ierra Lane raised a hand to shield her eyes from the sun as she watched the two riders approach. A slight breeze ruffled a few stray locks of hair that had slipped from the bun she had pinned it up in earlier in the morning. Briefly, she considered calling out for her younger brother Caleb who was in the barn milking the cows. However, given Caleb's hot-headed nature that might prove to be more trouble than not.
Not that she was defenseless by any means. No one would guess that she had a .32 revolver tucked away in the pocket of her white apron that she wore over her gingham dress. Sierra was a big boned girl, standing near six feet tall. She was a handsome figure of a woman with a lush well-rounded figure. Pretty by any standard, she would never be a classic beauty, but a man could do much worse. Her face was fair enough to catch a man's eye.
Sierra radiated an inner strength and an inner beauty that emerged as one got to know her. Many a cowboy had sought to court her, but had been intimidated by her strength and size. Long ago she had vowed that she would give herself to no man who wasn't man enough to handle her. She had yet to meet him. From what she could see of the approaching riders, she still wouldn't be meeting him today either.
Without seeming to hurry she walked to the house and stepped up on the front porch and walked over to stand near the front door. Leaning inside the door was a sawed off 16-guage shotgun with twin barrels loaded with ball-bearings, nuts, bolts and whatever else was handy. She was a pretty fair hand with that shotgun as well as the .32 revolver.
Sierra turned to face the riders, her hand slipping under the apron and grasping the butt of the .32 in her dress pocket. The two riders entered the yard. They were rough, hard looking men. Unshaven and dust covered, their clothes patched and worn-looking, but their holsters gleamed and looked clean as well as the Colt pistols inside them. "Can I help you?" she looked at them, no sign of fear or back up in her.
"We're looking for a fella. We think he might of come this way," the dark-haired rider looked at her.
"You're the first riders through here since Paw left for town this morning," Sierra leaned back against the door. The shotgun was just inside within easy reach. She didn't like the cut of these two men. They sized up to her as outlaws, and as such, as far as she was concerned, had no rights.
"Your Paw back yet?" the second man asked, looking her over in a way that she didn't like.
"No but he will be soon enough," Caleb said from the entrance to the barn. Both men took note of the fact that his rifle was in his hands and was loosely aimed in their direction.
"Now don't you be getting antsy with that rifle boy," the first man backed his horse up a few steps.
"He's not your biggest worry," Sierra snatched the shotgun from inside the door and leveled it at the two men. The second one eyed the big double barrels of the sawed-off shotgun. Those bores looked damn near big enough to ride his horse into; pointed at him like that.
"I reckon not, Ma'am," the first rider was suddenly a lot more respectful. The second, younger rider, he just looked mad.
"I suspect that you two should just haul your ashes before Paw comes back. I'd surely hate to explain two fresh graves to him," Sierra spoke in a cool, matter-of-fact tone.
"I reckon you would at that. We'll stop by another day," the first man tipped his hat and backed his horse out of the yard then turned it and rode off. The younger man right behind him.
Caleb walked over to the house to join her. "Who were those men?"
"Don't know, but I suspect that they will be trouble," Sierra watched until they were out of sight.
"I reckon you're right sis. You need to come out to the barn," Caleb sighed.
"Why?" she looked at her younger brother.
"You'll see soon enough," he turned and headed for the barn at a trot. Heaving a deep sigh, she headed after him wondering just what her brother had done.
"He was already here when I came in to do the milking," Caleb pointed at the wounded man who lay on a pile of straw near the back of the barn. Sierra came up short when she saw him. Even wounded, she could see that he was different from the men that had been hunting him. His clothes were better maintained and he had an honest look about him. He wasn't hard on the eyes, either with his slightly long strawberry blond hair and clear blue eyes. A few days stubble covered his chin and his face and clothes were dust covered, but his eyes were alert as he watched her.
"And just who or what is he?" Sierra kept her voice even and cool sounding as she held the shotgun in her arms.
"Name's Colt Newby. Most folks call me Colt," the man looked at her, his words sounded strained. She noticed the blood on his shirt.
"You're wounded," she still made no move towards him, wondering if he was an outlaw like the other men.
