SUMMARY:
Most nights the red-eyed monster came. Sucking my goats of their blood.
And it seemed nothing I tried worked to dissuade it.
So, I'd decided to hire a gunman with steady aim which could kill the beast. And save me, my ranch.
But I never expected to find him attractive. I'd not found a man appealing in a long time. Not since my husband had left me two years ago.
But in these desolate plains, nothing is ever as it seems.
Who's the monster and who's the lover can quickly change.
TEASER:
The beast could see them in the darkness as clearly as if the sun shone high above. See the goats there in the pen.
And it was hungry. Its slender stomach already rumbling. Ribs protruding as it starved for more of the animal's fluid. Its spine was ridged, curving upward like a swaying hill. Lurching down and back with each movement as the thing slunk closer to the pen on spindly legs. It walked on all fours with split front feet. Lurching forward it jogged like a dog toward the pen. Leaping the fence to sink its pin pricked teeth into the first goat it could reach. Dragging it to the ground before it could utter a scream.
The animal flailed on its side, tossing its legs. While the bigger beast drained it. Until its front legs began jerking spasmically.
He wouldn't kill this one. Not tonight. But he needed something to assuage the hunger.
***
The next morning, I found one of my younger goats injured. The same neck wounds and its body ravaged from where something much larger had pinned it down to feed on it.
It's enough.
I went inside and slid, Old Bob's clanging coins off the table. Going to a small drawer tucked in the wall next to the stove I peered at what was inside and verified there was more coins there. Shoving it closed with a click, I stuck Old Bob's coins in the pocket of my dress and went around to saddle Maxine, my mare.
Giving her heel, I headed for town.
Looking for a gunslinger. With true aim.
Who won't be scared of the monster hunting my flock.
***
Once there, it didn't take long to find him. I could tell what he was from the moment he got off the train. A shawl draped loosely over his shoulder and a saddle in his hand. His hat was pulled low in the front.
Usually, an indicator he was a Wanted Man. But I knew enough about gunslingers, to be sure that most of them were.
Usually for killing someone they shouldn't have. Or someone with family that cared...
I got into town and lifted the thin hood I kept over my pile of hair, to keep from drawing undue attention.
My dress was the simple blue one I wore most days. I'd given it a thorough scrubbing last night, as well as myself and hoped I could present myself with a professional air.
I stepped into his path.
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