Collection 1

by Therese A. Kramer

  A heart can be stolen, so take care…

  Dressed all in black, G. T. sat on a stallion atop of the crest of a hill, casting a dark silhouette shadow against the orange sunset. They sat like a statue until a breeze fluttered the black cape disturbing the stillness. The sound of hoof beats in the distance told them that it wouldn’t be long until the stage coach appeared from around the bend. The horse, Tuck snorted and pranced. He was also alerted that any moment he would be spurred into a run.

  As the stagecoach sped past, G.T. gripped the reins, kicking Tuck into a gallop and fired both pistols into the air. The driver whipped the team to a breakneck run. Not far down the dirt road, the diver pulled in the reins to avoid a fallen tree limb that lay across his path. When the coach stopped the diver stood and raised his hands, holding his rifle over his head.

  “Don’t shoot mister! I ain’t gonna lose my life over what ain’t mine. I reckon to retire at the end of the month,” he spat a stream of yellow liquid over the side.

  “Folks, come out with your hands raised high,” G.T. ordered. “Be smart like the driver and no one gets hurt.” The door opened and a man existed, turned and took the hand of an elderly woman who lumbered out. The man was tall, over six feet, and well built. I don’t like the looks of him, that stranger was not one to reckon with.

  “Anyone else in the coach?” G. T. asked, keeping the gun pointed at the man.

  “No!” the cowboy snapped, making G. T. wince.

  “Driver, throw down the strong box!”

  The driver did as he was told and the box landed by Tuck startling the animal and making him a bit skittish. The old lady screamed and it all happened so fast; a bullet whizzed by and G. T. fired back at the man holding the smoking gun.

  Damn!

  G. T. climbed off of Tuck and yelled at the driver to come down and help put the wounded cowboy onto Tuck’s back. Luckily, the bleeding man was conscious but dazed. Holding the injured man tightly, they rode off into the wooded area.

  Damn, I never shot anyone before, and of all the robberies I have pulled, not one casualty has resulted. I abhor killing and it turned out to be a lawman I shot. Damn, I wish I had seen the badge before I pulled the trigger, I would have hightailed away without the gold. Ha! I didn’t get it anyway. Shit!

  G.T. cantered Tuck far into the woods, holding tightly onto the lawman who sat in front. The man’s chin was resting on his chest, he was unconscious but still breathing. Thank goodness, but he was in need of medical attention soon or he’d bleed to death. Doctor Bones was a good physician but he was not a miracle worker.

  I hope the lawman survives.

  Soon a thick mist surrounded them and the air got very cool, and the dampness of the forest’s earth was potent. A few minutes later, the fog cleared as fast as it had appeared and a small village came into view.

  Thank goodness, I made it home.

  Small children dressed in tattered but clean clothes ran up and yelled, “Who’s that?”

  “Get Doc. Bones, hurry,” G. T. cried as men and women exited their wooden huts. They were all curious as to what had happened, and not a happy face amongst them. Bones ran over with a few other men to help carry the injured lawman into the doctor’s lodge.

  Hell! I have a lot of explaining to do to my parents and the council.

  Chapter Two

  He dreamt of an angel with sparkling eyes…

  Be warned, they can also hold lies…

  Lace Preston opened his eyes a few times, but the pain in his chest hurt too much to try and fight to stay conscious, so he let himself drift away. The few moments he had lifted his heavy eyelids, he’d seen a beautiful face smiling at him. Maybe the next time he’d try to keep them open. If only to assure himself that she was real, not a figment of his imagination.

  Wake up,” he felt a slight tap on his cheek.

  “Thirsty,” he rasped and felt the rim of a tin cup pressed against his mouth.

  “Drink slowly,” the voice ordered.

  His head felt like a boulder attached to his shoulders and he couldn’t think clearly, but damn, he was so parched. He gulped and was told to sip it. Damn, he wanted to drink a lake, for God Sake!

  “Mister, you’ll get more later,” the voice said sternly, and he realized it was female.

