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have to keep ya.”
    She breathed a sigh of relief and
smiled. The room swayed, the adrenaline and excitement making her feel drunk.
    He retrieved his gun from her and
grabbed her arm, yanking her to her feet. She desperately held the tattered
remnants of her dress to her chest, trying to be modest.
    “What do they call you?” He asked
as he rifled through the belongings of the dead men.
    “Jane,” she replied meekly.
    Bill’s gravelly laugh sounded like
years of tobacco and whiskey. “Tricky Jane’s what I’m gonna call you. I don’t
think this sonofabitch ever thought you’d kill him.”
    He turned and shoved the outlaw’s
gun holster into her arms. “Here.” Not waiting for her to grab it, he walked
over to examine each of the bodies.
    The leather and gunmetal were heavy
and she held tight to keep them from dropping. With her hands full, her dress
slipped out of her fingers and fell open, exposing her breasts. She grit her
teeth, hoping the tangle of thick leather was enough to cover her.
    Bill leaned down to remove a boot
from the smaller of the four men. “This’ll do.” Turning to her, he stopped, his
eyes wandering down her exposed skin. His smile had a hint of malevolence. She
blushed but kept her chin up.
    Shaking his head, he reached down
to lift her leg up. He held her foot against the sole of the boot and she felt
like she was a horse getting shoed.
    “What’re you doing?” She asked,
feeling foolish while wobbling on one foot.
    “You need somethin’ to wear. If’n you
want to ride nude, it’d be fine by me.” He released her leg and gripped her
shoulder, his fingers digging into her flesh. She winced but held his stare.
    “Listen good now. I’m not taking
you for a wife. I’m taking you because you’re useful.” He gave her a little
shake and leaned close. The brim of his coal gray hat brushed her forehead and
she felt his hot breath on her lips. “You hear me?”
    His ash gray eyes searched her for
any hint of hesitation. “There’s a reason cowboys don’t get old. It’s dangerous
and you’ll probably get hurt. Maybe even die.”
    Refusing to blink, she looked
defiantly at him. She wasn’t going to let him change his mind.
    “My Pa’s dead, my crops are dust,
and I’m broke. I almost died a lonely farm girl. I ain’t afraid to die with a
gun in my hands.” She was surprised by her boldness. He’s going to say I’m a
stupid girl, she thought cursing herself.
    “Okay.” He nodded and turned back
to the body on the floor, where he set to stripping it of clothing. The shirt
had only a little blood on it; the shot had gone through the outlaw’s eye. Bill
shook it out and tossed it over a chair, along with pants and a hat.
    Brushing his hands off, he faced
her, his eyes taking one last glance at her naked chest.
    “I’ll be outside tending to the
horses.” He tilted his hat at her and left.
    Staring at the door, she stood
still, eyes wide and arms straining to hold her gun belt. The courtesy stunned
her even more than her near death experience. For a moment he’d forgotten he
was Brutal Bill, the meanest bounty hunter in the west.
     
    ***
     
    Bill’s pale eyes glistened from the
orange light of the lapping flames. She watched him from across the pit,
wondering what he was thinking as he stared into the fire.
    He had been silent through the day.
She only had the sound of the jingling tack and grunting horses to keep her
company. She’d glanced at him periodically, on the verge of breaking the quiet.
But she reconsidered and kept her mouth shut.
    She was glad to have the hat, to
keep the harsh sun out of her eyes. But even with the tie pulled tight against
her chin, it was too big. It needed constant re-adjusting as it slid forward
over her face.
    Looking at Bill, she rubbed her
backside. She was sore; the saddle and her loose pants had rubbed against her
rear, badly. But she refused to complain.
    Instead she got up and moved around
the fire to sit on the log next to