"That I am. Probably by them owlhoots that was just out front. The boy described them to me," Colt sighed.
"Do you know them?" Sierra's eyes narrowed.
"Nope, but I know their kind. I've spent a big part of my life tracking them," Colt shrugged and then winced in pain.
"You a bounty hunter?" Sierra almost spat the words.
"Nope, Texas Ranger," Colt looked at her.
"You're a ways out of Texas, Ranger Newby," Sierra shook her head.
"That I am but then so is the owlhoot I'm after," his voice was weaker now. He opened a hand that had been closed and she could see his badge resting in his palm.
"Caleb, go get some water to boiling. Then come back and help me get him into the house," Sierra ordered. Caleb took off for the house like he had been shot. He had heard that tone in his sister's voice often enough that he had no plans to disobey her.
Sierra looked down at the Ranger. His eyes had closed. It took her a moment to realize that he had passed out. She walked over and knelt down beside him, taking a moment to examine his wound. The bullet was still inside him. She bit her lip. She had learned to dig a bullet out of a man when Paw had gotten himself shot up fighting Indians and such. She had never learned to like it though. Caleb came back into the barn and she waved him over. "Let's get him inside the house," she slipped one of his arms around her neck as Caleb did the same on the other side and they lifted him up enough to drag him to the house.
It was dark by the time the young Ranger had woke up. Even then it wasn't for very long. Sierra had spooned some broth into him and he had gone back to sleep. Caleb was keeping watch from the porch, but she was still some worried. Paw had been gone a long time; longer than he should have been. She wondered if the men she had run off earlier in the day had anything to do with it.
She snorted softly. More than likely he was laid up drunk in the saloon or in some whore's bed having satisfied his man's needs. Her eyes drifted over to the Ranger. He was a fine figure of a man for sure. She had seen that much when she had pulled off his shirt to dig the bullet out of him. He had been lucky. It had lodged in the meat between his ribs and not penetrated deep enough to do any real damage. He had lost some blood, but he'd recover soon enough.
Sierra leaned forward and put a cool cloth on his brow, soothing his troubled sleep. She had the sense that he was a good man. She wondered if she could keep him hidden when the stage came through the next day. Comanche Station was one of the few stops on the way to Boulder Springs. The settlement had grown up around the springs and then gold had been discovered. She had seen the town boom and watched her father begin his descent into drunkenness. He had seemed to forget all about her and Caleb, and his job as station master.
That didn't matter so much though. She had long ago taken over the duties of Station Master, and she cashed the checks, buying what they needed and giving her father an allowance that he usually drank away in a weekend. Then he would spend the next two weeks cranky and sober, but at least then he was actually some help around the place. The door opened and she looked up. Caleb stepped inside and bolted the door behind him. Her little brother looked beat. He did the work of a man twice his age at 12. It was something she hated their father for. Caleb had never gotten to enjoy being a child. He had been forced into acting like a man far too young.
"Anything?" she looked hopeful.
"Nothing. I don't think Paw is gonna make it home tonight," Caleb shook his head.
"Keep your rifle near your bed just in case. I don't trust them men that was here earlier," she warned him.
"Me neither," Caleb nodded and dragged his rifle behind him as he walked to his bed. He leaned the rifle against the wall and shucked off his boots and socks. He didn't bother removing his clothes before falling into bed. He was snoring within seconds..
"The boy was tired," the words startled her and she spun to find the Ranger looking at her.
"I reckon he was," her reply was soft.
"Thank you for digging that bullet out of my hide. And for not letting them outlaws know I was here," Colt Newby looked at her. She noted in the firelight that his color was some better.
"It wasn't nothing I hadn't done for Paw upon occasion," she shrugged.
"You'll do," he smiled at her, having paid her the highest compliment that a western man could pay to another person. "Your Paw still ain't back?"
"Nope. At this point I really don't expect him," she shrugged again.
"You think it is because of those men that were hunting me?" Colt looked at her.
"Most likely he's laid up drunk in a saloon or the arms of a whore," Sierra shrugged again.
"And if he ain't?"
