Free Cowgirl Erotica Collection by Lily Smith

history of bank robbing, raiding and evading (and
embarrassing) every local lawman with cat-like grace demanded they
act as much like average law-abiding citizens as possible, even
when attempting to outrun a stagecoach.
    Cherie looked at her ticking watch and
then at Luna, whose dark red skimmer barely covered the sun's rays
from her eyes.
    "Now, she did say that it would cross the tracks at exactly twelve noon,
yes?" Luna inquired.
    Cherie stopped her horse.
    "What? I thought Lilith said that the
coach would be coming at 1pm, not 12 noon!" Cherie
snapped.
    "Shit, we're late. We need to hustle!"
she exerted.
    They kicked their heels into the sides
of their bored horses and jetted across the plain with clouds of
smoke mushrooming behind them. Cherie hated stagecoach schedules.
She always did. It seemed no matter which job they pulled,
everything, stars included, had to be in perfect alignment in order
for things to go just right if a stagecoach was involved. Cherie
galloped faster, resulting in her whiskey bottle popping loose its
cork and spilling its contents over the side of the horse and under
its belly. Cherie hoped no open wounds were in its path.
    A half-hour later and the stagecoach
was in sight. Their mission was pretty clear-cut. Stop the coach at
whatever cost, oust the driver from his seat and bust loose one of
their captured members that was being transported to another town
with meaner deputies, more attack dogs and one nasty sheriff with a
penchant for whipping his unwashed prisoners. The less deaths that
were involved, the less chance Lilith would whip their backside. In
addition, Cherie didn't want to up the already egregiously generous
award for her head on a silver platter. And killing more lawmen
would definitely serve to up that ante to starry heights on the
totem of wanted outlaws.
    They both rode up to the rear of the
stagecoach as it sped across the desert ground, then split up to
take on each side. Both Cherie and Luna pointed their Calvary
revolvers on each side of the driver's head. The driver spit at
them both and snapped the reigns harder, jetting past both. Cherie
kicked her spurs into her horse, sending her launching after him
and in an aimed shot, blew his hat off which tumbled onto a horse's
ass.
    Sensing futility and impatience on the
part of Luna he pulled back the reigns and the coach halted to a
full stop. Luna got off her horse while Cherie kept her revolver at
arm's length pointed at the driver. Luna opened the carriage door
and peered inside. A prisoner in stripes peered back at her, as did
the deputy guarding her. He cocked a revolver straight into Luna's
face.
    "I wouldn't." he said as his finger
caressed the trigger.
    "Why is it that every deputy we run
across wears his mustache too big for his face?" Luna
quipped.
    The deputy rubbed the end of his
mustache with his free hand and gave her a puzzled look.
    "What the hell is that supposed to
mean? Too big for my face? It fits like a glove, and who the hell
are you to criticize anyhow!" he snapped back.
    "Your mustache makes you look like a
queer monkey on a unicycle" she sneered.
    "Put down the revolver or this stick
of dynamite has your name on it!" Cherie yelled from her
horse.
    "You're bluffin! You don't have shit!"
the deputy yelled outside the window.
    Cherie pulled out a stick of dynamite
with an unlit fuse on the end, waving it at him.
    "I don't think you should be bettin'
your life on that statement, mister! All we want is the prisoner
and you're free to go!" Cherie said.
    The deputy yelled out to her: "You throw that stick of
dynamite twenty paces from your horse and then I'll think about letting her
go!"
    Cherie hurled the stick as hard as she
could in the opposite direction, hoping it didn't go off. The
combination of the deputy's revolver in Luna's face as well as the
horses getting spooked from a dynamite blast didn't create a serene
picture. The stick landed on the ground next to a rattlesnake and
cartwheeled away from