, nobody! Why do men like Brisco think that, and want it, when all you'll probably do is leave and take him for everything he's got, rather than someone like me who'll be there with him, for him, forever?"

She looked at me, possibly debating her words or where her first punch should land, and I glared back, but in doing so, I could see the answer to my question standing before me. "Oh, fiddlesticks! I know exactly why. Because you're glamorous and beautiful and able to throw that word around to excite him like it's nothing while most of the rest of us women turn bright red at the mere thought."

She looked at me, confused. "What word?"

A tiny smile crossed my face, knowing that, for a brief moment, I had achieved the upper hand, proving that she was such a floozy she wasn't even fazed by its power. That instant was over quickly, however, as I whispered, "Lover."

Dixie gave a slow shake of her head as her renewed look of understanding made me feel even lower still.

"Amanda, I'd say you've been infected with this silly Victorian mindset that winds some people up tighter than your dad's pocket watch. Listen, what is an interesting, eligible man that we meet?"

I looked at her, not understanding, and received another pat on my hand in return.

"A potential male friend, Amanda. A potential beau! And what is a beau?"

Hoping I was following, I said, almost inaudibly, "A...a potential husband?"

She smiled as she nodded. "And your husband—if he's even worth those two-bits you mentioned earlier—will love you and be your lover."

Despite blushing at her pointed jab over the "two-bits," I'd taken enough classes in logic over the years to finally understand. "So by extension of this train of thought, an interesting, eligible man might be considered a potential lover."

"Voilà! Even you stuffy academic types can be pretty good at connecting the dots when you set your mind to it."

I laughed, nervously, at her comment as well as the way she used her body language to convey it.

"Amanda, now, connect these. Brisco and I love each other. When the time comes, we'll be together, forever, through all the 'fors' and 'ins' you say in the wedding ceremony. I know him well enough to know he won't give up on me, and I promise you that I'll never give up on him."

Her words and the look in her eyes told me that she was telling the truth. I was defeated; my face, my body, and my resolve slumped as a result.

She saw and a look of concern overcame her as she gently steered me toward the settee. "Amanda, please, have a seat. Can I get you some tea? Water? Whiskey?"

I couldn't help but laugh again at the way she'd included the last one, but was surprised when she pointed to the bottle on the sideboard. I shook my head. "Thanks, anyway."

Taking the seat next to me, she said, "I think you knew all of that when you came here, right?"

I nodded. "Dad told me before they left, as gently as he could, but he's never been particularly good with girls, gentle, or romance, so I had to hope he was wrong."

"The Schwenkes may have done him some good. I think he was right on target this time."

I rolled my eyes at the thought of my father's new female friends and started to rise to go, but Dixie's hand gently grasped my arm, causing me to remain seated. Looking into my eyes, she said, "Amanda, what else is troubling you? Is there anything I can do to help?"

I hadn't come here to confess or to make a friend, but that seemed to be exactly what she was inviting me to do. I exhaled slowly, carefully, before turning to her. "Dixie, I'm 27 years old. I have three college degrees and just received my doctorate. I also have six patents, and several more with Dad. All that and Brisco's the only guy I've ever really cared about. Now, I see the two of you together and know that I'll not only never have him, I'll never have anything like what the two of you share."

A look of determination crossed her face. "We love each other, Amanda, but that doesn't mean you'll never have your own version of it sometime in the future when you meet that someone special who truly loves you back."

"Like that's ever going to happen. I can just see it: guys lining up in droves to meet the silly, academic-minded tomboy." I would have laughed in derision at the thought, but the conversation hadn't gone in any of the ways I'd envisioned it. Now, the pall of defeat had settled over me and admitting my fears of being alone forever made it worse. Fighting off tears while thinking of Dixie's earlier comment about Brisco, I added the final nail in my proverbial coffin. "Yes, guys lining up. ''We need a little sister, too!'"

Once again, Dixie's response was not what I was expecting. She handed me a handkerchief and asked, "Are you certain about that whiskey?"

"Yes! No. I don't know."

She rose from the settee and got the bottle with two small glasses as I attempted to dry my eyes.

"Sometimes a shot of whiskey can help us see things a bit more clearly," she said as she poured. "At our size, though, two shots makes things blurrier and three makes them increasingly hazy." With a conspiratorial look, she added, "Just between us, four or so can make us look up from the floor trying to remember how we got there in the first place."

Nodding, I accepted the shotglass and proceeded to take a sip. Compared to the little glass of wine I drank occasionally, the whiskey was strong, wickedly strong, and I winced as it burned its way down. Dixie said, "Cheers," and downed her glass in a gulp. She set it on the table in front of us while putting the bottle off to the end of the settee, well out of sight.

