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

Chapter 6: Jasper

She would not stop talking.

But she wasn't saying anything. She was just trying, and succeeding, in wearing me out.

She talked about mesquite trees, and javelinas, the types of saddles she favoured, golden stirrups or her Winchester 73. She talked a lot about her Winchester.

And the whole time, she would ask me questions but she gave me no insight into who she was.

After a while, she seemed to run out of things to say and began telling me about the benefits of putting lavender in soap. Even she seemed bored with the conversation.

And I was seconds from gagging her with her bandana.

She was muttering about horses when I realised that she was falling behind a little. We'd begun winding our way through the red canyon, up and down the steep slopes. It was only when I stopped to glance behind that I realised that I'd forced her to climb the ravine with her hands still cuffed behind her back.

I couldn't help reaching my hands out, tucking them under her arms and pulling her up the rest of the way. She gasped in surprise when I lifted her and struggled out of my grip when I put her down again.

"We'll take a break here," I informed her, quickly turning away from her. Her face was flushed pink, her skin coated in a light layer of sweat, chest heaving from her effort. If I didn't look away, I'd end up staring. How did such a filthy woman, dressed like a man, look so lovely? It was a mystery to me.

Or was it the way she talked about guns that had me so intrigued?

She slumped down and leaned against a mesquite tree, hiding from the sunshine. Ares was panting and collapsed by her side in a heap. I poured water into a tin cup for Ares and slid behind her to unlock her cuffs before handing her the canteen.

She rubbed her wrists, wincing as she moved her hurt arm, but drank heartedly. Wiping at the droplets that gathered on her chin.

She handed me back the canteen and leaned back against the tree, lowering her hat over her eyes so I could only see the tip of her nose and her plump little lips.

"You won't mind if I take a small nap now, won't you Marshal?" she asked.

"Go ahead," I grouched.

Her lips twitched a little as she snuggled into her coat, faking a yawn.

I sat in the dirt across from her, drinking my fill of water and rummaging through my saddlebags until I found my jerky.

I kept watching her out of the corner of my eye as I studied the horizon. It seemed an unforgiving place, silent except for the distant rattlesnakes, arid and cold. Even the life that lived out here was hard, spiky and dry. It made sense for outlaws to use the canyons, valleys and plains to hide and travel through, it made less sense to me as to why anyone would want to set up a farm here.

A land so unused by humans that even from up atop the ridge as we were, I couldn't see any roads. For the life of me, I had no idea what direction I was actually walking.

I glanced down at her form, she wasn't sleeping. But she seemed determined to fake it.

I had half a mind to bring her to the gallows, the other half to haul her back to her father, for him to punish her like the lost young child she seemed to me. I also wanted to pin her against the stones and strip her naked.

At this point, I wasn't sure what she'd dislike more.

I crouched down near her, running my fingers through Ares' warm fur. She'd spent the whole asking me questions, and I had found out nothing about her. She'd been asking me so many questions I'd barely realised.