Hard Target for the Huntress

[saedo]

Closed for Curtailed Ambrosia
Travis stared at the dark black pit lined by the silvery exterior. At this distance, the chrome barrel of the small revolver seemed almost bottomless. Unfortunately, it was far more likely that just a few inches inside that dark interior lurked a gray hunk of lead backed by just enough gunpowder to blow a most unpleasant hole in his person.

"Alright, you got me," he sighed, waving his left hand forlornly in a signal of surrender. Both his wrists had been secured to the headboard of the bed he currently reclined on. When his now captor had initially bade him to lie down and then clambered atop him, he had eagerly expected all manner of intimate delights to follow. After she'd untied the shiny black ribbons that had held back the mass of blonde curls and suggested it might be fun if he wasn't allowed to use his hands, agreeing with her seemed perfectly reasonable. Perhaps instead he should have been more suspicious at how well she could tie a knot.

It was a testament to his scoundrel ways that even in that moment, his eyes swept from the grim gaze of her green eyes to that torso and the plump mounds just cresting above the bodice of her dress with the promise of ever so much more luscious feminine pulchritude below. Yes, any red-blooded male could be excused for being entranced by her. And while he had more women in his past than he could fully remember, he definitely wouldn't have forgotten a beauty like this.

In retrospect, it was a cunning ambush. Perhaps when he was more sober, he'd be able to spot the hint of something untoward in their encounter at the hotel. Clearly when he thought he'd been charming her into a drink at the bar and subsequently a visit to his room, she'd actually been baiting him the entire time. Clever girl. Whoever she was.

While she perched atop his thighs, her free hand deftly unfastened his gun belt. Thorough girl, too. He found himself impressed despite his predicament.

He nodded his head towards her. "Since your hand is already down there, I don't suppose you wouldn't mind finishing what you started. I mean, you did lure me up here under false pretenses and then got me all hot and bothered. Seems like it'd be an act of Christian charity to offer relief to a man in such dire need of a helping hand. "

Her green eyes glanced ever so briefly towards the thick bulge in his trousers. Despite his obvious predicament, Travis' arousal remained eager. But given how the gun barrel remained trained on his face, he began to have doubts.

 

[CurtailedAmbrosia]

Rose narrowed as they flicked back to his face. He’s a talker, alright.

“You’re in plenty need of ‘good Christian help’ no doubt, but that’s neither here nor there.” She kept a straight enough expression, but her green eyes held a bit of appreciation for his attempt, however ineffective it was to remain.

She’d pulled this ridiculous stunt because she knew full well just how many men he’d been able to duck-and if she had come after him in the usual way, no doubt she would’ve been vexed much the same as they had.

So she’d traded out her trail clothes for a bawdy dress and a whore’s underthings, and even stripped out of the dark red frock and bodice to really sell it, climbing onto the bed and atop him in little more than thin pantalettes and a ribboned, defining corset that had her breasts damned near pillowed right beneath her chin, the waist of it drawn so tight her ribcage couldn’t fully expand against it.

And women wore these things every day? She had a simple, non strangling (and much more practically supportive) corset she wore under her boy’s clothes, but nothing like this contraption, Lord.

Act of ‘Christian charity’ indeed, brassy bastard.

...it’s almost too bad that she wasn’t a prostitute. Which was, by all accounts-a very unprofessional, unhelpful thought. He was a murderer after all, and she’d cooked this up to haul him in for trial-and probably a hanging, after.

“You’re wanted for murder, and I’m aiming to take you in for it.” So it wasn’t even a robbery, but a capture mission? And by a woman no less! Oh, he was in a predicament alright, that beautiful, shapely visage on top of him belying a hard nosed businesswoman and a bounty hunter just as clever as he was.

 

[saedo]

Travis furrowed his brow. "What did you say? Murder? What the hell are you talking about? I ain't never killed anyone."

He paused. Granted, the hefty quarter moons of bulging breast above her frilly bodice made her wholly unlike the habit-wearing nuns from his youth. But the stern green gaze wasn't entirely dissimilar from that of Sister Mary Margaret and he could still recall his childhood fear of her wooden ruler. Perhaps that's why he felt a tad confessorial.

"Okay, that's not entirely true. But most of those were in a war, so those don't count. I only winged that guy in Abilene, so he ought not to have died. And as for that asshole in Lubbock, he pulled first, so I had no choice. If he hadn't been such a lousy shot, it'd have been me lying dead inn that saloon. So if I killed your brother, I'm sorry, but it was either him or me. "

His mind ticked onto the other thing she'd mentioned. "Take me? Take me where? Just who the hell are you?"

