Chapter 29 #2
“That’s enough, boys.” Looking at her hard, piercing eyes, no one could doubt she meant business. “I am the first one to enjoy a good fight, but this one don’t appear to have much of a point. So just settle yourselves down.”
Red Annie was a tall woman, taller than most men, and as tough as buffalo hide.
She kept her fiery red hair cropped short and covered with a wide-brimmed hat the color of night.
Caleb guessed she’d once been fair-skinned, but sun and wind and cold had weathered her face to a tawny gold, and wrinkles spiderwebbed from the corners of her gray eyes.
When she smiled, deep creases formed at the corners of her mouth.
She could be as intimidating as hell when she chose to be. When she was angry, those smile lines disappeared, and her eyes narrowed to slits. That’s what he and the crowd were looking at now.
For as long as Caleb had known her—about five years—he’d never seen her in anything except men’s clothes, with a brace of Colts strapped to her hips.
Right now, she was wearing buckskin trousers tucked into her boots and a jacket of elk skin that would keep out all kinds of weather.
More often than not, she was carrying the Winchester ’73 that was sticking up from its scabbard on the right side of her saddle.
An important tool of her trade. She could drink most men under the table, but she could also put a bullet though the back legs of a horsefly at two hundred yards.
And as Red Annie was the only Star Route carrier in this area, most everyone knew her.
“Did they close all the saloons in this here metropolis?” she called out. “Cuz I’m ready for a drink. Hell, you boys must’ve worked up a righteous thirst, and I see the Belle’s doors are open wide. So why don’t y’all get to it?”
The men in the crowd knew a good idea when they heard one, and the combatants began to head off arm-in-arm for the bars to lie about their prowess in the fight.
Pouching her irons, Red Annie swung down easily from the horse and turned her gray eyes on Caleb. One of those creases formed at the corner of her mouth.
“You need me to follow you around and save your carcass regular, Marlowe?”
“I was handling it.”
“You keep saying that, and one of these times I won’t be around to watch your back.” She motioned behind him. “Like now.”
Caleb turned in time to see the flash of a knife.
It was the short fella who’d cuffed Paddy and been shoved back by Gabe.
He was lunging toward them from the receding crowd, but Caleb was too quick for him.
Sweeping the boys to the side, he caught the wrist with the knife with one hand as he planted his right foot in the snow.
Dropping his shoulder, Caleb came up with a fist, connecting squarely under the man’s chin.
The attacker’s head snapped back and he left his feet, flying a few feet before landing unconscious in the packed snow.
The knife sailed off and dropped harmlessly beside him.
“See? You oughta get yourself another set of eyes for the back of your head.”
“Who am I to argue, Red?”
As far as Caleb knew, there was only one other woman who worked the Rockies as a Star Route carrier for US Postal Service. An independent contractor, Red carried mail for them from town to town along established routes, sometimes using stagecoaches, but often by horseback.
She was a woman who liked her life the way she lived it and was damn good at what she did. Caleb had heard a number of stagecoach drivers say they liked having her along for the ride. She was good company, a dead shot, and road agents gave her a wide berth if they knew she was coming through.
The four of them started across the street, and Red Annie tied her mare beside Caleb’s buckskin.
“So, how’d that lively little dance get started?” she asked, gesturing with her chin at the man just starting to stir in the middle of Main Street.
Caleb looked back at the wagon where Amos Stubbs had been holding forth. The clown responsible for it all had disappeared. He put his hand on Paddy’s shoulder.
“This fine fella and his friend here felt the need to stand up for my character, Red.”
“Questionable as that is,” she replied with a laugh. She took both of their chins in her gloved hands and inspected their wounds. “Looks like they got their licks in without too much in return.”
“I’ll have these two beside me in a tangle anytime,” Caleb said.
The boys grinned at each other.
“Glad you’re back, Mr. Marlowe,” Paddy said. “Miss Sheila said you rassled with a bear when she came over to the livery yesterday.”
The mention of Sheila caught Caleb off guard. Yesterday seemed a lifetime ago. Standing in the snow beside the ruins of his ranch, he'd finally stopped fighting what was in his heart.
“Something like that,” he replied.
“Miss Sheila was worried sick,” Paddy added matter-of-factly.
Caleb felt a smile threatening and did his best to hide it.
Red Annie pulled the saddlebag from her palomino and slid the Winchester from the scabbard. “That’s where I know you fellas from. You’re the son of Malachi Rogers.”
The boys removed their hats.
Gabe nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”
“I work there,” Paddy chirped. “And you’re Red Annie O’Neal.”
“That’s right. So then, why don’t you two take my lady Argo here over to the stable and see that she gets everything she needs.” She ruffled Paddy’s hair. “I need to talk to your pa.”
“Marlowe ain’t my pa,” the boy said, his face reddening.
“That’s what they all say.”
As the boys led Argo away, Red Annie turned to Caleb. “Whoever’s boy that is, you and me need to talk. I got a message for you from Duke Ortiz.”