Her Cold Revenge

Chapter 3

Grace threw the saddle on her own still-sweating horse, and then slung her bow and quiver of arrows over her shoulder, hitched her lasso to the saddle horn, and led Bullet quickly from the stable. She mounted him in one swift motion and set off at a gallop toward the puffs of dust rising rapidly in the distance.

"Go, Bullet, go," she urged. All she needed was to get within roping distance . . .

Bullet soon closed the distance between them and Grewell, and as they neared him she unholstered her Colt, holding on to her reins with one hand. With her skills, he was an easy target. She was sure she could get her man without even wounding him or his horse. It was all in the aim. Squeezing off a shot, she allowed herself a small congratulatory smile as the bullet whistled right past his horse's ear. Exactly what she'd planned.

The pinto bucked, spilling Grewell to the ground, and he lay dazed for a few seconds, then crawled to his knees, rubbing his lower back and struggling to stand. As soon as he got to his feet, Grace twirled her lasso and let it fly. She'd been roping wild horses since she was ten, so her aim was true — the lasso dropped straight over Grewell's head and fell around his waist. Just at the right moment, she yanked hard, pulling the rope taut and imprisoning his arms below the elbows. With another hard tug, she yanked him clean off his feet. He cried out in confusion and surprise, and she dragged the kicking, yelling man a few feet. She kept a tight hold on the rope, looping it up as she galloped closer and jerking the rope to knock him off his feet whenever he attempted to stand.

His face contorted with fury, Grewell gazed up at Grace as she pulled Bullet to a halt beside him. "Believe you're a wanted man, Mr. Grewell," she called down to him.

Squinting in the bright sunlight, he glared at her. Then his face changed. He stared in shock. "A girl?"

Grace smiled down at him and touched the brim of her hat. As he saw her more closely, he did a double-take.

"You're that girl from last night!" he almost whimpered. "Wh-what you aim to do to me?"

"Keep still."

Her captive twisted and turned like a freshly caught fish as he floundered on the ground, but the rope kept his arms pinned to his sides. He wriggled his fingers, struggling to reach his gun, but years of dealing with wild horses had given Grace quick reflexes. She dismounted from Bullet and, keeping a tight hold of the rope, went over to Grewell, evading his grasping fingers as she leaned over and plucked his revolver from its holster. Then, pointing it at him, she warned, "You don't cooperate, I'll have no trouble using this." She patted the holster at her side. "Or this." Yanking the trussed man to his feet, she looked him in the eye. "And I'm warning you now. My horse is wild, so I'd advise you to walk carefully beside us or you'll likely get hurt . . . or killed."

Grace couldn't help feeling a celebratory swell of pride in herself as she put a lead rope on Grewell's horse, then remounted. She'd finally made a bounty, her first in weeks. Maybe she was cut out for this after all.

As she nudged Bullet in a slow circle to face toward town, she noticed a cloud of dust rising in the nearby hills. She squinted, unsure what was causing the swirling sand, but her heart began to pound faster as the hazy twister separated into a group of cowboys galloping toward her.