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

Chapter 29: Clara

Exhaustion and worry seeped through me as Lady and I thundered across the desert. I could still smell the smoke in the air, thick with memories.

I pulled Lady to a halt once we reached red rock formations. My chest was still racked with sobs. I wiped at my tears, freezing against my face, breathing heavily.

The cold air seemed to traverse the linen dress I wore and freeze me to the bone.

Twisting in the saddle, I could still see the dark cloud of smoke rising into the sky on the horizon. I could make out the sounds of men shouting. I gripped the reins tighter, and the leather creaked.

He wouldn't have thrown himself into the fray, would he?

He promised to find me again.

"He promised," I said aloud, more to convince myself. My breath came out in a visible hot huff. I stared at the fire on the horizon.

He'd also told me he loved me.

The words had my body trembling. I wanted to go back to him and shake him. I was no good for him. He was a lawman; he had a place in society. I lost mine a long time ago. I'd lost myself a long time ago.

He deserved so much better than me. He deserved a whole woman. Not a broken widow.

Despite how much I wanted that life with him. Despite how much I craved him. Despite how much I loved him back.

I swore. Because it had become clear to me as well. I loved him. I loved the brute, with all his righteous sensibilities, with his infuriating smirks, with his tender kisses.

He was back there, risking his life because of me. Because I asked him to, because I made a deal with him.

Fleeting images of him caught in the crossfire slipped through my mind, lying in the dust, bleeding out. He couldn't die. Not him.

Never him.

It was time for this to end.

I realised I was clutching the knife he'd given me. That wouldn't be enough. I needed a Winchester 73. And at least two .38 colts.

My heart thundering in my chest, I pushed Lady to a gallop again. The cold air whipped through me.

I knew that if Hank and the boys hadn't made it to Baxton yet, then they'd been camped out in the mountain caves nearby. And I had a good idea where they might be.

Lady and I raced over the dark red sand; a single silver moon illuminated our path. I could feel her exhaustion, her heavy breathing, and the strength of her muscles pushing us forward. Her warmth seemed to pass onto me, my thighs clenching, my body angled into the wind. I knew Lady; she would collapse before she gave up. It would be up to me to read her signs. And I could tell she had a little to give still.

Dawn rose on the horizon, bright red, orange and gold. The red sand at our feet glinted like gold. For a moment, the beauty took my breath away. I had never tired of the sunrises in the desert. No matter how much bloodshed there'd been, the sun always rose and was always beautiful.

Lady and I raced into the swooping red canyons.

I could see fresh tracks in the dust, barely a day old. I slipped off Lady, my boots landing heavily. Taking her reins gently I guided her into the canyon. An eagle plunged above us, silent. I watched it sore away above the canyon walls.

I stroked Lady's sweaty neck and she nudged me affectionately.

"Good girl," I breathed. She really was the best horse I'd ever owned.

I pulled her into a twisted cave, red sand at our feet, and smooth red walls hid us.

From the dull, I could hear voices. I felt my heart racing in my chest; I wiped at my fresh tears and lifted my chin. I was drenched with sweat from riding hard all night, and shivering at the same time. Neither Lady nor I had much strength left.