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

Chapter 13: Clara

I crouched in the undergrowth. The morning air shimmered around me, and golden light pooled on the sand. I breathed evenly, my breath a hot puff of air in the cold.

Everything was quiet; the desert seemed to be taking a breath while I aimed.

The rifle was my hunting weapon of choice. But all I had was Jasper's .44 Colt pistol, and a handful of bullets. I didn't want to waste them.

I really missed my Winchester. I was sure Jasper had left it behind. I would have found it among his things that first time I tried to escape.

A couple of yards in front of me, a javelina was rubbing itself against the stump of a tree. Not the best meat, but I was hungry.

The click as I cocked the gun seemed to echo in my head, but the javelina barely noticed, thoroughly enjoying her scratch. I squeezed the trigger, nice a slow. The bullet thundered out of the pistol, arching in the air, shredding through the javelina's skull. It crashed against the red sand in a heap, silent.

The birds nearby leapt into the sky, Freedom huffed at me for disturbing his nap. I stood, picked up my skirts and marched through the bushes to grab my prey.

It was heavy, still warm. I pulled my knife out and immediately got to work, my sleeves rolled up.

Butchering wildlife was a skill my Pa had taught me as a little girl. Barely thirty minutes later, I had my meat drying for jerky and the rest sizzling nicely over a fire.

I leaned back against the warming red stones, a mesquite tree as my shade as I munched on the grilled meat.

After I was full, I packed the rest of my meat up, loaded it into the tiny saddlebag I'd bought yesterday and slid back up on Freedom.

The trail I was following was at least a week old, but fifteen men on horseback don't go unnoticed, and it was still easy enough to follow.

I had never been so close before. I had always strived to give all of the men that rode with me ample opportunity to get their revenge, the last year; we'd been hunting the sheriffs that had locked up Norman. After hearing about the Mealy Gang in these regions I'd decided that this year was my year, we were here for me. The ambush wasn't going to stop me now. Not when they were so close.

Freedom and I walked quietly through the day into the evening. I'd just discovered the traces of a camp the Mealy Gang had seemingly lived in for a couple of days. There was a wagon left behind, completely ransacked, a little blood and a toy box. I didn't want to think of the child who'd been in the wagon, the family who'd had the bad luck to encounter Rhett Mealy on their way west.

An hour later I came across five graves. At least they'd buried them. They hadn't bothered to bury my family.

I pushed the dark thoughts from my mind. They would be able to rest in peace soon.

I made my own camp a couple of miles further up river. I lit a fire, ate my supper and spent a good hour stroking Freedom. He drank heartily from the stream and chewed at the bushes around us. Once the sunset fully over the horizon, I settled down, wrapping myself in my coat.

Like every night since I'd escaped him, my thoughts drifted back to Jasper. I aimlessly spun his .44 in my fingers. It was a beautiful weapon, black, and lined with silver accents. Clean and smooth. He knew how to take care of his guns.

I wondered if he followed me, or if he decided to return to Oak Creek. A lot of men had died when they ambushed us, which was a mess he'd have to clean up. Running around across the desert looking for me wasn't a good plan.

I humoured myself and imagined what would have happened if I'd stayed with him. Would he have bed me, wed me? Or bought us a little ranch? I doubted it. Jasper was a man who needed to move, the saddle was his only home. He'd said so himself, not one to marry.