Betty leaned forward on the horse's back, feeling it's undulating muscles pulsing rhythmically beneath her.
"YA!!" Betty exclaimed, as she dug her spurs into the dusky mare's flanks.
Her eyes narrowed in the onslaught of the dusty wind. She reached back and patted the loot-filled saddlebags, a pleased smile creasing her lips.
Her horse made a sharp turn and leaped into a shallow creek...She rode against the stream, guiding her horse through the nearby ravine. Soon, the lawmen would find it impossible to follow her trail.
After a few more hours of travel, she found a crevice in the painted rock. She dismounted her horse and set up camp.
She removed her low wide-brimmed hat, revealing a fine-featured, red-brown face covered in dust. She had expressive almond eyes, high-cheekbones, a proportionate round nose, and the full lips of her African ancestors. Her poufy hair billowed out around her face and shoulders, like a dandelion gone to seed. Her impressive, womanly, curves bounced hypnotically with every step. Because she was as tall as a man, her ample curves made her look like an Amazon goddess.
After nibbling on a mixture of cured meat, nuts, and dried berries and having her fill of the water in what was now a gently flowing river, she succumbed to temptation.
She unbuttoned her heavy shirt, pants, and chaps, slipped off her boots and spurs and slipped into the clear flowing water...She dipped her head beneath, creating a heavy mop of ink-black curls.
She found some soap-root at the river bank and worked up a lather. Her black Indian momma had taught her that trick and she was grateful. She was able to really clean the dirt from grimy areas.
Having stayed in the water a bit longer than she had to, she came to shore. She lay out on her blanket, allowing the sun to finish the work of drying her nude body.
She crossed her arms beneath her head, where a gun lay at the ready.
She let her eyelids fall shut and waited for her visitor to reveal himself...
~~~~~
He stuck to the shadows, tensed, with his gun drawn. He'd been tracking her for almost a month and his supplies were running low. If he screwed up now, he'd have to go home to try again, another time.
He'd be damned if he let this woman get away, again.
~~~~~
Cody had managed well, for a young man living on the frontier. He owned a piece of land, a sturdy cabin he'd built with own hands, and a small farm. It had been more than enough for himself and his young wife, Annabelle.
She'd died two winters ago, while in labor. Afterwards, his depression swallowed him up so thoroughly, he became like the walking dead. Focusing on chores; keeping the place running had saved him many a day, since then.
The night his cow went into labor, he'd been playing a dangerous game of Russian roulette.
The stormy evening he'd been eyeing a length of rope a bit, too closely, he heard a knock on his door. He picked up his shotgun and peaked out the window...No sane or well-meaning person would be out this far on the plains, on a night like this.
He saw a shuddering female form, leaning heavily against his door. He ran to the door and quickly opened it. A tall, brown, woman fell in, soaked to the bone.
Cody, grew up in a town where there had been slaves, but like most, his family had been too poor to own any. In fact, the better-off townspeople treated his family little better. They mostly lived off the land, like his Indian grandfather. One of the neighbor's slaves, Popsie even brought them her master's leavings on occasions, when times for hunting and growing food were lean.
"Oh my God, lady what're you doing out here like this? This ain't no place for no woman traveling alone..." He stopped when he turned he over. She had been beaten.
"Who did this to you?" He asked.
She managed a small smile on her bruised lips and whispered, "Don't worry. They got it back much worse." and passed out.
Cody, stood and took a deep breath, frowning at the beaten colored woman on his floor.
"Damn."
He ran a hand through his dirty-blond hair, considering her for moment. He could see she was a striking woman, tall with a pretty face and a curvy body.
"Probably had a scuffle with a lover." He thought.
Had he gone to town more often, he would have recognized her, immediately. Her face was a common sight on wanted posters: the notorious "Black Betty" Parker, wanted for murder and robbery, known for seducing her hostages. Her wanted poster was a popular keepsake for many men.
His instincts screamed "Trouble!" but his family hadn't raised him to put a woman out on her own. He picked her up and carried her to the rocker he had sitting by the fire. He gingerly placed her in a comfortable position. It had been awkward, for him. She was an unusually tall woman, an inch or two shy of his own six-foot frame.
He carefully removed her soaked clothing, down to her undergarments, guiltily allowing his grey eyes to wander over her womanly curves, every now and then. The thin wet white cotton, did little to hide the darkness of her womanly areas. He forced himself to avert his eyes and escaped to his room to retrieve a blanket for her.
He paused at his dead wife's dresser and stared into the mirror. A young man with old eyes stared back at him. With his weathered good looks and farmer's physique, the ladies in town often blushed and giggled to look at him.
He considered the reasons why she would be here and all of them pointed to that initial instinct of trouble, for him.
He wondered if she were a runaway. He imagined if she belonged to anybody, they'd be more than a little nettled to see her gone.
After a moment's contemplation, he decided to feed her, give her dry clothes, and send her on her way, as soon as possible.
"No more than two days and she's gone." He assured himself, while picking up a heavy blanket.
Cody returned to the main room and began to prepare a meal for her.
Betty slept in front of the fire and dreamed.
~~~~~
