Street and Smith's _New York Weekly_ is proud to present the latest addition to the amazing legend of Eerie, Arizona.

  

Jessie Hanks -- Outlaw Queen

by Nicholas Varrick

As Told To Ellie Dauber and Chris Leeson

© 2003

 

Chapter 4 -- "Moving South"

Jessie found the cabin purely by chance.

The day after the robbery, she'd ridden off the trail just as it was getting light to look for a place to camp. There were dark clouds in the southwestern sky, the sign of a storm. "Probably a bad one, with my luck," she said to herself. "I'll need something better than I've been using to weather it out."

She was about a hundred yards into the trees when she saw something, a building, up ahead. Another time, she would have headed off, thankful not to have been seen. Instead, on a whim, she headed towards it. "Women's intuition," she whispered, smiling at the joke. There was no sign of life around the cabin, no light from the small window, no animals, no outbuildings. There was an odd bulge to the roof, as well, about a third of the way across, that made her curious.

It was a log cabin, about 10 by 15, with a thatched roof. The door was shut, but it was hanging by a single hinge. The window was broken and missing a shutter. Jessie climbed down off Useless, keeping her hand near the pocket with her pistol. "Hello, inside the house," she called. Better to be safe than sorry, and getting gut-shot by some nervous homesteader afraid of Apaches would _definitely_ make her sorry. No one answered. She looked around. The grass by the cabin may have been cleared once, but it had been growing back for weeks, more like months, really. "Useless, I don't think there's anybody here, nobody human, anyway."

There were no signs of animals around the cabin, not large ones, at least. 'Hmm,' she thought, 'no bear or big cat could've got through that window, and I never heard of no animal closing a door behind them.' She looked in through the window. That bulge she'd seen in the roof was the top of a fallen rafter. The other end was stuck in the sod floor, dividing the cabin into two sections. When the rafter had fallen, it had taken a section of the roof with it, leaving a hole big enough that Jessie could have crawled in through it.

She pulled at the door. The hinge held. It creaked loudly, but the door opened. There was more than enough light to see inside by now. Jessie tied Useless' reins to the door handle and went in. The sod floor had grown several inches tall, and there was a muddy puddle in the portion below the hole in the roof.

The place was empty. 'Ain't nobody lived here for a while,' she thought, 'and whoever they was they stripped it bare when they left.' All she saw were a few boards nailed to the wall to serve as shelves and a pallet, a raised platform made of logs, over in the far corner. There was a six-inch hole in the middle of the back wall about five feet above the floor, a thin rim of clay along the edge. "Stove," she said as she passed it; the clay had insulated the hot stove pipe as it passed through the cabin wall, preventing a fire. "Wish they'd left it." The ground in front of the hole was filled in with small rocks to keep the hot stove from setting the sod on fire.

The pallet was about six feet long by three wide. The logs were planed smooth and with a flat even top about a foot and a half above the sod. 'Base of a bed, most likely.' She touched the wood. It was dry with no sign of softness or rot. 'Be nice to sleep here under a real roof for a change.'

There was a sudden clap of thunder. Hail the size of buckshot began falling through the hole in the roof.

The thick storm clouds Jessie had seen off to the south were now overhead, filling the sky. "Damn rain got here quicker n'I expected," she said in surprise. She ran to the door. The rain was already falling in sheets, and the sky overhead looked dark enough now that the storm would probably last for a while.

She untied Useless' reins and brought him into the cabin. For the moment, she tied the reins to the fallen rafter and then ran outside again. Yes! There was a woodpile stacked against the wall just along the side of the cabin by the door. It was uncovered, and the top logs looked wet, but there were dry ones underneath. She made several quick trips, cursing her weak body and the falling hailstones the whole time. In the end, she was half-soaked, but there was a large pile of logs piled up near where that stove have been. The logs she'd brought in were all fairly dry, all cut and split to about the same length and thickness for use in the stove.

Jessie used her knife and her fingers to dig the stones out of the sod. She re-arranged them to make a safe fire pit. She used her fire starter kit and some sticks and grass from the sod to get a fire going and then carefully added a couple of logs. It took almost an hour, but she finally had a good fire. It was smoky, but the hole in the roof was drawing it off. The hail had stopped falling by now, but the rain was coming down in buckets. In the storm, no one was likely to notice any smoke.

She rigged a picket line between the rafter and a loose shelf. The sod floor had grown several inches of fresh grass, and the puddle under the roof looked fairly clear. Useless wouldn't go hungry or thirsty. He'd be dry, too, since there was enough room for him between the space under the hole and the side wall.

She'd have liked to take off his saddle. She thought about it, but decided to leave it on. 'Too damn much trouble t'take it off _or_ t'get it back on.' She did loose the cinch straps a bit, so he'd be more comfortable.

Jessie set some water to boil and opened another tin of meat. It wasn't much, but it would be okay for now. The hardtack stretched it some, too. She ate her fill and watched the fire burn down to near coals, safe and easy to start up again later.

Feeling sleepy by this point, she unrolled the blankets on the pallet and folded her jacket into a pillow. She sat down on the wide pallet. The wood was hard, but no harder than the ground she'd sleep on too many times to count.

'Don't need my shoes on, though,' she thought. 'Be happy to get them off, too. They're starting to pinch.' She undid the laces and tried top pull one off. It wouldn't budge. Her foot was swollen, and she had to pull hard to get it off her foot. 'Won't be easy getting it on, if that swelling don't go down.'

'But why would they swell...' she stopped and did some mental calculations. "Oh, damn," she cursed aloud. She gently touched her breast to see if what she feared was true. It was. Her breast felt very tender. She hadn't noticed the tenderness before, but now she was quite glad for the soft cotton padding inside her corset.

"My monthlies!" She spat the words. They'd snuck up on her while she had her mind on getting away from Eerie and then on the robbery. "What the hell am I going to do about them way out here?"

She yawned and lay back on one blanket and pulled the other over her. "I'll think about it after I got me some sleep."

* * * * *

Jessie took another sip of coffee and leaned back against the cabin wall. It was still raining -- for the third day, which was starting to bother her. "At least I got fresh water for coffee," she said to no one in particular.

She was sitting on the pallet, staring at her bare feet. Her monthlies had started a few hours after she'd rigged up the pouch she was wearing, and her feet were still swollen enough to make wearing shoes uncomfortable. It didn't much matter on the sod floor of the cabin.

"So, Useless," she said, "where d'you think we should head once this rain stops?" Jessie had always laughed at prospectors and such who talked to their animals, but two days alone in the cabin had her doing the same thing. "Ain't as crazy as talking t'myself," she decided.

The horse snorted. She'd talked to it enough that it was beginning to recognize the sounds of the name she'd given it.

"Santa Fe," she answered herself. "Yeah, I guess I could go back there. I couldn't tell 'em who I am, though. I got me the better of more'n one fella back in New Mexico. They'd be just tickled t'find out I got turned into this." She gestured down the length of her body.

"I don't want to be no laughing stock, no, sir." Then she thought of some of the men that she'd dealt with, and what she'd do if the situation was reversed. "_Damn_, I sure as hell don't want anything like that. Them bucks'd beat me all hollow now, maybe even kill me. Lord knows, I sure ain't in no shape to stand up to 'em in a fight."

"If fighting was what they wanted..." Her eyes went wide, and she shivered at the thought. "Then, too, there's a whole lot worse a man can do to a gal than beat her up."

Jessie remembered how she'd flirted with the men back in Eerie. She'd managed to get them fighting so bad that it had almost wrecked the Saloon before Shamus and R.J. stopped it. She was more than attractive enough to be of interest to any of those men that she'd gotten the best of back in New Mexico. "No, they won't want to fight with me, but they surely would want to _wrestle_." She smiled at the play on words. "But that ain't gonna happen, is it, Useless?"

The horse snorted again at the sound of its name.

"You think I could fool 'em, so they wouldn't know it was me? Y'know, you're right. I probably could. I'm surely smarter than they are. Hell, Useless, _you're_ smarter than they are, smarter than the whole lot of 'em."

"I can act like a gal if I got to, and I surely don't look like I... Aw, hell! I don't look like Jesse Hanks no more. I look just like Sarah Fuller, and she's probably still living right there in Santa Fe and singing in her daddy's Baptist Church every Sunday." Jessie chuckled, "Yeah, unless her daddy found out what she was doing the rest of the week."

She sat up and drank the last of the coffee. "Damn it, Useless, what the hell made you think I should go back to Santa Fe?" She threw the cup at her horse, as if in anger but deliberately missing. The cup landed at the far edge of the now larger puddle, a few feet away from the animal. "I'd never be able to explain how come I'm the spit 'n image of Sarah Fuller, and if I ever _did_ run into Sarah, she'd know who I really was in five minutes."

She glared over at the horse, which just looked back innocently at her.

"So where does that leave me? Let's see... there's four points to the compass. I can't go east t'Sante Fe. North?" Oh, yeah, sure. Go up there with all them Mormons. I hear they got that place running just they way they like it -- even if the rest of the United States don't. With my damned luck, I'd probably wind up getting picked to be some Mormon Johnny's third wife or something." She shook her head. "Nope, north's out, too."

"That leaves west or south. Let's see... west... west to California. There's a lot of people out there in San Francisco, even more up in gold country. A big crowd's easy to get lost in. I heard tell that there's still a lot of money out there waiting to get made." She looked down at her thin arms. "I ain't exactly up for mining gold, but I can find me something I can do, I think. Besides, heavy work like that is for people that ain't got the brains to figure out anything easier t'do."

"'Course, now, south... Mexico -- got to skirt around Eerie on the way -- but I figure I'm a good ways west of there already. Mexico don't sound too bad neither. I hear that there's a lot of money down there. I can speak the language... some of it anyways, and I can learn more quick enough if I have to. May not even have to. There's a lot of fellas down there from the States, fellas that went down there for... health reasons. Yeah, say... that's right. That damn Sheriff comes after me, he don't got no power t'arrest me down there, not across the border he don't, nobody does as long as I keep my nose clean. And if something happens t'him down there... well, that's the risk a lawman takes."

Jessie leaned back again, stretching herself like a cat. "Yes, sir, Useless. This rain stops, you and me are heading down t'Mexico." She sat up again. "But right now, I need..." She looked around for her cup. "Oh, yeah, there it is, over by the water."

She stood up and walked over. The puddle was bigger, and mud oozed between her toes. When she bent down to pick up the cup, her foot slid into the water. Rain poured down through the hole in the roof and onto her head. She pulled her head back and shook it to try and get some of the excess water off. "Well, I'll be damned. It's almost warm."

She stepped back, the cup still in her hand, and watched the rain fall into the puddle on the floor. "It ain't hardly deep enough t'use like a tub, and I don't want to sit down in the mud anyway. Mmm, surely be nice, though, to wash off some of this trail crud, even if I got t'put the same clothes back on after."

A bent nail stuck out of the wall a few feet from the pallet. Jessie ran a second trace line to it from the rafter. "Can't wash my clothes, Useless, but I can hang 'em up to air out."

She stepped over to the pallet and began to unbutton her shirt. "Be good if I could wash this shirt, but I got no soap. Ain't got nothing t'put on while it dries neither." She looked over at a pile of strips of cloth on the floor by the pallet, the remnants of Toby's other shirt and cut up for use in the pouch she'd improvised to deal with her monthlies. She picked one up. "Still, this'd make a nice wash rag."

