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

Chapter 12: Jasper

I watched her ride off, her shoulder still bleeding, my pistol tucked into the belt of her trousers.

Stubborn girl.

My hands still tingled where I had touched her soft skin. The feel of her body against mine, her sweet little moans, her soft lips.

There was no way I was going to let this end here. Outlaw or not, she was mine now, and I wasn't going to let her slip away from me. I was going to track her down and have my way with her in every way until she was screaming my name.

I checked Ares's wounds, he'd gotten bitten, but he seemed in full spirits, energized by his fight. I made sure to bandage his injuries and give him a couple of pieces of jerky.

Then tossing my saddlebags over my shoulder and grinning at the prospect of catching her again, I followed her trail.

Which wasn't very difficult. She made no attempt to hide her tracks, choosing even to walk in the muddy shallows of a river instead of over the stones.

I grinned.

She wanted me to catch her.

It was late morning by the time I walked into town. It was a very small place, barely a few buildings, but a large mining camp set up downriver. It looked like a coal mine, the men walking around were filthy, the women as well.

It wasn't Oak Creek, I was certain of that. Folks were worker class, miners, perhaps some farmers. They all eyed me suspiciously as I walked in.

Clara's tracks were lost among all the others on the main street, so, grumbling, I found myself marching towards the sheriff's office.

Standing on the boardwalk, I hammered my fists on the door then pushed it open to reveal and snivelling teenage boy wearing a coat two times his side and reading the newspaper out loud.

His brown eyes widened as I strode in. He stood up, dropping his paper and reaching for his gun. The Silver Star on his lapels was dirty.

"Stay right there!" he challenged.

I glared at him; I'd hardly walked across the desert for this boy to help me catch my outlaw.

"Is the sheriff 'round?" I asked, glancing at the office, it was messy, and the boy seemed very keen on learning to read, considering the amount of newspapers that he had piled on his desk.

I glanced back at him, as he played with his suspenders.

"I'm the sheriff," he told me. "Sheriff Mitchel. And who might you be?"

I pulled back my coat so he could see my badge.

"US Marshal Jasper Abernathy. Are you the only lawman in this town?"

"Aye sir," he nodded, wide-eyed.

"I'll be needing you to gather a group of your finest men and ride to Oak Creek. There was a massacre several miles south, in the canyon. The lawmen need a burial, and the bodies of the wanted men need to be accounted for."

The boy just blinked at me.

"Now!" I bellowed.

He jumped up and ran past me to the door, holding his hat on his head as it was going to fly off. He came to a stop by the door and glanced back at me.

"And you sir? Are you coming?"

"No," I shook my head. "I'm still hunting down the runaway outlaws. Never let them slip form your fingers kid; they're an elusive bunch. Speaking of which, did a young man ride into town last night?"

"Young man?" his eyes widened. "I don't think so. But, you can ask at the saloon, they have rooms there. Maybe he could have stayed there?"

I grunted. "Good suggestion, I have a hankering for a strong drink."