Outlaws & Marshals Don't Mix

Em

Utah Territory

1891

I pulled down the Stetson, blocking the brisk wind, hands tightening on the reins. The moon light shone bright from up above, pines swayed, the promise of a building storm creating rising tension among the group of men waiting silently for the pocket watch to strike two o’clock. They sat on their steeds and waited. Some with blood lust running through their bodies, others with the hope of a soft and warm female to steal hot and wild moments with. The men’s saddles creaked from constantly shifting their weight, impatience running thin as more and more stars made appearances above their heads.

Covert glances were exchanged. I turned to look at the leader, Acker, forcing myself to keep a blank expression on my face, there was no way in hell I could afford to let my disgust and lack of respect for the outlaw show. Especially with Chad, his right-hand man sitting the saddle next to him.

Perspiration gathered along the nape of my neck. I couldn’t escape the feeling that I was missing something right now. Something wasn’t right but I didn’t know what it was or what had alerted me but there it was, nonetheless. I could feel Chad’s hard eyes practically burning a hole between my shoulder blades. Why was I positioned in front of him? What the hell was Acker thinking?

“You see anything, Emilio?” I bit my lip to stop the flood of words I wanted to use to describe just what exactly I was seeing with the group of lawless men around me but held back. Instead of giving the answer I wanted, I lifted up the spyglass and peered through, noting the darkness in each window of the funeral home. It was time.

“Everything’s closed up for the night.” Acker nodded with satisfaction before giving the signal and the men on horseback began their journey to the unsuspecting town. The knot in my stomach wound tighter and tighter and tighter. I had no choice but to continue. I knew it and Acker knew it. Chad too, the prick.

My hands were tied. We slowed to a walk once the gang hit the back alley and slid off the horses upon reaching the back entrance to the funeral home. A few whispers were exchanged but verbal communication was kept to a minimum. Chad swung the door open, and we trailed in single file, the odd smell of the building making the bile that had been simmering in my stomach rise.

“Find the office, Em.” Acker whispered with a shove on my shoulder. I broke off from the group and made my way down the first hallway I came across, feeling more than hearing the presence of one of the men trailing behind me. I wanted to break out in a run but held myself in check. My hand connected with a doorknob before being pushed aside by Chad and waited anxiously for him to pick the lock.

Something wasn’t right. I couldn’t shake the feeling, couldn’t shake the fear of being virtually alone with Chad in a dark building away from Acker and the other men. I was too vulnerable right now. Chad’s harsh grip on my arm cut off my frantic thoughts and propelled me into the office, hip colliding with the solid desk, making me swear as pain filled my side. Chad’s breath hitting my face made me flinch, his hand grabbed my throbbing hip and I swore I felt his smile as he kicked the door shut and pushed me into the wall.

“You smell good, Em. It’s just you and me, sweetheart.”

“Get your filthy hands off me, Chad. We’re here to do a job not for you to prove your-”

His hand cut off my words sending panic through my body. No, no, no, this cannot be happening right now. What the hell was going on? His hand shifted from my mouth to my throat, applying pressure when I tried to fight him off me. I couldn’t catch my breath, his weight overwhelming my smaller frame. He settled a hand over my breast and fear like I had never tasted it before exploded inside.

I clawed at the hand cutting off my air, trying desperately to get oxygen back in my lungs. I tried to ignore his dirty whispers, tried to block out his voice as he described in detail what he had in store for me, my eyes started closing of their own volition, hands weakening, falling to rest at my sides as he continued his exploration of my body.

“Sh*t!” He cursed as gunfire erupted from out in the lobby, he shoved me along the wall where I fell in a heap on the floor, sobbing in air, tears streaming down my face. Chad opened the door, running through with gun drawn, joining in the fight. I struggled to my knees; hands stretched out to find support.

I almost cried out in relief when I came in contact with the desk and pulled my weary body up, my in-drawn breath raspy and hurting my throat with each inhale I took. I was two steps from the door when three men came barreling in, gas lantern held in front giving them a clear view of my face. No, no, no! How the hell could this have happened? One of the men rushed me, his hands harsh as he gripped my coat, dragging me through the doorway.

“Sheriff, we got one.”

“Bring ‘em here. He’s a little fella, ain’t he? I didn’t realize Acker recruited boys into his gang these days.” The lobby was lit with lanterns, men wearing dusters and flannels filled the space, stars pinned to their clothes. Sh*t. I was handcuffed and led down the street to the jailhouse, my heart heavy, stomach wanting to vomit. My throat ached something fierce, I could have sworn I felt Chad’s eyes on me as we entered the jailhouse, sending the little hairs on the nape of my neck standing straight up. The deputy pushed me into the dirty cell, my knees banging against the unwashed floor. I tasted blood from biting back the moan that wanted to spill out. Papers rustled behind me and I turned to look over my shoulder at what they were doing in the front room.

Wanted posters. I knew for certain that they would find mine. And when they did, I was done for. I watched as the Sheriff held one up, studying the image printed on it before his sharp eyes found mine. He stood up from his chair and walked towards me, his deputy reaching the cell door first to unlock it, swinging the door wide. The sheriff studied me intensely, eyes not missing a thing. His deputy placed a hand high on my chest and held me against the wall, taking in the swelling and bruising on my neck with thinned lips. The sheriff held up the paper alongside my face, lips pursed in deep thought. My heart was thumping, running a hundred miles per hour. A chuckled passed through unseen lips as the sheriff rubbed a hand over his full beard, triumph blazing bright in his eyes.

“This is him alright. Emilio Peyton.”

“He’s pretty little to be working with Acker’s gang.” I watched as the sheriff cut a glance to the deputy who held me immobile, my cuffed hands trapped between my body and the wall.

“There’s just one thing that’s not adding up for me.”

I swallowed roughly and lifted my chin despite the soreness in my throat. I watched in slow motion as the burly sheriff reached out a hand and snatched the Stetson off my head, sending my thick dark brown braid down to hang at my waist. The deputy gasped before unbuttoning my coat and shoving it over my shoulders, eyes glued to my feminine chest tightly wrapped with cloth to conceal their natural fullness.

“What the hell?” He muttered, eyes wide, mouth hanging open.

The sheriff chuckled, “Emilio Peyton’s a woman.”

Emmie

I stood resolute on the platform, listening to the crowd yelling insults, throwing spoiled vegetables at me. The hangman stood by my side, the noose hanging calmly in the palm of his hand. I hated it. I hated the sight of it, all of this. What b*llsh*t. My gang left me for dead. I knew there had been a reason for the queasy stomach, I knew something wasn’t right. They set me up to take the fall. Those slimy bastards.

The sheriff continued on listing my grievances toward the town and the several others I had done wrong. The crowd was in a frenzy, faces red from anger and excitement by seeing a woman outlaw on the hangman’s platform. My thoughts came to an abrupt halt when the meaning of the sheriff’s last words registered. Oh hell-

“Is there any man who will step up and wed this woman to save her from the noose and set her on the straight and narrow?” Men called out bawdy jokes and slurs, leering openly at my body, I was