Cowgirl Thrillers by Barbara Neville

  ***

  Once again we are traveling through Tatonka. Buffalo herds are grazing everywhere and the grass is belly deep on our horses. We trot around the buff, stopping twice to tighten the hitches on the panniers so our precious cargo doesn’t jump off the sawbucks.

  “At this pace I believe we’ll make yore place easy afore dark, Wolf,” says Spud.

  “Maybe, wanna beat that big storm. Keep papers dry,” says Wolf.

  “Yeah, I’ve had my eye on them clouds, too. The tarps over the panniers should do it, but a big wind can get water in the damnedest places,” I say.

  “Not to mention that we are the tallest things out on the plains here,” adds Sir Jacob. “Tall gentry are lightning rods.”

  “I always figured it was the short folk on the tall horses that drew the zingers,” I say to Wolf. “We’re safe.”

  “Why Wolf ride pony,” says Wolf. “Wolf notice Annie Talks To Horses ride pony too. Like our Mongolian fathers.”

  “I never trusted a tall horse. Long legs, no sense.” I look around at the boys. “Applies to men folk, too.”

  “Hey!” Spud leans over for a smooch.

  “Aren’t the Federals gonna miss all these folks we been killin’?” I ask.

  “Guess Don Miguel might be on the hot seat right about now, explainin’ that,” says Spud.

  “Naw, Soames won’t suspect him, our friend Don Miguel may appear to be a fool, but he is not,” says Wolf.

  “How many have we killed anyway?” Spud smiles at me. “Believe I’ve lost count.”

  “Blimey, life is complicated. Even the best of motives can have awful consequences, intended or not,” says Sir Jacob.

  “I definitely intended to shoot center, assholes were trying to kill us,” I say.

  “In this branch of business apparently,” Sir Jacob says, “we don’t fire them, we fire at them.”

  “You bet.”

  27 Lone’s Camp