his practice before she killed him… unless the Apache beat her to it! She didn’t like the fact that he would be riding back to town alone, and the more she thought about it, the more certain she was that he wouldn’t make it back at all unless someone covered his back. She could hardly go to the Sheriff and tell him her suspicions, and that left only one thing to do. She would have to saddle up and go after him and make sure he got back to town so that SHE could kill him herself!
It didn’t take long for Lucinda to change into her britches and tuck her hair up underneath her hat. She knew that the desert could get chilly at night, so she took a coat along, too, and a bedroll, and she wrapped up some food and took two canteens of water. Her gun was holstered and she had plenty of ammunition for it, and for the rifle she took with her. The young boy at the livery tried to talk her out of riding out of town, and she was happy as could be he didn’t realize she was a woman until she mounted up to ride off.
“Ma’am, you cain’t go! Them’s Apache’s out there and they’ll do terrible things to you if they catch you all alone!” he grabbed for her reins, but Lucinda slapped his hand with her riding whip, causing him to pull back his stinging hand and giving her the opportunity to race past him and out of town in the direction the Doctor had gone.
Chapter Three
Lucinda tried not to think about the Apache as she rode out of town to follow Doc Z. She’d had nightmares the last two nights about them yipping and screaming as they tried to stop the stagecoach as she and Henry were traveling from the Crawford’s Station to Snowfall, and as long as she lived she would never forget the look in the Apache man’s dark eyes as she shot him and he realized he was going to die! It still haunted her and made her feel sick to know that she’d taken another human being’s life, even though the man was trying to kill or capture her!
She refused to permit herself to dwell on how she would feel when she finally ended the handsome Doc Z’s life. She had no choice in the manner; Henry was without honor and he killed Philip! Lucinda missed her brother so much, and she owed it to him to avenge him, and she wasn’t going to let some Apache do it for her! She followed the men out of town, hoping she was going in the same direction the two men did. Every little sound and every little shadow made her nervous, and the horse she was riding was spooked, too, and she was having difficulty controlling him. Lucinda told herself to calm down. It wasn’t likely the Indians were on this side of the wagon train! Henry had told her that they rarely came within ten miles of the town, but she had no idea how far she’d ridden, and it was totally possible she’d ridden right past the wagon train and missed it.
All of a sudden, she heard the same yipping noise she’d heard when the Apache tried to overtake the stagecoach. She whirled around, looking for the Indians, and it took her several seconds to realize they weren’t coming after her. Her next thought was of Henry and the man he rode out of town with, and she urged her skittish mount forward, toward the sound, determined to protect the handsome doctor so that she might have the pleasure of killing him herself.
* * *
Henry couldn’t just ride off and leave the injured man to the mercy of the Apache braves. They wouldn’t have any mercy for the wagon train scout, and he knew it. They held him, and others like him, responsible for the influx of whites moving westward at an alarming rate. Henry took aim and fired, and felt sick when his bullet tore into the other man’s flesh. He hated killing; it went against the oath he took, but he also believed in self-defense and in protecting his own life. He couldn’t help others if he was dead. Henry fired once more and another young brave fell to the ground. If Henry was
It didn’t take long for Lucinda to change into her britches and tuck her hair up underneath her hat. She knew that the desert could get chilly at night, so she took a coat along, too, and a bedroll, and she wrapped up some food and took two canteens of water. Her gun was holstered and she had plenty of ammunition for it, and for the rifle she took with her. The young boy at the livery tried to talk her out of riding out of town, and she was happy as could be he didn’t realize she was a woman until she mounted up to ride off.
“Ma’am, you cain’t go! Them’s Apache’s out there and they’ll do terrible things to you if they catch you all alone!” he grabbed for her reins, but Lucinda slapped his hand with her riding whip, causing him to pull back his stinging hand and giving her the opportunity to race past him and out of town in the direction the Doctor had gone.
Chapter Three
Lucinda tried not to think about the Apache as she rode out of town to follow Doc Z. She’d had nightmares the last two nights about them yipping and screaming as they tried to stop the stagecoach as she and Henry were traveling from the Crawford’s Station to Snowfall, and as long as she lived she would never forget the look in the Apache man’s dark eyes as she shot him and he realized he was going to die! It still haunted her and made her feel sick to know that she’d taken another human being’s life, even though the man was trying to kill or capture her!
She refused to permit herself to dwell on how she would feel when she finally ended the handsome Doc Z’s life. She had no choice in the manner; Henry was without honor and he killed Philip! Lucinda missed her brother so much, and she owed it to him to avenge him, and she wasn’t going to let some Apache do it for her! She followed the men out of town, hoping she was going in the same direction the two men did. Every little sound and every little shadow made her nervous, and the horse she was riding was spooked, too, and she was having difficulty controlling him. Lucinda told herself to calm down. It wasn’t likely the Indians were on this side of the wagon train! Henry had told her that they rarely came within ten miles of the town, but she had no idea how far she’d ridden, and it was totally possible she’d ridden right past the wagon train and missed it.
All of a sudden, she heard the same yipping noise she’d heard when the Apache tried to overtake the stagecoach. She whirled around, looking for the Indians, and it took her several seconds to realize they weren’t coming after her. Her next thought was of Henry and the man he rode out of town with, and she urged her skittish mount forward, toward the sound, determined to protect the handsome doctor so that she might have the pleasure of killing him herself.
* * *
Henry couldn’t just ride off and leave the injured man to the mercy of the Apache braves. They wouldn’t have any mercy for the wagon train scout, and he knew it. They held him, and others like him, responsible for the influx of whites moving westward at an alarming rate. Henry took aim and fired, and felt sick when his bullet tore into the other man’s flesh. He hated killing; it went against the oath he took, but he also believed in self-defense and in protecting his own life. He couldn’t help others if he was dead. Henry fired once more and another young brave fell to the ground. If Henry was
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