She draped her shirt over the trace line, adding her corset a few moments later. "Should wash out m'drawers, though. I guess I'll have t'wear that pair of Toby's while mine dry." Her pants joined the pile.

She walked over to Useless and pulled Toby's rough, gray cotton drawers out of one of the saddlebags. "Better than nothing, but not by much." She walked back over and tossed them onto the pallet.

Jessie carefully untied her drawers and stepped out of them. She put them down on the pallet, and took a breath. All she wore now was the improvised pouch. The strips of cloth were for inside it, since she didn't have the rolled bandaging she'd used at the Saloon.

"Moment of truth," she said with a gulp, and untied the pouch. The strip inside was still clean, having only been put on an hour or so before. She used the cords to tie the pouch to the trace line, draping the strip over the line. She picked up her drawers and walked back to the puddle. The water looked clean. She put the drawers into the water and swirled them back and forth for a count of thirty. Then she carefully wrung them out and hung them on the first trace line, near the rafter and as far away from Useless as possible.

Naked now and feeling very vulnerable, she took a breath, closed her eyes, and stepped into the rain.

"Ahh," she said, her eyes still half closed. The rain was warm -- warm enough, anyway.

Jessie sighed and leaned her head back. She could feel the rivulets of rain running down her face, her arms, her... her breasts. She frowned and looked down. Her nipples were erect from the coolness of the water and _very_ sensitive. "The hell with that," she said.

She wadded up the cloth and began gently rubbing it along her right arm as if it were a soapy washcloth. Her skin was much more tender than when she had been a man. It warmed, tingling slightly from the rubbing.

Her breasts were next. She barely touched them, not wanting to "start" anything. Back in Eerie, she'd discovered the way her body could react to even a gentle rubbing. She did her left arm, then moved on down her body. First, she did her stomach, then her legs. When she bent down to scrub her lower legs, she could feel the pull of gravity on her unsupported breasts. It was an odd sensation, not unusual, just... odd in a pleasant sort of way.

"Only one thing left," she said as she straightened up. Jessie unfolded the cloth she'd been using and held it under the rain, turning it over after a while to rinse both sides. After she'd wrung most of the water out, she folded it back into a square.

She reached down warily and _very_ slowly and _very_ gently began to move it over the triangular patch of blonde hair between her legs. She was even more sensitive down there than she remembered from her baths in Eerie. The motion of the cloth against her felt nice, _real_ nice. She moaned softly and kept rubbing. Her right hand pressed a little harder, though, and the back and forth motion grew less hesitant.

She was moaning louder now, and her face was flushed. Jolts of pleasure raced from "down there" to every part of her body. Her nipples grew harder. She reached her left hand up to examine one and shivered as she touched it.

Slowly, as if not aware that she was doing it, she began to play with the nipple. Her hand kneaded her breast, even as her finger and thumb tweaked the nipple; all of it happening in a motion that matched the motion of the cloth against her nether mound.

"I-I sh-shouldn't... shouldn't be... doing this." Her voice was high, breathy. She wanted to stop, but her hands seemed to have minds of their own and kept moving. "St-stop," she shouted, almost pleading. Her right hand jerked, and she dropped the cloth. "It's over; thank the --" No, it wasn't. Her bare fingers were rubbing against her now.

Two fingers slipped inside her, as if they had a mind of their own. She gasped and her eyes went wide. This was a penetration that she'd never imagined happening to her. Worst of all, it felt so.... Her hand kept moving, the rubbing becoming an instinctive in-and-out motion. She couldn't stop herself, couldn't stop her hand. It was like a real bad itch. Scratch it and you feel better, but then it itches even more. Now, slowly, her hips began to move to the motion of her hand.

Her moaning grew louder still and higher in pitch, almost becoming screams. Her knees were getting weak. She knew that she should stop, but it just felt so damned good, like a shot of twenty-year old sipping whiskey after a month of rotgut. Something was building inside her, answering a need she hadn't known, hadn't wanted to admit knowing, before.

When she'd taken baths back in Eerie, Molly had let her and the others... play with themselves for a while, but she always was ready to pour a bucket of cold water down on them before things went too far. Jessie had been grateful for that... mostly. She'd never admit it -- not even to Wilma -- but the idea of letting those funny feelings overwhelm her scared the bejebers out of her.

There was no one to stop her now. Her curiosity -- and her hunger -- were both about to be satisfied. The feeling grew bigger, stronger, hotter, until... until it surged though her whole body.

She shrieked in delight. Both hands stopped moving as waves of pleasure flashed from her groin to every part of her. She staggered back out of the rain, not really in control of her body, and half-fell against the cabin wall.

* * * * *

"Whoo-ee," so that's what it's like for a woman." Jessie was lying down on the pallet, wearing only Toby's drawers, the blanket wrapped around her for warmth. Her own drawers, rinsed in falling rainwater and wrung almost dry, were hanging from the second trace line. It had only been a few minutes since she'd... since what had happened to her, while she showered in the rain. She shivered, her body still warm from the afterglow of what happened.

"Old Mollie'd have a laugh to have seen me like that. It's a good thing she never let us go all the way. We'd never have done anything else. We'd've spent the whole damned day in them tubs."

She looked down and discovered that, as she was talking, she was starting to play with her nipple again. "Damn," she spat. "I'm doing it right now." She pulled her had out from under the blanket.

"Kind of wish she _was_ here. I got me one large pile of questions t'ask about how to handle this." She smiled at the unintentional pun.

"I'll be seeing her soon enough, though, I guess. That's the whole point of going down t'Mexico. Shouldn't be too hard to get the money I need. Men are cheap down there, and I won't need me too much t'hire somebody to kidnap her."

"Yes, sir, Molly O'Toole. You was always trying t'do things for -- what'd you call us -- oh, yeah, 'yuir girls.' Well, now you're gonna do something _real_ nice for me. I'm gonna trade you back to Shamus for the antidote."

"He'll get you back all safe and sound as soon as I get m'pecker back. I-I... mmmm..." she looked down, frowned, and pulled her hand out from inside the blanket again. This time, her hand had actually gotten inside her drawers, and a finger had been twirling the curls down there at her groin.

"Mmm, that is _so_ nice," she said, her voice getting husky. "I wonder what..." She closed her eyes without knowing why and found herself picturing... "Blackie Eastman and Joe Ortleib, it was fun -- kinda -- flirting with you boys and getting you to start that big fight at Shamus' place. And that deputy -- what was his name? Paul! You was kind of shy, Paul, but I seen you looking, and I just wonder what you were _thinking_ while you were looking."

Suddenly she was jolted out of her reverie. "What the Sam Hill am I thinking, and -- tarnation! -- feeling?"

Jessie looked down. Her hand was still at her groin, the fingers had started to move inside. She pulled her hand away as if from a hot stove. "What I _really_ need right now is a _cold_ rain shower," she muttered.

She stood up and began to pace. She kept talking in the hopes of distracting herself from the way her body was feeling. "No, Molly, we can have us a nice talk about all sorts of 'girly' things. I'll make sure you're safe and sound. I wouldn't want Shamus t'think he traded for damaged goods." She paused a moment, remembering. "Besides, you _did_ always play straight with me -- with all of us. No matter what I might want to do to the sheriff or that husband of yours, it wouldn't -- hell, it wouldn't be right no how to hurt you."

* * * * *

The rain began to slow during Jessie's fourth afternoon in the cabin. When she woke up the next morning, the sun was shining through the hole in the roof. She could hear birds singing in the trees outside. "Finally," she said. "Hope you're rested up, Useless. We'll leave here right after breakfast."

Something else had passed, as well. When Jessie checked her pouch, the strip of cloth inside was clean. "Damned good thing; I only got a couple left." She decided to leave the pouch on, "Just in case, but it'll come off when I stop for dinner tonight."

She realized that she'd made a mistake, as she was getting the fire going to make coffee. "Water!" She'd meant to refill the empty canteen with rainwater, but she'd never gotten around to it. "Storm's over now, Useless," she muttered, "and that puddle's gotten too dirty t'use."

Water from the second canteen went into the coffeepot. She had enough for a day or so, but she'd probably need two full canteens to get across the desert that stretched from southern Arizona down into Mexico. She'd need food, too. Most of what she'd taken from Toby's was already gone. She was breakfasting on the last of the meat in one of the three tins she still had.

"Maybe I'll run into some more rabbits," she said. "Find a river, too, maybe. More likely, I'll have to find people and buy -- or just take -- what I need. Going into a town'd be too risky, but there's bound to be a farm or two along the way. I'll look for 'em now, 'stead of trying to avoid them. Be nice t'talk with somebody other'n you, Useless."

After breakfast, Jessie used the empty meat tin to carry water from the puddle over and put out the fire. "Wouldn't be right t'risk this place burning down." She packed up the blankets, coffeepot, and such back into the saddlebags. The tin joined a small pile of garbage in the far corner of the cabin.

Her feet were back to normal size, but it still felt a little odd to be wearing boots again after four days of going barefoot.

She led Useless outside and shut the door behind her. "No sense leaving the place so varmints can get in and wreck it more." She climbed onto the horse's back and looked up at the morning sky. "South is that way, Useless," she said, pointing, and tugged on the reins to head the horse on that direction.

* * * * *

Jessie wiped her brow with her sleeve and took a drink of water. The canteen felt less than half full. All morning as she rode, the countryside had been getting drier. And hotter. She was moving down from the forested highlands of central Arizona into the southern desert valley that stretched down into Mexico. Her jacket was rolled up in a saddlebag, and her sleeves were rolled almost to her elbows. The pistol she'd kept in a jacket pocket now was stuck in her belt.

She scanned the horizon ahead from east to west. "Useless, we ain't found a river, not even a little creek. I think it's time we started looking for some folks that got water." As she rode on, she kept looking for some sign of people. Some forty minutes later, she saw a thin trail of smoke rising off to the southwest. "There ya go," she said as she turned Useless and started riding in that direction.

* * * * *

"Mama, Mama, there's a rider coming."

Piety Tyler looked up from the cook fires at her daughter's call. "Is you your father or brothers, Hanna?" The men weren't due back for their noonday meal for a while yet. Piety was a tall, thin woman of 37, with short brown hair that was beginning to gray.

"No, ma'am. It ain't Gil or any of the others neither." Hanna Tyler was a 15-year old twin of her mother. She'd been watching for the men as often as she could sneak a look without her mother scolding.

Some of the neighbors were helping her father and brothers harvest the Tyler's wheat in return for help with their own crops. Hanna had a crush, her first, on one of them, Gil Parker, the 16-year old son of Amos Parker, whose own land was a few miles.

Hanna was wearing her most grown-up dress for the occasion, a pale blue one that showed her only just developing figure to its best advantage. Her brown hair, usually in pigtails, hung loose because Gil had once said that he admired a woman with long flowing hair.

* * * * *

"I do not approve of Hanna's throwing herself at that boy like that," Piety had complained to her husband that morning while Hanna was out collecting eggs from the few chickens they kept in a fenced-in coop next to the house.

Ephrem Tyler tried not to smile. "Now, Pie, wearing a nice dress is hardly being brazen. She's growing up and noticing boys, and she's pretty enough that the boys are noticing back; just like her momma." He leaned forward and kissed her lightly on the cheek.

Piety drew back. She didn't believe in public displays of emotion, although she was willing enough when she and Eph were alone in their bedroom. "Just the same, it is not proper. I'll be having a long talk with her while you men are out working."