 

[CurtailedAmbrosia]

They always try to lie. She’s caught men red handed and still had them swear up and down she had the wrong idea. So when her mark plays dumb she doesn’t bat an eyelash-but when he starts confessing to things without her twisting his arm? Well, that was new.

New enough it actually gives her pause, a blink of those verdant green eyes. He thought she was here because he’d defended himself against a potential brother?

And then her expression hardens into a stern look of disapproval, with a touch of irritation at what she saw as his attempt to throw her off the scent. He must have thought she was born yesterday.

“My name is Rosalie McPhearson, and Joseph Miller hired me to bring you to justice on account of you killin’ his uncle. And that’s what I’m going to do, because despite the fast one I pulled on you, sporting this get up-” She glanced down at her attire. The things she did for love of the job, pft. “-I’m a bounty hunter, not a whore.”

A shrug and a trace of a smile now, a little cocky curve to her lush mouth. "Consider yourself swindled, Mr. Travis xxxxx."

 

[saedo]

"Bounty hunter?" Travis replied. "You?"

Still, his current predicament did warrant a reevaluation of his initial reaction. Although he certainly had height and weight on her, that didn't matter much given the gun in her hand. And the way she held it strongly suggested she was not averse to using it on a human being. He'd lay good money that she'd shot a man before.

That also made her a little crazy. Travis personally preferred to avoid gunfire and so did most sensible individuals. Those men he'd known who willingly took employment involving gun work all seemed to be slightly off kilter. Probably had to be if they were ever going to be good at it. Surely a woman doing such work had to be a bit nuts as well.

Which wasn't to say she wasn't smart. Certainly she'd had the wherewithal to fool him with her seduction ploy. Wily, this one.

That's why he made only a token effort to resist her efforts to secure his bonds behind his back. She caught his effort a heartbeat later and fetched him a sharp rap on his left temple with the gun barrel. "Fine, fine, I'll go quietly," he grunted through gritted teeth.

He meekly obeyed her instructions as she got him upright and his hands tied behind his back. He took the time to puzzle at the other part of her words. But he kept running into the same problem: who the hell was Joseph Miller?

 

[CurtailedAmbrosia]

“That’s right. Me.” There was something satisfying about a man’s incredulous reaction to her chosen profession-and then their dawning realization that despite the oddity, she did indeed have them dead to rights. As she certainly did Travis here.

He gets a little squirrely but she fixes that easily enough, giving him an approving nod when he decided to be reasonable. She can’t give a lot of leash with these things, after all.

“Good man. We’re taking the back stairs, I don’t need a ruckus down there, or some uppity fool to think they oughta steal my bounty.” She threw on one of HIS shirts but didn’t take her gun off him long enough to button it, switching the revolver from one hand to the other as she pulled the sleeves on and over each slender shoulder.

“Alright, I’ll shed this ridiculous thing later-let’s go.”

She kept a hand gripping tight on the back of his belt and the barrel of her gun in his back, marching him out of the door and indeed-down the backstairs and through an admittedly flimsy door to the side alley between the saloon and general store-and then left towards the back of the building-and her waiting prison cart, the door wide open and ready to accept it’s newest charge.

 

[saedo]

Travis debated whether to seek an opportunity to run as she directed him out the room and down the stairs. The odds were hard to measure. With his hands tied behind his back, he was certainly limited. Still, he was upright and he had several inches on her in the leg department. If he bolted, odds were that she couldn't catch him.

He glanced back over his shoulder. Ravishing Rosie here has donned one of his shirts to conceal her barely-clothed torso and its incredible curves. The steely look in her eyes seemed centered on him, but he also got the sense that she was still observing her surroundings quite thoroughly. And she still held her gun in an easy, practiced grip.

Yes, he could outrun her, but not her bullets. The question was more accurately whether she'd actually shoot him if he tried to run. He glanced back again. He'd misjudged her before and gotten himself tied up. If he gambled here and judged wrong, he could wind up far worse. And the way she held her gun suggested she was quite comfortable with it. No, not worth the risk.

Still, she did seem to want him alive. Maybe she'd only shoot to wound. But then again, what if she missed and killed him anyway? No, this seemed a bad bet.

But then again, why did she want him alive? She wasn't a lawman or a Pinkerton. Didn't bounty hunters usually prefer to bring back a corpse rather than a prisoner?

