Book Of The Month
That jezebel’s more
vicious than a stick-poked rattler!
Two Against Texas
But luck, as it so often did with Starr Darling, stuck with her again tonight. The liveryman had deserted his stables to run toward Main Street on hearing the shots, and they were able to saddle up without being seen. They were seen, however, by a group of towners as they clattered from the livery and headed past the railroad’s water tower in the direction of the north trail. Reading was content to rely on speed, but Starr’s appetite for bloodshed had been only whetted by what had happened inside the bank. She dragged a second .45 from her packsaddle, turned and gunned two of the shouting bystanders down where they stood.
Here again, they were lucky. But for the two dead towners, Denison’s sheriff would have been able to quickly muster a posse. As it was, it took him the best part of thirty minutes to cajole a reluctant ten men to ride with him. By that time, the outlaws on their magnificent thoroughbreds were miles from the town and totally beyond recapture as they made their own way through the wild brush country west of the main trail.
But, veterans of the owlhoot trail, they weren’t about to take anymore risks. At least Reading was not. He kept them riding for three moonlit hours before he was finally convinced that they were safe. Only then, reining-in on a windy knoll, did he remonstrate with the girl for what she’d done.
“Why the hell did you have to shoot him?” Reading demanded.
Her magnificent bosom rising and falling from the exertion of the ride and her long, red hair blowing in the wind, Starr patted her horse’s neck and laughed aloud.
“Everything had been too quiet, Jim,” she explained, moving her horse closer to his. “I just wanted a little excitement.”