"So we don't get any wild ideas and stray into those less-constructive numbers of glasses," she said in reply to my raised eyebrow. "Now, let's look at your situation."

"What do you mean?"

She sighed. "Amanda, you're a pretty young woman but have you ever tried to attract a man's attention?"

"Yes. Brisco's."

"Well...let's leave him out of this, okay? Anyone else?"

"Uhmm, there was a guy in college, but he never gave me a second look."

"Did you ever wonder why? Yes? Well, let's start by looking at what you're wearing."

I frowned. My pants were clean and the shirt only had a small stain on one sleeve. "What's wrong with what I'm wearing?"

"There's nothing wrong with your clothes when you're working, Amanda, but when you're working to get a man..."

"What do you mean? I need to change clothes?

"Not just your clothes, dear. You! You're a wallflower waiting to blossom, and with a few little pointers and some work on your part, you can do just that."

"I don't know..."

"Look, you have on men's clothes that, I hate to say, don't do anything to enhance your femininity. When you came in, you had on a man's hat, and your hair is in a ponytail more suited to an Indian or some of the men I saw in China."

"You've been to China?" I said in surprise, more interested from an academic standpoint in that than where I feared our conversation was going.

"Long story," she replied but didn't volunteer more before continuing. "You have a streak of dirt on your cheek—"

I nodded. "Probably grease," I said as I used my sleeve to rub it off.

"Ah, other cheek."

I switched sides and she gave a little nod before continuing.

"Your nails look like Dantès' when he's been digging his tunnel in Château d'If. You're a woman, Amanda; if you want to attract a man's attention, sometimes it's best to look the part. Do you have any dresses?"

"Of course I have one. A Sunday go-to-meeting dress."

She sighed. "That's what I was afraid of. But easily correctable. Let's go upstairs."

~ABCJ~

Three of Dixie's dresses were laid out on the bed and I was standing behind the screen trying hard to fit into another one. She was a couple of inches taller, but I was proportioned differently, with generally a little more muscle and definitely a little less bosom.

"We can get this one modified easily enough," she said, "and you can buy a new one similar to this, but maybe in a lighter shade."

I peeked around the screen to see what she meant and then sighed. "Dixie, this one doesn't fit either."

She waved for me to step out, which I did despite my embarrassment. She looked as I turned and then said, "Corset."

"I...I can't wear them," I replied. "They irritate me too much. But you're always so gorgeous in your clothes. You must wear your corset all the time."

She was nodding as she had me turn again before finally waving me back to the relative privacy of the screen where I squirmed again to get back out of it.

"Amanda, some people say that corsets are actually on the way out, that the new women's undergarments like Miss Flynt's will give us new freedom to move around and be more comfortable. And that we'll be cooler in the process, too."

Her voice changed to a whisper when she added, "Don't tell anyone but I've bought a couple of them and I think it's true. They still need a little work to get the kinks—and some of the seams—worked out, but I can see everybody switching to these in the next few years. And don't tell Brisco but I think they really are the—"

"Coming thing!" we said together with a laugh.

To my great surprise, she lightly slung one of the strappy little things over the screen. I pulled it down and held it out before me. "Ahem, I'm not sure about this. Or how to get into it."

She laughed. "I wasn't either the first time. Okay, hold it like this..."

Moments later, my face burned red but Dixie was very professional as she marked it with it in place and then proceeded to alter it while I was putting my own clothes back on. When I came back out from behind the screen, she said, "Have a seat. I'm almost done."

I was about to take her suggestion when, through the open door, I saw one of her showgirl outfits hanging in the armoire. I approached and lightly fingered the material. "This feels really nice. And it looks like it's of very high-quality construction."

"It only takes one time for you to learn that you don't skimp on your outfits for the stage. But, oh, that one time is so embarrassing!" Her face was a bit red, surprising me that she could be embarrassed about anything. Having learned a little secret about her, I hid my smile.

I was about to close the door when I saw it hanging on a hook on the back of the door. "Dixie, these feathers. What are they for?"

"It's a boa, a showgirl's best friend. Keeping it in motion doesn't take much energy, but it saves you a lot of movement on stage and helps keep you a tiny bit cooler, too. The movement serves as a distraction, drawing attention away from you—or toward you, if that's what you want—and can be used as a cover-up to calm or to entice the guys in the crowd."

"Sounds like I need one of these."

She laughed. "Here, let me show you how it works, just in case you ever want to get one. If you do, believe me, your future husband will thank me...if he ever gets through thanking you!"