  “Where am I?” Lace didn’t have to ask what happened, he knew damn well he had been shot, and by the same bandit he’d been hunting for many months; the notorious highway thief who never shot anyone, but him!

  Shit! If that horse hand’t pranced nervously, his bullet would have hit it’s mark and if the that foolish old lady hadn’t screamed and leaned into him, he would not have been hit trying to protect her. Crap, all the ifs didn’t amount to a hill of beans now.

  After his mind and vision cleared somewhat he studied the pretty face before him. He blinked, recalling seeing that angelic face before. “Oh,” he rasped, “You were in my dreams.”

  “I’m afraid your mistaken, sir. But I have been caring for you.”

  “My name is Lace Preston and where am I?” he repeated his question.

  “Somewhere safe until you’re well enough to leave.”

  He knew when someone was skirting the issue but let it ride for now, so he asked another question. “What’s your name?”

  “I’m Geena Troy. How are you feeling, um…Lace?”

  “Like a herd of buffalo trampled over me.”

  “I guess that was a silly question, but you’ll be fine. I’ll have my mother, Anna bring you a plate of venison stew and my father, Gene can help you attend to, err, whatever needs attending.”

  She gave him a sweet smile and left him to his thoughts. He looked around to see that he was in a small wooden hut, very crude but warm. A few pots hung from a ceiling beam, and lots of crude pottery was stacked in a corner. He was lying in a double bed, against a wall and a fire pit with smoldering ashes was in the center of the place. Where the hell was he? One thing for sure, he needed to regain his strength and find out. The only thing that made sense was the fact the somehow the thief brought him to a quaint village. But why?

  Lace sighed and winced and decided his curiosity had to be put aside for now, and he recalled the beautiful woman who had been here moments ago. She was definitely the one he had seen in his dreams. Even in the dimness of the place, he marveled at the color of her hair. It was as if angels had spun quicksilver moonbeams, her hair was so light, a beautufl contrast to her tanned skin, telling him that she was an outdoors woman. And then there were her eyes, as green as new blades of grass. The sight of her caused a shiver ran through him. He had seen eyes like that before, but not in his dreams, if only he could remember. Maybe he was wrong, and that notion haunted him until the door opened and a middle aged woman came in.

  He forced himself to sit up when he smelled the deicious aroma coming from one of the crude bowls in her hands.

  “Hello,” he rasped, “You must be Anna.”

  Her smile was like her daughters, but the eyes and hair were different. The mother’s eyes were gray like her hair, and she was a beautiful woman.

  “Hello, son, I hope you like venison?”

  “Ma’am, I can eat a bear, right now.” His stomach grumbled and the woman laughed.

  “Good, because we do feast on a bear periodically.”

  Damn, I hope she’s joking.

  “Can you mange, son? I can feed you if you like.”

  “Thanks, but the last person who spoon fed me was my mama, and only until I held a spoon in my tiny fists. I thank you for the offer and the food.”

  “My daughter tells me you name is Lace. That different.”

  “It’s Wallace Preston, ma’am, but my friend’s call me Lace.”

  “Well, then, please call my Anna, Lace.”

  He was left alone once more and he gobbled up the delicious stew. As if on cue, as he swallowed the last bite, a middle aged man entered. There was no doubt in his mind that this was Geena’s father, although the man’s eyes w
ere blue. But his hair, what was not gray, was blond, but not as light as his daughters. The man introduced himself and offered to help Lace see to nature, using one of the bigger pieces of pottery he hoped was used only for this purpose.

  Two days later, Lace believed he was strong enough to walk outside. It was early and he decided to stretch his legs before Anna and Gene came. He wondered why he hadn’t seen their daughter again.

  He had been naked under the woven blanket all this time but he was told his clothes were on the wooden table. When he stood the room spun and he sat back down waiting for the floor to stop shifting. It took a moment and once again he stood, slower this time and he found his pants had been cleaned along with someone’s shirt. Under his clothes was his gunbelt, but no weapon. His billfold and tin star was there also, but why no gun? he mused.

