He suspected the mayor’s wife, Matilda, was behind the stern rule he now lived by, but in truth, it wasn’t much of a trial. He wouldn’t have availed himself of the charms of the women there anyway. Seeking a woman while on vacation was a completely different proposition. He could do as he liked while away from prying eyes. So if the right situation came along, perhaps he’d avail himself of certain carnal pleasures on this trip.
Two days out of town and Garrett had to admit a certain eagerness for the coming challenge. Three time champion had a nice ring to it, and once ensconced in the books as such, he’d have a credit to his name should he ever decide to capitalize on it. He didn’t plan to be a sheriff forever, but perhaps a championship title would help with a position on the city council.
After riding hard for the first two days, Garrett slowed his pace and surveyed the landscape around him. Rife with hills and valleys of rich cinnamon red earth dusted with the vivid gray-green contrast of low scrub bushes and a copse of pine trees every so often as if dropped there for the sole purpose of being decorative scenery on a long, lonely ride, Garrett relaxed a notch and soaked in the natural beauty of the land.
It was just after mid-day, and he’d noticed stagecoach tracks in the dusty road he traveled. If he caught up with them before night fall, perhaps he’d ride along for company.
Having traveled this road before, he knew around the next bend some needed shade waited. A copse of tall trees and an overhang of rocks promising cool comfort for a few miles would make his journey even better.
Garrett slowed the pace of his horse even further, planning to enjoy the leisurely section of road, but instead of a nice, shady ride, he encountered chaos in the form of what looked like a stagecoach hold up. He put his hand on his gun and searched for bandits.
Upon closer inspection, the robbery had obviously already taken place. Milling around a horseless stagecoach were three passengers, two men and a woman carrying a wailing baby, and an angry driver.
“Whoa, there, mister,” a seasoned man with a faded red bandana around his neck called out. “We need some help.”
Garrett pulled on his reins and stopped. “Are you the stagecoach driver?”
He nodded. “I’m Sam Colbert.” He removed his brown, weathered hat and slapped it against one thigh. “Who are you, friend?”
“I’m the sheriff from Outpost, Colorado. Name’s Garrett. Were you robbed?”
“Yep. Four men stole the hidden box of gold we was carryin’ and let loose our horse team. We’re stranded here until we round them up. Hopefully, the team didn’t get too far down the way. The horses were still all harnessed together when they took off, so maybe that slowed ‘em down some.” He looked over his shoulder at the dusty road. “We were bound for Westerville, in the Wyoming Territory. Still a couple of hours away.”
Garrett nodded. “I know it. I’m headed in that direction myself.”
The thin-lipped woman wearing a severe black dress approached quickly from the door of the stagecoach, her pinched expression dire. As she got closer, he realized she was fairly young. “And they kidnapped a woman. Don’t forget poor Miss Annabel being taken.” The baby in her arms had stopped crying but also wore a frown as if further tears loomed.
The driver directed his gaze at the ground. “They’re gone twenty minutes already. She’s likely dead by now.” He paused and hocked up some spit. After releasing it to his right side, he murmured, “Or wishing she was.”
The lady in black shot the driver a quelling look. He wasn’t sure if it was due to the driver’s spitting manners or something else, but then she moved closer as Garrett scanned the area looking for where the bandits might have gone with Miss Annabel. There was only one obvious trail.
“Did you see which direction they took her?”
The lady in black adjusted the baby on her hip one-handed and pointed due west. Her baby started crying again as if sensing its mother’s distress. She shushed the child quietly before turning her face up to Garrett again. “Please rescue her, Sheriff. I’m sure she’s terribly frightened.”
Garrett turned to the driver. “Gather your horses and head for Westerville. I’ll find Miss Annabel and meet you there.”
“Four against one ain’t very good odds, even if you are a sheriff.”
“Well, luckily, I’m an excellent shot, as well.” Garrett noted the sun’s position in the sky. He had less than four hours of daylight left, and he was already twenty minutes behind his prey.
