"Don't say it, kid." Travis was losing his temper with this ungrateful boy. "All right, kid," Travis held up his hands, "have it your way. I'll be here by the bar if you need me."
"Fat chance," she sniped at the ranger.
Fury returned to her drink sitting on the bar.
"Hey, kid!" Morely bellowed once more." I ain't done with you yet. Turn back around and face me, or is the great Fury scared?"
Fury took a gulp of her drink; she liked how whiskey burned the back of her throat. She turned toward the man.
"Well, Mr. Fury, the great bounty hunter, could take on ten men at a time, I heared. Why don't you just take on one man, me, and let's see what you can do. Here," he said, pointing at his chin, "take a free shot."
Fury rested her back against the bar, both arms extended across the top of the bar propping her up.
"Morely. It is Morely, isn't it?" Fury asked.
"Yep!" the big man gloated.
"I will oblige you, but first I need to ask you something."
"Sure," sneered the oaf.
The entire room went silent. Even Travis leaned forward to hear Fury's question.
"Well, while I have been talking to you, I've noticed something curious about you. I have noticed, as I am sure everyone here knows, that you are quite a large man."
"That I am," Morely answered with pride.
"Yes, you are," Fury added, "but I also noticed that you have very small feet for a man of your size."
Morely looked down at his feet. "So?"
"I would like you to clear up a question I have. Is it true what people say about men with little feet?"
There was a moment of silence, then the room broke out in a cacophony of laughter. Even Travis joined in. It took Morely a bit longer to realize that Fury had insulted his manhood. His face burned crimson red as his temper reached its limit.
Fury studied him, waiting for his reaction. Then she saw it. Morely leaned forward and charged straight for Fury. But Fury was quick. She stepped toward the charging drunk then moved to her right and stuck out her foot. Morely tripped over her foot, and with his forward momentum, ran his head straight into the side of the bar. He was out cold.
The room roared with applause, but Fury was not happy. Because of this altercation, she would not be able to question anyone tonight. She turned and walked out of the saloon.
"Damn idiot," she grumbled as she untied her horse from the hitching post.
"Hey, kid!" Travis called out.
Fury turned to see the interfering ranger had followed her out of the saloon. Steady. She tried to calm the butterflies in her stomach. She looked at him but did not respond.
"Kid, I loved how you handled that drunk. I haven't laughed that hard in a long time."
Travis, why him? I need to get rid of him. Sadness plopped down in her heart. She needed to get rid of Travis, the man who, for a short time, she had felt she might have a future with, the man she thought she could love. But those were Belle's dreams; they could never be her dreams, or could they?
"The name is Fury."
"Sorry. Fury, do you need any help or a place to stay?"
Fury tossed him a confused look. "Why in the hell would I need your help? No thanks, I have my own money."
"Didn't your mother teach you to watch your language? I was trying to help you, you ungrateful brat."
Fury mounted her horse and gazed down at Travis. "No, my mother didn't teach me to watch my language, and I don't need help."
Fury nudged Swift's flanks with her boots and rode toward the livery stable.
Travis shook his head. Never had he met such a stubborn, rude kid. Then he chuckled, remembering he used to be just like the kid, stubborn, proud, not needing anyone's help. Travis lost both his parents by the time he turned fourteen. Alone in the world, he probably would have ended up in jail, but fate had been good to him when a ranger took him in and gave him a home. Maybe that's why he went after Fury, to return the favor and help another lost, lonely young boy.
Chapter 6
"You're just in time; I was about to close up and go home," Fury heard Miles Keaton shout out as she came into his livery.
"Hi, Miles."
"Fury, is that you?"
"Yes." Fury dismounted and handed the reins of her horse to her friend.
Miles Keaton was one of Fury's few friends. She'd tracked down his wife's murderer, and Miles would do anything for Fury.
"Whatcha doing in town?" Miles asked.
"Lookin' for someone, of course. Miles, you got any information on Dan Davenport, also known as Cutter Dan? He is 6-foot-tall, about two hundred plus pounds of muscle, dark hair, and dark eyes."
"Cutter Dan. I've heared of him. Not a nice fella. Evil."
"Yes, he is evil for sure. He hunts, murders, and mutilates young women, then he cuts his initials C.D. on their forehead." Fury was silent then, waiting for Miles to respond.
"You know, Fury, it's funny how people are with their animals.''
"What?" Fury replied, believing the man had not listened, but she knew that sometimes Miles took time to get to the point.
"Fury, you ever talk to your horse?"
"Sometimes."
"A lot of folks do. Before they leave their horse, they will stand there and tell the animal all kinda things. Folks who leave their horses here forget I am even around, so I hear a lot."
"And?" added Fury, losing her patience.
"A week or so back, a big fella come in with his horse. He kinda fits your description. If I'd known he might be Cutter Dan, I woulda hightailed it to the law."
"Go on."
"He left his horse with me, and I put him in the stall over yonder. Thirty minutes later, he comes back, telling me he forgot to get his saddlebags. I pointed him toward his horse's stall, and I go back to working. Well, when he gets to the stall, sure enough, he starts talking to his horse. He forgets I'm there. Most people do, and he tells his horse it won't be much longer, and they will be in Mexico. But first, they have to lay low and wait for the law to get tired of looking for him. This fella tells his horse they've got a long ride ahead of them, to Langston. It's a few days south of here; anyway, he says he knows there is an abandoned cabin outside of town where they can hole up. Then he tells his horse there are grassy meadows where the horse kin graze and
