Juicy Secrets Forbidden Tales of Lesbian Love

The story thus far: Seeking a missing Texas Ranger, our old acquaintance The Tequila Kid comes across a poor family named Miller. Like many others in the area, this widow Sarah and her two little girls, Amy and Cindy, have been brutalized by a wealthy scoundrel named McCuller, who intends to drive away all the owners of small farms and ranches in the area and take their land. Later, drying off from heavy rain at the local stable, Sheriff Lucas Clay comes in search of The Kid, demanding she surrender her guns. Knowing Clay to be corrupt (and in league with McCuller), The Kid asks to speak with him in private. Moments later at the jail, he threatens her, and she deals him a beat-down, then informs him that she means to arrest McCuller and Tyson Avidite (a banker who is part of the conspiracy) before she leaves.

From the sheriff’s office, she goes to the Silver Slipper, the town’s saloon, gambling house and brothel. There, she encounters a young man named Jud Nelson, who she’d seen Sheriff Clay harass earlier. Recognizing him as a decent sort, she hires him to watch the jail to see if Clay leaves. Then she meets a twelve-year-old girl named Dixie, who does menial work at the Silver Slipper and is bullied by Toots, the brutish bartender. The Kid asks Dixie which girl is the most popular of the whores. Star, the girl replies, and The Kid gives Dixie the money to pay for Star’s services that evening.

Upstairs in one of the bedrooms, The Kid enjoys an intense hour of sex with Star. Afterwards, she asks the prostitute a few questions about the town and its doings. She learns that Clark Hansen, the missing Texas Ranger she seeks, disappeared around the same time as Dixie’s older sister Dallas, who was one of the whores at the Silver Slipper. The Kid asks about Ben McCuller, but Star refuses to answer, claiming “it’s too dangerous.” When The Kid goes back downstairs, Jud returns to let her know that Sheriff Clay just left town, riding hard in the direction of McCuller’s place.

Figuring she’s done as much as she can for one night, The Kid decides to join an ongoing card game, where she ends up winning a decent amount of money, as well as a neglected horse, which she takes to the local stable where her own horse is being kept.

The next morning, The Kid is informed by Jud Nelson that Cy Warren, McCuller’s enforcer and dirty-jobs man, has just entered the sheriff’s office, using a key. On their way to confront him, The Kid is taken aback to recognize the horse Cy has hitched up outside as Thunder, who she knows to be the property of Clark Hansen, the missing Texas Ranger she is seeking. More determined than ever to get answers from Cy Warren, she boldly strides into the sheriff’s office, a nervous Jud close behind.

And now, dear readers, we make our way into the next installment. Read on…

By Purple Les

The Kid pushed the door to the Sheriff’s office open and strode inside. Jud Nelson close behind.

Cy Warren looked up in surprise from behind Lucas Clay’s desk, where he stood pawing through the drawers.

Warren stood a muscular five foot eight, with dark eyes and hair. His clean shaven face changed quickly from surprise to anger as he drew his Colt single-action army revolver.

Jud stood still as a statue, his eyes wide in astonishment. Even though he knew Cy to be a fast draw and deadly shot, he saw Warren freeze just when his gun had cleared the holster.

When he glanced to his left, Jud saw why. Even though Cy drew first, The Kid had her gun cocked and aimed at Cy’s chest before he could draw a bead.

“Put that gun on the desk.” The Kid said softly, but with an edge to her voice.

Cy did just that, then raised his hands shoulder high. He took a few steps backwards, moving away from the desk.

“Where’s Sheriff Clay?” The Kid asked.

It amused Jud to watch Warren try to think on his feet, but he still felt that knot of tension in his gut.

“Uh, well, now,” Cy began. “Clay come out to McCullers and um, got him a fresh horse, and rode off to Gila Flats on, I ain’t sure what sort of business, but it was somethin’ that couldn’t wait. And, uh, he asked me to be actin’ sheriff while he was away. Said he’d be gone a spell.”

“All right, now tell me how it is you come to be ridin’ Ranger Clark Hansen’s horse.” The Kid said tersely.

“Uh, he ran off with some saloon girl, and traded him for a team of horses.”

The Kid broke into a grin. “Run off with a gal, huh? That does sound like somethin’ he’d do. So Clark told you what a good horse Midnight was, but he needed that team more. Bet he drove a hard bargain for that team, too.”

