"Easy, Miss Britches," said the voice behind her.
She tensed. Who was....
"Britches?" the voice repeated. "Easy does it, honey. It's Spade. You did great. Now you need to help me calm things down. Can you do that?"
As quickly as it came, the anger left her, almost as if someone had stuck a pin in a balloon. She let out the deep breath she'd been unconsciously holding and lowered her guns. An arm slipped around her shoulders and she looked up to see Spade next to her.
"I...I'm sorry, Spade," she stammered. "I guess I got a little carried away."
He smiled and squeezed her shoulder gently.
"Folks," he called to the crowd. "My name's Spade. Welcome to Silverado. What you've just witnessed is part of the adventure our guests come halfway around the world to experience. We make it as true to life as we can without anybody gettin' hurt. This beautiful young lady standin' next to me is Julie. But this week she's playin' the part of Little Britches, a famous lady outlaw back in the 19th century. She did great, didn't she? Let's give her a hand, what do ya say?"
The applause was loud, accompanied by more than a few wolf whistles.
"Now meet our other players in this little drama. Over there is Sheriif Matt Branson. Get up, Matt and let 'em see you. Give him a hand, folks."
Spade let go of Britches' shoulder and turned to the other man on the ground. "And that mean-looking gent in black is Arizona. Stand up, Arizona. Let 'em see you're not really dead." He waited for the applause to die down. "He don't smile much, does he? Well, right now he's got a reason to be mad. No one has ever beaten him before. C'mon, Arizona. Smile for the folks, would you?"
But the man in black turned on his heel and marched stiffly away.
"He's sure a sole loser, ain't he? Well, folks, thanks for coming to visit us here in Silverado. Enjoy the rest of your stay."
The crowd started to disperse and before you could count to ten, several teenage girls came up to Britches. "Could we have your autograph? Please?"
Britches looked up to Spade in surprise, as if to say, "Who? Me?"
"Good ahead, Britches," he chuckled. "You're a star, now."
* * * * *
Lara stepped up beside Spade, who in turn was watching Julie signing autographs for a now sizeable crowd.
"How's your head?" she asked.
Spade glanced down in surprise and then laughed. "Fine. How's your leg?"
"Pretty good," she replied. "I'll be tip-top in a couple of weeks."
"And just where were you while your young roommate was takin' the town by storm?"
"Watching safely from the sidewalk, thank you very much, Mr. Spade. Like you said, she did just fine. How about you rescue her from the crowd? We've only got ninety minutes until lunch and I promised her we'd go for a ride."
Ten minutes later, the two friends eased their horses out of the corral.
* * * * *
The rest of the day passed quickly. Lara and the rest of her group had shared their last meal together at midday and there were a lot of hugs and some tears at the train station. She'd exchanged addresses with everyone and there was talk of having some kind of reunion at a later date.
She had spent the afternoon meeting with Jason Trimble and the board of directors and posing for publicity photos. She had insisted that Spade attend the board meeting with her and share his ideas on pre-screening the guests. She had made a number of remarks herself and was pleased that most members of the board seemed interested in what she had to say.
Britches had been asked to stay as well. While Lara was in meetings, Britches posed for some pictures of her own. In fact, she was surprised to find herself in great demand and it seemed that every member of the outlaws wanted her to pose with him...except one.
Britches finally found him at the corral, brushing his horse.
"Hi, Arizona," she said with a smile when she stopped next to him.
He looked up. "Oh, hello, Miss Britches," he replied and turned back to his horse.
For a moment neither said anything and Britches found herself feeling a little awkward.
"You're…ah…not mad at me, are you?" she asked.
"Why should I be mad at you?"
"Umm, well, because of what happened this morning," she replied. "Because I beat you?"
He turned to face her. "Miss Britches, I've been waitin' all week for you to beat me."
Britches' mouth dropped open. "You have?"
He nodded. "Bein' a gunfighter means you have to learn to read people pretty quick. The boys' been tellin' me about you. How you helped Miss Annie on the train and how you turned the tables on Pete and Chad. But you've been holdin' somethin' back, Miss Britches. I could see it in your eyes on the train. You've been depending too much on that fast-draw trick of yours.
"But this morning you didn't have that option. I asked Annie to swap guns with you so you'd be forced to dig into yourself instead of dependin' on the trick shooting."
"So that's why you wouldn't let me walk away?"
He nodded. "I knew you had it. I just had to push you a little." Amazingly, he actually smiled. "And I didn't give you a thing, either. You did it all on your own. That was well done, Miss Britches." He turned back to the horse and resuming his brushing.
