Badlands

by Melissa Lenhardt

  She leaned back against the wooden building and tried, for the thousandth time, to think of another option. But the hole in her stomach and the cold wind seeping through her threadbare dress and the snow melting on her bare head and dripping down her neck distracted her. She thought of her family, huddled around a cold hearth with only one Army blanket to cover three bodies, Joan whimpering with hunger, Stella impatiently shushing her, Hattie comforting them both and chafing at being left at home. All waiting for the woman to return.

  A man walking down the main street saw her, looked around, and slinked into the alley. Her eyes followed him, but her head remained tilted back against the wall. He made no secret of looking up and down the length of her body. She could see his imagination blooming behind his eyes. “You lost?”

  “No.”

  He moved close to her. He smelled of whisky, and his fingers were stained with ink. A newspaperman. She straightened, moved away, and averted her face.

  “Meeting someone?”

  “No. On my way to catch the train. Excuse me.”

  He grabbed her upper arm. “The train doesn’t leave for ten minutes. Plenty of time for us to get to know each other.”

  “Please release me, sir. My husband is expecting me.”

  The man laughed. Bits of tobacco were caught in the spaces between his teeth. “Not much of a husband, letting his wife out in this weather without a coat.”

  She shivered, as much from the cold as from his statement. It was more true than he knew. Her eyes were drawn to the coat the newspaperman wore. Though it was fraying at the cuffs, it was obviously well made: gunmetal gray wool with a red-silk lining peeking out when the wind caught his coattail. It looked warm.

  This is what she’d been reduced to: coveting the coat on a man who saw her as something to use and discard. Anger flowed through her like lava down a mountain, slowly spreading from the center of her chest out to her bloodless fingers, infusing her with a hatred she had never before known.

  “What time is it?”

  The man took his gold watch out of his waistcoat pocket. “Ten ’til.”

  She lifted her face to his, and he smiled in pleasure in what he saw there. She smiled wider. Almost laughed. “Plenty of time.”

  The woman turned and walked deeper into the dark alley, knowing the man would follow. The low snow clouds and the sunset threw the narrow back alley into a helpful gloom. Someone tossed water through a door a few stores down. A stray tabby cat sat on top of a stack of crates outside the milliner’s back door. The cat hissed and jumped down, almost tripping the john. She set her basket on the ground.

  He unbuckled his belt. “How much.”

  “Your coat.”

  He paused. Laughed. “My wife would wonder where it was.”

  She nodded toward his hands. “You’re a newspaperman. You’ll think of a story.”

  He held out his stained hand. “Gives me away every time.” His eyes were hungry now that the meal was at hand. “My coat.”

  He’d moved to his pants buttons.

  “Before.”

  The newspaperman shook his head but shrugged out of his coat, eager to get on with it. The woman donned the coat, looked up and down the alley, bent down, and opened her basket. In a fluid, silent motion, she placed the gun underneath the man’s chin.

  “What in tarnation …”

  She pulled back the hammer. “It’s a Walker. My dead husband’s. All I have left of him. I’m going to use it to rob the bank across the street.”

  The newspaperman’s eyes widened with the first trace of fear.

  “But, you’ve ruined my plan, and why? Because you saw a vulnerable woman standing alone, minding her own business.”

  “I didn’t mean anything by it.”

  The woman’s expression twisted into disbelief. “Your pecker tells another story.”

  “Please.”

  “Your poor wife. She’s waiting at home for you, probably has a nice supper ready. Worked hard on it, too, and how do you repay her? Trying for a poke with a stranger on the way home.”

  The man’s voice shook. “Keep the coat.”

  The woman laughed. “I want your hat, too.”

  The man lifted his hands partway and the woman pressed the barrel of the gun harder against his neck. He pointed to the hat.

  “One hand.”

  He removed the hat and placed it on the crate.

  “Thank you. This is all going to work out just fine. Much better than my original plan, in fact.”

  The man’s brows furrowed.

  “You’re gonna help me rob that bank.”

  “I couldn’t do that.”

  Her expression hardened. “You’d be amazed what you can do when your life depends on it.”