“By God, he did,” Cy said, relaxing a bit. “‘Old Midnight ain’t just any old horse’, he told me. I gived that Ranger his team, but he’d only barter if I let him pick which horses he wanted.”

“Don’t that beat all!” The Kid exclaimed. “There’s just one thing wrong with your story, though.  His horse’s name is Thunder, not Midnight.”

Cy’s face fell as he realized how The Kid had tricked him. “Shit,” he muttered.

“Yeah, you sure are,” The Kid replied, narrowing her eyes. “Now why don’t you take off that gun belt and empty your pockets, then stand against that wall. Do it nice and slow. My trigger finger’s feelin’ a mite itchy.”

With a look of pure hatred, Cy did as The Kid said, finally placing both hands against the wall. The Kid holstered her gun and patted Cy down, pausing to pluck a wicked-looking stiletto knife from his boot.

Drawing her Colt once more, The Kid cocked it, placing the tip of the barrel against Cy’s back. “You’re under arrest, Warren.”

“The hell you say!” the man growled.

“You got five seconds to march your ass back to them cells, mister,” The Kid replied. “One… two…”

Cy hastened into the back where the jail cells were kept. The Kid shouldered him into the nearest one, then slammed the door shut with a satisfying clang.

As she turned to walk away, Cy Warren bellowed, “What’s goin’ on here, goddammit? I ain’t done nothin’ wrong!”

The Kid glared at him. “You’re under arrest on suspicion of horse thievin.'” She turned to leave, then glanced back. “And for bein’ a piss poor liar.”

Rifling through the desk drawer, The Kid turned up a deputy badge in a drawer, then looked up at Jud. “I hereby appoint you actin’ sheriff.” She clumsily pinned the badge on the nonplussed man. “Now come along with me. We got us a warrant to serve.”

They made their exit, leaving Cy Warren fuming in the cell. As they advanced toward the bank she asked Jud, “You really sell your gun?”

“Hell, no.” Jud puffed as he tried to keep up with The Kid’s brisk stride. “I got it hid.”

“You any good with it?”

“‘Bout average. My draw ain’t quick, but I can sure hit where I aim.”

The Kid smiled. “Good. I prefer workin’ with an honest man.”

Leading the way into the bank, she walked up to a man seated at a desk wearing a black suit. “Tyson Avidite?”

The portly brown-haired man glanced up with brown eyes that shone like earthworms glistening in the rain. “Can I help you?”

“I’m a special agent for the Texas Rangers. I got a federal warrant to examine everything in this here bank.”

“I — I beg your pardon?” Tyson stammered, his hand trembling as he took the warrant from The Kid.

As he read it The Kid said to him, “You cooperate fully and I’ll see how lenient I can be for you.”

His face like thunder, Tyson called out to the lone teller, “I’ll be busy for a while, Hoskins. Handle things yourself.” He turned to The Kid. “Where d’ye want to start?”

“Where’s the safe?”

Tyson Avidite led The Kid and Jud to his office, where the bank’s vault was located, then opened it as per The Kid’s instructions.

“Where do you keep land deeds?” The Kid asked.

His face gone a deathly pale, Tyson pulled out a metal box and opened it.

“Take a look through those, Jud.” The Kid said.

“Here, now!” Tyson objected. “This man has no right to read these documents.”

“He sure does,” The Kid calmly replied. “Jud’s the acting sheriff. Your friend Clay’s gone missin’.”

“Hell fire,” Avidite muttered, all but collapsing into a chair.

Jud thumbed through the deeds, then glanced up at The Kid. “These are fakes. Every one is signed with the same X and a name printed in. All of ’em say they got sold to Ben McCuller for a thousand dollars.” He quickly counted the documents. “There’s eighteen of ’em here. Damn, McCuller’s been busy.”

“Now take a look at these ones, Jud.” The Kid pulled a packet of papers out of her vest.

As Jud studied them, Tyson Avidite sat quietly, his chalk-white face glazed with sweat, staring down at the floor and shaking his head.

“These are the real deeds,” Jud finally announced.

“What’ve you got to say for yourself, Avidite?” The Kid said harshly. “From where I sit, it sure looks to me like you’re in a shitload of trouble.”

“I… I…” the banker began, clearing his throat.

Jud poured Avidite a glass of water from an earthenware pitcher. Avidite seized the glass, took a big gulp, then stammered, “Nothing. I have n-nothing to say!”

