Strongheart by Don Bendell Page B

with a sickening sound, and he buckled to the ground like a totally limp rag doll.
    Harlance snapped, “Cullen, go through his pockets!”
    Jeeter walked up to Annabelle, and she stood tall and stuck out her chin defiantly. He reached up and jerked the necklace off her neck and stuck it in his pocket without looking at it. He then spotted her antique ring and grabbed her hand to remove it.
    Now she spoke up, tears in her eyes. “Sir, please if you have any decency at all. My husband died not long ago, and he gave me that for our wedding. It is all I have to remember him by.”
    Jeeter grinned and said, “Harlance, aim at her purty little leg. If’n she don’t gimme the ring right off, put a round in thet leg.”
    She made an angry face, pulled off the ring, and slammed it into his hand. Tears slowly rolled down her cheeks. Dyer emerged from the back of the coach carrying the strongbox. He grinned a half-toothless grin and set it down.
    Jeeter turned his attention to the driver and pointed Joshua’s pistol at him.
    â€œKey to the strongbox.”
    The driver just nervously shook his head no.
    Jeeter grinned. “Okay, I’ll put a bullet in you and then shoot the lock off.”
    Shaking, the driver reached into his vest pocket and pulled out a large key. He handed it to Jeeter, who unlocked the strongbox. There were a number of stacks of bills inside. Jeeter started counting stacks and dividing them, then handed a stack to each man. Next, they went through the luggage and got out all the valuables they could.
    Finally finished, they all mounted up except Long Legs, who walked over to Annabelle, grinning.
    Jeeter hollered, “Come on, Long Legs!”
    Westbrook said, “Boys, look how good she looks in thet dress. Wonder how she looks unner it.”
    Harlance said, “Boy, this is the West. You know we don’t treat women thet way.”
    Moss chimed in, “I’ll have no truck with such talk. I’m pulling out. Come on, boy.”
    He and his son galloped off up Copper Gulch Stage Road.
    â€œCome on, Long Legs!” Jeeter said.
    Long Legs was now motivated by lust.
    He yelled, “Go ahaid. Ah’ll catch up mebbe.”
    Long Legs turned back, and now the stage driver got brave. There were not that many women in the West, and even if only out of practicality, some outlaws turned rapist were even strung up or shot by their own gang members. Most men were respectful to women no matter what. The stage driver stepped in front of Annabelle.
    Longs Legs laughed, drew his pistol, and said, “Mister, I was gonna tie ya up, but ef ya wanna be a hero, ah’ll jest shoot ya.”
    The driver set his jaw and said, “That is the only way you’ll git ta this young lady, son. Over my dead body.”
    Long Legs stepped forward two steps and cocked the pistol, “Okay, ole-timer. Ya wanna play yer cards thet way, we’ll do it.”
    Annabelle stepped forward, saying, “Wait! I will cooperate, but you agree not to shoot anybody else.”
    He laughed, saying, “Sounds good to me.”
    â€œBut not to me!”
    Everybody turned and saw Joshua Strongheart standing over his own pool of blood, wearing Jeeter’s shed holster and belt and holding the man’s .44 in his right hand. It was pointed at Long Legs. Joshua’s face was completely covered in dried blood, and he was swaying, but there was no mistaking the clear look in his eyes.
    The bullet had sent a deep furrow down Joshua’s skull, and he now had a horrible headache to go with it. As he had been taught, he pushed all that out of his mind and steeled himself to the task at hand.
    He did not know, though, that Shaw and Dyer were riding back to help out Westbrook in case he got in trouble. They also thought about how beautiful the woman was and what easy prey she would be.
    Joshua stared into the eyes of Long Legs, and the tall man got very nervous. Joshua could see that