his legs firmly planting themselves apart. Massive fists rose to defend his sister’s honor. “Ladies, please step out of the way.”
His knuckles looked scarred and broken, certainly not the hands of a duded-up gentleman. This would not be his first fight or the first defense of Petula, Daisy noted.
Time to get this under control.
“Excuse them, sir,” she apologized for the cowboy’s rudeness, hoping to play peacemaker, “you’re new to these parts. Men around here love a good Saturday fight just so they can sit in church the next morning and have something to ask forgiveness for. Don’t you, fellows?”
She hoped she could make the defender see reason and not let this escalate into a brawl. “They sometimes deliberately rile somebody just to get a rise out of them. It’s a source for bragging rights so they can confess the most amount of wrongdoing and need for redemption come Sunday. That lets them enjoy the women who want to sit beside them and tame the bad boys.” She shrugged. “Just a Texan’s way of courting, so to speak.”
“Yeah, that’s what we’re doing—” Winker elbowed the cowhand next to him “—courting. What you gonna do about it, partner?”
* * *
Bass Parker didn’t want to fight and wasn’t sure if he could take them all on, but he’d go down trying if forced. Maybe the mouthy winker would be man enough to meet him one-on-one instead of making this a brawl.
He appreciated the widow’s attempt to defuse the situation, but he wasn’t about to let the man’s coarse implications stand without letting him know of his disapproval.
Defending Petula’s honor had become a habit Bass hoped wouldn’t follow them West, but it seemed to be a daily occurrence now. Long before their parents’ deaths, he made a vow he would look after his younger sister and see her raised right. But the more men Petula met, the more determined she was to flirt. The more situations and comments like this could not be left unchallenged.
It might be a thrill to her to have men pursue her, but he feared Petula would take her need to experience what she thought was love one step too far someday and get into more trouble than the scandal she’d left behind or his defense of her could handle.
Bass hoped to find them a place to call home where she would want to straighten up her wayward thinking and become the lady he knew she could be. They both needed to put their troubled pasts behind them and find a way to turn their lives around for the better.
If only he hadn’t decided to stop in and try to make things right with Widow Trumbo one last time before heading on to California. The money he’d sent her years ago remained untouched in the High Plains Bank, despite several failed attempts in writing to persuade her to use it for a memorial for Knox. He’d expected continued resistance but not with this woman calling herself Knox Trumbo’s widow. She looked nothing like the woman Knox had introduced to him as his wife after signing the papers of conscription.
“I said, what are you gonna do about it, partner?” Challenge echoed deeper in the redhead’s voice. “Just stand there and think about it or actually do something before you moss over?”
“If you insist. Let the ladies be on their way and we’ll finish this.” Bass prepared himself for the inevitable. “Petula, take our bags and wait for me at the livery.”
“But—” Petula argued.
“Listen carefully. Do exactly as I say and you won’t get hurt.” Bass’s attention remained on his challengers but his words targeted the widow now. “Ma’am, it’s wise if you do the same. Take your little one and leave, please.”
The widow grabbed the gun away from her distracted daughter and moved in front of the child. “Mister, put your fists down. Nobody’s going to fight anybody. I apologize for everything that’s happened or been said.” She aimed the gun at each man including Bass. “We all say things when we’re on the edge and don’t mean them.”
Her amber-colored eyes widened with apology. “I’ve let my daughter go too far with this. It’s about to cause more trouble than she meant it to, isn’t it, Ollie?”
Ollie peeked around the widow’s skirt. “I guess so, but that sure looked like it was gonna be a great fight.”
The tyke’s humor caused a few chuckles, and Widow Trumbo’s efforts to quell the tension was admirable, but Bass didn’t drop his fists.
Ollie pointed a small finger at the rest of the cowboys in line. “Anyways, I learned plenty about these ones before ya got here, Mama. So I wrote one or two on my maybe-daddy list.”
Bass had wondered what purpose drove the little scamp’s hostage taking and now he understood. She wanted a new father. His gut twisted with knowing that, if this little girl was truly Knox’s child, and Banker Cardwell indicated she was, then he played a part in why she’d lost her daddy and needed a new one. He had to find a way to get her out of here safely and make it up to her and her mother somehow.
“They said they ain’t rich men but always got enough to get by on,” Ollie continued as if the grown-ups weren’t on the edge of battle. “So it won’t cost us nothin’ to feed ’em. And when I told them you like to run, Mama, they said they admired a woman who knows how to do that good. But him—” she stared at Bass “—I ain’t had time to ask him nothin’. He don’t say much. Figured I’d leave him for last.”
“Looks like he don’t do much, either.” With a flash of a hand, the winking cowboy drew a pistol from the holster strapped low around his right thigh. The other cowboys did the same and all aimed with deadly intent at the widow and her daughter. “Think a pair of fists are big enough to stop all of us, do you, dude?”
Bass tried to think fast. He couldn’t fight them all, but he might get most of the men down before anyone got off a shot. Down. That’s it. Get the women down first. He prayed Petula would listen to him this one time.
The widow pointed the gun directly at the winking cowboy, who seemed bent on a fight. “Stop badgering him.”
She had courage. Bass welcomed her bravery, but knew it might get her killed.
“Or you’ll do what, Widow? Take on all of us?”
“Mama, don’t try to shoot.” Apology filled Ollie’s face. “That gun’s empty on account of I didn’t find no bullets in Daddy’s old trunk. I was just foolin’ all y’all.”
“Hope you’re telling your mama the truth, little missy. Pardon me if I don’t trust you.” Winker’s weapon still aimed at the widow. “Just slide that gun this way, Mama. Do what I say...” His attention focused on Bass for a second. “And we’ll keep this easy.”
Bass made no move. He needed the perfect moment. Maybe the widow would provide it.
The redhead nodded at the banker. “Open that safe and hand me what’s in there. Don’t make any quick moves while you’re at it, either. Best keep your hands where I can see them or the kid’ll be nothing but a memory or maybe a funny story I’ll tell miles down the road. Who would’ve thought we’d be held up pulling our own bank robbery? And with an empty gun, no less.”
Bass hoped the widow was no fool. The man’s laughter was as serious as a hanging verdict. If she did what