“That’s too bad,” The Kid said. She took hold of the banker’s wrist. “Goodness me, those are mighty soft hands you got. You’ll have a hard time of it, breakin’ rocks for a twenty-year stretch.”

“Oh, my God,” Tyson mumbled.

Jud took Kid a step back, whispering , “He’s got a bad ticker, Kid. You best be careful here.”

Kid winked back, “Good thinkin’, Jud. A little bullshit will catch more flies then fear will.”

Dumbfounded by that remark, Jud watched The Kid saunter back to Tyson, pulling up a chair next to where the banker sat. “I figure you ain’t a bad sort, Avidite. Just fell down some, judgement-wise.”

She laid a hand on the man’s shoulder. “Listen here. I’m closer than white to rice with the Captain of the Texas Rangers, and the Governor of Texas. McCuller’s the big fish; one we’re lookin’ to put away. If you’ll turn state’s evidence against him, I’ll do what I can to get you a suspended sentence.”

A little color returned to Tyson’s face. “You know Governor Hubbard?”

“Jumbo? I sure do. Back in the day, I helped get his brother out of a fix. He owes me one.”

A glint of hope was in Tyson’s eyes, then he shook his head. “It’ll be too late by then. McCuller will have me killed before this ever comes to trial. He’s got dangerous men on his payroll.”

The Kid faced Tyson, her arms folded. “Like Sheriff Clay? Or Cy Warren? Listen, Clay’s done run off, Warren’s locked up in the jail, and once you confess, McCuller will be sharin’ his cell.”

“I d-don’t know,” the banker mumbled.

The Kid unfolded her arms, “Way I see it, you got two choices, Avidite. You tell me what I want to know and I hide you away in protective custody… or you go straight to jail and get tried for bank fraud. What’ll it be, Avidite?”

“Oh, dear Lord.” Tyson groaned. He took another gulp of water, then slumped in his chair. “It was McCuller, all of it. He blackmailed me. He knows something that would ruin my life if it ever got out. Don’t ask me what; I won’t say.” Heaving a despairing sigh, he continued. “He had me draw up these fake deeds. McCuller never paid a red cent for any of them. Then he gave the ranchers and sodbusters notice to vacate. They all have to be off their land by Christmas day or he’ll burn them out.”

“He paid you and Clay off, then?” The Kid asked. Tyson nodded.  “You’ll be safe enough for today and tonight, I reckon. Tomorrow I’ll move you somewhere safe. I’ll do what I can to make sure you get off light for turnin’ state’s evidence. Now we got us some work to do.”

The Kid had Jud and Tyson alter the real deeds, instructing Tyson to mark each deed and mortgage as paid in full, with Jud checking his work. Then she had Tyson put a thousand dollars cash with each person’s mortgage. The only depositor with that much money in the bank was Ben McCuller, and The Kid made sure the money for the farmers came out of his account.

Gathering up the real and the fake deeds, The Kid assembled them into a tidy stack. “I’ll be back, Avidite,” she said. “Don’t try leavin’ town, now. If I have to fetch you, it might put me in a bad mood. Understand?”

“Yes,” the banker replied, staring down at his hands.

“I’ll be seein’ you soon, then,” she said, touching the brim of her Stetson. With that, she left the office, followed by Jud.

On the way back to the sheriff’s office, Jud finally had to ask, ”You really know Governor Hubbard?”

The Kid gave a snort of laughter. “Shit, no. I never met the man. But it got Avidite to talk.” She noted Jud’s frown. “Don’t bother feelin’ sorry for that snake. He’s as bad as any of ‘em. I didn’t see him showin’ a ounce of sympathy for them folks McCuller means to burn out; did you? Naw, he’s too busy feelin’ bad for his own damn self.” She shrugged. “He’ll be doin’ time… but if he hires a good lawyer, it might only be a couple of years. He deserves that much, at least.”

Jud gave a long, low whistle. “Man alive, Kid. Hope I never end up on your shit list.”

“You purely don’t,” The Kid replied with a grin, slapping Jud’s shoulder. “I ain’t one to mess with.”

***

On returning to the sheriff’s office, The Kid had Jud draw her a map of McCullers ranch, and asked about the daily operations. Jud informed her of the unguarded parts of the ranch and about McCuller’s guard dogs.

“Watch out for them dogs,” Jud cautioned. “They’re half grizzly bear, half mountain lion and all mean. Shit, I’d rather take my chances with a grizzly.”

“They’re attack dogs?”