"Don't be too hard on her," Ephrem had warned. "She's a good girl, and I trust her. Besides, she'll have to get married eventually, and Gil's a good boy. They'll make a fine couple in a few years. Besides, I seem to recall another young girl who liked to put on a pretty dress when she came over to my parents house back in Connecticut." He smiled at the memory.

"I have no idea who you might be talking about." But she smiled back, pleased that he remembered.

* * * * *

Piety looked at the rider coming down the low hill towards the farmhouse. He didn't seem to be anyone she recognized. This could mean trouble. "Hanna, go in the house and fetch your father's rifle." The girl ran into the nearby building and came back out moments later with the weapon. She handed it to her mother, who readied it for possible use.

All the settlers for miles around had been warned. There had been reports of raiders coming up from Mexico, sometimes working with Apaches, raiding isolated farms and carrying off whatever they could to sell in Mexico. Some of the stories had mentioned their taking captives who were also sold.

Jessie saw the girl run into the house, and she saw what the girl came back out with. She held the reins in one hand and reached upward with the other. She took off her hat and held it in her upraised hand. Her long, blonde hair fell down her back. The message was a simple one, "I am a woman, and I'm not looking for trouble."

She drew up about twenty feet from the woman with the rifle. "Howdy, I'm Jessie. Jessie Hanks." She smiled at the pair. "I was wondering if I could get some water... maybe some food." She kept her hands in plain sight but glanced down at one saddlebag. I got money t'pay for it."

"What are you doing here, and why are you dressed like that?" Piety had long resisted suggestions from her husband that she and Hanna wear pants for some of the heavy work they did. Hanna was just now starting to agree with Ephrem. Now this woman was here, giving new strength to his arguments.

Jessie stifled the urge to tell the woman that it was none of her damned business. She needed to be polite. As much as she wanted to, it wouldn't do to try to take anything by force. "Like I said, m'name's Jessie. I'm heading down t'Mexico on some, umm, family business." She paused a beat. "I ain't sure what you mean by how I'm dressed, ma'am."

"A decent woman wears a dress, not pants that show her limbs. She doesn't wear a shirt that flaunts her... her chest for all the world to see."

Jessie took a breath to calm herself. "Well, now, ma'am. I been riding a long ways, and I got me a ways yet t'go. A pair of pants and a shirt is a lot easier t'manage than some long dress."

"Easy or not is not the point, young woman. It is not decent. My daughter --"

"Ma'am, I'm sorry if my clothes offend you. If you'll please let me have some water for my horse and let me fill my canteens, I'll try to be out of your life as soon as I can."

* * * * *

Piety hesitated. This woman in front of her was common, even vulgar, and, no doubt, a bad influence for her Hanna. Still, there were certain rules of hospitality out here, and the next source of water _was_ miles away. "Very well." She lowered the rifle and used it to point. "Use that pump over there."

"Thank you, ma'am." Jessie climbed down from her horse -- slowly, acutely aware that the woman was still suspicious, a priggish fussbudget, if she read her right. It would be best to get done here and move on quick. She led Useless over the pump and held his reins with one hand while she used the other to partly fill an attached trough. When the horse lowered his head and began to drink, she stopped and tied the reins to the pump.

Then Jessie took the two canteens from the saddle. She put one on the ground and lowered the other, top open, into the trough to fill it. "About that food, ma'am," she said hopefully. "I'll be glad to pay for anything you got t'spare."

"I'm not sure what we have to spare," Piety said, trying to decide what she wanted to offer. Perhaps this woman could help her with cooking for the men in return for having a meal with them. She took a close look at Jessie. Did this stranger even know how to cook?

When she looked, Piety noticed two things. The top two buttons of Jessie's shirt were opened, and she didn't seem to be wearing anything underneath. "Is that shirt all you're wearing... above the waist, I mean?"

Jessie looked down. "What, oh, umm, no. I got my corset on under it. Do you want to see?" she asked sarcastically, her fingers going to her shirt.

"I most certainly do not." She saw her daughter listening intently. "Hanna, go in the house."

"But, Mama..." Hanna said. "Why do I gotta go inside?"

Piety needed a reason. "To put your father's rifle away." She held out the weapon. "And stay inside until I call you."

"Yes, Mama." The young girl took the rifle and disappeared into the unpainted wood and stone house.

"Now that she's gone," Piety said, "I will ask you to finish getting water and then to leave this property as quickly as possible."

"Ma'am," Jessie said, "what exactly is your problem?"

Piety felt the sting of the words, especially from one who was so young and -- she realized that she was jealous -- so pretty. She shifted her anger at herself for being jealous onto the cause. "I will not have some scarlet woman flaunting herself before my daughter."

"Me, a 'scarlet woman flaunting... ' Well, if you ain't the most foolish --"

"How dare you! If my husband were here, he'd horsewhip you within an inch of your life. That's the only thing a woman like you understands."

"I think yer just trying to scare me, ma'am. Any man worthy of a lady like you ken't be the type to do violence to lone, helpless woman." Jessie had tried to say it in a way that the woman wouldn't know if she'd been insulted or not. The confused expression on Piety's face told Jessie that she'd hit her mark square. She realized for the first time just how much fun a woman could have by being catty. 'They must enjoy it,' she thought, 'or they wouldn't do so much of it.'

Just then Jessie saw a plume of dust billowing up from behind a grassy swell off to the east. "That must be your man coming back now," she said, pointing. "I don't figure he'll feel like horsewhipping me, ma'am. For some reason, I can't figure, I always hit it off better with husbands than I ever seem do w'their wives."

Piety's face flushed scarlet, but she looked to where Jessie was pointing. She saw four... no, five... six men riding towards them from the east. "But they were going to be doing the fields to the --" Her eyes suddenly grew wide, and she ran to the house. "Hanna," she shouted, "Raiders. Get the rifle and be quick about it."

Off to the east, the riders began galloping towards the house. Jessie could see that they were all armed with rifles, and they sure weren't dressed like a bunch of farmers.

* * * * *

 

Chapter 5 -- "On the Hunt"

Paul circled the clearing around Toby Hess' house a second time. Yes, he could account for every set of tracks but one. Just to be certain, he counted them off in his head.

Those wagon tracks coming in from the south, stopping, then moving out to the east, were Jake Steinmetz dropping off Toby and Jessie Hanks before he went on to his own cabin with Laura Meehan. That mass of hoof prints was the posse he himself had led to the cabin. Davy Kitchner made that lone set of hoof prints heading east when he rode to tell the others that Toby was dead. Finally, there was another group of horses riding in from the east, Davy and the rest of the posse, and more wagon tracks, Arsenio Caulder with Jake tied up in the back of his own wagon.

That left a single set of tracks unaccounted for, Jessie escaping on horseback. She was heading off to the north, but there was no way of telling how long she'd keep going in that direction. "She might try zig-zagging," he said, "but that'd be real hard to do at night."

"Wilma said that she n'Jessie don't know the territory too well," he thought aloud. "She'll like keep going in one direction till she hits a road and then just flip a coin t'decide which way to go." Feeling a bit more confident, he mounted his own horse, a gray cowpony called Ash, and rode north.

* * * * *

Paul slowed his horse almost as soon as he heard the sound of fast water ahead. "The Salt River," he said, talking to Ash out of the habit of years of riding herd. He nodded in thought. The river would have been Jessie's first big obstacle, and he wondered how she had handled it. He wondered if he would be able to answer that very question or if he'd lost her trail already.

He found part of the answer at the edge of the cliff above the river. Jessie's trail turned downstream a few feet back from the steep cliff wall. He followed them to where she'd found the landslide and ridden down to the river. It looked easy enough -- until he looked across. There was no sign of a trail she could have followed out of the river on the other side, just more cliff.

He checked the ground carefully. The trail turned down towards the water only a foot from where he stood. There was no sign the she'd continued along the cliff. "Nope, she rode down there for sure." He climbed back onto Ash and urged the horse down to the water with the firm nudging of his heels,. There was a narrow shoreline, but no sign of any tracks. "She's a tricky little wildcat; she rode right into the stream bed."

He followed, riding across in a few minutes. The other shore was the same, narrow against the gorge wall and showing no tracks. He nodded his head again in admiration; she was taking her horse through the water, just like he'd guessed. "Smart girl, Jessie. You surely know how to make a lawman's job a hard one."

There was no way to track her in the water with the swift current rolling the sediment along in streams of silt and sand. He could barely make out the track that Ash was making in the river bottom behind them. Still, the gal couldn't play her little game for long; there were rapids just upstream that he could see as well as hear. Jessie was too smart to try to ride through them, especially at night. "Just have to head downstream and hope for the best, I guess."

He was lucky in one respect. The banks of the river were all the same for miles, a narrow shoreline flush up against the base of a steep cliff, ten or more feet high on either side of the river. "Not may places she _can_ get out of this, I'll just have to keep my eyes open and hope I don't miss it."

It was slow going. Paul looked back and forth to both sides as Ash moved along at a slow, ambling gait. More than once, he reined over and check out a possible slope that Jessie might have used, a low section of cliff, or a gentler grade like the one he'd ridden down. He never found a sign of a trail and started to wonder whether he was chasing a fox and not a wildcat after all.

He even rode up away from the river to check a spot where the soil was too gravelly for anyone to have left a track. For good or ill, there was no sign of a trail at the top, where the soil turned sandy again. "If she'd ridden onto that, I'd have found something." He muttered under his breath and trotted Ash back down to the river.

Hearing rushing water ahead, he stopped and leaned forward to pat the side of his horse's neck. "Okay, Ash, m'boy. She _had_ to get out somewhere around here. Let's us see if we can find out where that was."

He rode the pony to the far side of the river, the more likely one. "Jessie'd want to keep putting as much distance between herself and Eerie as she could." As before, it was mostly narrow shore and steep cliff wall. He'd ridden about twenty yards when he saw a break in the wall just ahead, around a turn in the river. It was a gentler grade, mostly gravel and underbrush that would be difficult to climb, but it was possible if the rider went slow. When he came close to the spot, he saw that somebody had ridden up the grade and only a few days before. The underbrush had broken branches and was freshly trampled.

Even better, there was a print. Most smith's used six or eight nails in a shoe. Arsenio Caulder, the only blacksmith in Eerie, used seven, the number of letters in his first and last names. Arsenio said it was like signing his name in each shoe. This print had the marks of seven nails. "This has to be it."

Just to make sure, he rode ahead until the water began to get deeper and the current faster. He had to push Ash to cross the river, so he could check the other side. There was nothing else that looked even remotely as likely as the spot he'd found. He rode back across and slowly got Ash and himself up the grade.

Yes, there were tracks at the top. Judging from the insect trails across each track, they were the right age. He remounted Ash and, with a "Whoop!" followed what had to be Jessie's trail away from the river. "Nice t'know that I still remember how it's done."

* * * * *

Almost an hour later, the tracks left the open country and turned in towards a thicket of trees. "Guess she's started that zig-zagging now, Ash," Paul said. He followed the tracks into the trees. On the far side from the trail, he found the remnants of a fire pit, a small ring of stones with a pile of ashes and dead coals in its center. He climbed down and looked over the ground. Judging from the array of hoof prints, she'd tied her horse to a line of some sort about here. She hadn't bedded down on the ground, though. She trimmed the branches on one side of a tree and made herself a "windbreak chair" to sleep on. "Not bad, not bad at all." He found himself wondering if Jessie had gotten a good rest.