  The man swallowed and nodded vigorously. “I’ll help you.”

  “Oh, you don’t have no choice in the matter … What’s your name again?”

  “Alfie Gernsback.”

  Laughter bubbled up and burst forth on a wave of nervous energy. “Your mother hate you or something?”

  “Alfred.”

  She nodded. “It’s some better, but not much. Okay, here’s the long and short of it, Alfred.” The woman glanced up and down the alley again, and leaned forward. Gernsback leaned down to listen. “Your wife? She’s gonna be much happier without you. Trust me.”

  She reveled in his confusion, and his flash of understanding before she pulled the trigger. Alfie Gernsback’s brains hadn’t stopped spraying the milliner’s back wall before she’d picked up her basket and the dead man’s hat and was walking briskly through the alley.

  She stopped and looked up and down the street. She ran to the nearest clutch of men. “I think I heard a gunshot.”

  “Well, this is Denver.”

  “Back that way somewhere.” She motioned in the area of the alley.

  The man patted her on the arm. “We’ll look into it.”

  She smiled and nodded, her hand over her heart. “Oh, thank you. I would hate for someone to be hurt.”

  “I’m sure it’s nothing.”

  She crossed the muddy street and arrived at the bank door just as the clerk was locking up.

  “Oh, no. Am I too late?”

  The clerk was a thin young man with a high forehead and a weak chin he tried to camouflage with a neckbeard that would never equal Lincoln’s. “Just locking up now, ma’am.”

  “My husband is going to be so angry. You see, we’re leaving on the five o’clock and he asked me to drop off my jewelry in the safe this morning and I plumb forgot, what with packing and giving the servants instructions for while we’re gone and oh, a dozen other distractions that I have ever day.” The woman inhaled, smiled, and tilted her head to the side. She touched his arm. “Would you mind terribly? It won’t take but a moment, I promise. I have to catch a train, after all.”

  The clerk blushed, and nodded. He opened the door as a commotion started down the street. “I wonder what that’s all about?”

  The woman entered the bank, pulling the clerk along with her eyes and sultry voice. “Heaven knows. This is Denver, after all.”

  The clerk led her to his desk as the woman took everything in. “Must be lonely, being the last one out every night.”

  “I like it.” He looked pointedly at her basket. “What did you say your husband’s name was?”

  “Is the safe that way?” She pointed down the hall and started walking.

  “Yes. Just a moment.” The clerk followed her. “You can’t go down there.”

  “I thought it would save us time, since we’re under the gun.” She stepped back against the wall opposite the safe, noting the bank name stenciled across the front. Bank of the Rockies. “Would you like for me to turn around while you open it?”

  “I would like for you to go back to the front.”

  “Of course. I’ll wait at the nearest desk.”

  Alone in the main room, she placed the basket on the desk, lid open, and pulled out a rope. The
man returned in less than a minute. “Now, if you’ll just …”

  She stood, hands behind her back, smiling. “The jewelry is in the basket.”

  The clerk moved forward and bent over to reach in the basket. The woman shoved a chair into the back of his legs, toppling him back into the seat. She looped the rope around his chest and pulled tight. The clerk, stunned, merely looked over his shoulder at the woman, giving her time to place the gun in her other hand on his shoulder. “You will want to sit still for me. I’m not very good with a gun. I’d hate to kill you on accident.”

  The front door opened and closed. The clerk and the woman looked up. “Oh, thank God,” the clerk said. He tried to wiggle free but the woman hit him in the back of the head with the butt of her gun. The clerk grunted, and dropped his chin to his chest.

  “It took you long enough.”

  The teamster crossed the floor in five strides. “Some man was killed back in the alley over there. There’re people everywhere.”

  “Tie him up good while I get the money.”

  She took the basket to the safe and loaded it with as much cash and gold as would fit. She rifled through the personal papers, pulling out some, tossing others back into the safe. She stared at a deed for a long time before placing it in her basket and returning to the front.

  She tossed the personal papers into a metal trash bin, found a match on the nearest desk, and tossed it in the can. The papers were soon engulfed.

