* * * *
The next morning, Lee and the Chinese boys delivered the piano to the Last Chance, where Alvie hired an old black piano man who’d panned out on Lost Horse Creek. The Chinese girls were freed and sent off to San Francisco to find suitable husbands. The other girls decided to stay, now that order had been restored.
As soon as Lee and I had a moment to ourselves, we tracked down the preacher and tied the knot. A month later, we were married again in a traditional Chinese ceremony. I had no idea what was being said, but I got the general drift.
* * * *
At high noon, Jasper French pulled his team up next to a 200-foot drop in the badlands of Apache country. Longstreet had been a disruptive pain in the ass, cursing, begging, and kicking the inside of the crate for the last twenty miles, his silver spurs jangling against the wooden interior. Jasper couldn’t really blame him, being stuffed in a hot box with a dead man. He only wished he had the foresight to remove those fancy, Spanish spurs before they nailed down the lid.
Jasper backed the wagon to the edge of the gorge and considered pumping a few bullets into the crate before he sent it cartwheeling into space. It would certainly be the civilized thing to do. Then again, Longstreet wasn’t a civilized man, and this wasn’t a civilized country. He fingered the arrowhead imbedded beneath his skin and decided he might just need his ammunition for a more worthy cause, like saving his own hide.
Jasper climbed into the back of the wagon. It took all of his wiry strength to inch the crate along until gravity finished the job. He watched the crate somersault end over end until it was the size of a die and disappeared into the chaparral at the bottom of the gorge.
Of course, someone would stumble onto it…eventually…an Indian looking for a lost colt or a bandit running from the law. It could happen tomorrow. Then again, it might not happen for a hundred years.
In time he’d forget Longstreet’s face. He’d even forget his name, but he’d never forget leaving behind them fancy silver spurs.
LADY SHERIFF SEES RED! by Barbara L. Bonham
Stephanie Lawson shifted the big gun which lay across her knees and took a firmer grip on the driver’s seat atop the stagecoach. Her movement caught the attention of Andy, the grizzled old driver, and she flushed, feeling his eyes upon her.
Thinks I’ve gone in over my head this time, she thought angrily. I’ll show him. I’ll show them all that I can do as good a job as sheriff as any man. They won’t be sorry they let me take over when Uncle Mort died. He was the best sheriff Red Rock ever had, and I’ll finish out his term if it kills me! She started. And it might do just that if I’m not careful. This job is by far the biggest I’ve come up against yet. I’ve got to stop these stagecoach robberies. The railroad has lost its pay-roll gold three times already, always when it’s being shipped from Ben Walters’ bank to the railroad office in Pine Junction.
She ran the toe of her boot over the top of the iron chest which lay at her feet and smiled. Ben didn’t have to worry about the railroad getting its gold shipment this time. She’d see that the gold arrived safely at the railroad station or know the reason why. The smile erased the tense lines that had pulled at her attractive face, and her full mouth softened. Eyes that matched the summer sky above her blond head examined the surrounding countryside carefully.
Nothing. This was too good to be true. The sunlight gleamed on the sheriff’s badge which was pinned to her shirt as she turned to look back over the road the stagecoach had already traveled. The heavy metal star-shaped badge looked strange on such an unmistakably feminine breast.
The gleam of sunlight reflected by the badge flashed squarely in the driver’s eyes, and he smiled. “Steve,” he shouted above the din of coach wheels and horse’s hooves, “what do you think you could do if those two bandits held up this here stage again?”
Steve turned around and looked up at Andy. Her eyes flashed angrily and her voice was stern with determination. “You can bet your boots I’d do a whole lot more than that lily-livered deputy who rode gun with you last time.”
“Now there, gal, don’t be too hard on Jed. He didn’t have a chance to fire a single shot. They were too fast for us. He tried and got a bullet in the shoulder for his trouble.”
Steve thrust out a chin which was ridiculously soft despite its stubbornness and remained silent.
“Why don’t you marry Ben and quit this job, Steve?”