“Are you Sheriff Butler?”
Garrett turned and did his best to hide the surprise at being recognized. “Yes. How did you know?”
The man’s grin was missing one front tooth. “I seen you shoot ten bulls-eyes in a row last year at the sharpshooter’s club up in Wyoming Territory and tie that rancher fella. Maybe you do have a chance, after all. Good luck. I’ll see you get part of the gold as a reward if you find the strong box and bring it back.”
Garrett nodded once and put his horse into a full gallop in the direction of the vile kidnappers. Treasure was not his immediate goal. He just hoped he wasn’t too late to save their female captive, Miss Annabel.
Chapter Three
Annabel, wrists secured with rope behind her, squirmed and screamed as she rode belly down across the uncomfortable pommel of the vile bandit’s horse. If she could only reach his gun, she’d take vast pleasure in shooting him between the eyes.
She had the skill to do it, even with two hands tied behind her back. The despicable blackguard had been grabbing at her skirt, rubbing her backside since they rode away from the stagecoach. Every time she protested or attempted to squirm out of his way, he squeezed and pawed at her with even more enthusiasm, so she played dead and stopped moving. After a while, he stopped and focused on keeping them on the horse during the breakneck speed of their escape.
After traveling for what seemed like an hour, the four horsemen in this party crested a hill and left the woods. Annabel had quieted down and pretended to be in a faint. She sensed this short trip was about to come to an end and didn’t want to contemplate what these men had in store for her.
They rode down into a small valley next to a meandering stream, turning abruptly towards a rock face. The pace slowed as they led their horses single file into a wide crack at the base of the rocky cliff. Annabel’s heart flipped over in terror at being trapped in tight quarters with these horrible men. Even if she could get away, running blindly through a maze wouldn’t accomplish much.
Her only chance was to appropriate a gun and shoot them. Or threaten to.
Unfortunately, she had never shot at a live person, only targets. Did she have the fortitude to kill her captors, given the chance at a weapon? Her uncertainty made Annabel search for alternative ideas of escape. Her hands would need to be free to appropriate a horse and even hope to get away. Grim determination would be needed to accomplish her goals.
Once the riders all slowed down significantly, her immediate captor stroked his hand along her spine from neck to ass. She didn’t move a muscle. No need to incite him again. But how long could she play dead?
“I want to find out how much gold is in the box,” came a voice from nearby.
The man she rode with brought his horse to a stop, stood in his stirrups, swung a leg over, and left her on the horse. “Then we’ll shoot off the lock and find out how much gold we just earned.” He slapped her on the bottom and dragged her from the horse. She continued the pretense that she’d fainted and remained dead weight. Her captor dumped her on the ground after a few steps. Annabel remained unresponsive as the four men abandoned her and gathered a few yards away from where she rested. They surrounded the small strong box they’d stolen from the stagecoach and watched it as if it might just pop open if they stared at it hard enough.
Opening her eyes half way the moment her captor walked away, she watched as the foursome first kicked the box then attempted to shoot the lock off with a gun. The first bullet ricocheted, and each of the men shouted in a
larm.
“Goddamn it, Jess, watch what you’re doing. You want to kill one of us? Aim your damned gun at the ground.”
A second shot was fired with more care to the possibility of ricochet, and the lock dropped to the ground. They all hunkered down around the box and started pulling out gold coins and bills. Stolen treasure. Money being sent on to the city of Cheyenne in the Wyoming Territory, to pay wages and other debts. Bastards. They hadn’t earned this money.
Annabel decided in short order that if she could get hold of a gun, perhaps she would be able to pull the trigger, especially if what they had planned for her came to pass. It wasn’t a stretch of her imagination. She knew what went on between men and women in the bedroom. Her recent memory with Dane solidified the fact that caring for your partner made the experience so much more delightful, and the memories had staying power.
