Stacy Henrie - Lady Outlaw

He watched the woman rider until she disappeared behind a clump of trees and underbrush. She didn’t reappear. If she stayed hidden, she might be all right. Maybe nothing would come of this after all.

Caleb guided Saul up the incline, behind the juniper trees, then he dropped from the saddle. He tied Saul’s reins to a thick branch before lowering himself to his knees. He removed his bullet pouch just as five men rode into sight.

The riders’ clothes were tattered and dirty, and each of them sported scruffy beards or mustaches beneath their dusty cowboy hats. All five had guns and wore the same hardened expressions he’d seen on the four stage robbers he’d hunted down, including the last one whose face was on the wanted poster he kept in his saddle bag.

The tallest of the five stopped within yards of the woman’s hiding place and fired his rifle into the air. “Fun’s over, missy,” he sneered. “We know you’re here, and we want what’s ours.”

Caleb quickly loaded one of his revolvers and crept closer to the hill’s edge, making certain to stay hidden behind the trees. Would the woman keep silent or make a stand? Either way, Caleb didn’t plan on letting her be caught or shot by these ruffians.

“I’d watch it if I were you, Bart. You’re surrounded,” the woman called back. To her credit, Caleb didn’t detect an ounce of fear in her voice. “I’ve got the sheriff with me and his posse’s waiting down the trail for you.”

Caleb scanned the nearby mountainside, but he saw no movement, no reinforcements. She had to be lying. A heavy silence followed her brave words. In the stillness, Caleb heard the distant trill of a bird. He tightened his grip on his gun, fully expecting a volley of shots in response to her bluff. But the quiet stretched on for nearly a minute.

“You’re lying,” Bart finally shouted back. “And you’ll soon find out what we do with lying, thieving...”

Time to act. “Howdy, boys,” Caleb hollered from behind the trees. All five men whipped their heads in his direction, disbelief radiating from more than one face. “Nice to see y’all are friends. Makes sharing a jail cell more enjoyable.”

“It’s the sheriff,” a baby-faced fellow cried. “Let’s split.”

“Hold on. I still say she’s bluffin’ about him bringin’ a whole posse,” Bart said, scratching his motley beard. His narrowed gaze jumped from the hill, to the clump of trees beside the trail and back in Caleb’s direction.

Before anyone could make a move, the woman fired a round of shots that hit the ground near one of the bandits. The man let out a loud yelp and jerked his horse away. Caleb aimed at a patch of sagebrush near another of the riders, hoping to spook the horse into bolting.

The riders attempted to return fire, but the bullets whizzing past them drove them into a tighter group on the exposed trail. Caleb could see the horses—and the riders—getting more agitated by the minute. Before long, one of them turned his horse and galloped away toward Caleb. Caleb let him ride past.

Another hurried after him. “We’re outnumbered, Bart,” the man screamed over his shoulder.

Bart fired once more before pointing his horse in the direction the other two had charged. “Let’s go!” He threw an ugly look toward the trees, then up the hill as he retreated, the last two bandits behind him.

Caleb waited another minute to ensure they didn’t double back. When the trail remained empty in either direction, he replaced his gun in its holster and untied Saul’s reins.

The woman still hadn’t emerged from the trees yet. Anxious to know if she’d fared well through the gunfight, Caleb led Saul down the incline and across the trail. Skirting the copse of trees, he entered the shelter they formed and found himself staring down the barrel of the woman’s pistol.

“Whoa—don’t shoot.” He dropped the reins and lifted both hands in the air. Saul whinnied softly beside him.

“You’re the one who pretended to be the sheriff.” To his relief, she lowered her gun. “I thought I told you to leave.”

“Are you all right? Why were those men chasing you? Have they...” He rubbed the back of his suddenly warm neck. “Have they laid their hands on you in any way?”

Her cheeks flushed. “No. Oh, no. They knew I had some money with me—that’s all.” She pushed up her hat, revealing amused brown eyes—not the green he’d expected. “I’d say they got the worst of it.”

He’d only ever seen one other girl with red hair and coffee-colored eyes, in a mercantile in Fillmore when he’d done some work up there last fall. He suspected that young lady, though, wouldn’t go around fighting in shoot-outs or wearing men’s trousers under her skirt.

“By the way, thanks for the help.” She stuck her pistol into the holster tied around her skirt and reached for her horse’s reins.

“What were you doing out on the trail by yourself?”

Her chin lifted a notch. “No one could be spared to come with me, and besides, I can handle myself just fine.”

“Apparently, but what would you have done if I hadn’t come along?”

“I would have figured something out,” she said as she climbed into her saddle. “I usually do.”

Caleb swung onto Saul’s back. “Going up against a group of armed thugs is a regular pastime of yours?”

“Hardly.” One corner of her mouth lifted in a half smile. “What about you? You play sheriff for hapless females on a regular basis?”

It was Caleb’s turn to smile. “Not hapless in your case. But it is always a pleasure helping a pretty girl. Wouldn’t mind that as a regular job.”

Instead of blushing, a peculiar expression passed over the woman’s face. She stared hard at him a moment before she visibly relaxed again. “Are you looking for work?”

“You hiring?”

“Maybe. What can you do?”

“Farming, freighting, a little carpentry.” He purposely left bounty hunting off his list. That part of his life had ended abruptly a year and a half ago, and Caleb wanted to keep it that way.

She nudged her horse forward, in line with Saul. “Do you know anything about cattle ranching?”

“Can’t say that I do.” The question brought a twinge of disappointment. He’d never fancied himself living the life of a cowhand—a little too close to farming for his tastes. “The only cows I’ve handled in the past are ones that needed milking.”

Her brow furrowed as she shook her head. “You don’t milk these cows. What we need is some extra help on our ranch. It’s only me, my grandmother and my younger brother. I’ve been doing most of the work myself for the past twenty months.”

She set her hat on the saddle horn and rearranged her hair into a bun. “You could help with branding and looking after the few cattle we have. There are other chores around the ranch that need another set of hands. I can’t pay you a lot—maybe twenty dollars a month.” She stuck her hat back on and finally regarded him again. “I might be able to give you a little more when we sell the cows in the fall.”

Twenty dollars wasn’t much, especially when he’d heard of cowhands making closer to forty dollars in a month. Surely he could find another job—one where he could earn more money in less time.

Caleb fiddled with Saul’s reins, ready to refuse her. But the words grew cold on his tongue. He hadn’t missed the desperate tone behind her offer. Clearly she needed his help. He could work for a lower wage if it wasn’t for long, couldn’t he?

“I might consider working for you,” he answered at last, “except I don’t usually accept jobs from nameless employers.”

A trace of a smile showed on her lips and then disappeared as quickly. “My name is Jennie. Jennie Jones.”