Unclaimed Bounty

by Aly

Part 1

The jangle of spurs sounded like evil laughter in the dead of night. Wiping her sweat-slicked palms on the sides of her chaps, she closed her eyes briefly in resignation. How had she come to this point? Why had she let him challenge her this way? How would she ever get through the next few minutes?

What if she didn't?

Squaring her shoulders with grim determination, she strode on down the darkened alleyway, arms hanging loosely at her sides. The coiled whip slapped gently against her thigh with every measured step.

~~<>~~<>~~<>~~<>~~<>~~

He waited for her... knowing she would come... hoping against hope that she wouldn't. He checked the load in his Colt for the tenth time. Turning the weapon over in his hands he felt it slip slightly in his dampened palm. Jamming the offensive thing back into its holster, he ran his hands through his wildly curling hair and blew his pent-up breath out through his teeth with a low whistle.

How had this happened?

He leaned against the water trough, head bowed and eyes closed, thinking back through the preceding events....

Things had been going pretty well and no one had seemed to notice him. He stood at the bar and ordered a shot of whiskey, dispatching it quickly with one gulp. He turned and noticed a young woman beside him, dusty from travel, yet otherwise quite fetching. Her dark hair curled riotously around her head and she wore her hat on a slide that allowed it to hang down her back. The hand-tooled Indian vest had to have come as a highly honored gift from some chieftain, and his interest was heightened immediately. Her leather chaps and small booted feet completed the ensemble.

Aly had just received her glass and tossed back the shot of raw whiskey in one neat gulp. Setting the glass back on the counter with a soft "splat", she casually raked the back of her hand across her mouth and she turned to survey the room. She was very aware of the darkly handsome man at her side, but did nothing to give herself away.

All saloons were the same, no matter how prosperous, nor desperate, the town in which they stood. They all had grim patrons and foolish gamers. Every now and again she would have the unfortunate luck to stumble into a saloon that was actually what they might call a 'sporting club'. Yeah, she knew what 'sport' they were after in those type places, and she wanted no part of it.

Her observer eyed her with wry amusement, but there was a heat behind those dusky green eyes. Heat... and something else. Something... frightening. She glanced at him with a quick and calculating look. Not here. Not in front of all these observers. Who knew what would happen when she tried to take him.

Pushing off from the bar, Aly made to leave the place but was drawn up suddenly by a hard grip on her arm. Eyeing the offending hand she turned her carefully guarded gaze back to the stranger at the bar.

With one raised eyebrow she pointedly looked from his lean tanned face, to the hand on her arm. With a small smile, he released her and beckoned her to follow him with a small movement of his head.

Without waiting to see if she would obey he strode purposefully out of the saloon and into the cool evening air.

Aly watched him go and felt an odd regret. If only things could be different. If only they could have met in the normal way... under normal circumstances. But then again, what was normal after all?

With one last glance around the room to be sure no one took much notice of them, she followed the man out into the night, the doors of the saloon swinging shut in her wake.

 

***

Part 2

He was waiting for her at the end of the sidewalk. No one was out and about during this hour of the evening, especially near the saloon.

He watched her approach and admired her confidence. What would a young woman be doing travelling alone through such a place? The west was barely settled and towns were few and far between. That was the main reason he had come out to Montana. To escape.

She stopped short suddenly, an arms length away. "You beckoned? Do I know you sir?" Her voice was like silk, smooth and raw. It made his skin tingle as it washed over him.

She was waiting for his reply. Suddenly nervous, he was a bit tongue-tied. "Well no, actually. I was just wanting to ask you... um... er...." faltering for something, anything, his eyes fell to the fine leather vest she was wearing. "I just was wondering how you came to own that beautiful vest."

With a hint of a smile turning the corner of her lips upward, she fingered the edge of the vest, enjoying the rough feel of the tooled leather. "And how would you think that I had come upon such a vest, sir? Think maybe I struck down some unsuspecting warrior? Or no.. Maybe I was part of an Indian family, kidnapped when I was very young. Better yet... maybe it was a gift from a near and dear friend." Her voice became hard. "One that has been murdered."

A chill ran up his spine. Something in the tone of her voice... the way her eyes suddenly became shuttered... the studied casual way she rested her hand on the gun at her hip. He was immediately put on guard.

"As I said, Sir. Do I know you?" She was tapping her fingers against the pearl handle, watching him. No... Studying him.

"No, you don't know me, but I would like to remedy that situation if I may. I merely wished to enjoy your company." She lifted a skeptical brow to that remark, but relaxed somewhat. "Please allow me to introduce myself. I am Mich... er... just call me Jaq."

She picked up immediately on the lapse . This had to be him, she could feel it. He was hiding something, she felt her pulse quicken. Plus, he fit the description on the worn and faded notice folded inside her vest:

"WANTED FOR MURDER: Man, longish brown hair, average height, approximately 29 summers, changeable gray eyes. Approach with EXTREME CAUTION. Consider ARMED AND DANGEROUS.

Yes... this had to be the man. He was definitely dangerous.

***

Part 3/End

Coming back to himself, he pushed away from the trough and shook his head with resignation. How they had gotten here really didn't matter now. He could hear her footsteps echoing as she approached.

Keeping his back to the open alleyway, he eased his gun out of its holster.

Suddenly, the footsteps stopped. He turned around slowly and saw her there. Her arms were relaxed by her sides and she was waiting for him to make the first move.

How could he do it? Gun her down in cold blood? She was only after the bounty that was put on his head... put there by mistake.

Aly could barely see him in the dim shadows of the nearing dawn. She watched the odd play of emotions across his face. His eyes locked on here and his hand flinched towards his gun belt.

She never even felt it. She could still hear the echo as it reverberated through the sleeping town.

Shot. She had been shot?!? By a no-good criminal... a murdering renegade. Falling as if in slow motion, she felt his arms go around her and ease her to the ground.

Wiping the tears from her eyes, he looked grief stricken. "I'm sorry."

"CUT"!! The director yelled. "That was wonderful you guys, But lets try it one more time, Roy, with you coming at her from...."

Aly barely heard as the director droned on and on giving Roy his pointers and cues. She stood up and brushed the dirt from her chaps and went over to her friends at the sidelines of the set. Trace and North and the rest of the CLHQers were there beaming at her.

How she had ever managed to win an appearance on this unusual episode of Lonesome Dove was beyond her.

End

This story ©copyright Aly, 2000


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