"She probably set this up for herself around dawn, figured to sleep by day and ride by night. That'd be about 6... 6:30. Doc figures she killed Toby around midnight. Figure maybe a half hour, maybe a little more, to saddle up and pack, that's five hours of riding more or less. I'd guess I rode about forty miles from Toby's cabin t'here." He smiled, as he did the arithmetic. "She's doing about eight miles an hour at best. Unless I get stuck having to check out false leads like I did in the river, Ash and I can do ten easy." He made a fist and shook his arm in victory. "I got her. She just don't know it yet."

It was a good way to end his first day. "Jessie worked so hard to make this cozy, little campsite; I might as well use it myself." It was after six, and the sun would be setting in an hour or so. He cleared out the fire pit and gathered wood for a new fire.

* * * * *

"Grizzly tracks... shit, and a mother and cubs, no less." Paul stopped as soon as he saw the prints cutting across Jessie's. Bears were never good news, but this was the worst. Most of the time, grizzlies were shy around folks, but, if a mother ever thought a cub was in danger, you had three hundred pounds or more of angry tooth and claw to deal with.

He checked his pistols; both were loaded. So was the rifle slug in a saddle holster where he could reach it _real_ quick if he needed to. Satisfied, he flicked the reins. "Let's go slow here, Ash. No sense making trouble for ourselves by scaring the cubs."

He hoped he wouldn't have to fight that bear. He didn't like grizzlies. They were damned hard to kill, though his rifle would _probably_ do the job. It'd have to. A wounded bear was a walking deathtrap for him or anybody else who was unlucky enough to come anywhere near the thing.

The narrow trail he'd been following opened up into a broad meadow with high patches of buffalo grass scattered here and there. There were signs of berries in the droppings. He could see berry bushes up ahead. The bears were probably feeding somewhere here in this meadow.

Grizzlies were shy. Let them know you were coming, and they'd likely head off in the other direction.

"You around here anywhere, Miz Grizzly," he said in a loud, steady, monotone. "It's such a nice day hereabouts. Why don't you and your cubs go your way, and I'll go mine. There no sense for either of us t'spoil it for the other."

He kept talking as he rode, hoping to alert the animals in time for them to avoid him. At the same time, he kept looking around in every direction. They might not hear him, or they might get curious.

Then, about forty yards ahead, a cub ambled out of a patch of tall grass. A second one followed a moment later. They seemed to be playing with one another, nipping, grabbing, almost wrestling. There was no hint that they knew he was anywhere about.

Paul stopped Ash at once. "Nice cubs you got there, Miz Bear." He kept talking, trying to alert the mother, so she'd take her cubs and leave.

His plan worked -- partly. She knew he was there, but she wasn't leaving. He heard a growl and saw a dark brown shape rise up from the grass about thirty yards away from him and maybe twenty yards from the cubs. Mama Bear was standing up for a look-see.

She stood about six feet tall, dark brown fur with a frosting of gray, a "silver-tipped" grizzly. She looked straight at him, sniffing the air. He was downwind, worst luck! She swung her head back and forth trying to catch what scent she could.

Ash was a cowpony, trained to walk backward as easily as forward, a useful talent during spring branding. Paul kept talking in that same monotone, trying to calm Mama, even while he signaled his horse to back up. Running away wouldn't work. A grizzly could match a racehorse for speed, and they _liked_ to chase things. But if he just backed off...

The bear dropped to all fours and hissed at him. It growled once and charged. Paul stopped Ash and raised his rifle. He didn't want to kill her. It would have been a sure death sentence on those cubs. An old Shoshone medicine man had once told him that it was unlucky to kill a bear cub. Maybe it was, but he wasn't about to let her kill him to protect those cubs. If it was him or them, "goodbye, cubs."

Mama stopped about forty feet away from him. She growled a second time. She seemed to be waiting for him to react. Paul took the hint. "Thank you, Miz Bear. I do believe that we'll be going now." He kept talking as he started Ash walking backward again.

She wasn't convinced, or maybe she just wanted to be sure that he was leaving. She snorted and charged a second time. Paul raised the rifle, sighting on her head. "Turn, damn you, turn. We don't neither of us want to do this." She was closing. He was going to count to three, just in case, then fire.

"Miz Bear" veered off at two. She ran off at an angle, not stopping until she was about forty feet away. She stood on her hind legs and growled. Then she tilted her head as if to say, "You still here?"

"Just leaving, ma'am," Paul said. He got Ash backing away again, if a little quicker this time. The bear stood watching until they were a good thirty yards apart. She dropped down. Then, just before she turned to walk back to her cubs, she made a "wiffling" noise that sounded an awful lot like a horselaugh.

"Same to you," Paul said. He couldn't help but chuckle, but he kept Ash moving. He saw the grizzlies amble off toward the west, so he turned Ash to the east as he made a wide circle heading across the meadow.

Just to make sure Mama knew where he was, he began singing "Oh, Suzanna" as he rode. He always did like that song, as especially since one night back in Eerie. Jessie had managed to get some men start a fight over her that almost wrecked Shamus' saloon. Shamus had punished her by having her strip down to her unmentionables and sing that same song standing on top of the bar. 'That's another reason for bring her back to Eerie,' he thought 'to see... to hear her singing like that again.'

* * * * *

Paul's knife dug a last curl in the bark of the log. He leaned forward and fed the wood into the blazing fire. The curls would help the fire catch easier, since the wood was wet. "Damn near everything's wet," he muttered.

It had started raining early in the morning, while he was making breakfast. First hailstones, big ones, then a hard, steady downpour that had made short work of what was left of his fire. He'd packed up his camp in a hurry, leaving the coffeepot for last, so he'd have something warm in his belly.

The rain quickly turned the ground to mud. Jessie's trail was gone. "She's pretty much traveled in a straight line," he decided, so he continued on in the direction she'd been going since the night she fled from Toby's cabin. With any luck, the rain would end soon. He'd have no trouble finding fresh prints in the new mud.

He was in luck -- almost all of it bad. The rain fell steadily the entire day. "Looks like one of them "monsoons" some of Mr. Slocum's men was telling me about," he admitted to himself finally. The good luck, what little there was, was that he hadn't come to a river or a trail. Either of these could have given Jessie the chance to change direction, just as she'd done at the Salt River. Instead, she was probably still ahead of him.

Probably.

He realized that he'd be disappointed on some level if she proved too easy to catch. But, then again, he'd be real disappointed in himself if he didn't catch her in two or three days.

He thought about that again late in the afternoon when he stopped to set up his second night's camp. It was already getting dark under the heavy clouds. "I wonder if she's got something to keep the rain off? If not, she's gonna look like a drowned rat and be twice as miserable in them wet clothes. Hell, she might even _want_ to get caught, just to get dry." It was a nice thought, and it lasted almost as long as it took to say it aloud.

Paul unpacked a tarp and set it up as a lean-to, its back to the wind and rain. He built his fire pit right at its edge, so the shelter would keep some of the rain off the fire. Even so, he knew that he'd have to build a hearty fire if it was going to keep burning all night.

He leaned back, resting himself against his saddle. "I'll keep going in this direction tomorrow," he decided, "and hope the rain stops. If it don't, and I come to a road, I'll follow that a ways and see if I can find people that might've seen her."

He finished the cup of coffee that was on the blanket next to him. "Ain't much of a plan, but it's all I got", he admitted. He stretched out and rested his head on the seat of the saddle. He'd used it for a pillow more times than a dog had fleas. He put his hat down over his eyes and was asleep by the time he had let out one long, weary sigh.

* * * * *

The door to the stage depot opened, ringing a small brass bell on a wire just above it. There were about a half dozen men inside, waiting out the "monsoon" that had blown up from the Baja. When the bell sounded, a few turned toward the door to see a tall man that no one recognized wearing a brown hat and rain slicker. "Do I smell coffee," he said by way of a greeting.

"You do." The newcomer's glance shifted toward a short balding man who sat behind a counter with a sign above it saying "Station Master." "Have some n'warm up yer insides," the bald man added. He pointed to a large coffeepot resting on a stove in the corner of the room. There were cups and a bowl of sugar on a shelf next to it.

"Thanks." The other man nodded and walked straight to the pot. He filled a cup, drank some, and sighed. "Damn, that feels good going down."

"'Spect it would in this rain," the man behind the counter said. "I'm Coleman Hoyle; m'friends call me Cole. I run this place for Wells Fargo."

"Paul... Paul Grant," the new man said. He took another sip of coffee, pausing to feel its warmth in his stomach. "I'm deputy sheriff over in Eerie, Arizona." He pulled back his slicker on one side just long enough to show Hoyle the badge on his shirt. Cole scratched his head. "Don't think I ever heard of it."

You're not likely to have," Paul said. "It's a little place the other side of Phoenix. Stage only comes through once a week, almost never stops."

"Then what brings you over t'these parts?"

"I'm looking for somebody." He raised his voice, knowing that the men in the room were listening, even if they pretended that they weren't. "Her trail led on this direction -- at least it did before that damned rain..."

"_Her_ trail," somebody said, a chunky man in a brown work shirt. He sounded angry. "That wouldn't be a pretty, little gal with long, blonde hair and a big mouth, would it?"

"Sounds like her," Paul said with a nod. "Especially the part about the mouth. You see her?"

Another man laughed. "See her. She almost cost Devin there his job."

"Shut up, Sol," the chunky man -- Devin -- said. "Why you looking for her anyway, Mister?"

Paul sensed more than normal curiosity here. "A man died, and she's the only witness."

"She probably did it," Devin said. "Is there a reward for her?"

"Sure is. The thanks of the good citizens of Eerie and the satisfaction of seeing justice done." Paul wanted directions, if he could get them, but he didn't need a lot of trigger-happy company trailing along with him.

Sol made a face. "Yeah, sure. That 'n fifty cents'll get me a beer."

"I don't care," Devin said. "I might just ride along with the man. Be nice to see a little justice fall on her head."

"The hell you will." Cole slammed his fist on the counter. "The company hired you t'ride guard on their stages. They'll be another one along soon as this rain stops, and the roads ain't flooded no more. You was begging me not t'report you after what happened. You better by G-d be here when that stage comes through, or you can just keep on riding, 'cause you won't be working for us no more."

Paul poured himself another cup of coffee and took a seat at the table Devin was sitting at. "What exactly did happen to put that burr on your saddle?"

"Story like that, a man needs something stronger than coffee t'tell it right." Devin looked at Cole.

"Fifty cents, same as always," Cole said.

Paul tossed Cole a silver dollar. "Give the man his drink. I'll just take mine later."

Cole leaned forward. There was the sound behind the counter of a key in a lock. A moment later, Cole brought out a bottle of whiskey and a shot glass. He poured one drink before putting the bottle back. "Here, y'go, Devin."

Devin took the glass and downed it in one quick gulp. He closed his eyes and shuddered for a moment. "Ah, that there's the real stuff." He sat down opposite Paul and started talking.

"Three days ago, me me'n Noah Ward was bringing the stage down from Prescott t'Tucson. He was driving, and I was guard. 'Bout what... six miles north of here, we see some kid walk out onto the road n'wave us down. I didn't want t'stop -- can't be too careful y'know --"

"Bull... shit!" someone yelled.

Devin spun around to see who had spoken, but he couldn't tell. "Anyways, ol' Noah was a trusting soul. He pulled up the reins, and we stopped just a few feet away from the kid."