“Killin’ dogs,” Jud replied. “I seen one of ’em snap a man’s arm like it was a dry twig.” He shook his head. “This damn fool cattle thief thought he could peel off a few steers from McCuller’s herd. Lucky for him, McCuller called the dog off soon’s the man’s arm got broke, then told him to make tracks; let the other cattle thieves know McCuller ain’t one to mess with.” He shuddered. “Said next time, he’d let the dogs finish the job.”

The Kid gave a thoughtful nod. “Thanks, Jud.” She reached for her hat. “I’m goin’ out to McCullers and snoop around while they’re all out workin’ the ranch proper. I intend to check out his house.” Getting into her coat, The Kid added, “Keep Tyson on ice for me ’til I get back.”

“God damn it, hold on a second!” Jud shouted, slamming his fist down on the desk, then slumping down in the sheriff’s chair. “Things are movin’ too fast for my likin’, Kid. Yesterday I was just the blacksmith’s helper, but at least I knew what was what. Now I’m the damn sheriff, and I don’t know as I even want to be!”

The Kid didn’t respond right away. She sat back down, took out her makings and began to roll a cigarette. “You’re right, Jud,” she said. “I got you mixed up in this without even askin’, and I shouldn’t of done that.”

“Well… I could’ve said no,” Jud said, somewhat embarrassed by his outburst. “I just wonder if I’m gettin’ into a hole I can’t dig myself out of.”

Sitting back, The Kid studied the young man in the sheriff’s chair. “I won’t lie to you, Jud. What’s about to happen… well, it might get a mite sticky. We got some bad, bad men here, tryin’ to divvy this town up like it was a apple pie. And they’ll get away with it, if no one stands up to ’em.” Striking a match on the sole of her boot, she put it to her smoke and took a long draw, then continued. “The first time we met, I saw you for a right fella, one who ain’t in McCuller’s pocket. All I need is for you to wear that sheriff’s badge for another day or two. Fair enough?”

“I’m still listenin’, ain’t I?” Jud said. “What all is it you want me to do?”

The Kid got to her feet once more. “Keep Cy Warren shut up in that cell, that’s the main thing. And soon as you can, go get your gun and wear it. Tomorrow, we’re gonna deliver these deeds and money to the right families. We’ll be makin’ a lot of folks mighty happy.” She paused. “That’s all. Reckon you’re up for it?”

By then, Jud had rolled a cigarette of his own. He absently put it in his mouth, deep in thought. The Kid struck a match and lit it for him.

Jud took a long pull, exhaled, then slowly nodded “All right, Kid. It’s the craziest damn thing I ever done, but count me in.”

“Good,” The Kid replied, making for the door. “If you need a mount, use Thunder. For now, I’ll take him to the livery. Reckon I’ll be back from McCuller’s in three, four hours.” She was about to exit, then abruptly looked back. “I’m much obliged to you, Jud,” The Kid said. Then she left.

Jud finished his smoke, then hunkered down in the sheriff’s chair, arms folded, frowning. Best go get that gun pretty soon, he thought. Got a feelin’ I’m gonna need it.

***

Jud’s hastily scrawled map was a good one, accurate enough to get The Kid to the outskirts of McCuller’s ranch in under fifteen minutes after the ride out there.

She tied Button up in a sheltered pine grove, then hiked about half a mile to the ranch house, making sure to stay downwind of where the dogs were kept.

A bald, burly man with a thick beard was busy splitting logs, swearing under his breath with every swing of the axe. According to Jud, the man’s name was Sam, and he served as McCuller’s cook, handyman and guard.  She watched him carry the cut wood to a nearby shed, a few loads at a time, then take an armful back to the house.

Once Sam was indoors, The Kid drew closer, cautiously approaching the rear of the house. As a girl, she’d been trained in the skill of moving through the forest in near-total silence, but it wouldn’t be enough to fool a dog. Sure enough, she saw two massive beasts on the front porch raise their heads, ears pricked up.

The Kid reached into her bag and, before the dogs could bark, threw two raw steaks into the yard. The dogs ran straight to them and tore into the meat.

That McCuller’s a damn fool, The Kid thought, shaking her head. Trains his dogs to kill, but not to turn down food from a stranger. 

In her younger days with the Mojave, any outsider who tried to “chum” one of the tribe’s pack with food was apt to lose a hand or worse. The dogs’ training was the responsibility of Five Feathers, the tribe’s medicine man, and he had passed much of his knowledge along to The Kid when she was no more than twelve.