Startled at the abrupt switch in the conversation, Steve answered sharply: “Reckon that’s my business.”
“Reckon it is,” the craggy old driver agreed, “but I know it isn’t ’cause he hasn’t asked you. He’s made no bones about wanting you to marry him for the past couple of years. If I—”
His next words were cut off by the sound of a shot. The bullet whizzed high over their heads, and almost in the same instant, it seemed, a voice at Steve’s elbow shouted, “Don’t reach for your gun!” and to Andy, “Stop the stagecoach!”
Steve whirled and found herself looking down into a pair of blue eyes that glinted as coldly as the gun barrel which was pointed directly at her. A mere wiggle of her little finger would have sent a bullet ripping into her chest.
Andy stopped the horses in a matter of seconds, and the stagecoach stood rocking on its wheels after its abrupt stop. The two squealing lady passengers and a fidgety little drummer didn’t even rate a glance from the lone bandit.
“Keep quiet and you won’t get hurt,” the gunman yelled at them. “Now, miss, just hand down that iron box there under your feet.”
“I will not,” Steve said defiantly.
Just for a moment the masked man stiffened, and then his eyes above the black kerchief which covered the rest of his face crinkled. “Throw it down, old timer,” he said to Andy without taking his eyes from Steve.
“Yes, sir,” Andy replied, scrambling to obey.
He dropped the iron box in the dust at the feet of the bandit’s, horse. Reaching out quickly, the masked man snatched the big gun from Steve’s knees, snagged the iron box by one handle, and pulled it some distance from the stagecoach. All this without a single waver of his eyes or gun.
Then came the most surprising move of all. The big bandit shot out a long arm and lifted Steve right off the driver’s seat and deposited her across the saddle in front of him.
The suddenness of the move paralyzed Steve for a moment, and then she gasped and started fighting like a wildcat, a captured wildcat, for captured she was. Bound by an arm strong as an iron band, she could do little but wiggle and kick feebly. Her face was pressed so tightly against the man’s broad chest, she couldn’t even yell.
Rage shot through her like a hot flame and set her blood pounding in her ears until she hardly heard the bandit’s orders to Andy.
“Don’t move an inch, old-timer, and don’t try any funny tricks or your pretty companion here will get a bullet through her heart.” His eyes crinkled again. “What I’ve got to do will only take a minute anyway.”
Steve felt the laughter rumbling in his huge chest as the horse wheeled and galloped to the shade of a nearby tree:
“And now, my fiery beauty,” he said pulling the horse up short. The words, Steve found as she leaned back far enough to look up into his eyes, were meant not for the horse but for her.
The way his glance stole over her made Steve blurt out hastily, “You touch me and I’ll—I’ll scratch your eyes out!”
The man yelped with laughter. “I don’t doubt your word or your ability, but don’t you think you’re a little late seeing as how I’ve already got you in my arms.”
His laughter and his cocksureness infuriated Steve even further, and her fury gave her added strength.
She managed to twist an arm free and quick as a flash she reached up and yanked off the bandit’s mask. She had only a quick glimpse of red hair above the ears,
freckled, pleasantly-homely face, and a clefted chin before the wide grinning mouth came down on hers hard.
She began flailing him with her one free arm, but she might as well have beat against a brick wall. Rage and the vise-like arm around her made it almost impossible to breathe. For a moment she thought her lungs would burst from lack of air, and then suddenly his mouth moved ever so slightly so that her nose lay lightly against his cheek. Strangely enough, Steve found it just as difficult to breathe as before. And it wasn’t rage now which made the blood pound in her head.
The arm, which only a moment before had been beating desperately against the bandit’s broad chest, now crept up around his neck, and her mouth became warm and alive beneath his.
Tearing his mouth away from hers, the bandit gazed down at her for a moment, breathing heavily. Then jabbing his heel sharply against his horse’s flank, he sent the animal galloping back to the stagecoach.
