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Miranda turned to Vasquez suddenly, as if finally, once again, capable of rational thought, aware of his betrayal and fearful of Tom's reaction to her not-so-unwilling participation.

"You're a vile and disgusting man!" she said, spitting out the words.

Retrieving his gun, he stood, putting on his pants. Vasquez looked first to the woman and then to her husband.

"That's not what you were saying only moments ago Senora. You are an apt pupil. You learn fast and well. She will make you a fine wife, Senor. Unfortunately, you won't be getting a virgin in your bed tonight, but she is a wildcat, tight as any woman I've ever had and she loves it!"

He turned back to the young woman.

"Don't you, Mrs. Willis?"

She reached to slap him but he caught her hand easily, held it momentarily and then jerked her to him kissing her forcefully.

Even though this time her desire to resist was genuine, Miranda was still breath taken by the powerful probing of his tongue. She caught herself beginning to respond.

"I hate you!" she uttered, pulling away and beginning to dress.

Smiling, Vasquez gathered and tied his bedroll to the saddle.

Miranda went to Tom and removed the bandana from his mouth.

"I'll kill you for this!" he spat at Vasquez, "and I should kill you too!" he whispered to Miranda.

She lowered her head in shame.

Vasquez laughed.

"Ah, Senor, do not be so harsh on your pretty young wife. Even though you won't be getting a virgin, be thankful you have a woman who will bring endless hours of pleasure to your bed."

As the Mexican was preparing to mount, Miranda quickly grabbed a knife from the wagon and cut a knot or two from Tom's bonds.

As Vasquez swung across the saddle, Tom reached quickly into the wagon and grabbed the Winchester.

The bullet struck him in the shoulder, the rifle snapping from his hands. The force drove him back against the wagon and he fell into the dust.

A moment later Miranda was cradling him in her arms weeping as she tried to stem the flow of blood, which was considerable, from the shoulder of the semi-conscious man.

"Another not-so-bright move on both of your parts," said the stranger reholstering his gun.

"I hate you!" she shouted.

"I could have killed him for drawing down on me from behind. You both seem to forget, I am much better at gun fighting, as well as making love, than your husband. Now, If I were you, I would get him to the doctor in Sierra Verde as soon as possible."

He spurred his horse.

"Perhaps we shall meet again Senora. When you have tired of this boy, perhaps you will be happy to feel yourself in the arms of a real man once again."

"Never!" she hissed.

He smiled and rode off.

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Incident at Pima MesaChapter 5

Miranda struggled to get her semi-conscious husband to his feet and into the wagon. She stemmed the tide of bleeding with a tablecloth from their belongings, jumped onto the seat and, whipping the horses unmercifully, headed for town as fast as the work team and old wagon could bear. Despite the makeshift wheel repair which she expected to let loose at any time, they rolled into the outskirts of town in a little over forty minutes. She asked a young girl for directions to the doctor's...

Incident at Pima MesaChapter 6

"Mrs. Willis?" Miranda looked up to see Dr. Welty standing in the doorway. "Your husband is going to be fine. I got the bullet out. Actually, he's a very lucky man. Another inch or two and the bullet would have cut through an artery. He probably would have bled to death before you could get him here." "May I see him now?" Miranda asked anxiously. "Of course," said the doctor, motioning her in. "He's still pretty groggy and he needs rest, but you can talk with him for a few...

Incident at Pima MesaChapter 7

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Incident at Pima MesaChapter 9

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Incident at Pima MesaChapter 10

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Incident at Pima MesaChapter 11

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Incident at Pima MesaChapter 13

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Incident at Pima MesaChapter 15

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I had apparently blacked out. I was still in Wizen's room. He was absent, but across the room, facing away from me, was someone else. From the long blonde hair pulled back and twisted into a plait, I guessed it was a woman. Her silver-grey robe was similar to the one Wizen always wore. I cleared my throat and she turned to face me. She was pretty, perhaps my age or even younger. But the expression on her face was one of sadness. Her mouth was so tight and her eyes so dull that I couldn't...

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