The Kid stared in awe as the great beasts gobbled down the steaks. She’d never seen such big dogs, bigger than wolves. They were jet black and muscular with short shiny fur, short pointed ears, huge heads and big fangs and paws. It was an unnerving sight, watching those huge jaws at work.

The Kid had carefully rubbed a special mixture of herbs into each slab of beef, just as Five Feathers had taught her years ago. The two monsters snapped up the last of the meat, and The Kid anxiously waited for the mixture to work its magic. Hope I mixed it up right, she mused. Better have done, or I’m most likely a goner.

Once the meat was gone, the dogs’ attention shifted to her. Shit, she thought, bracing herself for what would surely be a futile attempt at escape.

But just before The Kid turned tail and fled, one of the beasts shivered, pausing in mid-step. The other dog took a few strides in The Kid’s direction, then began to chase his own tail, loping around in circles for a few turns. By then, both animals were looking distinctly glassy-eyed. Before a minute had passed, they were sprawling contentedly on the ground.

Now The Kid drew closer, her pulse racing. Thus far, Five Feathers’ medicine worked as intended. Now came the real test.

Along with the steaks, The Kid had brought a half pound of sliced bacon. Kneeling by the dogs, she began feeding  it to them, piece by piece.

They gobbled it up and licked her hands. The Kid patted their heads and scratched behind their ears, speaking softly to them in her native tongue. She put her forehead against the head of each dog in turn, intoning ancient, secret words to them in a low voice. Finally, she let them smell her all over, especially between the legs.

By the time she moved away with one last whisper of, “Good boy,” the dogs were watching her depart in relaxed silence.

Keeping a lookout for Sam, The Kid made her way around the house until she found the window of McCuller’s office, which was unlocked. A moment later, she’d hoisted herself inside. She checked the office door – it was locked from the other side.

Looking the room over closely, The Kid drifted over to the big oak desk near the window, where she seated herself. The drawers all had locks, but none of them were fastened shut, so she began to examine their contents.

The big bottom drawer on the right contained nothing but three bottles of whiskey, one of them half empty, and four glasses. The drawer above held two boxes of cigars and a tray filled with matches. There were three drawers on the left hand side, two of them filled with documents. Of course, none of these meant anything to The Kid.

McCuller’s cash box occupied the top left-hand drawer, held shut by a heavy combination lock. The Kid picked it up; tested its heft. His ill-gotten gains, she told herself.

She thought of Sarah Miller; how the woman’s husband had been murdered by McCuller’s hired thug. Of Sarah’s little girls; how pale they were, how loosely their clothes fit their thin bodies.

This money came out of that family’s hide, The Kid mused, giving the box an angry shake. And more than a dozen other families like theirs. Damn that man’s hide. Damn him.

Forcing herself to take a deep, calming breath, she put the box back where she’d found it, then opened the middle drawer. There we are, she thought.

The Kid examined and fiddled with what she found there, then put it back. Rising from the chair, she made a quick exit through the window. She crept through the yard, sprinted back to where Button waited, then rode back to town at a brisk clip.

On her return, she put up Button at the livery, briefly chatting with Abner while she checked on Thunder and her newly acquired palomino. From there, she made her way to the sheriff’s office to meet Jud who, she was pleased to see, was wearing his gun and badge.

They went to the local cafe for a quick meal, then returned to the office. The Kid was carrying a serving of corned beef and cabbage she’d bought for Cy – the cheapest item on the menu. “Can’t let the man starve to death,” she told Jud. “Be damned if I’ll spend more than two bits on him, though.”

 

The instant The Kid opened the door that led to the cells, Cy was raging and blustering, calling The Kid every foul name he could bring to mind. He quieted down when The Kid passed his meal through the bars and eagerly tucked in, muttering curses between each bite.

“What in hell are you gonna do with him?” Jud asked, back in the sheriff’s office.

“Nothin’ for now.” Tequila said. “Let him stew back there for the night. Let him wonder… and let McCuller wonder, too. I reckon he’ll figure Cy’s out drinkin’ or with a whore, and forget about him for the night. I’ll let him go in the mornin’.”

“Best keep a hand on your gun when you do, Kid. I reckon by then he’ll be mad enough to bite through a railroad spike.”

“I got pretty sharp teeth myself… and they’ll be sunk into his ass if he gets out of line. Stay put till I come by in the morning, Jud, then you can go get you some shut-eye. There’s one more thing I gotta do.”