"And you're saying this kid was Je... was a woman," Paul asked.

"I am," Devin continued. "Y'tell the truth, we didn't know it right off. She was wearing a man's clothes n' had a hat pushed down on her head. She was talking in a deep voice, like a man, too."

"What happened next?" Paul said. It sounded like Jessie had gone back to her old, thieving ways..

"She pulled out a pistol and told us t'toss down whatever we was carrying that was valuable. Well, we said, 'No' of course, and she fires that pistol into the air. The recoil must've caught her off-guard. It knocked off her hat, and all that hair of hers come tumbling down. I figgered I could get a drop on her, so I reached under the seat for m'Winchester --"

"Which you should've been carrying on your lap," Cole interrupted.

"All right, Cole, all right. Which I should've been carrying on my lap. But I wasn't, okay? So when I reached down for it, she gets off a shot that couldn't have missed my hand by more'n three inches. I pull it back, and she says the next shot is gonna do permanent damage. Ol' Noah, he starts blubbering just like a baby -- no damn help at all -- so I done like she says. Noah tosses down the mail sack we was carrying, and we hightail it outta there."

"Without a fight," Cole added glumly.

"Shut up, Cole." Devon glared at the man. "She had the drop on me n'Noah. Hell, the man looked ready t'pee his pants. What was I supposed t'do?"

"What the company pays you t'do, Devin," Cole answered.

"The company pays me t'protect what its stages carry. It don't pay me to try and draw on a somebody that's already got a pistol aimed at my heart."

"Last time you told that story, you said she was aiming at your pecker," somebody yelled.

"Too small a target," someone else said.

"Maybe it was hiding under the seat with his Winchester," a third man said. The room erupted into laughter.

"Damn all you bastards t'hell!" Devin stood up and spun around, his pistol in his hand.

"Put that away," Paul said quietly. His own pistol was drawn and pointed directly at Devin. "I mean it."

Devin looked at Paul. He looked into Paul's eyes and trembled with rage. "They... they called me a coward -- n'worse. You heard them."

Paul nodded and looked at the other men in the room. "I heard them. Some men talk real big when it's somebody else in danger and not them." He took a breath, watching the chunky man's reactions. "But you can't shoot a man for talking stupid." He looked around the room. "No matter how much he might deserve it."

"We... we was just funning you, Devin," a man at another table said. He was an older man, bald but for a few tufts of gray hair at each ear.

"You were all just funning him?" Paul asked. The rest of the men nodded. "Then why don't you all apologize?"

"We do, Mister," the older man said. "We all do." There were murmurs of agreement from every other man in the room.

Devin brightened. "Then you all will help me go find that gal after this rain stops?" He sounded hopeful.

Paul felt ready to shoot Devin himself, when Cole chimed in. "No they won't, Devin. First off, I already told you that you're staying here t'wait for the next stage. Second, I won't stand for no lynch mob pretending t'act in the company's name."

"Lynch mob?" Devin said. "We... we was gonna bring her in so this man..." He pointed at Paul. "...so this man can arrest her for robbing the stage."

"Now wait a minute," Paul said.

"He can arrest her for whatever he come to arrest her for," Cole said, "but there's not point bringing her in for robbing the stage. The company ain't pressing charges."

"What are you saying, Cole?" somebody asked.

"If she got anything, we'd press charges," Cole said. "We can't have people thinking that they can just take them valuables that Wells Fargo has promised t'protect and deliver to their rightful destinations."

"So..." Devin asked.

"But she didn't get nothing," Cole said. "They found that mail sack right where Noah tossed it, and, as far as anybody could tell, nothing got taken. We press charges, we got to tell people how some little bit of a gal scared two Wells Fargo men into giving her that sack. You think the company wants t'say something like that, you're crazy as that gal must be."

"So she gets off scott free?" Devin asked in amazement.

"No she doesn't," Paul said. "I'd lost her trail in this rain. Thanks t'you, I found it again. I just have to figure out which way she went after she... umm, ran into you and Noah."

"That's easy," Devin said. "She went t'Mexico." Most of the other men in the room made noises like they agreed.

"Why do you say that?" Paul asked.

"I been given it some thought in case I could get this _company man_ t'let me go after her." He looked at Cole, who just shrugged. To him, it was a compliment.

"Anyways," Devin continued. "She tried to rob the stage -- I'll be damned if I know why she didn't take that sack -- so she must figger that there's a posse chasing her. You don't have t'be too smart to know that the easiest way t'shake a posse is t'head south. Once you get across that border, ain't nobody gonna help them bring you back. Law don't say they has to. There's nothing that a posse _can_ do short of kidnapping you -- and then _they's_ the criminals."

He looked over at Paul who nodded. The man made sense. "Give him my drink," Paul said to Cole. He'd wait here till the rain stopped and head south after her. No need to get wet now that he was pretty sure he knew where Jessie was headed -- out of the frying pan and into the fire. The border was a bad place, with the meanest kind of owlhoots scuttling back and forth across it. It would be especially bad for any gal as pretty as Jessie Hanks.

* * * * *

Paul had been riding since early morning. It was past noon, and the mud of the trail was already baked dry. For the last hour or more, he had watched the forest of the central ranges turn into the scrub grasslands of the Sonoran Desert. He stopped on a low rise to take a drink from his canteen and make certain that he was still heading south.

He was. That central peak on the small range of mountains far ahead of him was almost due south. It'd make a good landmark to aim for, probably for the rest of the day.

Then, off to the west and maybe a dozen miles away, he saw something else in the crisp, clear air. A thin column of black smoke was heading skyward. Fire, especially a prairie fire was one of the worst things a cowman like him could imagine. "Damn," he spat the word. "You'll just have to wait a bit longer, Jessie." He whipped Ash's reins and headed the horse towards the rising smoke.

* * * * *

As Paul rode in, he could see that it wasn't a grass fire, after all. It was worse. That was somebody's barn going up in smoke. 'Hope nobody was inside when it caught fire,' he thought to himself.

There were well over two dozen people already at work, when he reached the homestead. He tied his horse's reins to the wheel of someone's wagon. A bucket brigade was working off of one pump and water trough about twenty feet from the house. Buckets were filled and passed down the line to the last man, who threw the water on the fire. Then the empty basket was passed back for more water. There were enough buckets to keep the line very busy, but the fire was still gaining.

The man at the pump -- a boy of 16 from the look of him -- seemed to be tiring. "Why don't I spell you on that?" Paul asked. The boy looked at Paul for a minute and nodded. "Th-thanks, Mister." The two matched motions, then the lad stepped back. Paul grabbed the pump handle, never breaking rhythm.

The boy -- Paul found out later that his name was Amos Tyler -- ran off, then quickly returned carrying a rusted tin bucket. He filled it with water and stepped into the line working to save the barn. He passed the filled bucket on to a man closer to the fire, taking the man's emptied bucket in return.

* * * * *

It took two hours and more to get the fire under control.

The barn was almost a total loss, but the horses, thankfully, had been in the field along with a lot of the harvesting equipment.

A few of the people had already left. They had their own farms and families to worry about. Others were walking around, guessing at what it would take to repair the damage.

Paul was ready to leave, as well, but he wanted to speak to Ephrem Tyler, the owner of the place. A skinny fellow with the turned collar of a preacher was talking to Tyler, a barrel-chested man with curly brown hair.

"I been talking to the brethren, Ephrem," the preacher said. "They got to get their own crops in, but they's G-d fearing folk, the lot of them, and they all want to help, Praise be. We'll all be back here two weeks from today, if that's all right with you?"

Tyler was barely listening. Mostly he was glancing around as if looking for something. "Two weeks, Brother Douglas, what do you mean?"

"Why for the barn raising." Brother Douglas smiled cheerfully. "They all want to do the Christian thing and come help you put up a new barn. Lord knows, you surely need one."

Paul studied the man. A lot of clergymen were just so much hot air. Some were even grifters with less religion than he had himself. This one was real. His suit was rumpled and wet from working in the bucket brigade. And his first act after the fire was to get a bunch of busy farmers to agree to spend a day helping their neighbor.

Paul suddenly was aware that Douglas was studying him just as hard. "I don't believe I know you, friend, you were a godsend on that pump. Can we count on you to help with Brother Tyler's new barn?"

"I'm afraid not, sir," Paul said. "I'm sort of on business. He looked down at his badge. I just came over to help when I saw the smoke."

"And a great help you were. The Lord's own strong right hand was helping you on that pump."

Paul waved his arms back and forth, trying to work out the ache he felt. "I don't know about that. I'm just glad I could help."

Before he could say anything more. Amos, the boy from the pump, came running to his father. "Pa, pa, they ain't anywhere. Me n'Malachai looked all over."

Another boy, maybe a year older and the near twin of Amos, ran up. "It's true, pa. I was looking in the barn just... just in case..." He let the words fall off. "There weren't no sign of her in there."

"Praise the Lord for that," Douglas said.

"Amen, Brother," Paul said. "Who exactly is missing, though?"

"My-my wife," Tyler said nervously. "My daughter, too."

"Any chance they would have gone for help when the fire started?" Paul asked. He had a feeling this was trouble.

Tyler laughed. A sour sort of laugh. "You don't know my wife, Mister. She might've sent Hanna -- m' daughter -- off for help, but she'd have stayed and fought that fire. She's a stubborn woman, my... my Piety." His voice began to waiver, and he looked scared.

"You boys find any sign of where she might've gone?" Paul asked them.

"No, sir," Malachai, the older one said. "Somebody's been in the house, though. They like t'tore it apart. And, pa, gramma's candlesticks and your rifle is missing, too."

"Your mama's gonna be fit to be tied; she loved them candlesticks," Tyler said, not quite thinking clearly. "You didn't find nothing?"

"I did, pa," Amos said. "Somebody I never heard of left his hat in the parlor."

"If he isn't here, how do you know his name?" Paul asked.

"'Cause it's writ inside the brim of his hat," Amos said, trying to remember. "Toby... Hess. Yeah, that was his name, Toby Hess."

Sure enough, somebody, Toby probably, had used a grease pencil to write his name inside the brim. It was a common joke in Eerie, the way he was always losing his hat. After he wrote his name inside, he'd get it back sooner or later, instead of having to buy a new one. Well, he didn't need it where he was now.

"Does that mean anything to you?" Brother Douglas asked.

"Yes, sir, it does," Paul answered. "Mr. Tyler, the business I'm on is tracking the only witness to the death of Toby Hess, the woman who may have done it. His hat is here because she wore it when she came this way."

"Is she dangerous?" Amos asked. "Is she gonna hurt my mama?"

"I don't think so," Paul said, trying hard to sound certain. "But for some reason, I think she took your mama and your sister with her when she left."

"Maybe it wasn't her choice," Tyler said. "There's been warnings that Commancheros, raiders from Mexico, been up north of the border. Nobody said they were anywhere near these parts, though. There was a lot of fresh tracks heading off in that direction..." He pointed to the south. "...when we rode in. We were too busy with the fire t'check them out."

"And you think they took your wife and daughter?" Paul didn't add, "and Jessie", but he suspected it was true.

"Sounds like it," Douglas said. "I hate to speak ill of any man, but them Commancheros aren't men, they're truly the spawn of hell. They ride up here after loot and..." he took a deep breath, "...and slaves, especially women. Take'm back below the border for sale. Come to think of it, I've heard stories of them raiding farms, carrying off all they can, and setting the buildings on fire to distract anybody that might want to ride after them."

