Queen of the Cowboys

Wanted: Dead or Alive

Wanted, Dead or Alive: Kristine "The Queen" Burnshire.

For: various crimes, including armed robbery, murder, and conspiracy.

Reward: $250,000 and 500 acres of land.

Buchanan Oliver Thompson read the wanted poster pinned to the bar wall. He had ridden into the rickety town of Lanore Hills earlier that day. More like stumbled across it as he wasn't expecting to hit another town for at least another fifty miles, but recently towns have been popping up faster than the cartographers could add them to new maps.

Yet, like every other boomtown popping up in the expanding West, the buildings looked as if they'd been there forever: rotting, cracking, and getting covered in the dust of the plains. Lanore Hills was bigger than other towns Buchanan had passed through. In addition to the staple buildings of a bank, a post office, and a saloon, it boasted an inn, a school, an infirmary, and several small buildings on the outskirts of town that could pass as houses for small families or single men hoping to strike it rich.

The sun beat down on him, and there was little hope for relief from the weak breeze and sparse cloud coverage. The wanted poster caught Buchanan's eye after he tied up his horse to the post out front because it looked as if it was recently placed there, not yet browned in the sun and blowing dust. He ripped it from its place and stuffed it in his saddlebag.

He had heard rumors of Burnshire—the Queen—before but had yet to see the results of her work. The whispers he heard, whether exaggerated or true, talked of destroyed buildings, men hung up by their toes for vulture food, and the largest gang of cowboys the West had ever seen. How people were expected to believe a woman was able to pull that off was beyond Buchanan, but the stories were entertaining enough.

Buchanan was one of many self-appointed lawmen aiming at taking down Burnshire. But unlike the other men, he wasn't planning on using brute strength. His quick draw wasn't quite fast enough for the job, either.

In his lifetime, Buchanan had found that he was often irresistible to women; they just couldn't control themselves when he walked in the room. He had used it to his advantage a few times before, but this would be a true test of his skill and looks.

As far as men looked where he was from, Buchanan could safely say he was the best-looking man he knew. His blond hair and green eyes helped him stand out from the grubby miners covered in soot and dust, which managed to make each man a uniform color from head to toe. A close-cropped beard covered the lower half of his face, making the angles of his jaw stand out. As a whole, his face and body were unmarred with the cuts, scars, and odd shapes that resulted from bar fights and broken bones.

Hell, if he could make the First Lady weak in the knees, Kristine Burnshire didn't stand a chance.

Buchanan Thompson had been following the path of carnage left by the Queen's gang for weeks now, always a few days too many behind on her trail. Most of the town would be left intact, with bullet holes only cutting her signature crown on the outer walls of the bank while the vaults were left completely empty.

Looking around now, Buchanan could see that he was getting closer. Not only from the fresh wanted poster, with an updated picture and description of her appearance and her gang's numbers, but from the fact that the bank was still whole, as was the rest of the town. The lack of ransacked buildings and disemboweled men marked that she hadn't hit Lanore Hills yet. Given the town's prosperity, it was only a matter of time before she showed up.

He had a plan: the element of surprise.

And he had enough time for a drink.

Pushing open the swinging double doors, Buchanan stepped out of the sun and into the cooler saloon. The creaking floor alerted the few midday patrons to his presence but, after a brief once-over, they all turned back to their drinks and Buchanan walked up to the bar counter.