Since the untimely death of her husband just six months ago, Sue-Ann Beasley had been trying her best to keep her ranch in order, despite the men that the bank had kept sending out to pressure her to sell. She knew that the wealthy folk were all in cahoots and wanted to get her off this land so they could build their precious railroad through her property, but she couldn’t accept any of their offers. Her husband had worked hard to buy this land, and she would honor his memory and keep working until her son was old enough to take over, or she could start profiting enough to hire some ranch-hands.
The night that she met the cowboy will not quickly fade from her mind. She was fast asleep when the sound of panicked horses and men shouting woke her. She bolted up and ran to the window to see that her barn was on fire, and men were riding around it throwing torches and lamps. Afraid for her son in the crib next to her bed, Sue grabbed the rifle she kept next to her night-stand and took aim out the window. She was about to fire at the first man to enter her sights when something hit her on the back of the head sending out tendrils of cold flame though her body, and she felt herself hit the floor.
“No, please,” she tried saying, but the words were slurred. In that moment, she knew. The banks had won. Her land was lost, and now, quite possibly her life and the life of her son for all she knew.
“Please, not my boy,” she said again, strength returning to her voice, and she slowly tried to push herself up.
“You done waited too long,” a chew laden voice said through a chuckle, and then pain returned to the back of her head as someone grabbed her head and started pulling her out of the room.
The men outside became even more exuberant when they saw their leader had pulled Sue outside.
“First we-unna gonna kill yer boy,” The man said letting go of Sue’s hair and snapping fingers towards the house she was just taken from. Two men threw their oil lamps into the windows and fire immediately exploded throughout the house. Sue screamed in pure agony that only a mother’s heart could experience, but a hand slapped her across the face, stunning her and smothering the scream. She could could feel the man’s mouth next to her ear and he kneeled down to her, his chuckle growing in his voice.
“And while that little piss is burnin and squealing like a stuck pig, we gonna take you…”
He started ripping the bottom of her nightgown, a low guttural sound filling his throat.
“... until we alllllll had our fill.” He let out another growl and his leathery hands began to slowly writhe around her body like a serpent. This made the men only become more excited and they began hollering like indians and making their way towards her.
She tried to push them away, tried to stop them, but any single one of them was stronger than she was. She screamed and thrashed, and cried for her son, but it was hopeless.
“Please!” she screamed, over and over. “Please!”
But no voice answered her. Instead, she heard the report of someone firing from outside the light of the fire which was now engulfing both buildings. The man who had begun to hold her left arm down suddenly twitched as a splatter of something hot and metallic tasting spattered across her face, and then he slumped over, his grip on her arm slacking.
Then she heard a second report, and a third. After a moment, she had lost count, and the men who were holding her down had either been shot, or were scattering for cover. All except the big burly man who had pulled her out of the house, and who now held her in front of himself with his pistol pressed firmly to the side of her head. Then the shooting stopped and all that could be heard over the roar of the fire were the whispered shouts of the remaining men, and the jangling of spurts, hoofs slowly padding across the earth, and the creak of a saddle.
“Quiet!” the man hissed to his men, and they all stared into the darkness as a black from atop a horse slowly rode up. He stopped just outside of the light’s ability to show his features, save for the sheen in his eyes and silhouette of his hat. He just sat there for a full minute, shrouded with shadow and an unnerving silence. Then, with a casual grace, he dismounted and gave the horse a pat on the rear causing it to walk back into the darkness.
“Partner, yud best turn back around and get if you know what's good fer ya.”
The sheen spread to the shadowed man’s mouth as the light from the fires played on his teeth, and he took a step forward. One of the men in hiding stood and raised his rifle to shoot the newcomer, but the shadowed cowboy’s hands flew to his holstered pistol and back up with supernatural speed, firing a single bullet that hit the raider right above his nose. He fell down, dead, his rifle having never been shot. The echos of the gunshot resounded for a short moment, and then all the remaining men stood and began firing.
Still walking slowly towards them, the cowboy, by which the firelight could now confirm, pulled his second pistol out, and began firing in return. To Sue, it seemed his arms were controlling themselves, as he walked towards them, his eyes remaining on hers.
It only took a few moments, but in that short time, the cowboy had dispatched all the men except for Sue’s captor, and had not a scratch to show for it.
“I’ll kill`er” the burly man spat. “Stop right there or i’ll put a new hole in`er head!”
The cowboy stopped.
“Throw em!” the man commanded, but the cowboy just stood there. “Throw em on the ground!” the man bellowed, motioning towards the earth with his pistol. Thats when the cowboy stuck. With a single lighting fast reaction, his hand flew to his pistol, and from the hip, shot the other man’s pistol right from his grip, taking a portion of his index finger with it.
Sue followed the cowboy’s lead, and tore away from the man’s other arm in his moment of shock. She flung herself towards the cowboy, but stopped just outside of his reach.
“Wait!” the bleeding man said, desperation in his voice. “Wait! Don’t kill me! I have information. I have gold. Just wait!”
The cowboy glanced at Sue as if asking her permission. She took a moment to compose herself and then spoke to the cowboy.
“Thank you.”
A shallow nod was his only reply.
“Please, wait…” the man droned on.
“Let me talk to him?” Sue asked.
Another nod.
She walked back over to the man, now clutching his bloody hand, and she withdrew his second revolver from its holster and she aimed it at his head.
“Gold.” she stated flatly.
“Yes, yes. take it!” the man said, slowly reaching into his vest and pulling out a small sack and tossed it to the ground at her feet.
“Who?”
“Mr. Applemoore. He needs the land for them rail cars. He-”
Sue abruptly dropped the pistol and fired a round into the man’s knee. He fell to the ground with a cry of shock and pain, and curses began pouring out of his mouth.
“Stupid wench!” the man spat! “At least we killed yer kid!” he taunted in his rage, the pain stifling the laugh he was so desperate to show.
“Roasted him like a hog!”
Sue calmly moved to pistol to her left hand reached down picking up one of the remaining lamps, and threw it at the man’s head. He burst into flames, oil covering his body and aoking into his clothes like a human torch, and he shrieked in outrage and agony.
And then the anguish washed over Sue. She looked to the house where her son had been sleeping, the room now entirely engulfed. She sank to her knees, sobbs welling up from deep inside. She knew the cowboy had moved to stand beside her because of the slight whistle he made, but she didn’t care. Nothing mattered anymore. She wished the the men had just killed her outright.
She felt a strong hand give her shoulder a slight squeeze, and when she looked up, the cowboy was holding a small child wrapped in cloth. She leaped to her feet and took her son from the man, her sobs instantly transformed from the darkest of nights to the brilliant sun of midday.
“How?” she asked through the tears, but the man just smiled.
‘Thank you!” she said, burying her face into the cloth and kissing her son. “Thank you thank you thank you!”
She just sat there for a few minutes reeling from all that just took place. The moans from the burning man had quieted, and when she looked up, the cowboy was back on his horse. He reached up one hand to the brim of his hat, and gave her a nod. Then he tossed her 5 pouches identical to the pouch of gold taken from the gang’s leader.
“Who are you?” she asked.
“Just a cowboy,” the man said, voice thick and low. Then he turned his horse, and began riding out in the same fashion he had arrived.
“Wait?” she called after him, but he just kept on riding, fading into the darkness and out of sight.
“Who’s going to help me if more come?” she yelled.
But the night was now still with the crackle of fire, except for two words that rang out in the dark, cutting the silence like a trumpet.
“I am!”