A few others had heard the conversation and drifted over. One of them was a stocky boy about Amos's age. "Commancheros have Hanna... and Mrs. Tyler, too? We... we gotta go after them."

"Take it easy, Gil," an adult version of the boy said. "We don't want to do anything hasty."

"Hasty, pa?" the boy said. "We know Hanna's missing, and we got a sheriff right here to help us find her. What're we waiting for." Paul sighed. He could almost feel the group turning into a posse, an overly concerned, half-cocked posse that he couldn't avoid leading out after Jessie and the others no matter how much he tried. Not all the trouble ahead was going to come from the Commancheros.

* * * * *

 

Chapter 6 -- "With the Commancheros"

An odd group of riders made their way south through the cacti and shrub grass of the Sonora Desert. Six rough-looking men rode flank -- one in front, another at the rear, and two on each side -- of a five horse pack train. A young girl was astride the first pack horse. A very pretty blonde and an older brunette rode the third and fourth horses.

The five pack horses were connected by a length of rope that went through a hitch in their bridles. The hands of the three females were tied at the wrists. The other end of each of their ropes was tied to the tree of the packsaddle of the horse they rode.

"I'll ask you again, Miss Hanks," the brunette said, "just what do you and your friends intend to do with my daughter and I?"

The blonde turned her head around to glare at the older woman. "For the umpteenth time, _Miz_ Tyler, they ain't my friends. If they was, you think they'd've tied me up with you and them other horses?"

Piety Tyler ignored the insult. "What they do with you is not my concern. What happens to my daughter and me is. What are they going to do with us?"

"Well, they sure ain't inviting us for tea. These here are Commancheros. They ride up from Mexico raiding for loot. They grab what they can and take it all home t'sell for whatever they can get."

"They're no better than common thieves. What a horrid way to earn one's living."

"Maybe so, but we ain't exactly in a position t'be judging them."

"You... you said that they sell whatever they can steal. What... what about... what do they do with the people like us that they... capture?"

"They sell them... us, too."

"But that... that's against the law. The Thirteenth Amendment --"

"Don't apply down in Mexico where we're going. Fact is, there's a ready market for people down there."

Jessie lowered her voice and cast a glance back at the teenager... Hanna? How much of this was she hearing?

"Yes," Piety said. "I suppose that you would know of such things."

"Ma'am, just because I knows about them things don't mean that I'm a part of 'em." She shook her head for emphasis. "I never did approve of white slavery, nohow."

"White slavery! You... you don't mean..." She let the words trail off.

"Yes, ma'am, I'm afraid I do. I mean _exactly_ that." She continued, unable to resist the urge getting a dig in. "Now, they may not get much for a dried up old busy-body like you." Jessie let the new insult sink in for a couple seconds. Lordy, it was fun to act catty. "But that daughter of yours'll bring top dollar, being young, pretty, and... pure --"

"Unlike yourself." Piety had claws, too.

"Miz Tyler," Jessie said through gritted teeth, "In spite of what you may think of me, I ain't never been with a man in my whole, entire life." In her head, she added, 'and I never will be, especially after I get ahold of that potion and change back.'

Piety gave a snort of disbelief. "Never? I think not?"

There were chuckles to Jessie's left and right. The outriders all had heard her denial. From the way they talked at the Tyler ranch, she knew most of them had at least some English. They were all looking at her. A man on her left said something she couldn't quite make out to his companion, and both men laughed. When he saw her looking at him, one man leered back at her and made a _very_ improper gesture.

'Damn,' Jessie thought. 'I probably just made things even worse. How the hell do I get out of this?'

* * * * *

The sun had begin to dip below some mountains far off to the west by the time the leader rider called a halt. They were near a small pond hemmed in by mesquite and suguaro cacti.

The rider who'd been leading the pack train shouted, in Spanish, "We camp here," and jumped from his horse. The other men reined in and dismounted. The lead rider untied the pack train rope from his saddle and knotted it to the trunk of a mesquite.

The man who had leered at Jessie walked over to the first horse and untied the end of the rope binding Hanna to the saddle. He left her wrists bound, though. He reached up, put his hands around the girl's waist, and, with a sudden jerk, pulled her from the horse. Hanna screamed, and the man said something in Spanish and laughed. Jessie caught part of it, a brag that he knew many ways to make a girl scream.

When the man set Hanna down, he insolently tweeked her breasts and her bottom. Hanna screamed again and pulled free. She ran a few feet then stumbled and fell to the ground. She curled herself into a ball as best she could and began to cry.

"How dare you do that to my daughter," Piety yelled. "You cowardly, heathen... bastards!"

Jessie smiled, a little surprised that Piety knew the word, let alone that she was willing to say it aloud. Jessie felt the same way, but she knew better than that farmwife how to talk to cutthroats. "Shush up, Miz Tyler. You'll only make it worse for all of us."

"And I suppose you have a better idea," Piety snapped. "Or are you actually looking forward to being molested?"

Before Jessie could answer, she felt a tugging at her own ropes and looked down. The same man who had freed Hanna was now working on the knot that held her to the saddle tree. When he finished, she felt his rough hands around her own waist. She braced herself for the jolt as he lifted her down in a single, quick motion.

As he set her boots to earth, he reached up and grasped her breast with a yellow-toothed smirk. Shamus' potion wouldn't let her attack anyone, but it would let her _respond_ to something like that. She planted her feet and swung at the man's head using her arms and the thick knot that bound her wrists as a club.

She hit. Hard. The man staggered back a few feet and stood there shaking his head to try and clear it. The other men laughed.

"Who's the head of this here outfit," Jessie yelled. She spoke English. It might be useful if they didn't know how much Spanish she understood.

At that moment, the man Jessie had hit cleared his head. He growled low in his throat and started towards her, an angry look in his eye.

"Hold!" someone yelled in Spanish. The man stopped walking, though he continued to glare at Jessie.

"I am, as you say, in charge, señorita." Jessie turned in the direction of the voice. As she'd expected, it was the rider of the lead horse, a fine chestnut stallion. He was a tall man with silver running here and there through his dark hair. "Why do you ask, and why have you embarrassed Felippe in this way?"

"I hit Felippe because he... touched what he had no right to touch." She took a breath. Lordy, let this work. "I ask because I'm making a challenge. I challenge for the right t'join up with you. I came down this way to meet up with people like you. Do you think I'd do that if I couldn't ride, shoot, and fight as good as any man?"

The leader studied her closely. "Little one, you took Felippe -- who, I must admit, is not the smartest of men -- by surprise. Do not presume that one lucky blow entitles you to --"

"You afraid I'll embarrass him -- embarrass _you_ again?" She smiled to drive home the insult. The man seemed amused by what she had done. She wanted him amused -- or angry -- enough to agree to what she was asking.

"That is _muy_, is _very_ unlikely to happen. Why should I agree to such an unequal contest?"

"It should at least be fun to watch."

"Carida, there are things that are even more fun for a man and woman to do on a day that is so hot."

"You can have both kinds of fun." She stopped. Did she have the sand to finish what she was about to say? "If you agree, I'll... I'll bet my body. You play my game, and if I lose, I'll play yours."

The man laughed deep in his throat. "Little one, your body is already mine to take whenever I or my men wish it."

"Yes," Jessie said, eyes flashing. "To _take_. But the taking won't be easy. I can promise you that. Now, if you take that bet, and I lose, I'll... cooperate." She smiled, almost leered herself, and her voice went low and breathy. "And it'll just be, oh, so much more _fun_, if I _cooperate_."

By now, someone had freed Piety, and she was kneeling down beside Hanna, trying to comfort the girl as best she could, though her wrists were still tied. Even so, she heard Jessie's challenge and Jessie's offer. "I knew it," she spat. "For all your fine words, you're just a whore after all."

"Shut up," Jessie snapped back at her. This was the best, the only, thing she could think of that might give the three of them a chance, and this self-righteous old biddy was making her wonder why she was bothering to do it.

The leader watched the exchange between the two women. There was a fire in the younger one. Perhaps he wouldn't sell her -- at least, not right away. "Very well," he said. "Who am I to go against Commanchero tradition and refuse such a request. You will fight Felippe."

"And if I win?" Jessie wanted him to say the words.

"If you win, you will take his place in my band, and..." He looked hard at Felippe. "...and he will become my manservant."

"But if _I_ win," Felippe added, a menacing tone in his voice, "I will _take_ you. And you, little one, will _cooperate_, no?" He leered as he said it, happy to have the first chance at the gringo señorita.

Jessie looked at him closely. He was short and thin, but wiry. He'd had no trouble lifting her of that horse. Strong, yes, but he had a temper, too. He'd have attacked her if Manolo hadn't stopped him. If he won, he'd get his pride back. And she'd have to have... she didn't even want to think about doing _that_ with him. She nodded in answer. This would work. It _had_ to. "Yes, I'll cooperate... _if_ you win."

"Jorge, tie them together," the leader said, "and get them knives." Jorge was a tall, copper-skinned man. He had no mustache or beard and wore his hair, like his Indian ancestors, straight down to his shoulders. He unbound Jessie's wrist, then retied one end of the rope firmly around her left wrist. He fastened the other end around Felippe's left wrist, leaving about ten feet of rope between the pair.

"This don't seem fair," Jessie said. "Him being bigger n'me."

The leader smiled, a cat playing with a mouse. "Little one, I agreed to the challenge, but when did I say that it would be a _fair_ fight?"

Someone handed Jessie a knife, a mean-looking toad sticker with a four-inch blade. She touched the edge; it was razor sharp. Felippe, she saw, had a similar knife. 'At least he took off his gun belt,' she thought.

The leader raised his right arm. "Remember, this is _not_ a fight to the death." He looked straight at Jessie. "Either of you can surrender at _any_ time by just saying the word."

"Surrender now, little one," Felippe said. "Why waste time when we can go on, right now, to the... cooperating." He laughed. "We already know who is going to win this."

"That's right," Jessie said, "and it ain't gonna be you, so let's get on with it." Her only chance was to make him mad. As long as he attacked, she could defend herself.

"Very well, then," the leader said. "It begins..." he took a breath, a long breath. "Now!" He shouted the word and quickly lowered his arm.

Jessie grabbed a loop of the rope and quickly cut though it with the knife. As she let the ends drop, she felt a hard tug on one of them. Felippe had tried to pull her to him, just as she guessed he would.

"She cut the rope," someone yelled. "She cannot do that."

Jessie grinned. "I never promised a fair fight neither." She braced herself, her feet slightly apart, and made a "come n'get me" gesture with her hands. "Okay, Felippe. Let's see if you got the sand t'beat me."

Felippe charged her, knife held high.

Jessie waited. She looked as if she was going to grab for his arm. At the last second, she dodged to the left. He missed, but she caught him hard in the back with her fists as he ran by. He stumbled in surprise from the force of her blow and almost fell.

He regained his balance and circled her slowly, looking for an opening. He found one and charged again. Jessie tried to dodge, but he was ready. An arm shot around her waist and pulled her along with him.

She squirmed, trying to break free as he stopped. He raised the knife. "Now do you surrender, little one?"

"In a pig's eye," she yelled. She turned and jabbed her elbow hard into his stomach. He grunted in pain and threw her to the ground.

Jessie rose slowly to her hands and knees. She was tiring from the heat, panting for breath. She looked up, waiting for his next attack, so she could do something. "Damn potion," she muttered under her breath.

