Her Cold Revenge

Chapter 5

The woman slapped her hands on the table so hard the china rattled. "You're that female bounty hunter, ain't you?" she barked, looming over Grace.

Grace edged back, her mouth dry. This strange woman seemed fairly unhinged.

The preacher cleared his throat. "Excuse me, young lady, perhaps I can help you with something?"

The woman rounded on him, fire in her eyes. "I was talking to her." She stabbed a finger in Grace's direction.

Grace took a deep breath. If she was courageous enough to hunt outlaws, she should be brave enough to face down a hysterical woman. She sat up straighter.

"Yes, I'm a bounty hunter."

The woman took a step back and appraised her from head to toe. "Mighty young, ain't you?"

Grace bristled. "I'm old enough to do what has to be done," she said. Including defending herself against whatever this woman intended to do. As she glared up at her, some of the fight leaked out of the woman's face.

"Sorry. It's just . . . ooh, I could kill -" With a quick glance across the table, she spotted the reverend's collar and stopped abruptly. "You're that preacher fellow?"

Reverend Byington nodded.

"I didn't mean what I said. Truly I didn't. I wouldn't kill no one, but I'm so mad I could spit - well, not spit exactly. Wouldn't be ladylike." She plunked down in a chair. "I'm Clarissa."

Noticing Grace's still-defensive posture, the woman let out a high, almost hysterical cackle. "Y'all thought I was gunning for you? Now, ain't that rich." Clarissa threw back her head and laughed, but it had an angry, nervous edge.

Grace looked over to catch Reverend Byington's eye, but the preacher had his head bent and eyes closed, and he was mumbling to himself.

Clarissa followed her gaze. "Probably praying for a sinner like me," she said with a grimace. "He'd do better to pray you can find that con man who cheated me. Stole my money and took clean off."

Now that she was fairly certain Clarissa's fury and edginess was directed at someone else, Grace relaxed a bit, though she was still struggling to follow this woman's conversation. Clarissa grabbed her arm, sharp painted claws digging through the thin calico sleeves of Grace's dress and into her skin. She tried to shake her off but Clarissa held fast, pulling Grace closer until their faces were only inches apart.

"I want you to find that man. You get my money back, I'll give you half. You see that he gets put in jail where he belongs. I'll pay you for that too."

Reverend Byington finally finished praying and looked up with a frown. "I don't think that's wise. Why not inform the sheriff?"

Clarissa shot a withering glance in the preacher's direction, but quickly rearranged her features into a smile that more closely resembled a smirk. "Girls like me, we avoid the law." Then she looked away and muttered under her breath, "Except as paying customers."

Byington's eyes widened. "Perhaps we ought to pray on it before -"

Clarissa threw back her head and laughed again disconcertingly. "You do that, preacher. You do that," she gasped, shaking her head. "Let me ask you, what do you think God -"

Grace interrupted before things went any further. "I'll take the case."

* * *

The next morning, armed with Clarissa's description of the man, his horse, and the direction he'd traveled, Grace saddled Bullet. Clarissa had insisted on giving her a retainer, assuring Grace that back East, her lawyer father had always requested money before taking a case. And she wanted a contract indicating Grace would give her whatever the con artist had taken. Rather than set the woman off into another rant, Grace accepted the payment and signed. Contract or no, she had always intended to return any money and valuables she recovered, but the retainer was a welcome relief. It would help her survive if the hunt took a while, and she could use some of it to replace her lost lasso.