Unless perhaps the bounty specified that he be brought back alive. But why would this Miller character want Travis brought back alive?

Because he wanted to see Travis punished. Maybe even do it himself. This was personal for him. Personal . . . .

Travis felt a chill down his spine. He'd met plenty of men called Miller, but he didn't know any named Joseph nor any that he had ever killed. But if he expanded his criteria to anyone named Miller and then narrowed it down to any who might want to personally inflict punishment upon Travis, a possibile individual did now occur to him.

His mental ruminations had brought him all the way to her wagon. He paused before he climbed inside. "Miss Rosie, was it? Could you tell me if this Miller character who hired you was an older gentleman? White beard? Couple inches taller than me, but much broader, specially round the belly? Georgia accent?"

 

[CurtailedAmbrosia]

“I wouldn’t.” Rosalie warns. This wasn’t her first rodeo and while she was no stranger to violence-she liked to avoid messes where she could. And he was wanted alive. She liked to think she could be counted on to meet required objectives without too many compromises.

He didn’t glance back to her again, not until they were right at the wagon-which makes her more than a little tense and extra wary. Desperate men take desperate measures. Getting locked up and hauled to the pokey for murder sure counted for a dire situation by most anybody’s standards.

"Miss Rosie, was it?”

“Rosalie.” She said with a narrowing of her eyes and an impatient gesture to the cart. If she had friends that’d probably be what she went by-but she didn’t, and they certainly weren’t. The blonde bombshell was in front of him now, the man caught between the open cell door and her stern, watchful green eyes.

He’s asking about Miller and it’s the second time he’s given her pause, a brief bit of puzzlement and another blink-before the bridge of her nose crinkles up and her eyes narrow in a scowl. “What, were you fixin’ to kill him to? C’mon, get on in there before I lose my patience-but I’d say that describes Mister Miller alright, sure.”

He also liked to drone on and on about the 'just man's' virtues, but it wasn't befitting a lady to badmouth her employer. Besides-the man was shook up and grieving his kin.

 

[saedo]

A leaden feeling crept into his gut. He'd presumed that this crazy woman just had him confused with someone else. Since he'd never killed any man old enough to be another man's uncle, surely someone who knew the deceased would recognize Travis wasn't the killer.

But he had thought of a Miller who might feel enthusiastic about seeing him dangle from the hangman's noose. And Rosalie had just confirmed a description matching that man. A man who was apparently more dangerous than Travis had anticipated.

"You call him 'Mister'," Travis replied. "But I suspect you heard those around him address him as 'The Colonel.' He served during the war for the grays. Afterwards, moved out west. Big success with ranch. Still likes the old title, though."

"Depending on how you met him, you may have also seen him with a woman. Tall, dark-haired, fair-skinned. Nearing her middle years, I suspect, but still a handsome lady. Not quite as curvaceous as you up top, but still cuts a fine figure."

"You see, Miss Rosalie, the Colonel, far as I know, does not have an uncle. I've never heard mention of any his kin traveling out here from Georgia. But he does have a very pretty wife. And he did very nearly try kill me when he caught me fucking her."

 

[CurtailedAmbrosia]

“Far as claims of innocence go, that’s a new one.” Rosalie allows, another impatient gesture into the cart.

“It’s also just about the dumbest goddamned thing I’ve ever heard. Cuckholded husbands don’t hire bounty hunters, least I wouldn’t think so. They certainly don’t hire me. I care about cattle thieves and murderers, not adulterers.”

Miller could have lied, she supposed. Knew she wasn’t the type for such petty shi-was she actually considering the potential validity in this?! He’s an outlaw! They all spoke in lies, and while he’d outwitted scores of others, he wasn’t pulling this over on -her-.

“Now you get up on in there before I make you wear this infernal thing, c’mon now!"

 

[saedo]

Travis obeyed for lack of a better option. He was none too keen on seeing The Colonel again. He'd written the man off as a pompous windbag, but he'd since learned that the man had a reputation for cruelty. That added a certain queasy fear to the threats the man had hurled at him when he'd chased after that night. Maybe "cut off your balls and stuff then down your throat" wasn't mere hyperbole.

Still, it was quite a ways back. Perhaps he might be able to escape this crazy female before he had to face Colonel Miller again. As such, his odds of doing so were much better if he was not already suffering from a gunshot wound.

"Fine, fine, I'll do it. Just quit jabbing me with your damn gun, okay?" he grumbled. Travis climbed into the cart as directed.