By this time, Steve had recovered her poise and put up a pretty good fight for the benefit of Andy and the passengers inside the coach. It was only a half-hearted struggle, however, she was chagrined to discover. What was wrong with her? She should have been thoroughly enraged but all she felt was weakness and a fluttery feel-ing in her stomach.
“Let me go, you brute!” she shouted with as much indignation as she could manage.
“Anything for a lady,” the bandit said, swinging her up on the driver’s seat. Chuckling through the mask he had pulled back up over his face, he remarked, “And you are a lady, I find. I’m amazed. You dress and behave like a man, but you kiss like a woman. You’re wasting your time as sheriff, believe me. That is what that star on your chest means, isn’t it?”
Choking with sure enough rage now, Steve noted the man’s glance, lingering on the spot where the badge was pinned to her shirt.
“Oh!” she gasped and cracked the driver’s whip over the backs of the horses, sending-the stagecoach off in a cloud of dust.
She felt rather than heard Andy’s laughter, and it made her even more furious. She cracked the whip over the backs of the horses again and was rewarded by the screams of fright which emanated from the rear of the stagecoach.
“Easy there, gal!” Andy shouted. “No need to wreck this here stagecoach just ’cause you’re mad at that black-masked, gun-totin’ Cassanova,” and he grabbed the whip out of her hand, which suddenly went limp.
“I’ll have his hide for this!” Steve swore, shaken and close to tears from anger and humiliation.
Andy, who had seen everything that happened, knew what was troubling Steve most. He hadn’t missed that soft arm which had stolen of its own will around the bandit’s neck.
In an effort to divert Steve’s mind from that one moment of weakness, Andy said, “That feller wasn’t the same one that held me up last week. This one was a lot bigger and had red hair. Besides, that hombre last week had a short, pudgy pal helping him.” Andy chuckled. “This boy didn’t need help, did he?”
Ignoring Andy’s last remark, Steve asked, “Are you sure this wasn’t the same one who stole the gold shipment last time?”
“Stake my life on it. This one was different, even acted different. Never have seen a hold-up man act like he did.” Andy chuckled again.
“I’ll appreciate it if you’ll keep your remarks to yourself,” Steve said sharply.
“Anything you say, miss. I was just— Well, I’ll be!”
The cause of his exclamation was a cloud of dust to the right and two masked horsemen emerging from it. The sun glinted blindingly on their drawn guns. There was no use trying to outrun them.
“Whoa! Whoa, there,” Andy yelled at the horses.
Speechless with amazement, Steve watched the two strangers approach the stagecoach. Two holdups within a matter of minutes! It was unbelievable!
“What do you want?” she shouted down at the two men as the stagecoach came to a quivering stop.”
“The gold shipment,” the thin dark one who was covering her replied. “Hand it down.” The other one was keeping watch over the passengers.
“You’re a little late, fella,” Steve said; “we were held up a few miles back.”
A dry chuckle escaped her at the sight of the man’s sagging jaw and the consternation which appeared in his face at her news.
At the sound of her chuckle, he recovered himself. “Stop the funny stuff, sister, and hand over that box,” he demanded.
“But I don’t have it,” Steve insisted.
“She’s telling the truth,” Andy put in; “some feller stopped us back aways and took the box full of gold.”
“What’s the trouble up there?” the short, pudgy gunman called from the rear.
“Says they were held up several miles back and haven’t got the gold,” the thin man called without shifting his glance from Steve and Andy. His gray eyes were cold and menacing. “You’d better be telling the truth or the both of you’ll end up as buzzard meat.”
Steve shrugged her shoulders. “Look for yourself.”
The man stared at her for a moment and then yelled over his shoulder to his companion, “See if the chest is back there.” He moved forward carefully and proceeded to search every corner of the driver’s seat with his sharp eyes. His gun never waivered. Steve knew it would be hopeless to try anything.
“Nothing back here,” the man from the rear announced.
“Humm. Nothing up here, either.” His attention snapped back to Steve’s face. “If this is some trick,” he said, his eyes glinting dangerously, “you’ll pay for it.”
