Chapter 1

Dammit, that bullet was a little too close—time to move! If that fool rag-head shows himself again, he’s dead. My only choice is to move over to that gully where there is a little more protection. As soon as they start with the mortars, even that gully will not be much protection. Shit, here they come. What in the hell?! I can’t move with this much incoming mortar fire.

BANG!

Oh, my God, what a headache. That last one was too damned close. Hey, where am I?! This is not Afghanistan! What happened? That last mortar round must have been closer than I thought. It has my head all screwed up. Thank God, the mortar fire has stopped. Now, if I can just spot the rest of my squad. Shit, if I didn’t know better, I’d think that I was in Texas. All of this grass and trees weren’t here a few minutes ago.

Oh, no, what the shit?! I’m out of uniform and I can’t find my assault rifle. “HEY, GUYS, WHERE ARE YOU? ... SOMEBODY ANSWER ME! WHAT’S GOING ON?” No answer. Dammit, that was a fool thing to do. I know better than to advertise where I am if I’m still in enemy territory. Dammit, I’ve got to get my head on straight if I expect to live through this shit.

At least, there’s a horse down the gully a little bit. If I can stand up, I should be able to get to it. It’s saddled with a Western saddle, and that is as screwy as the scenery. Nobody in Afghanistan know beans about a Western saddle. At least, there is a shotgun hanging from the saddle horn. That will give me some protection.

Oh, Man, my head is still spinning and pounding. I sure wish I had some Tylenol or something for it. Maybe there is something useful in these jean pockets. And that reminds me, who the hell swapped my clothes. I’ve still got my panties and bra, but my pants, shirt, and boots have been changed. How could that happen without me knowing about it? This is just plain crazy!

Oh, God, where did these revolvers and knives come from? I have two revolvers in the crossdraw position at my waist, a Bowie knife on my right hip and a stiletto on my left hip. Shit, you’d think that I was in a cowboy movie. At least, I know how to use all of these weapons. Yep, this ammo pouch on my belt is full of .44-40 cartridges and shotgun shells, so I guess that my pistols are that caliber. Dammit, I’m being a fool again. I better check that the guns are loaded.

Okay, I’m familiar with my pistols—they are both Starr DAs in .44-40 caliber, and the cylinders are loaded with six cartridges in each. It’s a good thing that I learned to shoot my Dad’s revolver before I joined the Marines, and I haven’t lost any speed in drawing from when I was a kid. Dad used the crossdraw position, so that was what I learned.

“Well, horse, tell my your name. What, you’re not talking to me. Well, in that case, I’ll have to give you a name. I guess I’ll call you Red. Dammit, I’ve got to find somebody who can tell me what is going on. Okay, there is a Winchester rifle in the saddle sheath, just like I expected. I’ll tell you, Red, I’d think that I had traveled in time if I didn’t know better.

“Yeah, this is an 1873 model Winchester rifle, and it looks to be practically in mint condition, just like the pistols. Well, if I have traveled in time, I sure would like to know why and how. Maybe I’ll find out one day, but I won’t bet on it.”

Dammit, I have been riding for two hours or more and I still have not seen hide nor hair of any people. At least, I did spot this road that has to lead somewhere, so I guess that my best bet is to stick with it. This damned heat is bad, but not as bad as Afghanistan, so I guess that I can’t complain too much. The final convincer that I traveled in time was that $10 gold piece that I found in my pocket. If this is Texas of the 1870s, I can probably live a month on that amount of money, but I had better start thinking about how I can earn some more before this runs out.

It wasn’t half an hour later that I ran into a copse of cottonwood trees. I wasn’t paying much attention to things until a man rode out of the trees with a drawn pistol. “Raise your hands and give me your money.”

Oops, I had really done something stupid! Here I was facing a road agent with no way to draw my weapons. Hey, maybe I did have a secret weapon. As I raised my hands, my shirt was pulled against my chest, and the road agent’s eyes bulged as he starred at me. “My God, you’re a woman! This must be my lucky day. Get off your horse. I have plans for us to party.”

Uh-oh, I knew exactly what he had in mind, and that I was prepared for. I had been through the course in defending against rape and had wound up teaching the course for several months. The difference between the course and now was only that we were presently sitting on horses. “Okay, Mister, don’t shoot. I’m getting down.”

“Hey, you talk funny, but that will not make any difference. All I am interested in is your cunt. Move over to those low bushes while I dismount.”

