Lady Pamela Southman, eighteen and still unwed. By choice, as she did not lack for suitors. She wouldn't describe herself as wilful, but she was accustomed to getting her own way. This last explained why she was out riding, unaccompanied. Atop Billy, her black stallion, she was confident she could outride anyone.
Perhaps she would have, if she'd actually been mounted when he appeared. Unfortunately, she dismounted to sit for a while, and when she turned on hearing a noise he was sitting there, riding a stallion every bit as fine as Billy. Black seemed to be the colour of his choice, as his clothes and his horse were that deep colour.
This didn't dismay Lady Pamela as much as the fact that his mask and gun were also black.
"I know," he said. "I look a little flamboyant and theatrical like this, and to compound the offence they call me Mr. Black. However, the gun works, so it might be advisable for you not to issue any insults but to just continue sitting there while you fish out your valuables and lay them out."
Pamela gave him a cold look. Do you realise who I am," she asked, making no move to start fishing out any valuables.
"Let me see," came the considered reply. "I'm on the outskirts of the Southman estate. I come across a great Lady riding an excellent black stallion. Lady Pamela Southman is known to ride in this area on an excellent black stallion. I would have to take a wild guess and say you're probably her. You, milady, can call me Blackie. Your valuables, please."
Pamela continued to try to stare him down but realised, to her irritation, that he was completely unaffected by who she was.
"You're out of luck," she finally told Mr. Black. "I brought no valuables with me. Why would I, when I'm just riding around the estate. Billy is no use to you, as he is too well known. Try to steal him and you'd be found very quickly. And hung," she added with a smile.
"I'll concede that I'm better off without your Billy, but Pegasus here is all the horse I need anyway. As to no valuables, I'd say those pearls you're wearing around your pretty little neck are worth a nice sum, and pearls are always sellable. So why don't you stop stalling and hand them over."
Pamela had forgotten about the pearls. Her hand now snapped defensively to her throat in protest.
"No," she cried urgently. "You can't. They were the last present I had from my Mother. You can't have them."
"Milady, all I have to do is hit you on the head with my little gun and then take the pearls off you while you sleep," Mr. Black pointed out. "Now be a good girl and take them off."
Pamela was on her feet now, backing slowly away.
"I won't," she said, temper and desperation evident in her voice. "My mother gave them to me. You're not having them."
Mr. Black considered the situation. Damned unreasonable woman. He had the gun, she should do as she's told. He couldn't really shoot her or pistol whip her. The subsequent furore would probably mean he'd have to emigrate. Fast. So if he couldn't get the pearls.....
"I'll do you a deal," he said. "I'll explain why you should give me the pearls, and if you think my arguments are compelling enough you can just undo the pearls and give them to me and I'll leave. I'll leave my gun in my saddlebag and I'll promise not to try to touch the pearls while I make my argument. Deal?"
Pamela hesitated as he dismounted and dropped his gun into his saddle bag. Running was useless as he'd catch her easily enough, and he was between her and Billy. It wasn't as though she had much choice.
