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Beautiful Bandit

By Loree Lough

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Beautiful Bandit
by Loree Lough

San Antonio, Texas
June, 1888


Chapter One


The hot, sticky air in the banker’s cluttered office made it hard to breathe.

Josh ran a fingertip under his stiff collar as the image of cows, dropping by the thousand, reminded him why he’d come to San Antonio: Selling off the Rockin’ N’s uncontaminated acres was the only way to protect those that remained until they got the anthrax under control.

He did his best not to glare at the decorous Bostonian sitting beside him. Wasn’t the Swede’s fault, after all, the disease had killed so many Neville cattle. In his shoes, Josh would have snapped up the land even more quickly.

Trouble was, now this fancy pants Easterner would move to Eagle Pass, bringing his never-been-out-of-the-city wife and kids with him. Worse yet, Josh had a sneaking suspicion the former printing press operator would make a regular pest of himself, asking about Texas weather, irrigation, when to plant, and only the good Lord knew what else. If that didn’t earn Josh a seat closer to the Throne, he didn’t know what would.

Few things agitated him more than sitting in one spot. Especially indoors. How these fancy gents managed to look so calm and cool, he’d wondered when they first sat down, added to his restlessness, and he’d hung his Stetson on his left knee, mostly to have something to do with his hands. Now, he moved it to the right knee as the banker explained the terms of the agreement.

Josh stared hard at the blood-red Persian rug under his boots, searching his mind for something to else to focus on…anything other than the wretched document that would transfer ownership of Neville land to this…foreigner. Returning to the hat to the left knee again, he remembered the day he bought it, and how he’d picked up another just like it a year later when Rockin’ N business put him in Garland, so he’d have one for riding the range and one for his wedding.

Strange, Josh thought, how Sadie’s image could appear in his mind’s eye, out of nowhere, even after two long, hard years without her....

He forced her from his mind. This get-together was more than painful enough without dwelling on the most agonizing period of his life.

Josh exhaled a harsh sigh. Hopefully, the banker and the Swede hadn’t heard the tremor in it. He blamed the pounding heat. His empty stomach. The ten-day ride from Eagle Pass that left him too bone-tired to sleep on the hotel’s too-soft mattress. A body would think that an establishment with Persian rugs and velvet curtains could afford to provide water for businessmen, he thought, loosening his string tie as Griffen asked yet another inane question. Father, give me the strength to keep from grabbing those papers and hot-footing it out of here!

Sadly, his woolgathering did little to distract him from the grim truth….
Josh had been the one dissenting vote at the family meeting where the loathsome decision turned downright odious when, as the only Neville with a legal background, overseeing the transaction fell to him. Josh groaned inwardly as grief engulfed him. What a sorry state of affairs, he thought, leaning forward to hide tears that burned in his eyes. He loved every blessed acre—especially those acres—that made up the Rockin’ N. He’d built a small but solid home for Sadie and himself on that section of the ranch. He’d hate letting it go, for any reason, even if she wasn’t buried there!

Griffen, God bless him, had been the one to suggest that Josh hold on to the precious acre that held her grave, and the one beside it that held his twins. “In your shoes,” he’d said, pale eyes darkening a shade when Josh asked permission to visit the graves of his wife and babies. “Ve’ll build a fence around the land,” he’d added, “to make sure your family is never disturbed.” And Josh knew, even as he’d nodded in agreement, that crossing Griffen property to reach his little family would only heap one misery atop another. But the anthrax hadn’t given him another alternative.

Elbows balanced on his knees, Josh spun the hat round and round, watching as, on the other side the window, three men and a woman dismounted sweaty horses. The lot of them looked as jumpy and agitated as he felt, and he wondered what ugly family business had brought them to the bank today.

“If you’ll just sign here, Mr. Neville,” Schaeffer said, redirecting Josh’s attention.

He accepted the banker’s fountain pen, and as its freshly-inked nib hovered over the document, a bead of sweat trickled down his spine, and in that moment, he felt a disturbing kinship with the fat hen his mama roasted for last Sunday’s dinner.

Outside, the wind blew steadily, swirling street grit into tiny twisters that skittered up the parched road before bouncing under buggies and scurrying into alleyways. Even the burning breeze would feel better than this choking heat.

“Mind if I open the window? I’m sweatin’ like a—“

Schaeffer peered over the rims of his gold-trimmed spectacles. “I’d much rather you didn’t. The wind is likely to scatter our paperwork hither and yon.”

Hither and yon, indeed. He’d read sayings like that in books, but what sort of person actually—

On the other side of the banker’s door, shuffling footsteps and coarse whispers interrupted his thoughts. Inspired a stern frown on Schaeffer’s heat-reddened face, too. “I declare,” he said through clenched teeth, “I can’t take my eyes off that fool assistant of mine for fifteen minutes without some sort of mayhem erupting.” And blotting his forehead with a starched white hanky, he continued grumbling. “Looks like I’ll have no choice but to replace him.” Shoving the eyeglasses higher, he lifted his chin and one bushy gray eyebrow…a not-so-subtle cue that Josh still hadn’t signed the paper.

So gritting his teeth, he inhaled a sharp breath and scratched his name on the thin black line, then traded the pen for the bank note.

On his feet now, the Swede grabbed Josh’s hand. “T’ank you,” he said, shaking it, “been a pleasure doing business wit’ you, Neville.”

Unable to make himself say ‘likewise’, Josh forced a stiff smile and pocketed the check. “You bet.” God willing, perhaps the worst was behind the family now.

The burnished brass pendulum of the big clock behind the banker’s desk swayed left with an audible tick as the men prepared to go their separate ways…

…swung right as gunshots rang out in the lobby.

Schaeffer and Griffen ran for the door, but a flurry of activity drew Josh’s attention back to the window.

Tick….

It was the foursome he’d seen earlier, scrambling onto their saddles. A lumpy burlap sack rested on the meaty rump of the biggest man’s mount, and sunlight glinted from his pistol.

Tick….

Josh withdrew his sidearm, pulled back the hammer with one hand and threw open the window with the other. Maybe he could get off a shot or two before the robbers were swallowed up by the cyclone of grit kicked up by their horses’ hooves.

Tick….

Perched on the sill, he took aim at the shoulder of the fattest bandit just as the woman’s pony veered right, putting her square in the center of his gun sight.

Tick….

She looked back, her green gaze fused to his. Josh released the pressure on the sweat-slicked trigger as fear traveled the invisible cord connecting her wide eyes to his.

Tick….

Josh didn’t have time to make sense of the helpless expression on her pretty face, for quick as you please, she faced front again, her cornflower blue skirt flapping like a tattered sail as she was swallowed up by the thick cloud of dust.

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