Felippe walked towards her, knife held high. She could react to that. She did by throwing a handful of sand into his eyes.

Felippe roared and began trying to wipe the sand away with his arm. He staggered towards her, though, swinging the knife wildly.

Jessie's leg shot out and kicked him in the kneecap. With a cry and a stumble, he fell face first to the ground. When he hit, the knife shot out of his hand, landing several feet away and out of his reach.

Jessie jumped onto him and pressed the point of her knife between a couple of his ribs. Then she just sat there, putting all her weight on the small of his back. "Get off me," he growled and tensed for a sudden move.

"You just stay right there, Felippe," Jessie said. You try t'roll over, and I just may have t'stick you."

"You... you would not kill me."

Jessie heard real fear in his voice.

"Oh, nothing like that," Jessie said, spitting grit and the ends of her own disarryed hair out of her mouth. "But I just might cut off something so you wouldn't be up to... _cooperating_ no more." She waited to let her words sink in. "So, Felippe, do you feel... lucky?"

"No... no! I-I surrender."

"I thought you would." Jessie tossed the knife over towards Jorge and stood up, breathing in short, hard gasps. She felt every eye in the camp was on her and looked straight at the leader, trying to guess his reaction to her victory.

The man was sitting on a high rock under the shade of a mesquite, as if on a throne. He smiled at her and shrugged. "It seems that I have a new member in my band of Commancheros." He paused a moment. "And a new manservant, too."

There was a scream, Hanna's scream. "Look out! Behind you!"

Jessie turned. Felippe was on his feet and running toward her, his knife blade pointed directly at her stomach.

"Bitch!" he yelled. "Now we --"

Bamm! A shot range out.

Felippe staggered back a step. He looked down at a dark red stain growing on his shirt just about where his heart was. "Bitch," he repeated and, with a terribly sad look on his face, he crumpled to the ground.

Jessie didn't bother to check him. Felippe was already close enough to hell to smell the smoke. Instead, she turned instead and looked at the bandit leader. His pistol was still smoking in his hand. "There are rules on how we Commancheros treat one another, Felippe," he said to the dead man. "I wish that you had remembered them." He holstered his weapon and regarded the dirty-faced, wild-haired girl. "I am sorry that you had such a poor welcome to my band, señorita." He spoke the word respectfully.

"I'm just thankful that you decided t'help me and not him," Jessie said.

"I had no choice," the leader said. "You won."

"That's probably the only 'fair' thing about that there fight."

The man laughed. "You are probably right." He stood up and extended his right hand towards Jessie. "I am Manolo Ortega."

"Jessie Hanks." She took Manolo's hand and shook it firmly. There was no point lying about her name.

"And now, Jessie Hanks. You will need a weapon of your own. Jorge, bring over Felippe's gun belt."

The other man brought over the gun belt. The holster held a Colt Dragoon. It was an old pistol, not a top of the line Rimfire, but it was a lot better than the mule-kicking, old pistol Jessie had taken from Toby.

Jessie buckled the belt around her hip. Felippe had been a thin man, but even so, she might have to carve a new notch to keep the thing from slipping down too far on her hips. She did manage to buckle it low, so it rode on her hips, the Colt in easy reach.

Manolo raised an eyebrow. "Do you know how to use such a weapon, Jessie Hanks?"

Jessie drew the Colt in a quick, fluid motion. She put three shots into a nearby cactus. They were grouped in a small triangle about where a man's heart would be. She spun the pistol twice around her finger before settling it smoothly back into the holster. "I've had a little experience."

Manolo smiled, his eyes wide. Several of the other men were pointing at Jessie or at the bullet holes on the cactus. "I am sure," Manolo said wryly, "that you will get the hang of it with some practice."

Jessie looked around. Most of the men were smiling. They were getting ready for supper and making camp for the night. No one seemed too concerned about Felippe's body getting cold there on the ground. Piety was frowning and holding Hanna so that the girl couldn't look in Jessie's direction.

No one had expected Felippe to pull that fool stunt and charge her. Jessie realized that if Hanna hadn't yelled, alterting both her and Manolo,_she'd_ be the one lying in the dirt. Manolo still might have shot Felippe for showing such disrespect, but then again, it would have hardly mattered if she were dead herself.

* * * * *

The men went back to setting up camp for the night. Manolo ordered the Tyler women to cook supper for his men. When they refused, he said that it was the only way the women would get any food.

Jessie walked over to where Hanna sat, peeling potatoes. "I wanted t'thank you," she said.

Hanna looked up at her. "What for?"

"You might've just saved my life when you yelled."

The girl seemed surprised. "I... Momma doesn't like you, but I... I couldn't let that... that man..." She started to sniffle, her hand shaking so much that she dropped the peeler.

Jessie sat down next to her and handed back the peeler. "It's all right... Hanna, isn't that your name?"

"Y-yes, ma'am. It-it is." I just never seen a man die before." Hanna's eyes were full of tears. She bit her lip to keep from bawling.

"It's something you learn to get used to -- if you have to." Then she took another look at the girl, almost still a child. "But a nice, little gal like you shouldn't ever have to get use to things like that. For now, you got no need t'be thinking about it no more. Just think of him like a rattler that your dad shot."

She reached down, not knowing what else to do, and gently stroked the trembling girl's hair. I just came over t'say 'thanks' and t'see how you and your ma are getting on."

Hanna took a deep breath. She still looked ready to rabbit, to jump up and run away in fear. "We... we're okay, I-I guess. The men got us fixing their dinner. Momma's fit to be tied 'cause it's our _food_, what we was fixing for lunch, for Gil... and Pa and all the others that are helping him bring in the wheat harvest. They brought it along when they... when they t-took us prisoner."

Jessie smiled, glad that the subject had changed. This "Gil" must be somebody special to Hanna. Was she really old enough to have a beau, Jessie wondered. "Where is your momma anyways?"

"I am right here, Miss Hanks, and I'll ask you to leave my daughter alone." Hanna sat up, moving away from Jessie at the sound of her mother's voice.

"I just came over t'see how she was and to thank her for her help before. You don't have to get all riled about it."

Piety frowned. "Whatever I may think of you, his attacking from behind like that was the act of a coward."

"Yes'm, and thanks to Hanna here, he didn't bring it off like he wanted."

"Well, you've said your thanks. Now you can go back and... _cooperate_ with your friends, while we slave here to fix dinner."

Jessie sighed. This crabapple wasn't going to cut her any slack. She didn't want to go back over to Manolo and the other men because they might suggest she do just that. "If it's all the same to you, Miz Tyler. I'd just as soon stay here and help you and Hanna with the supper."

"Am I to suppose that you know how to cook?" Piety asked. "Cook well, I mean."

Jessie let the insult stand. She wanted to stay with these two and keep an eye on them. "Well, now, Miz Tyler, the last place I... lived, I used to help out a... friend of mine at the restaurant where she worked. She was the cook, and she taught me a couple things about it."

"We'll just start you with something you know." Piety took the peeler from Hanna and handed it to Jessie. "After the way you handled that knife, let's see if you can use one of these." She took Hanna by the hand and pulled the girl to her feet. "Come, child. While Miss Hanks is struggling to peel the potatoes, we'll see how the meat and stew vegetables are doing."

Piety started to walk back towards the cook fire. Hanna mouthed a "Thank _you_" to Jessie and hurried after her mother.

* * * * *

Jessie sat on the ground near the cook fire, finishing her supper. 'Second night out,' she thought, 'and them Mex is starting to give the Tyler women the hungry eye. Manolo says leave 'em be, they'll be worth more wherever we're heading, but I ain't sure he can make it stick.'

Her train of thought was broken by the yells of a man running through the camp.

"Jefe, Jefe, look what I have found!" One of the Commancheros, a man lean as a grasshopper, came running in to where the other men were still eating supper. He was carrying a wooden box that Jessie recognized as part of the loot from the Tylers'.

"So what have you found, Luis?" Manolo asked. "And why were you looking?"

"Jefe, I-I was curious, that is all. So many things we have taken, I just wanted to look. I looked and I found..." he reached into the box and pulled out a bottle. "...this... this rum!" There was triumph in his voice.

"Rum." Manolo stood up. "Bring it here." The man, Luis, quickly walked over and handed the box and the bottle to his leader. Manolo held the box under one arm, while he examined the bottle. "Very good, Luis. It is rum, fine rum, and I am glad to see that none of the bottles have been opened."

"Jefe... you-you do not think that I would..." He let the words fade.

Manolo put his arm on the other man's shoulder. "Of course, not, Luis. You are a good man."

"You put that back! Put it back right now!" Piety Tyler had just come with a pot of coffee for the men. She wasn't happy serving the bandits, but Manolo had made it very clear the first night that the only way she -- and Hanna -- would get to eat, was if they cooked and served the meal to his men first. One of his men watched, just to make sure that nothing _odd_ went into those meals, but it drove home the point that the pair were at the mercy of their captors.

But this was the last straw. "My father didn't sent that to me last Christmas, all the way from Massachusetts, for it to be drunk by the likes of you."

Jessie was sitting on the ground only a few feet from where Piety stood. "Shut up, woman," she hissed. "You're only making it worse." Piety looked daggers at Jessie ignored her warning.

Manolo laughed. "It would seem, señora, that your father did just that." He put down the box and used his knife to pull the cork from the bottle. Then he took a long swig of the amber liquor. "Marvelous!" he yelled, wiping his lips. "Luis, you have found a treasure. And here is your reward." He handed Luis the bottle. "Drink! Drink! You deserve it."

Luis nervously took a drink and handed the bottle back to Manolo. From the smile on his face, Jessie could see that he would have liked to take more. 'That man's got the look of a whupped dog about him,' Jessie thought.

Manolo turned towards Piety. "Señora, since you are so worried about this rum, perhaps you will join us in the drinking of it?" He laughed.

"I'd rather die... and I hope that you do." Piety scowled and walked away, her back ramrod stiff.

Manolo laughed. "At least, leave the coffee, señora. Then you and your daughter may eat."

Jorge stepped in front of Piety. "What do you want, you heathen?" she asked, furious at being stopped. Jorge looked down at the coffeepot in her hand. Piety followed his eyes. "Here, take it," she spat and pushed it into his hand. "And I hope you all choke on it." Jorge nodded and stepped out of her way. The men laughed as she stormed back to the cook fire where Hanna sat waiting. Jessie just shook her head.

Jorge put the pot down on a flat rock near Manolo. No one seemed interested in coffee, though. Most were hurriedly finishing what they already had to make room in their cups for a share of the rum. They lined up in front of Manolo, who cheerfully filled each man's cup.

As he filled the last -- and took another swig himself, Manolo looked at Jessie. "And you, Carida, will you not join your Commanchero brothers in enjoying this fine rum?" When Jessie hesitated, he added. "You tell us that you can ride and shoot and fight like a man. Can it be that you can only drink like a _woman_?"

Jessie frowned, walked over, and took the bottle from him. There was about enough left to fill her tin cup. It looked pretty good. The problem was that Jessie hadn't had a real drink since she changed. Her old self wouldn't have had much trouble with that much alcohol, but her new body? As she recalled, Sarah Fuller wasn't all that good at holding her liquor. That, she remembered with a smile, was one of the things Jesse Hanks had liked about her. Now that she was Sarah's twin, she probably couldn't handle the rum any better than Sarah could. It wasn't an idea she wanted to test.