“You’re a suspicious cuss,” Andy said sourly. “How long do we have to sit here?”
“In a hurry, grandpa? Well, we’ll help you get started.” The man fired his gun in the air, and the horses were off like lightning.
* * * *
“Now, those are the fellers that took the gold last time,” Andy explained when he had got the horses under control again. “They kinda got crossed up this time. Can’t understand it. Where’d that red-headed bandit come from?”
Shaking his head musingly from time to time, Andy drove the rest of the way to Pine Junction in silence. Steve too was puzzled about the events of the past few hours’. She was grateful for Andy’s silence. It gave her a chance to do some thinking.
She tried to figure out the meaning of the two holdups, but the answer kept eluding her. Every time she neared a solution, the red-headed, gunman’s face came back to her and the feel’of his kiss was once again warm on her lips. What a nerve he had had! She’d—she’d. Well, what wouldn’t she do if she could only capture him. And her time would come, she told herself.
It wasn’t easy for her to explain to the man at the railroad office that she, the sheriff, had allowed the railroad’s gold to be stolen from the stagecoach while she was on it. The man’s ungraciousness increased her hurt pride. When she finally left the office she was still stinging from the man’s obvious contempt.
Explaining to Ben was even harder. “He came up out of nowhere, Ben; we didn’t have a chance. It would have been curtains if either Andy or I had made a move.”
She was sitting on the edge of his desk in the little office at the rear of the bank building. Ben had been leaning back easy and relaxed in his swivel chair until she came to the part about the lone bandit. When she mentioned the fact that there had been only one bandit, he stiffened suddenly and sat up straight.
“Only one man?” he asked, surprise very evident in his pleasant low voice. “But always before there have been two.”
Steve nodded and described the red-headed holdup man. She watched Ben’s handsome face as he digested her news. Sometimes she wondered why she didn’t accept his proposal and marry him. He was certainly everything a girl looked for in a man. He was good looking, with dark wavy hair and brown eyes fringed with thick sooty lashes. His f
igure, though not tall, was muscular and well-proportioned. And what was more, he always made her feel like a lady, and that was an unusual and delicious experience for Steve. Especially since she’d become sheriff.
But this was no time to be thinking about that. Something had to be done to stop those stage holdups.
“Where was it he jumped you?” Ben asked finally.
Steve thought for a moment. “It was just this side of Box Butte. He must have hidden in those rocks.”
“I see.” He looked quite disturbed.
“Look, Ben. I’m awfully sorry. I thought by riding gun on the stage myself I could prevent the gold shipment being stolen again, but I failed. However, I won’t fail again. I’ve had a chance to do some thinking, and I’ve got a new plan.”
The troubled look in Ben’s eyes gave way to one of amusement. “Now, Steve. You don’t mean to tell me you’re going to try again. Why, isn’t it plain enough now that this isn’t a woman’s job? Why don’t you appoint a new deputy until Jed’s arm heals and let him ride with Andy as guard.”
Steve shook her head. “Nothing doing. This is my job, and I’m going to do it to the best of my ability. And I’ll stop those robberies and see those bandits behind bars or my name isn’t Stephanie Lawson.”
Ben smiled as he rose from his chair and went toward her. “Speaking of names, how about changing yours to Stephanie Walters. How many proposals does this make? Four? Five?” Close to her now, he pulled her up off the edge of the desk and into his arms. “How about it, Steve, honey? Don’t you think you’ve kept me waiting long enough?”
“Ben, I—” she began, but his mouth came down hard on hers, stopping the words. Always before, Ben’s kisses had set her tingling but now the hot, leisurely kiss did nothing to her. She found herself remembering the thorough job of kissing she had undergone that morning in the arms of the redheaded bandit. His freckled, homely face swam before her now, and against her will she recalled how she had thrilled to his kiss. She was still remembering when Ben’s kiss ended and he looked down at her. Something of the feeling her memory had evoked must have shown in her face for Ben drew in his breath sharply.
The Third Western Megapack Page 9