  The teamster finished tying the clerk to the chair and kicked it over. “Let’s go.” He took the basket from the woman. “Where’d you get the coat?”

  “Stole it.”

  The clerk moaned around the handkerchief the teamster had stuffed in his mouth. The woman crouched down next to the young man. “I’m sorry I had to hit you. But, it’s either steal from you, or lay on my back for a living. You understand?” The clerk stared at her with glassy eyes. She patted his shoulder. “You’ll be fine in a day or two.”

  She stood, pulled the dead man’s hat low over her eyes. The clerk was cognizant enough to look at the gun in her hand with fear. She put the gun in her pocket and grinned, high on the smoke from the burning documents. It wouldn’t ruin him, nothing so petty as a few thousand dollars and lost documents would ruin him. But it would irritate him, and that was good enough. For now. She bent down and whispered in the clerk’s ear.

  “Tell Colonel Louis Connolly, Margaret Parker sends her regards.”

  By Melissa Lenhardt

  SAWBONES SERIES

  Sawbones

  Blood Oath

  Badlands

  JACK MCBRIDE MYSTERIES

  Stillwater

  The Fisher King

  Praise for Melissa Lenhardt and

  SAWBONES

  “Packs a big punch with grit and raw passion. There is mystery, murder, Indians, bounty hunters and intrigue. The women are brave, intelligent and don’t take crap from anyone. Lenhardt is a talented, creative writer; she has a grand slam out of the park with Sawbones.”—

  RT Book Reviews (Top Pick!) 4.5 stars

  “Raw, gritty, and sometimes graphic, Melissa Lenhardt has crafted a page-turner. In Sawbones, the women are smart, brave, and at times ‘incorrigible.’ The plot twists, unique characters and intriguing story of passion and betrayal make this a book well worth discovering.”

  —Jane Kirkpatrick, New York Times bestselling author of A Light in the Wilderness

  “Absolutely loved it! I couldn’t tear myself away from Sawbones. An epic story of love and courage that sweeps from east to west, Sawbones will rip right through you.”

  —Marci Jefferson, author of Girl on the Golden Coin

  “A beautiful, heartrending story of courage, survival, [and] loyalty, [that] depicts the depths to which a human can sink and the highs to which we can rise above it all when hope is strong. … Sawbones is on my list of 2016 favourite reads.”

  —Scandalicious

  “You will fall in love with Catherine, as I did, as she struggles to assert herself in a violent and treacherous world, fighting not only prejudice but evil.”

  —Sandra Dallas, New York Times bestselling author

  “Sawbones is a thoroughly original, smart and satisfying hybrid, perhaps a new subgenre: the feminist Western.”

  —Lone Star Literary Life

  “Melissa Lenhardt has given us an amazing heroine and sent her on a thrilling journey from the teeming streets of New York City to the vast wilderness of the Texas frontier. Dr. Catherine Bennett’s adventure will keep you turning pages long into the night!”

  —Victoria Thompson, bestselling author of Murder on St. Nicholas Avenue

  “It was damn brilliant and I absolutely loved it! … It was [the] mix of loveliness with the book’s vicious, ruthless side that made Sawbones so compelling. … I was ecstatic to find out that there will be a follow-up called Blood Oath coming out later this year. You can be sure I’ll be devouring it as soon as I can get my hands on it.”

  —Bibliosanctum (4.5 stars)

  “If you are looking for a book that is well-written, has a gripping story-line seasoned with mystery, suspense, [and] a little romance, then you have come to the right place, my friend! … From the first to the last page, Sawbones is a raw, gritty tale that takes us back to a time when rules didn’t apply, when heartbreak was a way of life and tomorrow was a gift. Weaving facts and fiction Melissa Lenhardt gives us a story so rich in detail and horrific truths, you finish the book with so many questions, so many emotions and ready for more.”

  —Margie’s Must Reads (4 stars)

  “The adventure was nonstop, never giving way to a slow moment. … My heart was repeatedly ripped to shreds and mended … a thrilling, unpredictable roller coaster that held my heart from the start.”

  —My Book Fix

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