"I'll take mine straight, thank you," she said. She lifted the bottle and drank a small bit. She kept hold of the bottle and pretended to finish it off. "That's about the best I've had in a long time," she said, wiping her mouth. She tossed the bottle high into the air, and, in one quick motion, drew her Colt and fired. The bottle exploded in mid air. There was no way anyone could have told how much was left. And how little she'd actually drunk.

"Bueno, bueno," Manolo said with a laugh. "You _can_ drink like a man."

"Glad we got that settled," She said. "Now, if you'll excuse me." She turned and started to walk away. She could feel the warmth of the rum in her stomach, and it worried her.

"Carida, wait," Manolo called after her. "There is still much more to drink."

"Why don't you and your men finish it, then," she said. "I figure that I had my share."

"Sit here with me, then, while I have some more." Manolo sat down on a rock, patting the space next to him.

Jessie forced a smile. "No, with a drink that good, a man don't need no distractions. You and the others enjoy it. I'm going over to talk to the women. Maybe they's other liquor hid in all that stuff of theirs." Jessie picked up the coffee pot and walked away slowly, trying not to look nervous. 'That trick of shooting the bottle won't work twice,' she thought.

"Come to gloat?" Piety asked by way of greeting. "Your friends are drinking all of my father's rum."

"And you're going to let them do it," Jessie said firmly. "The last thing you want to do is take a man's drink away -- even if it _is_ really yours. A few bottles is worth the price of them leaving you two alone tonight." She poured herself a cup of coffee and bolted it down to dilute the rum in her stomach.

"I-I suppose." Piety looked cross. "I hate to say it, but there may be some truth -- just a little, mind you -- but some in what you say."

"Damn straight," Jessie said, satisfied in the small victory.

* * * * *

Later that evening, Eduardo, a lean, muscular man, walked a bit unsteadily over to where Manolo was sitting. "Jefe, it is getting late, and you have not yet said who was to keep the watch tonight."

Manolo stared a moment, as if trying to remember the man's name. "Eduardo, my good, good, good friend, why are you so nervous? We are only... only a two-hour ride from Mexico. N-No one knows where... where we are, do they?" The other man smiled and shook his head freely. "Then," Manolo added, "why do we even _need_ to post a guard?"

* * * * *

Something woke Jessie. It was still night. From the position of the stars, she guessed that it was, maybe, 3 AM. She looked around to see what had awakened her. The moon was almost full, bright enough to cast shadows, and she could see clearly. No one was walking around, at least not that she could see. "A little rum and they get sloppy," she whispered to herself. "No look-outs."

She sat up and looked about fifteen feet away to where the Tylers had bedded down. "At least, they didn't try anything with the women." Miz Tyler, Piety, had reluctantly agreed to let her sleep near them instead of over by Manolo and his men. Piety thought she was doing Jessie an act of "Christian Charity", not realizing that, to repay Hanna, Jessie had taken on the role of bodyguard for the Tyler women.

Their blankets were still there. The two women weren't in them.

"Shit," Jessie swore in a whisper. She ran over to where the women had been, crouching low. The last thing she wanted was for anyone else to see her. There was no sign of either of them. Their shoes were missing, too. "Damn fool gals must've made a break for it. There'll be no stopping the Commancheros when they catch up with them."

The thought of what they might do to Piety didn't bother Jessie too much, but they'd do the same to Hanna. Hanna had saved her life. She remembered the scared child who'd grabbed her so tightly that first afternoon. "Can't let that happen to her," she whispered. "Damn, I'll have to find 'em and bring them both back before Manolo and the rest knows they're gone."

Still crouching, she ran back to her own bedroll. She put on her boots, checking them first, in case anything had crawled inside, then grabbed her gunbelt and pistol. Without wasting the time to put the belt on, she circled around to where the horses were. One of the packhorses was gone. They were riding double, good. That would slow them down and give her a chance. She found and untied Useless further down the picket line. He whinnied softly. She put her hand on his muzzle to quiet him and began to lead him away from the rest.

When they were far enough from the camp, Jessie buckled on the gunbelt and checked the Colt. It was loaded. She climbed on the back of the horse and galloped off to the north.

She just hoped that Piety knew how to read directions from the night sky.

* * * * *

"Mama, mama, somebody's coming."

Piety Tyler glanced back over her shoulder. Hanna was sitting behind her on the packsaddle, her arms tight around her mother's waist. Sure enough, a rider was riding up fast from the direction of the camp. For the first time, Piety wondered if this escape was a good idea.

The rider was closing. "Move, horse," she muttered softly, trying to keep the fear out of her voice. "For the love of G-d, _please_, move."

"There's only one of them," Hanna whispered, "but he's still getting closer." She paused a half-beat. "Mama, I'm... I'm scared."

"It will be all right." Piety tried to sound confident. "They don't intend to harm us. The only thing that will happen is that we'll still be their prisoners when your... when your father finds us." To herself, she added, '_if_ he can find us. Please, Ephrem, please hurry.'

The rider was close now. There were no shouts, no threats. 'Maybe, just maybe, he wasn't one of them,' Piety thought.

"Miz Tyler, stop! Stop right now!" It was that horrid Hanks woman. Piety kept riding.

Jessie brought her horse up next to the one the Tylers were on. She reached out quickly and grabbed the reins away from Piety. "Whoa," she yelled, tugging at the reins. Hanna squeezed Piety's waist even tighter. The horse slowed, and Jessie slowed hers as well.

"Well, Miss Hanks," Piety said, when the horses had stopped, "have you seen the error of your ways and decided to run away with us? Frankly, I thought you were quite happy with those men. That was why I didn't invite you along when we escaped their camp."

"If you had, I'd have asked you what I'm asking now, are you out of your mind, you fool woman?"

"I beg your pardon."

"Do you honestly think that the pair of you can get away from Manolo and his men, especially riding two to a horse?

"Why I --"

"You ain't thought it out, have you? If they don't know that you're... that we're -- damn it -- we're gone by now, they will pretty soon. And they'll come after us like bees out of a hive, just as fast and twice as mean."

"But what can they do -- except capture us again? They don't want to harm us. I thought that it was worth the risk."

No, you didn't, Miz Tyler. You didn't think at all. They ain't done anything to you 'cause they're planning to sell you, and they get a better price for undamaged goods."

"Yes, there, you see, 'undamaged.' They won't hurt us."

"To their mind, they won't be hurting you; they'll just be breaking you in for you new owners, teaching you not to run away."

"Breaking -- breaking us in? You don't -- you can't mean --"

"I can, and I do. When they get done, you and your daughter won't be so -- so pure no more."

"Mama, is -- is that t-true?" There was fear, deep and cold, in Hanna's voice.

"No, no, dear," Piety said. "She's just trying to -- trying to scare us into going back to her _friends_."

Jessie sighed. If there was any way, any chance, she could get away safe with Hanna and leave her mother to the fate she deserved, Jessie would have taken it, taken it gladly. But there wasn't.

"If my words don't scare you, maybe this will." She drew the Colt and pointed it at Piety. "Now turn around and head back."

"I knew you were a common -- woman," Piety sneered, but I never thought that even you would sink so --"

"Just turn around and head back." She said it as firmly as possible, knowing that she couldn't physically force the woman because of Shamus' potion.

"Mama, we'd better do what she says." Hanna was confused. She'd begun to trust Jessie, and now -- this.

"Damn straight," Jessie said. "I don't think I can sneak us all back into camp, but if I bring you back, I may, I just may, be able t'talk them out of doing anything to you."

"Yes, I can see that you're doing this for our own good." Piety's voice would have made ice.

"Mama, I -- I think she is -- maybe." Hanna sounded uncertain, but it was better than nothing.

"I don't care what you think, Miz Tyler. I just care that you start riding." She paused for emphasis. "Now!"

Piety said a few words that Hanna wasn't supposed to know and turned their horse back towards the Commanchero camp.

* * * * *

The women were about halfway back to camp when they saw the horsemen ahead of them. Jessie had been riding alongside Piety. "We better stop, Miz Tyler." She waited until Piety had reined a halt, then, and only then, did she stop her own horse. "I know this'll be hard, Miz Tyler, but shut up and let me do the talking." She flicked the reins and rode in front of the other horse.

She took a breath and stopped. She was between the Commancheros and the two women. It wasn't a place that she'd have chosen to be.

Manolo raised a hand, and the horsemen stopped. He rode forward alone until he was just a few feet from Jessie. "I see you brought them back. This is good."

"I thought you'd like it." She studied him closely. A lot depended on how well she could read this man. And how well he could read her. 'Wish I'd spent more time with Bridget learning a good poker face,' she thought.

"Si, you saved us the trouble of having to catch them. Now they are back, and we can punish them."

"I brought them back so you _wouldn't_ punish them."

Manolo laughed. "Not punish them. You are joking, no?"

"No, I ain't joking."

"THEY MUST BE PUNISHED!" Manolo growled. "How else can we teach them to respect us if we do not?"

"Just what did you have in mind for their punishment?"

"My men -- the young one is very pretty. Her mother..." he shrugged, "...for a woman of her age, she is not so bad either. You, of course --"

"Are not part of the deal." Jessie drew her Colt and aimed it straight at Manolo. "Unless --"

"There is an 'unless' where you _are_ part of the deal?" He sounded interested.

Jessie had spent most of her time in the saddle this night trying to come up with a way to keep the Tylers -- keep Hanna anyway -- from whatever the Commancheros had in mind. 'Out of the frying pan --" she thought, "but it's the only damned way."

She nodded. "There is. You say you're interested, and I put this pistol down. No tricks, though. You saw what I can do with it."

Manolo nodded. "No tricks, and I am _very_ interested."

Jessie lowered the Colt but didn't holster it. 'Yeah,' she thought. 'I can do spit with it. Your men could lead these two off, throw 'em to the ground, and have their way with them right in front of me. Thanks to Shamus' damned potion, I couldn't do nothing more'n put a bullet near them unless they attacked me.'

Well, she surely wasn't about to tell him _that_. "Here's the deal. You got them back. Being your prisoners and having to know what you got planned for 'em is punishment enough. If it ain't, knowing how easy they just got recaptured oughta be."

"Perhaps --"

"I say it is. In fact, I'll stand up for them. You turn them over t'me to watch. If they escape again, you can catch 'em same as I did this time. Then you can do whatever you want to them -- and t'me."

"To you?"

"Yep." It was bad enough she had to say this. She had to say it like she liked the idea. But the alternative was sitting on a rock and listening to Hanna find out what being a woman was _really_ about. No, she had to go through with it. "I take the risk; I take the punishment. And I'm sure you and your men can be real _creative_ about that."

Manolo laughed. "That is the best offer I have ever heard." He spat in his hand and leaned forward to offer it to Jessie. "Done!"

Jessie spat in her own hand and shook his. "Done!"

"Then let us get back to camp. There is still time for some sleep before dawn." He turned and rode back to his men.

Manolo must have explained Jessie's offer to them because she could hear their ribald laughter.

"All right, Miz Tyler, back to camp."

"That was the most vile, disgusting thing I ever heard," Piety said. "Bargaining for us like that. Offering those men your -- your body." With that, she started back to camp, too. She didn't say another word the rest of the way, but she didn't let Jessie get any closer to her and Hanna than she had to, either.

Jessie shook her head. "And I'm trying to save that woman?"

* * * * *

  

  

  

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