Free Packing Iron by Steve Hayes Page B

Raven. Immediately she squirmed out of it and ran off, stopping only when she was out of his reach.
    She glared at them. ‘You’ll be sorry. Both of you!’ Before either of them could stop her, she swung up onto the stallion and galloped off.
    ‘Raven – come back here!’
    ‘Let her go,’ Gabriel said. ‘If there was ever two of a kind deserved each other, they’re it.’
    She was waiting for them about a half mile up the trail. As the wagon approached, she got up from the rock on which she’d been resting and offered the reins to Gabriel.
    ‘Keep ridin’,’ he told her. He indicated the awning overhead . ‘It’s a mite cooler where I’m sittin’.’
    Exasperated, Raven mounted up and fell in beside the wagon.
     
    They reached Munsey’s Trading Post around noon. Knowing there was another six hours of hard traveling ahead of them, Gabriel suggested they give themselves and the horses a much-needed rest.
    There were three, sweat-lathered saddled ponies hitched to the rail outside the large, adobe-walled building and twoother wagons had just pulled out. Gabrielle watched them plodding toward the horizon for a moment then unhitched the team and led them to the drinking trough. Raven had already taken the Morgan there and, as Gabriel approached, the all-black stallion lifted its dripping muzzle from the water and snorted, warning him to stay clear. Gabriel ignored Brandy and told Raven to join her mother, who was looking for something in one of the valises.
    ‘Tell her yourself. You’re not my father.’
    ‘Don’t try to buffalo me,’ he warned gently. ‘I’m hot an’ tired an’ leanin’ toward irritable. So go round up your mom an’ the two of you go on inside an’ get washed up. By then I’ll be ready to join you. Mrs Munsey sets a fine table.’
    ‘Mean we’re gonna eat here?’
    ‘My treat.’
    ‘But what about the sandwiches?’
    ‘We’ll save ’em for later. Nothin’ but desert ’tween here an’ Las Cruces—’ He broke off as two disheveled-looking men with beards and long straggly hair came out of the trading post. One glimpse told Gabriel they were saddle tramps. They wore long grimy dusters over their soiled clothing, pants tucked into knee-high boots, and sweat-stained hats that hung down their backs, Mexican-style. They staggered drunkenly as they walked, and the larger man held a near-empty bottle of whiskey in his fist.
    They stopped as they saw Ingrid, grinned at each other and lurched toward her.
    ‘Stay here,’ Gabriel told Raven. He started for the wagon, unhurried but purposeful, his gun hand hanging loosely beside his holster.
    Neither man saw him coming; they were too focused on Ingrid. She, in turn, didn’t see them. Bent over the open valise, engrossed in her search, they were on her before she knew it.
    ‘Well, lookee here, Jesse,’ the big man said. ‘We found us a woman.’
    ‘Yeah,’ said Jesse. He stroked Ingrid’s hair. ‘If y’ain’t the purtiest damn filly I ever did see.’
    Alarmed, she tried to squeeze past them. But they grabbed her and pinned her back against the wagon.
    ‘P-please,’ she begged, ‘let me go.’
    ‘Sure, sure, all in good time….’ Jesse ripped open her shirt and clumsily fondled her breasts.
    Ingrid jerked away. ‘Stoppit! Don’t you dare touch me!’
    ‘Hear that, Turk?’ Jesse grinned at his partner. ‘Little lady here don’t want me to touch her.’
    ‘Teach her a lesson, Jesse. G’wan. Show her who’s ramrod.’
    Jesse laughed, showing broken snuff-stained teeth, and tried to kiss Ingrid. She twisted her face away. He grabbed her by the chin, forced her to face him and again tried to kiss her. She bit his lip, bringing blood. Cursing, he went to slap her.
    Ingrid cringed, but to her surprise the blow never came. Hit from behind by Gabriel’s Colt, Jesse’s eyes suddenly rolled up into his head and he crumpled to the ground.
    Turk gaped at Gabriel, who now leveled his gun at him.
    ‘D-don’t shoot,