  After the painstaking chore of dressing, he went outside to be greeted by the rising sun. He squinted from being in a dark hut, and he also breathed in the fresh air. Lace scanned his surrounding seeing many wooden lodges and it reminded him of an Indian village without teepees. As he stood there in awe, people were beginning to come out of their homes. They nodded at him but went about their business. A few children emerged and starred at him, but no one spoke. Again, he wondered, where was Geena?

  “Hello, son. You must be feeling better,” commented Gene. “You’re looking much better today.”

  Lace nodded. “Morning Gene,” he replied. “Thanks to your and your family’s nursing, I’m strong enough to join the living.” He hated to pry, but again he wondered where the beautiful angel was and he tried to mute the curiosity nagging at him, but it was futile. “Where’s your daughter?” he asked bluntly. The man glanced at the ground and hemmed and hawed for a few seconds, appearing a little uneasy. Why did he have this eerie sensation that something was amiss around here.

  “Well, good morning,” Anna came out of a hut. “It’s nice to see you up and about.”

  His question was not answered and the couple went back inside. He was slightly annoyed by the brush off but decided to go into the woods to see to nature.

  Chapter Three

  When we tell a web of lies…

  It’s the heart that suffers and dies…

  Geena again woke with the same thought that been on her mind since that day she lost her heart to the lawman. It was the moment he opened his eyes and said she was the angel in her dreams. This could not be happening to her! She stayed away from him, her family and friends depended on her for their salvation. But, she spent many sleepless night dreaming about his whiskey-colored eyes, sensuous mouth and golden brown hair, that fell in waves over his, drop-dead, gorgeous face!

  Damn, damn, damn! And to make matters worse, if possible, the silver star was stamped, U.S. Marshal.

  “Geena!” her mother’s voice snapped her out of her disturbing thoughts. Her mother was looking out the door. “The marshal is up and standing outside.”

  She sat up and rubbed her aching back. Since the man was brought into her home, she had been sleeping on her parent’s floor on a pile of covered straw and leaves.

  “He must be getting stronger.” she muttered with a yawn.

  “Now that the marshal is up and out of your lodge, what are you going to do?” asked her father coming inside.

  “Stay away.”

  “You know he asked for you a few times.” her father informed her scratching his chest.

  She sighed. ”Yeah, mama said.”

  “Maybe you should talk to him,” suggested her mother. “He doesn’t know the truth. He might suspect something if you continue to hide from him.”

  Geena stood and walked over to a chair. She had to get some exercise to loosen the kinks out of her back and legs. Her horse, Tuck also could use a good run. And… they needed money to buy supplies before the winter arrived, when hunting for food was limited and the garden would no longer bear vegetables.

  She went behind the curtain that was hung for her and dressed in her black attire. When she came around the curtain her mother gasped. “Oh, no, you can’t go out again. We’ll all manage somehow. It’s too dangerous now, you shot a lawman. The price on your head will double. Please,“ she begged, “no more holding up stagecoaches.”

  Her father hugged her mother. “Your mama is right Geena. The next time it might be you that gets shot. You’re our only child.”

  “I know papa, and I love you both, but I’m the only one willing to take the risk. The children and elders might starve come this winter.”

  “What about Fritz? He’s turning eighteen next week and he’s been bugging you to let him join you.”

  “He’s still too young, papa.”

  Her mother harrumphed. “As I recall child, you were barely sixteen the first time you held up a stage.”

  Geena shrugged. “Yes, but I had a good teacher, right papa?”

  “She’s got you there mama,” he chuckled, earning him a poke in the ribs.

  “Look,” she said, “I’ll take him with me the next time, he needs more target practice.”

  A knock quickly brought any future arguments on the subject to a halt.

  “Hello, is anyone home?”

  “Lace,” they whispered in unison. Her father put his finger to his mouth and quickly left the premises.

  “Hello, son, err, good to see you again,” Geena heard him say to the marshal.