"Then it ain't likely we'll ever know," Sierra sighed.
"Do you have a name, Miss?" Colt looked at her.
"Sierra Lane. It ain't much but it is a name and it happens to be mine," she stood.
"It's a right pretty name and it suits you," Colt nodded in the firelight.
"Ranger Newby, we both need some rest. Can I trust you to be a gentleman?" she looked at him.
"You can, Sierra Lane," Newby smiled at her and she felt a quiver race through her insides.
"Goodnight then," she smiled, turning and heading across the room to her bed. She could feel his eyes upon her as she lay down and pulled up the covers. As she drifted off to sleep, she could still see the depths of blue in the Ranger's eyes.
The cock was crowing and the smell of fresh coffee filled the cabin when Sierra lane opened her eyes. She looked across the room at Caleb still a lump under his covers. When she sat up, she saw that the Ranger was up and had gotten the fire started in the stove and had coffee on to boil. Wiping the sleep out of her eyes, Sierra climbed from the bed.
"I hope you don't mind," Colt Newby grinned at her. He poured her a cup of coffee and then sat back in his chair. He was looking much better after a good night's sleep.
"Kinda nice waking up to breakfast already on the table. That's not something that has happened often since Mama passed on," Sierra rubbed her eyes.
"Seemed like the least I could do, considering what you done for me," Newby shrugged.
"It's appreciated," Sierra nodded as she headed for the front door. She slipped the bolt off, reassured by the weight of the .32 revolver in her apron pocket. The morning air was chill and she hurried to the privy to perform her morning ablutions. Sierra listened as she walked, happy to hear the sounds of the morning birds calling. That was a fair indication that there was no one about. Once she was finished she walked back to the house, keeping an eye on the surrounding landscape. She still wondered where her father was at. It wasn't like him to remain gone for so long.
Still, it wouldn't surprise her all that much if he never returned. Paw had never been a strong one on responsibility. Leastways not in himself, though he surely preached it at everyone else.
ierra was almost back to the house when something caught her attention. Not much more than a lump near the gate, but it sure hadn't been there the night before. She felt her stomach tighten, knowing that whatever it was, it wasn't anything good. Pretending she hadn't noticed the lump, she walked on to the house. She suddenly found herself hoping that Paw had stayed in town with a whore last night rather than coming back to the station. Shivering, she hurried inside.
"What's wrong?" Colt Newby was on his feet in a second, wincing at the pain in his side from the sudden movement.
"Something strange out by the gate. I couldn't tell what it was, but it wasn't there last night," Sierra looked at him, fear in her eyes.
"You think it might be your Paw?" Colt's voice was gentle.
"I don't know. Could be him, could be one of them outlaws watching the place," Sierra shook her head. Tears were starting to run down her cheeks.
"I reckon there's only one way to find out," Colt reached for his gunbelt and slung it around his hips.
"You don't have to do this. It can wait 'til the sun is up higher," Sierra's eyes were bright with fear.
"Best to do it now. If it is your Paw, he might be hurt. If it's one of them skunks, well I reckon I can take care of some of the business that brought me here," Colt shrugged. Caleb had brought Colt's Winchester in from the barn the night before. Colt picked it up. "Can you let me out the back door and then bolt it behind me?"
"What are you going to do, Ranger Newby?" Sierra looked at him, tears streaming down her cheeks.
"I'm going out the back and then injun up to the gate and see who or what it is," Colt headed for the door.
"Colt," her tone stopped him in his tracks and he turned to look at her. "Be careful," she almost whispered. He nodded and then opened the door and slipped out into the cool morning air. Sierra bolted the door behind him and walked to the front of the house, picking up the double barrel shotgun on her way. She pulled back the white lace curtain and looked out, waiting to see what would happen.
olt Newby skinned along the ground on his belly so he would present no profile to anyone watching the house from the hills around the stagecoach station. Judging from all the nature sounds he could hear, he didn't think there was anyone watching the place, but then they could have been there long enough that the animals had gotten used to them and had resumed their normal early morning routine. The grass was damp with dew, but there was no help for that as he reached the gate.
