Gold Dust Widow: The Story of an Outlaw's Revenge

Chapter 3: Clara

The warm Texas sun caressed my skin. I was lying on fresh green grass, a hundred different kinds of wildflowers filled the valley. The warm scent of earth.

I heard a giggle and I smiled as little Jamie approached, wobbling on his chubby little legs. He fell on me, his little face split into a wide grin of excitement, and massive cornflower blue eyes stared into mine. He was holding a tiny bouquet of wildflowers, mostly crushed by his toddler fingers, and somewhat nibbled on.

Behind him, George's soft voice encouraged him to give me the flowers. I swooped him up into my arms, and squeezed him tight, kissing his tiny face, his chubby little neck, and his button nose.

He giggled and squirmed against me, insisting on giving me the flowers. And the happiness, the happiness that filled me as he dropped the wilted plants into my palm, my eyes shining proudly.

There was a sudden sharp pain in my shoulder. I gasped, my eyes popping open. Jamie disappeared, and so did the sun, the warmth, the wildflowers, and the happiness.

I was surrounded by darkness, and the heavy smell of dirt, sage and mould.

I blinked, squinting, as I came hurtling back to reality.

I was in a cave, red rock surrounded me. A few meters away the cave opened facing the dessert, stretching out across the horizon with red and purple hues.

My shoulder ached, and my tongue felt as dry as the desert dust. I grimaced as I tried to sit up, quickly realising that my arm was tied to my chest in a tight sling keeping my shoulder in place.

I found myself glancing down at my body. I was still dressed in my cotton pants, my white shirt was filthy, covered in mud and caked with blood. I had my jacket on, but my bandolier, my two gun belts, my pistols, and my rifle were nowhere to be seen. I did notice that my coat was laid out on the ground where I had been sleeping.

I immediately wiggled my ankle and cursed when I couldn't feel the cold metal of my knife in my boot. Whoever had stolen my weapons and left me to die had patted me down completely then.

Though, they'd bandaged me up thoroughly before they left.

It had to be one of the boys. Maybe Norman felt guilty for stealing my horse and running off halfway through the attack and decided to help me.

That didn't sound like him. Remorse was not in his vocabulary. And he knew he'd be in for a hiding after.

No, this was someone else; the boys wouldn't have left me unarmed.

Stealing my Winchester was really irritating. That beauty had cost me a pretty penny and I'd been taking really good care of it. They all knew that. Maybe it was Hank. Maybe it was mutiny.

I swore. My throat was raspy and painful.

I tried pushing myself up to my feet and staggered towards the entrance of the cave. My head spun a little, and my shoulder throbbed, but mostly I was very thirsty and there was a canteen of water resting by a stone a couple of paces away.

I teetered towards it, reaching for it with my free hand when I heard a bark.

I glanced up in time to see a russet dog bounding my way, tongue lagging out, and tail wagging.

"Howdy," I croaked as the dog reached my side and lifted his nose to give me a good sniff. I scratched it behind the ears and the dog barked again. I recognised it from the stagecoach.

Eyeing the canine, I picked up the canteen, twisted the top off with my teeth and poured the cool water down my throat slowly. The dog gazed at me with big brown eyes.