Lady Outlaw by Stacy Henrie

hat in Caleb’s direction.
    “Mind if I join you at your fire?” Caleb asked.
    The short cowboy flicked his gaze to the others and nodded. “Sure thing. Have a seat.”
    Caleb dropped to the ground. He pulled a hobble from his saddlebag and put it on Saul’s legs, purposely keeping his horse away from the others. He strode over to the three men, carrying the saddlebag with him. They’d resumed their seats.
    “Care for some stew?” The short cowboy waved to a pot hung over the fire.
    “Much obliged,” Caleb said, though the smell wasn’t as tantalizing as it had been before.
    He sat in the dirt and accepted the full tin cup and a spoon. “You from around here?” he asked as he took a bite of food. Despite his earlier hunger, he wasn’t sure how much he could stomach right now.
    “We work not too far away,” the leader said. “You?”
    Caleb shook his head. “Naw. I’m from up north. I’m down here looking for a job.”
    Their tense postures relaxed, dispelling the strain in the air, though Caleb felt as edgy as ever.
    “You might be able to get work with Marshall King,” the skinny one said. “We work for him.”
    Caleb made a note of their employer’s name for Jennie. “Maybe I’ll do that. You roundin’ up the calves for spring branding?” He was glad he’d learned a thing or two in the past week, enough to pass as a real cowboy.
    The three exchanged a meaningful glance. “Just pickin’ up the strays,” the short one said toward the fire. His light tone sounded forced.
    In the ensuing silence, Caleb watched the cattle milling about among the brush. He couldn’t see Jennie yet, but she’d be coming soon. He had to get these men talking, distracted. “Name’s Johnson, by the way.”
    “I’m Gunner,” the short cowboy said. “That’s Haws.” He pointed at the skinny fellow. “The other fellow is Smith.” The man with the mustache lifted a hand.
    A movement out of the corner of his eye caught Caleb’s attention, and he turned toward it. In the soft light of the evening, he could see the cattle starting to lumber through the brush. It was his signal.
    “So,” Caleb said, louder than he intended. He cleared his tight throat before continuing. “What’s it like working for King?”
    Haws shrugged. “Not bad. He pays better than anywhere else in these parts.”
    “How much?” Caleb feigned interest in Haws’s lengthy answer. He only had another minute or two before the three noticed the moving cattle.
    His mind raced for a way to distract the cowhands without having to shoot anyone, if he could help it. Caleb leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, and the heaviness in his right pocket reminded him of the bullets he’d stuck inside. They gave him an idea. He slipped one hand into his pocket and scooped up the bullets.
    “Mind if I have a little more stew?” he asked as he stood.
    Gunner took his cup, and while he filled it from the pot near the fire, Caleb edged closer and let the bullets slip from his hand into the flames.
    Accepting the cup from Gunner, he took a few steps backward as if to sit back down, his muscles tensed.
    Gunner glanced in the direction of the cattle and jumped to his feet. “Where’d the—”
    Before he could finish his question, the bullets exploded in a terrific boom. The three cowhands tripped over themselves to get away from the fire and flying ash. Not waiting a second, Caleb dove at Smith. He wrestled the man’s revolver from its holster and pointed it at the stunned cowhands.
    “Sorry I can’t stick around, boys,” he said, enjoying the perplexity on their faces. Jennie’s plan was going better than he’d expected. “Appreciate the supper, but I think I’ll just be takin’ back these here cattle. ’Cause I know they don’t belong to you. Now drop your guns.”
    Gunner and Haws obeyed, setting their guns in the dirt. Caleb kept the gun in his grip aimed at them as he walked over and knelt to collect the others. As he reached down to