She thought about what he'd said. Just when she'd needed her fast-draw technique the most, she didn't have it. But she'd won anyway. How about that?
She stood there watching him, not knowing what else to say. His smile had changed him completely. It was almost as if the cold-blooded gunfighter had been replaced by another man. His eyes were a clear blue, she suddenly remembered, and in spite of his scraggly beard he was very good looking.
Arizona finished brushing his horse and threw the stirrup over the saddle to check the tightness of the cinch. He was leaving…and she suddenly wished he wasn't. Would he let her ride with him?
He pulled the stirrup down and swung up in the saddle. "Well, good luck, Miss Britches," he said, tipping his hat. "It's...it's been...ah...good meeting you."
Britches felt a little flutter when he smiled down at her. Could she ask...? Would he...?
He swung the horse around and headed out of the corral. Britches lifted her hand to shade her eyes from the afternoon sun.
"Arizona?" she suddenly blurted out.
He pulled the horse to a stop and turned in the saddle. "Yes, ma'am?"
"Uh....I...," she stammered, feeling really stupid as he gazed at her. "Well...uh...I was wondering...I mean...I...I just wanted to thank you for helping me."
Was that a tiny look on disappointment on his face? She couldn't be sure.
"You're welcome, Miss Britches," he replied. "I'd help you any time. Any time at all."
For a few seconds neither said anything.
"Well, uh," she said, "I guess I better get going. I have to get ready for dinner."
He nodded. "See you around, pretty lady." He tipped his hat again and turned away.
Britches walked back to the hotel, and it occurred to her that she would probably never see him again.
* * * * *
Dinner that night was a quiet affair. In contrast to the bustle and commotion of the noon meal, the dining room was almost deserted. All of the guests had left and only a few staff members had come in for supper. They had finished quickly and only the small table at the back remained occupied.
Alison Kennedy and Jason Trimble had joined Lara and Britches. During the meal Lara had been persuaded to tell something of her adventures around the world. Her listeners had sat in close attention and when she finished Mr. Trimble had shaken his head in disbelief.
"My goodness, Lara," he declared. "You have certainly been busy. It's amazing that you found a week to come and visit us."
Lara laughed. "You just happened to catch me at the right time. I was sitting..."
Just then they heard a noise out in the lobby and three masked men burst into the dinning room, guns drawn.
"Everybody sit still," a voice shouted. "This is a holdup."
Lara turned in surprise. Neither she or Britches were armed, for supposedly their adventure was over. What was this?
The three men came toward their table and Lara realized she'd never seen any of them before.
"All right, you people," said one of them, a tall man with brown hair. "On your feet. And get those hands up." He gestured at Mr. Trimble with his gun. "You too, fella. You're all comin' with us."
"Now see here, young man…" protested Mr. Trimble, every inch the offended businessman.
"Shut it, Mister," the man snarled. "You act you're some kinda important person. Well, you ain't."
Alison put her hand on Mr. Trimble's arm. "Easy, sir. Let me handle this." She came around the table and faced the outlaw who had spoken. "What's the meaning of this, mister? These folks are guests at my hotel. You can't just come walkin' in here and rob them. Now put up those guns and leave my establishment, at once!"
Lara's eyebrows lifted in surprise. The red-haired woman was six inches shorter and 75 pounds lighter than the big outlaw. It was almost a comedy, the sight of Alison standing four inches from the man's gun, scolding him like some errant school child. She was asking for trouble.
She got it, too.
"Well, ain't you the prissy one," the outlaw replied. An instant later his gun was pressed against her stomach. "I oughta just bore you right here, lady. For havin' such a big mouth. What do ya think of that?"
"I think," she replied, and to Lara's amazement Alison grabbed the barrel of the gun with two fingers and turned it firmly aside. "I think that it is you with the big mouth." She glared at him. "Now, sir, I demand to know what it is you want."
The outlaw looked down at his gun and back up to Alison. "Uh, well, Spade told us to waylay your guests and drag 'em over to the saloon. By, uh, force if necessary."
"Spade sent you?" Alison relented just a fraction. "What does he want with them?"
"Sorry, ma'am. I dunno. He just told us to bring 'em along."
Alison turned to Lara and Julie. "Ladies, I think it's best if we cooperate with these…uh…gentlemen. If we don't show up, Spade's going to come looking for us."
"Well let him!" Julie replied hotly. "I'm not afraid of him. Arizona either."
Lara laughed and touched her on the arm. "Me neither, Britches. But since it's our last night, why don't we just go see what he wants."
The four of them left the hotel and headed for the saloon, under the watchful eye of the three outlaws.
Go to Chapter Nineteen