Soiled Dove by Brenda Adcock

catching Mavis with a glancing blow across the face.
    When his grip loosened, Loretta seized the opportunity to jerk her arm away. Clement reached for her again. She side-stepped away and grabbed the front of his shirt, pulling him closer. The smile on his face vanished when she brought her knee up quickly into his groin. His hands flew to his crotch and he fell to his knees in front of the now heavily breathing Loretta. The snickers of the men at the bar came to an end when a gunshot rang out. All eyes turned toward the saloon entrance.
    Loretta saw the silhouettes of three people standing in the entrance to the saloon and backed away quickly. The figure in the center held a still-smoking rifle pointed toward the ceiling. Loretta could smell the scent of burned gunpowder and watched as the rifle was lowered until it was parallel with the floor. When the men standing at the bar made a belated attempt to reach for their pistols the sound of a round being chambered was enough to stop their movements. Loretta doubted they would have had a chance against the weapon leveled at them.
    “Stay off my property, Garner,” a deep husky voice said. Light from a front window fell across the stranger as she took a step closer to the bar, revealing a strong, handsome face with well-defined angular features and a square jaw. Loretta felt her heartbeat quicken as she realized the stranger holding the rifle was female. The woman’s hat was pushed back off her head and rested against her upper shoulders.
    “We weren’t on your property, Clare,” an older man with graying hair and moustache growled.
    “Everyone around here knows you don’t own that land you’re squatting on. It’s free range. You’re breaking the law by fencing it.”
    “The cattle on it are mine.” The woman held a leather-gloved hand out toward a Hispanic man to her left. He placed a branding iron in her hand. She tossed it onto the barroom floor and it slid to the toe of Garner’s boot. “I think that belongs to you,” the woman snarled. “Took it out of a fire where some of your men were preparing to brand my cattle on my property.”
    “Let’s go talk to the sheriff about that, Clare”
    Garner said with a shrug. “I’m sure it was an honest mistake.”
    “Everyone knows Beutler works for you,” the woman Garner called Clare said with a laugh. She gripped her rifle tightly and moved closer to the bar.
    “Consider this your final warning, Garner. You won’t get another one.”
    Loretta saw movement out of the corner of her eye as Clement reached for the branding iron on the floor.
    “Watch out,” she said.
    Clare turned her head in time to see Clement Garner close his fist around the iron. She swung the butt of her rifle back forcefully and caught him square in the face. Blood spurted from his broken nose and he howled in pain as she turned and shoved him onto his back with her boot. She brought the rifle around and pressed it against the young man’s forehead. His watering eyes widened in fear.
    “Tell your boy not to do anything stupid, Thad,”
    she snarled. “I’d hate to tell his mama he died because he’s a jackass.”
    “Back off, Clement,” Garner ordered.
    Clare pulled the rifle barrel back, leaving a deep, round imprint in the middle of Clement’s forehead.
    “Let’s get on back to the ranch, boys,” Garner said. He took a step forward and stopped next to Clare. “We’ll finish this later, McIlhenney.”
    “I’ll look forward to it,” she said softly.
    Clare laid her rifle on the counter with a nod toward Willis Manning. As her two companions joined her, she pulled her hat off and ran a hand through shaggy brown hair that fell an inch or so above her shoulders.
    “Ino, when we settle up here, check at the dry goods store to see if that wire I ordered has come in so we can get the hell out of here,” she said.

    Loretta exhaled the breath she had been holding and glanced at the clock behind the bar. She would have to hurry