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“But honey, I jest told you, we like it here.” Harry laughed again. “Besides,” He pointed the gun at her ribs. “We’re callin’ the shots now. It’s too bad you didn’t die already…‘cause I hate messin’ the place up again after you got it cleaned up.”
“The Sheriff in Dallas is after you, Harry.”
“Yeah…we done run into him once, but we got away, me and Jarvis. Now what for is he chasin’ us?” Harry moved the barrel of the gun to her head.
“The stagecoach robbery…” She sighed heavily.
“The stagecoach robbery? Well now, how would he…or you for that matter know about that?” Harry laughed.
“I was there, Harry…I recognized your spurs…” She stood her ground.
“You were there? But there was only one lady there… and it weren’t you,” Harry spouted.
“Don’t matter, I was there,” she repeated.
Harry looked puzzled then he lowered his gun.
“Ain’t we gonna do her in?” Jarvis asked, his yellow teeth bearing in a sarcastic grin.
“In due time, Jarvis. Don’t be in such a rush. First, we’ll get her to fix us some vitals, then we’ll do her in.” Harry pushed her with the gun barrel. “Go on, rustle us up some grub, Riley.”
“Fix it yourself!” she yelled.
“Unless you want me to blow your head off now, fix us some grub…” Harry ordered, as he cocked the gun.
Riley finally relented and went into the kitchen. She considered getting a knife after them, but was sure she’d only get one of them before they got her. Maybe a pot of hot water would help. She went out back to the well and drew some water, then began heating it on the old stove. She stocked the wood so she didn’t have to chop wood to fix their meal, but she wished she could stall longer.
She peeled some potatoes and stirred the beans she put on that morning to c
ook. Then she got out a skillet to make some cornbread.
Both of them came into the kitchen to watch her every move. Getting to the knife now was impossible.
Friend came inside to sniff them out and began growling and snarling at them.
“Call ‘em off,” Harry demanded.
Riley called Friend down and waited for a better time.
Friend whined and sat beside her at the stove, all the while snarling at the two men.
“You cut your hair, Riley, it don’t become you.” Harry laughed. “No, I liked you better when it was long enough to curl my fingers into it. ‘Course, you wouldn’t let me do that back then, would ya?”
“No…”
“I almost had your money ‘til that cousin showed up and mucked up the works. I know the old man hid some around here too, but I never did find it,” Harry snarled at her. “That’s how come we held up the stage, we gotta pay taxes on this place or we won’t have it long. Want to tell me where it’s hidden? I might reconsider and not put a bullet in you, if you did.”
Riley stiffened. She wanted to stall for time, but no one was coming to rescue her, so what good did it do? Harry was going to kill her and that would be that. Miss Tilda would come down those stairs at noon, she’d be dead, and the ranch would be full of outlaws.
She needed to act but she wasn’t sure what to do.
Without a plan in her head, she picked up the hot water and flung it, hitting Jarvis in the face and hands.
“God almighty,” Jarvis yelled and danced about the room trying to comfort himself. He headed for her first, then turned and holding his hands carefully he headed back to the table. “Where’s the damn butter? Shoot her Harry, shoot her now.”
Harry drew his gun and held it on her as Jarvis danced about in pain and agony.
“You want to die right now, Riley?” Harry asked, his face screwed up as though trying to figure out whether to help Jarvis or kill her.
