“Shawne, dear, would you take these yard goods back with the others?” Maude said.
Casey gathered up two bolts of what Maude called “calico” and made her way to the middle of the store. One bolt had a pretty blue pattern, but Casey favored the green color of the second bolt. The bell above the door jingled. Two men walked in. Both wore gun belts and the hungry look of greed. She recognized both of them.
Stepping back into the shadows, she turned, straightened the bolts, and listened.
“Howdy. How can I help you?” Hank said.
Tell ’em to leave.
Heavy boots thudded across the wooden floor. With the click of a revolver’s hammer, Casey turned back around.
“You can empty your money into this bag.” The gunman shoved a leather bag into Hank’s face.
Casey eyed the gunman at the counter while the second man kept vigil at the door.
Maude gasped. Her hand flew to her mouth.
“Don’t worry, dear,” Hank said and patted her hand. He opened the cash register and began pulling out bills.
“You get over here.” The man at the door wielded a Smith and Wesson with an ivory grip in Casey’s direction. He eyed her strangely.
He recognizes me. She inched forward in the hope she looked too frightened to move. Maude’s face paled, and Hank didn’t look well either. They’d been nothing but kind to her since the day she walked into their mercantile. She moved closer to the counter and the gunman. Twelve feet. Six feet. Four feet. The man at the door continued to stare a hole through her.
Reaching into her dress pocket, Casey whipped out her derringer and sent a bullet into the man’s wrist. Blood spurted on the counter and onto Hank’s shirt and suspenders.
The gunman dropped his revolver, and Casey snatched it up. She tossed the derringer to Hank. Shock crested the outlaw’s face. In a split second she turned to the man at the door and sent a bullet into his shoulder.
“Casey O’Hare.” The man grabbed his shoulder and lifted his revolver.
She sent another bullet into the man’s firing arm, just below his elbow.
“I knew I recognized you.”
“A lot of good it did. You won’t be robbing anyone for a while.”
“You’re as good as dead. Jenkins will find out about this.”
“Then you’d better get out of here fast, because this gunfire will have the sheriff here real quick.”
“Then we’ll tell him who you are,” the gunman at the counter said.
Casey laughed. “Guess we’ll all hang together.” She lifted the revolver. “Get out of here, before all you’ll need is the undertaker.”
The two made their way to the door, and she slammed it shut. With a deep breath she faced her friends.
Chapter 9
Casey laid the Smith and Wesson on the counter beside the cash register and reached behind for a rag. She couldn’t look at Hank and Maude. Not yet anyway.
“Blood always stains,” she said and scrubbed the splotches on the wooden counter. Satisfied that it was clean, she kneeled to wipe up the little pools of blood. An eerie silence beat down on her. She knew she should say something, but what? I’m an outlaw. I’ve deceived you. I carry a Bible in my saddlebag, and I’m faster with my Colt than most men can blink. Cross me wrong, and I’ll pin you to a tree with a knife.
The bell rang over the door, and the sheriff entered, nearly knocking her down.
“I’m sorry, miss.” He righted her, and she stood numb and ready for whatever happened next. The man was young, as evidenced by his spindly attempt at a handlebar mustache.
“Heard shots,” the sheriff said. “Are you all right?” He saw the blood-soaked rag in Casey’s hand, and his gaze flew to Hank.
“We’re all right,” Hank said. “A couple of men came in here and demanded the money.” Hank picked up the Smith and Wesson. “He tried to use this on me, but I knocked it out of his hand and—”
“Used it on him?” The sheriff’s eyes widened.
Hank shrugged. “Had to protect these women.”
The sheriff took long steps to face Hank. He stuck out his hand. “You’re a brave man, and I’m proud to call you a friend.”
“Thank you. I didn’t do any different than any other man. I needed to take care of those I care about.” He wrapped his arm around Maude’s waist. “I’m no hero—just an old man with not much sense.”
Maude’s eyes pooled with tears, and she pulled a handkerchief from her pocket to dab the wetness. The sight yanked