* * *

The first thing The Kid noticed when she walked into the Silver Slipper was Star, who was escorting a man up the stairs. Their eyes met, and Star gave The Kid a wistful smile before leading the young cowpoke into her room.

It was still early in the evening. There were only a couple of men waiting for a turn with one of the girls, and a few drinkers on hand, including three men who had just stationed themselves at the bar. Glancing about, The Kid spied the young girl Dixie, trudging down the stairs with a load of dirty towels.

Toots was busy pouring drinks for the men who had just arrived, so The Kid chose that moment to approach Dixie, taking her aside.

The Kid took Dixie’s armful of dirty towels and tossed them in a heap under a table. “I’m here to get you out of this place,” she murmured. “Go gather up all your things, then bring ‘em back here.”

The girl’s eyes grew wide. “I… I don’t have to work here no more?”

“You sure don’t,” The Kid replied with a smile. “Hurry on, now.”

A dazed Dixie quickly stole away. A couple of minutes later, Toots called for her from the bar, then muttered, “Where is that damn brat?”

Star was coming down the stairs, but paused in mid-step when she saw Dixie return. The child wore a ratty looking old coat that was a size too small for her, and carried a small burlap bag.

When Toots saw her, his lips curled into a snarl. Coming around the bar, he stalked over to where Dixie and The Kid stood. He was only paying attention to the girl, though. “God damn it, what the hell are you playin’ at?” he hissed, drawing his arm back to strike. But as Toots swung at the back of Dixie’s head, The Kid reached out to seize his wrist.

Glaring at The Kid, Toots growled, “What is this? Who the hell d’you think you are, meddlin’ in my business?”

The Kid gazed calmly at the barkeeper as she flashed her badge. “By my authority as a Texas Ranger, I’m makin’ this girl a ward of the state of Texas, and takin’ her into my protection. She’s to be placed with a family.”

Star watched from the stairs, stunned. With a dirty laugh, Toots tried to reach around The Kid to get at Dixie. “Bullshit!” he roared. “That girl belongs to me. Get back to work, Dixie, or I swear I’ll take my belt to you.”

The child seemed to wilt, her hands trembling. But The Kid defiantly stepped up to Toots. He towered over her, but she held her ground, fixing the man with an icy stare. “Don’t interfere with the law, mister. Lay a finger on this girl, I’ll make you regret it.”

Toots’ reply was a wide haymaker swing at The Kid’s head. She crouched quickly, ducking the blow, then drove her right fist into the bartender’s midsection. His stomach was soft and doughy, so The Kid got a good solid punch in.

Toots gave a winded grunt and doubled over, but only for a moment. When he straightened up, fists clenched and wild-eyed, The Kid pummeled his jaw with a lightning-fast left jab, followed by a hard right uppercut that took him down. The room seemed to shake when the big man hit the floor.

Gazing down at the dazed, bleeding barkeeper, The Kid spoke. “Any questions?”

Toots’ face was a portrait of purest loathing, but he didn’t move except to carefully check his jaw. “I didn’t think so,” The Kid said. Turning to Dixie, she took the girl’s hand. “Let’s go.”

They took a few steps toward the door, then The Kid paused. “Hold on, girl… there’s somethin’ I forgot,” she said, then turned back to Toots, who couldn’t conceal a flinch as she approached. The Kid bent down, reached into his top shirt pocket and plucked out a fat wad of cash. “This is Dixie’s back pay,” she said, tucking the money into her vest.

Star was watching from the stairway as The Kid and Dixie left the saloon without a backward glance. Toots was still sprawled out on the floor. “Goddamn, if that don’t beat all,” she murmured. Making her way down the rest of the stairs,

Then Star came down the stairs and walked up to the men waiting their turn with her. “Who’s next, boys? Don’t worry, I won’t treat you like that gal treated Toots.”

The men laughed. A big drover stood to take Star’s arm, and they mounted the stairs.

Toots got up slowly, deliberately, then snatched up a chair and threw it across the room. No one spoke as he returned to his place behind the bar. Taking up a damp rag to wipe blood from his mouth, he began to mutter, “The bitch, the bitch, the bitch. Kill her, I’ll kill her dead. Stone dead.” He squeezed the bloody rag until his knuckles were white. “You’re dead, bitch. I’ll cut your goddamn throat. Ranger or not, I’ll make you pay!”

Soon to come: Chapter Six!