Was he so eager for sex that he didn’t notice that I was armed with revolvers and knives, or was it that he just assumed that a mere woman could not possibly equal a man, even if she had a gun? Well, I did not hesitate to follow such a foolish order. I moved off the road, leading my horse into the low bushes at the side of the road.

The man actually holstered his gun as he prepared to dismount. Not only that, he turned his back on me for a few seconds. That was all I needed. I drew and fired my revolver in one smooth motion and put a bullet neatly between his shoulder blades. Naturally, he fell beside his horse and didn’t move.

Shit, he had surely planned to shoot me after tiring of raping me. He undoubtedly then planned to rob me. Well I was going to do the same to him. He was already dead, so I didn’t need to worry about his reaction when I searched him for money and anything else he had worth taking. I managed to get a little over $40 from his pockets and his moneybelt. I was careful when I removed his moneybelt not to get any blood on it, and I fastened it around my waist after I put his loose change in my pocket and put my eagle ($10 gold coin) in the moneybelt with his gold.

As it happens, I am very strong for a woman, so I had no trouble tying his body across the saddle. I had read in Western stories about how bounty hunters handled their quarry, so I knew what to do. I rigged up a rope lead for his horse and continued on my way looking for a town, hopefully one with a marshal.

Well, I got lucky. I found such a town before dark and got my receipt for the road agent. It turned out that he was worth $35, and that princely sum made my take from him over $100 by the time I sold everything I didn’t want. I did have to kick in two-bits (25¢) for burying him. I even tipped the marshal two-bits, enough for a few beers, for his help.

I also got the information I needed about where to collect my bounty and the recommendation that I spend the night in the town unless I wanted to camp out beside the road. I took the advice about staying in the local hotel. The marshal did warn me about the bedbugs, so I picked up a small bottle of horse lineament from the livery stable where I left my horse for the night. The agent at the livery stable assured me that I could safely leave my rifle and shotgun with my horse because he had a night-guard patrolling the stable. I decided to take his word for it because I could always shoot him if he were wrong.

I registered for a room in the hotel and got a strange look when I signed the register with my real name of Helen Hunt. I guess the clerk had thought that I was a man until he saw my name. He did warn me that I could not depend on just locking my door for the night, so I thanked him and decided what to do for my safety that night.

However, I was hungry since it had been a number of hours since I had eaten. The hotel had a restaurant attached, so I gave it a try. The choices were steak or beef and beans stew. I was feeling kind of flush with money, so I took the steak and coffee. The stew cost 22¢, but the steak was 31¢. In either case, the coffee was 2¢. There was no dessert offered, and, after trying the steak, I was just as happy. The steak was poorly cooked and tough, but I attacked it like any Marine would do and ate the whole damned thing. I just hoped for no heartburn tonight.

I was pretty tired, so I went back to my room and to bed. I did wedge a chair under the doorknob before lying down, but I put one revolver under my pillow and the other one on the floor beside the bed opposite the door in case I had to roll out of bed to that side. It was kind of hot in the room, so I opened the two windows that were not on the same side as the veranda roof. I figured that was safe enough since I had not seen any ladders when I leaned out the windows.

I must have been even more tired than I had realized because I dropped off to sleep almost as soon as I lay down. To be on the safe side, I only took off my boots, pants, and shirt. I figured that my underwear would be enough if I had to run from a fire. I did not know at the time that most people slept nude during the warm weather.

I was not disturbed that night, so I got plenty of sleep and woke up with the sunrise. I dressed and went down to breakfast. I had the usual: grits, bacon, eggs, biscuits, gravy, and coffee, so I was not surprised that the total cost was 24¢.

I picked up my horse and found that my guns had indeed survived the night, so I had no complaints as I rode away from the livery stable. My only regret was that I had not been more liberal with the lineament because the bedbug bites still itched. I figured that I could put up with it, but I resolved to be more generous tomorrow with the lineament.

I found the courthouse in the county seat and looked up the county clerk. At first, he was not going to give me the money for the bounty because it was obvious that a woman could never have overcome a road agent by herself. However, he did change his mind when I fingered the pommel of my Bowie knife and frowned at him. Six years in the Marines had taught me how to convince reluctant men that I was serious in my demands.

In fact, he became quite helpful toward the end of my visit. He gave me a stack of wanted posters, and he advised me to forget the ones without pictures. He said that the written descriptions were usually too vague to be useful, and I would get a bad reputation if I shot too many men not actually wanted. He also advised me to always shoot a man that I captured—there was too much danger in not doing so. I had no trouble in seeing his point, so that was what I resolved to do.