  “Yes,” the man answered. “I’d like to take a walk, get to know the lay of the land.”

  “I don’t see why not, we’ll go down by the pond, while Anna is preparing breakfast. We’ll check the nets for fish.”

  Geena smiled thinking her father was so smart to get the lawman away from camp. She kissed her mother’s worried face and vowed to come back safe and sound. Of course, she made this promise with her fingers crossed behind her back

  Geena pulled the black material over her nose and mouth. She was once again G. T., her initials on the wanted posters. The first time she robbed a stage, she thanked the rich man for his coins by sating, “Much obliged. You can brag to your friends that you were robbed by the one and only G. T.”

  Very rarely did she steel a strong box, only when necessary. Mostly she took only from the wealthy, but there weren’t too many rich folks ridding the coach, she did better on trains. In fact, she was in luck last week when she hit a train with a private coach. Sheesh, the man wore too many diamond and gold rings anyway. A ring on every finger was a bit too much. She was thrilled to find his billfold padded with paper money. She scored big that day, but it still was not enough to feed the entire camp for very long.

  She could only eat so much venison and fish.

  Today, her luck was not with her. There was not a strong box and the coach had a few old folks on it, so she returned to camp empty handed.

  I guess you can’t win them all, Geena.

  But the afternoon wasn’t a total loss, she and Tuck had a good run, and she walked the last mile back home. After giving the horse a good rub dawn and a bag of oats, she decided to take a swim in the lake. Although, it was late in September, the day was very warm and soon she’d have to heat water for her daily baths. This was her favorite time of day, when the sun touched the peak of the mountain.

  Stripping, she dove in and surfaced a few seconds later, feeling refreshed. The water was chilly, and she swam rigorously until it no longer chilled her. There was enough sun left to dry of her flesh, so she waded to the shore and sat on a rock, enjoying its sunrays.

  The quiet in the meadow was almost absolute. The pesky buzzing of bumblebees was the only sound until she heard a twig snap. Her eyes flew open and she was sure it couldn’t be any one from camp, so she sat still hoping it wasn’t a bear, or a mountain lion,

  or a hungry wolf. She eyed her gunbelt not far away, and inched her way slowly toward her six-shooter.

  Geena stood as naked as a jaybird when the marshal came through the bushes with his hand raised in peace. The air seemed to be sucked from her lungs and all s
he was capable of doing was to stare at him mutely.

  Chapter Four

  He never believed in water nymphs before…

  But hot damn, there one stood by the shore…

  Lace had been bored so he decided to take a stroll down by the lake to check out the fish net again. He and Gene found it empty earlier that day. Just before he reached the clearing, he saw her. If the girl didn’t have shapely legs, she could have been a mermaid. He stopped in his tracks and his eyes had a mind of their own because he couldn’t remove his gaze from her.

  Her beautiful face was raised to the sun, and her long silver hair cascaded down her slim back. When she turned slightly, her perky breasts shimmered with water drops, and God, if he didn’t want to lick them off her rosy nipples. Dear Lord, his wound no longer pained him, the ache was now in his loins.

  There sat his angel.

  When his senses finally returned, Lace knew he should not be there. So he forced himself to leave, and accidentally stepped on a twig.

  She turned.

  He couldn’t move a muscle for a few seconds, and then he walked forward with his hand raised. She stood there, the most beautiful creature he had ever lad his eyes on.

  Lace prayed she was real.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” she screamed as she suddenly came out of a trance and grabbed a shirt. The girl turned and put it on, giving him a nice glimsp of her cute fanny.

  “It’s Geena Right? My apologies,” he murmured. of course, he lied. Her body would be imprinted on his brain for ever, and that was nothing to be sorry about.

  “Go away and let me dress!” she snapped, her back still to him.

  “No.”

  “N-no?” she stammered.

  “I’ll turn around but I’m staying until I get some answers. What was that remark?” He could have sworn he heard her curse him to Hades. I guess his sweet angel as a devilish side. He chuckled.