Blood Riders by Michael P. Spradlin

his chin. It was stained and dirty and Shaniah did not want to think about what might have landed in it. The other two men were shorter, and just as ugly and disgusting as the first. One of them, his face lined with scars, wore cavalry pants and a ridiculous-looking top hat. He held a large rifle, which she thought might have been a Sharps carbine, and the other one, his hair greasy and matted to his head, held a lantern, which cast a flickering shadow on the wooden walls of the surrounding buildings. The man holding Demeter’s reins had two Colt pistols with handles out, belted around his waist.
    This was trouble.
    “Well, lookee here,” the tall man said, his tongue pushing through the space of his missing teeth, giving a lisping quality to his words.
    Shaniah was dressed completely in black; a long leather duster, riding boots, and woolen pants. She had bound up her shoulder-length blond hair, hiding it beneath her black Stetson, but up this close it was easily apparent that she was a woman. And she carried no weapon except a dagger hidden in her boot.
    Shaniah studied the men and for several seconds said nothing. It was quiet as the looters waited to see if she might try to run.
    “That happens to be my horse,” she said. During her years in America she had practiced her English and her words came out only slightly accented. One of the men standing behind Demeter laughed and shifted his rifle, holding it at port arms.
    “Is that so?” The tall man lisped. “Me and Beaver and Jonesy here was just riding along and we seen this fine stallion and thought he might have gotten lost. Where you from, honey?” he asked, as the two men chuckled behind him.
    She didn’t see their horses anywhere, but they could have left them outside the camp. They were most likely scavengers, here to raid the town of whatever supplies remained.
    She ignored his question. “Yes. The horse belongs to me, and I’ll be taking him now,” she said, stepping forward slowly. She needed to be at just the right distance.
    “Well, we’ll see about that. You got some proof on you? Somethin’ shows you didn’t steal him? Awful big horse for a little bitty thing like you. Seems kinda strange, woman like you up here all alone on a fine animal like this.”
    “He belongs to me, and I would be most grateful if you handed him over. Before this situation worsens.”
    The scavengers behind the toothless man broke into uproarious laughter.
    Toothless Man reached out and grabbed Shaniah by the wrist.
    “Maybe we’ll just have us a little party fore’n we decide who the damn horse belongs to.”
    Shaniah whistled loud and shrilly through her teeth and Demeter instantly kicked out with his back legs. The man holding the lantern screamed as the hooves connected with his midsection. The kick broke the lantern and the coal oil splattered on his clothes and caught fire. He dropped his rifle and batted at the flames consuming him.
    Shaniah moved with speed and precision, catching the toothless man completely by surprise. She twisted her arm and broke the man’s grip, and turning sideways, drove her elbow into his throat. The man gasped as his larynx was crushed and he clutched at his neck, unable to breathe.
    The third man looked at his burning friend, then at Shaniah, and raised his rifle to shoot, but she shielded herself with the toothless man, who was now drawing his last breath. She lifted her leg, pulling the dagger from her boot, and in one fluid motion threw it, watching as it landed squarely in her remaining tormenter’s chest.
    She released her grip on the toothless man and he slumped to the ground. He couldn’t breathe, but with one hand he tried to draw a pistol. Shaniah stepped on his hand and held her boot solidly there until he breathed no more. With him dead, she turned her attention to the last man, who had rolled about in the dust and finally extinguished the flames. He had dropped his weapon when Demeter kicked him and as she started