~ABCJ~

A little later, we were once again in Lord Bowler's front foyer.

I still felt very confused after all she'd said and done. She'd given me a dress that could be easily sewn to fit me better and one of her already-altered, strappy under-bands. In my pocket was a list of places where I might obtain more of each, along with some other feminine "necessities." She'd helped me with my hair, giving me some ideas on how I might vary the style. She'd also given me some advice that my own dear mother, had she lived, would probably have imparted to me years earlier, saving me a great deal of bumbling and helping my poor father avoid a number of embarrassing situations. Dixie had also promised to be there for me if I needed other information or advice.

With all of her assistance, I couldn't get the thoughts out of my mind. "Dixie, I really appreciate all you've done, but I have to ask: why are you helping me? I'm really sorry, but I never liked you before, I was mean to you, and I tried to take Brisco away from you. I don't understand."

"Amanda, sometimes we do strange things when we're in love. I suspect we've all been there at one time or another. At least I know I have—Doc. Big." There was a pained expression on her face as she said their names, but that changed when she added, "Even Brisco. The most important part to me is that you're Brisco's friend, and Brisco's friends are my friends...at least I want them to be. If I can help you move on with your life, help you be happy, then maybe we can all keep being friends."

I smiled at her, feeling a kinship with her that I could never have imagined when I'd angrily pounded on the door earlier in the afternoon. "Dixie, thank you, so much, for everything. And I'm really, really sorry I called you a two-bit, well, you know."

She put her arm around me and gave my shoulder a squeeze as we walked together toward the front door. Looking around toward me, she said, "Amanda, if I recall correctly, you really didn't call me that."

I was confused. Of course I had! But she was smiling as she shook her head slowly so I asked, "Okay, what do you mean?"

"I'm pretty sure your exact words were that you 'couldn't stand the thought of Brisco being taken in by a two-bit whore.' Truthfully, I agree with you completely; I couldn't stand the thought of that and would never stand by for it either."

Despite what had been a deliberately intentional insult, she was just as knowingly twisting my original meaning and forgiving me for it.

I whispered "Thank you" to her as she opened the door. With a silent nod and a smile, she sent me on my way as a new woman with an unexpected new friend.

The End

Author's Notes:

Thanks so much for reading and for any feedback you might offer.

Dixie was a professional singer and dancer, but she married Doc McCoy at an early age, and dated Big Smith, another member of John Bly's gang after their divorce. When she met Brisco, she was self-proclaimed to have had a number of lovers along the way, but she was an independent young woman and was never a prostitute. Because of her history, some might have ascribed the "W" word to her, but she would never have considered herself that.

Amanda Wickwire, played by Anne Tremko, was Professor Wickwire's somewhat-nerdy, tomboyish daughter in the pilot episode. She was originally supposed to be Brisco's primary love interest, but the chemistry between Dixie and Brisco as well as fan reaction to the two put a quick end to the original plan. While Dixie and the professor became recurring characters, Amanda never appeared in another episode. This story is my attempt to explain her absence and how she might have moved on.

According to Dictionary dot com, the word floozy means "a gaudily dressed, usually immoral woman, especially a prostitute." It was first recorded in 1905 to 1910, but it's possible that it could have been in use in 1894 when this story takes place.

A number of American graduate schools started accepting women for doctoral programs between 1893 and 1907. Considering that this story takes place in the late summer of 1894 with Amanda having been mostly out of the picture since early 1893, it's conceivable that she was in graduate school earning her doctorate during that time.

For the Brisco's "coming thing" bit of this story, elements of Olivia Flynt's early bra-type designs were patented in 1876. Her undergarments were available by mail-order at first, but, according to Wikipedia, they eventually "appeared in department and clothing stores and catalogues. Her designs won a bronze medal at the Massachusetts Charitable Mechanics Association in 1878, at the Cotton Centennial Exposition in Atlanta in 1884–5, and at the Columbian Exposition in Chicago in 1893." Hermione Cadolle of France (1889) and Marie Tucek of the United States (1893) were credited with inventing more undergarments that are closer to their modern bra-type form, but I'm not sure if they would have been available or if Dixie would have been familiar with them in 1894.

Feather boas were popular in the 1890s.

Finally, originating in the days of the Spanish, pieces of eight were coins of such value that they were often cut into eight pieces to be able to be used without overpaying. Each piece was a 'bit.' Later, the term carried over into the American Southwest, where two-bits was the equivalent of $0.25 in American or Mexican coins. A prostitute charging this amount for services was often considered cheap, usually due to looks, age, or some other perceived problem. To be called the term Amanda used was and still is considered a terrible insult.