A lesson she’d learned initially with her fiancé long ago, when they’d made love. James had been so sweet and so careful for her first time with a man. She knew any concern for her well-being wouldn’t be repeated today. Annabel swallowed bile and did her best to get hold of her emotions. They couldn’t take what she wouldn’t give. She refused to cower or cry if they abused her. She would instead focus on revenge. And God help them all if she ever got hold of a gun.
Tonight, she vowed to shut down and stay alive until they were finished with her. From the sounds coming from the quartet around the strong box, the take was more than they’d expected. They whooped and hollered and danced around a bit before settling down. One man ran over to a decrepit wagon and pulled a couple of bottles of liquor out. They commenced to drinking along with the whooping and hollering.
She kept her lashes half closed hoping they’d forget all about her, but after a few turns around the open treasure box, the man who’d pawed at her all the way here cast a look in her direction. She narrowed her eyes further closed and watched as he sidled closer to where she pretended to sleep. He stopped only long enough to take a deep swig from the bottle he held.
“Let’s wake up our captive and have some fun.”
He was on her three seconds later. With her hands still bound behind her, Annabel couldn’t fight him off. She tried to keep from screaming at first, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing he scared her, but she soon lost the battle and let loose a piercing shriek meant to summons help from two states away.
The fumes from the alcohol on his breath, along with whatever horrid, pungent meal he’d last consumed, turned her stomach. She fought him by attempting to twist away, but it was a losing battle at best. He twisted her towards him and tried to kiss her. She turned her head and struggled harder.
“I’m going to fuck you blind.”
The others laughed and fired off a few rounds of gunfire into the air. Foul breath panting in her face as she struggled, the man grabbed two fistfuls of the front of her dress and ripped the fabric wide open. She felt the cool air on her chest first and his hot breath on her breast next.
Unable to stop herself at the added insult of him ruining her favorite dress, Annabel took another deep lungful of air and let loose another scream as loud as she could the moment his mouth landed on the bare skin of her naked, exposed breast. Her voice echoed against the walls of the canyon and mingled with the riotous laughter from the other three men now sauntering closer to watch her struggle against the vile beast accosting her.
“Quit fighting me,” he snarled. He lifted off of her, and she spit in his face.
Saliva dripping off his cheek, the man suddenly rose up on his knees with his arm in the air poised to strike a blow.
Annabel closed her eyes and swallowed hard to keep the contents of her stomach from erupting. The bright sunlight rained down but was blocked by his raised arm for a moment as Annabel waited for him to smack her into what she prayed was sudden and long-lasting unconsciousness.
* * * *
Garrett heard a heart wrenching feminine scream echo against the canyon walls but didn’t force his horse into a gallop, although he truly wanted to. The sound of her panic sent his heart thumping wildly in his chest with hope. Screaming meant she was alive.
The sound of several gunshots had led him into this crevice situated between two towering cliffs, but being unfamiliar with this particular piece of landscape, he didn’t want to risk a mad dash into the unknown. He wanted to rescue the female captive, not become a victim himself.
Calm and serene, Garrett ambled between the rock faces, spying the tell tale signs of recent travel by several horses. They were in here all right. Bastards.
Until he’d heard her cry out, Garrett conjured easily a scene where she lay dead beside an empty strong box, ruined, hurt, and all alone in her final minutes. No one deserved to die all alone. Least of all, an innocent woman caught up in circumstances beyond her control.
“You’re too late.” His subconscious prodded his worried heart.
But he wasn’t. She’d screamed and was, therefore, still very much alive. He urged his horse into a faster trot, just short of a gallop. No need to signal to the bandits as he neared.
Another gunshot sounded like a TNT blast in the quiet afternoon seclusion. Soon after, loud, laughing voices erupted, and Garrett knew he was almost on top of them.
He dismounted as he slowed, grabbed his rifle, and walked to an outcropping of loose boulders gathered to one side of the red canyon wall. A little landslide of cover built in as if waiting to shield him for this rescue.
