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The carriage slowed before coming to a complete stop. Her traveling companions were still screaming, the conversation of those outside lost in the screeching sound.
Movement on top of the carriage caught her attention. The screech of trunks being pulled across the roof heard before Alex saw one fall past the window. The baggage secured to the top was being unloaded and judging the angry voices of the bandits holding them up, it wasn’t being done fast enough.
She glanced at her bedroll. She had nothing of value with her but she grabbed it anyway. The belt she had it tied with was loose enough to get her arm through if she had to make a run for it. She looked toward the opposite door, straining her neck to see if anyone was on that side.
The stagecoach driver moved slower than the three men pointing their guns at him liked. They voiced their displeasure in the fact, one going so far as to fire a single shot at the man to get him to move faster.
The driver yelled, the fear in his voice evident as he told them to stop shooting while he tossed the bags and trunks off in rapid succession.
Alex studied the bandits. She’d seen her fair share of outlaws in her twenty-three years of life and these men reminded her of those wayward saddle bums her uncle Morgan was always hauling into his jail. If she had to guess, she’d say these three didn’t know the first thing about armed robbery. They were too twitchy, their horses dancing in agitation. They were looking in every direction, their eyes wide, breathing labored if the rise and fall of their chests were any indication. They were scared. And scared men with guns did stupid things. Given enough time, these three could cause a whole lot of trouble.
Sitting back, she glanced over at the other passengers still huddled on the floor. The stagecoach was cramped, hot, and loud, but they hadn’t traveled far from town. Maybe someone had heard the gunfire. She wasn’t going to hold her breath, though. Even if there were homesteads scattered along the valley like there were in Willow Creek, waiting for a rescue party to come find them would be the death of them all.
If they were going to get out of this, they’d have to get out of it themselves.
A quick look at those on the floor showed they still weren’t paying her much attention. Reaching down, she pulled up her pant leg and reached into the top of her boot. The hardened steel hidden there came out easily and Alex kept an eye on those next to her as she pulled the Derringer up her leg.
Turning, she leaned up again and peeked back out the window. The three bandits were still there, still looking nervously around the prairie and arguing about who would be the one to check the contents of everyone’s bags.
They needed a distraction, something to spook them worse than they already were and the single shot in her gun would do that. She leveled the barrel with the window, aimed for just beyond their horse’s feet and pulled the trigger.
The shot was loud inside the stagecoach, those passengers on the floor screaming again as if she’d shot at them instead of aiming for the dirt. One of the outlaws yelled, the fellow on the far right lifting his pistol as if to shoot whoever shot at them, and Alex ducked in case he sent that bullet her way.
The yelling became frantic, the commotion outside doubling and within minutes, the three men were cursing at each other, their voices getting louder by the second.
Gunfire erupted, a startled scream causing her to take another peek. The three bandits were still there, one of them a good distance away now, making a run for it if she had to guess. None of them were looking at the stagecoach however, their attention was turned toward the far hill. A rider was headed straight for them, his gun still poised as if he were ready to fire again.
The hope of being rescued caused a small flutter in her stomach. Could they be so lucky after all?
The new addition sat his horse proudly, his shoulders wide. The sun glinted off something on his chest as he rode closer and when she could see him clearly, the small sliver of hope they were being rescued died. The bandana hiding the newcomers face marked him as a bandit, not a hero.
He joined the others and started barking off orders, telling the two closest to the stagecoach to start checking the baggage. When he jumped from his horse, Alex knew this guy was the one in charge.
If possible, he looked even larger up close. His brown shirt was snug and gave a glimpse of toned muscles moving underneath the fabric. His hair was blond and long, even for a man, and his hat sat low over his eyes.
He approached the stagecoach, his steps slow and predatory, his gaze like hardened steel as he opened the door of the coach and looked inside. “Afternoon ladies.” He eyed them each in turn. “Which one of you thinks she’s Annie Oakley?”
Alex didn’t move. The simple act of breathing seemed impossible at the moment and the three still huddled at her feet were staring at the man with wide eyes. As if they’d arranged it before hand, they looked over at her and pointed an accusing finger in unison.
The outlaw turned cold blue eyes her way, the bandana covering most of his face making it impossible to identify him later. He reached out a hand in her direction. “Hand me the gun.”
If there was one thing she knew from all the confrontations she’d seen in her life, it was to never give up your gun. Chances were, these men were going to kill them at the first opportunity and she’d be damned if she died willingly. All she needed was a few minutes to reload and…
“Now!”
That simple little word was filled with so much heat, the hair on the back of her neck stood up straight. She stared him in the eye and lifted her chin a notch. “No.”
He raised one eyebrow, then leaned his head to the side, staring at her for long moments before small wrinkles appeared beside his eyes. If she had to guess, she’d say he was smiling at her. “Not a wise choice.” He lifted his hand, the shiny barrel of his revolver inches from her nose. Pulling the hammer back, the clicking noise the cylinder made when it rolled seemed to echo inside her head.
She gritted her teeth and stared at him, fire licking inside her veins as she imagined snatching his gun away and turning it on him instead.
She’d been told by more than one person in her life that she was hot-headed and leaned toward this side of stupid on occasion and as hard as it was to admit, she knew they were right. She also knew today wasn’t the day to prove she could take care of herself.
Gritting her teeth, she handed him her gun. He pocketed it and tipped his hat to her. “Obliged.” He looked toward the others and pointed his gun their way. “Now, if you ladies would be so kind as to hand over your valuables, I’ll get you back on your way to wherever it was you were headed.”
The other three rushed to do as he said, sniffling and murmuring to themselves as they emptied their reticules and removed rings and brooches. Alex didn’t move. When he’d collected what possessions the others had he turned back to face her. “You’re not going to be difficult again, are you?”
“No. I don’t have anything of value.”