The lump on the other side of it was a man, and he looked as if he had been badly beaten and dumped on the road there. Colt eased to his feet, his rifle at the ready. He slipped the gate open and dragged the man inside, then shut the gate again. He felt a warm wetness on his side and cursed, knowing he had opened the wound there again. Sighing he dragged the man towards the house. By the time he was halfway there, he was feeling weaker. The door of the cabin opened and then Sierra was by his side, helping drag the man into the house. Once they had the man in the house and the door was closed and barred again, Colt Newby slumped in a chair. "That your Paw?" he looked at her. Sierra nodded numbly, then noticed the dark stain on his shirt.
"You opened your wound again," she walked over to his and started removing his shirt.
"Afraid so," Colt said, sighing. "Ain't you gonna tend to your Paw?"
"He ain't bleeding at the moment. You are," Sierra stripped his shirt off and began unwinding the bandages from around his ribs. Colt endured it as she prodded his wounds, trying hard to keep from wincing. "We need to re-stitch you."
"Got any whiskey then?" Colt looked up into her blue eyes.
"Some. You'll even get to drink a bit of what we use to numb you," Sierra replied as she turned and walked back across the room and removed a bottle filled with amber colored liquid and a spool of thread with a needle sticking from it. She handed him the bottle. "Take a couple of belts."
Colt obliged her and took two long, deep swallows, coughing slightly as it burned its way to his belly. Warmth spread through him as the whiskey hit his belly. Then hot pain roared across the wounds as Sierra poured whiskey over them.
"Hot damn that hurts!" Colt yelped.
"Take another drink," Sierra handed him back the bottle as she threaded the needle and tied it off. Eyeing her warily, Colt did so. He closed his eyes as he felt her fingers touch the skin and the needle slide beneath the flesh.
The next time he opened his eyes he was laying on a bed with more bandages swathed around his ribs. There was another man groaning on another bed next to him. Colt rolled up on one elbow. He could hear Sierra talking on the other side of the curtained doorway and knew that the stage had stopped.
Colt busied himself with the chamber pot that had been left in the room. Despite his growling stomach, he knew that he would have to wait until the stage pulled out before emerging from this backroom. So he spent his time studying his companion. Sierra Lane's father wasn't a big man. He was tall enough, but beyond that, his daughter was nothing like him. Where she was light, Donald Lane was dark. Yet even his sun-bronzed skin looked pale this afternoon. Blue and purple bruises dotted his face and arms. Sierra had cleaned the blood from his swollen lips and eyes. Whomever had beaten the man had done a pretty thorough job of it.
Colt found himself wondering if the man would even remember it when he woke up. Odds were that he would not. Colt found his guns and checked them, making sure that the barrels were unobstructed and the actions were clean. If trouble came, he wanted to be ready for it.
After what seemed like hours, the stage pulled out from the station in a cloud of dust. Colt slid the curtain back and stepped into the main room, watching Sierra in the doorway as she watched it leave. She was an attractive woman, of that there was no doubt. Yet she seemed less than pleased by his occupation. Was her dislike towards lawmen in general or the Rangers in particular?
Colt hoped that she would tell him. He might be willing to change jobs for Sierra Lane. She was a woman worthy of a good man. He found himself wanting to be that man. "Anything I can do to help?" he looked at her as she turned.
"You can have a seat so you don't start bleeding all over the place again," Sierra shook her head as she walked back towards the main table.
"You got something against lawmen in general or just Texas Rangers in particular?" Colt took a seat.
"I have a problem with any man that sees the need to live by the gun. I have no problem when it is necessary, but for a man to put a target on himself for no good reason, I just don't like it," Sierra began to clear away the table.
"That's what you think lawmen do?" Colt was curious.
"Sure looks that way to me. Seems like a man could find him a fine home and good work rather than run around letting other folk shoot at him," She shrugged.
"Would it shock you to find out that running around and letting other folk shoot at me generally isn't in my job description?" Colt smiled at her.
"Then how do you explain that bullet hole in your side?" Sierra arched an eyebrow at him.