Garrett climbed up the stair step of boulders, gripping his favorite rifle, and crouched to view the scene displayed between two obliging, strategically placed rocks in the landslide cover.
He surveyed the scene as the sound of fabric being torn viciously floated through the space in the rocks. She screamed again, and Garrett raised his rifle as if by reflex. Through the narrow sight, he zeroed in on his target, the one villainous man hunched over a woman who wore a bright blue gingham print dress. Annabel.
Garrett saw the pale white of her creamy skin and her exposed breasts. It was no secret what these men intended to do to her. A flash of relief that he’d made it in time rushed through Garrett. He fired his round at the raised arm of the man about to strike her.
Bang. His shot true, Garrett hit the man in the shoulder. His gunfire initially unnoticed by the other three goons. They didn’t move an inch.
When the man on Annabel yelled and fell to one side, Garrett immediately sighted his rifle to the right and targeted the largest of the remaining three men.
Bang.
He hit the man with the scarlet bandana square in the upper left side of his chest. Not a fatal wound, but it had enough force to knock him on the ground. Villain number two began moaning and writhing as soon as he hit the dirt. The remaining two bandits drew their pistols and aimed all around the canyon walls. Obviously, they hadn’t noticed where Garrett was perched or where his shots had come from.
Stupid.
The man on the ground near the feminine victim drew a weapon and started to point his pistol at the woman’s head.
Garrett sighted on the man for a second time and pulled the trigger with a straight shot to his head before she was ever in any danger of being killed. The bandit was slammed to his back and didn’t make any further movement.
The woman he assumed was Annabel turned over onto her stomach and began rolling away from her dead abuser. Garrett noticed her bound hands for the first time. She rolled and squirmed with what looked like supreme effort but without making much progress.
The other two robbers still stood rooted in the same spot and had stopped swinging their pistols wildly around the canyon walls. With one of their crew now dead from his third shot, they zeroed in on Garrett’s hiding place and advanced. Each carried two pistols and had murderous expressions etched in their faces.
Although they fired several shots in his direction, none came close enough to make him jump out of the way for fear of his life. Marksmanship was apparently not required as a sk
ill in this gang’s recruitment process. Garrett picked them off, first one and then the other. He didn’t shoot to kill, but one bandit fell forward and struck his head on a rock and didn’t move afterwards. The other went down shrieking like a school girl in a play yard.
Garrett surveyed the scene after lowering his gun. The only thing still moving was the woman still attempting to move away from the carnage he’d wrought and the fourth man still squealing like a trapped pig facing a roasting pit.
He climbed down from his perch and grabbed his horse’s reins, carefully making his way out from behind his cover.
“Ma’am, are you hurt?” She stopped moving at the sound of his voice but didn’t respond. Garrett moved closer and saw tears spill from her lids and trail down her dust stained cheeks.
He reached out to cut her bonds, but she startled when he touched her arm and wrenched her hands out of his reach. “I’m just going to cut the rope to free your hands. I promise, I won’t hurt you.” She didn’t move at all.
Garrett avoided touching her, sawed through the ropes, and released her from the awkward confinement. She immediately drew her arms to her sides and then up to her chest as she awkwardly rose to her knees. She faced away from him, but he’d already seen what she was trying desperately to cover up. He planned to pretend he hadn’t seen one single inch of her lovely body.
Garrett glanced over one shoulder to check how much daylight remained. He discovered more than he estimated, but they still needed to get going. Time to make the introductions. Keeping his distance and endeavoring not to make any sudden moves to frighten her, he asked, “Are you Miss Annabel?”
“How do you know that?” She whipped her head and torso around enough that he saw the damage to her dress. It was completely ruined, and the only thing shielding her naked breasts from view was her forearms crossed over her chest, and her slender limbs didn’t cover everything. The outer curves of her breasts were clearly visible.
Annie Gets Her Gunmen Page 4