"I made the mistake of turning my back on a fella that I shouldn't have. What I'm doing is tracking some men that were robbing stagecoaches in Texas and killing everybody aboard them. They seemed to think it was better not to leave witnesses behind. Except they missed one; a little girl that was hiding under the seat in the last stage. She got a look at their faces," Newby's expression took on a faraway look. He looked distant and dangerous.
ierra shivered a little at that look. Suddenly she knew why he did what he did. Maybe she had misjudged him. She decided to give the issue some thought. "There is left over food on the table," she nodded towards it.
"It smells right tasty," Colt nodded finding a seat and a clean plate. He began to help himself to some generous portions which he polished off rather quickly.
"Did you even take time to chew?" Sierra shook her head.
"Eating was always considered serious business at home," Newby smiled at her. "That was just as tasty as it smelled."
"How could you tell?" Sierra arched an eyebrow at him. Colt Newby leaned back in the chair and laughed.
"Riders coming! Looks like them men from the other day," Caleb called in from the front porch.
"This could be trouble," Colt said grabbing up his Winchester. "Bring my pistol," he looked at Sierra and she nodded, turning and heading past the blanket that covered the doorway. Caleb had stepped back inside, but stayed in the doorway, his rifle in his hands.
"They's four of them this time," Caleb kept looking into the yard.
"Figures. They figure you and your sister won't stand against that many," Colt whispered.
"Likely not," Caleb nodded.
"Let's give 'em a surprise," Colt grinned.
"I'd like that," Caleb grinned at him.
"Thought you might," Colt looked up as Sierra returned with his pistol. She also had the Greener in her hands and she had filled her apron pocket with shells for the double barreled express gun.
"Hello the house," the leader of the men called. Sierra recognized him as the smart one from the day before.
"Git gone from here. You been told once," Sierra stood near the window and yelled.
"We don't want trouble, just food," the man edged his horse forward.
"You come to the wrong place then," Sierra called back.
"You're pushing us girl," the man frowned. Buckshot exploded from the muzzle of the Greener and two of the men went down. While the other two fought their horses for control, Caleb and Newby aimed and fired, knocking them out of the saddles. In less than a heartbeat, four men lay dead or dying in the dirt in front of the house.
'There any more of them?" Sierra's voice had the slightest tremor.
"Maybe a couple if this is the gang I was chasing. There were six of them. Of course, the other two may have split off," Colt raised up near the window. A bullet shattered the glass in front of him. Colt Newby jumped to the side. "Or maybe not," he added.
"You think?" Caleb looked at him. More shots peppered the front of the house.
Colt Newby had spotted the puff of smoke from the shots and poured a few rounds in that direction. He glanced at Caleb. "Yep."
"What can I do?" Sierra looked at Colt.
"Reload that cannon and watch the back door. One of them may make a try for it," Colt ordered. Sierra broke open the shotgun and ejected the spent shells, ramming two fresh ones home and snapped the breech closed.
"Right," she whispered as she slipped once more through the curtain. Caleb sent a few more rounds burning towards the trees where the shots were coming from. A few rounds peppered the front of the house again but it was obvious they were not well aimed. Colt grinned. He knew the man in the trees was scared as an opossum caught in the open.
The booming roar of the Greener echoed from the rear of the house. Colt looked at Caleb. "Go see to your sister," he snapped as he stood and levered round after round into the trees. Somewhere out there a man screamed in pain and Colt knew he had scored a hit. Colt Newby watched and saw the man scramble to his feet as he took aim and fired again. The man crumpled to the ground. He turned and hurried into the back of the house.
"Everyone ok?" Colt called, easing his way into the back room.
"We're good," Sierra sighed. He noticed tears on her cheeks. She had killed a man and that wasn't an easy thing to live with.
"Leastways we survived and they didn't," Colt looked at her.
"Them the men that shot you? The ones you was a hunting?" Sierra came to him.
"I believe so. I'll know more when I go out to look them over," Colt looked into her eyes.
"Then you'll be heading back to Texas," her voice carried a note of sadness.
"For a bit, but I'll be back," Colt nodded. She looked up at him.
"Why?"
"For you," Colt whispered as he wrapped her in his arms, holding her tight against him.