Steppin' off the stage, the darkened street of a small minin' town in the middle'a nowhere met my eyes. It was no different from any boomtown that sprung up in the heyday of plentiful riches an' hard, dirty work. A single main street, if'n one could call it that, was lined on each side by a short row of ramshackle, false fronted buildin's. There was a clapboard stable for boardin' horses, a rinky-dink hotel, three saloons, a barber shop, an' bathhouse.

Just just lookin' at it made me feel cold an' shaky. This was no place for me to be, but I couldn't get no further. I'd run clean outta money. Touchin' the rough wisps of my hair, I looked about.

Rows an' rows of white tents was spread out behind the buildin's like a sea of canvass. That was where men lived, women made a livin', an' little shops an' businesses were set up. The catered to constant flow of people that swept into the country lookin' to strike it rich.

Alone, scared, I'd spent the last of what little money I had on food an' stage fare. Not that I seen what choice I had though. It had been in me to get as far from where I'd come from as a jackrabbit from a hungry coyote. My clothes were old, given me by the men who'd raised me. Men's clothes they was.

I'd been almighty embarrassed steppin' foot on the stage, havin' others gawkin' at me. Poor I was, but I had my pride!

A man in a gray hat stepped from the shadows right then, glancin' my way. His brief gaze was sharp-eyed. He had sized me an' dismissed me with one look. The sparkle of his badge beneath the edge of his coat caught my eye. The fact he was town marshal didn't soothe me none.

I'd lived among outlaws for too long. The gun at his hip an' the short-barreled shotgun in his hand wasn't lost on me neither. New minin' towns was rough, I knew that, but havin' never lived in one, I ain't seen it for myself. The marshal's cold glance was a warning to watch my step, 'cause I had only myself to rely on.

The street was muddy from the recent showers, deep grooves made from wagon wheels filled with water. They shimmered in the lamplight, makin' a crosschecked pattern that ran down the street. When my stomach began cryin' pitiably for food, I swallowed hard. Despite havin' no money, I looked around for an eatin' house that seemed halfway respectable.

Pickin' my way, I started toward the smallest saloon that seemed to have little activity an' maybe served grub. At least if I was called to account on bein' broke, I could explain myself without bystander's a'waggin' they heads. Folks loved gossip more'n near anythin'!

Wooden doors creakin' softly under my hand I stepped inside. It was a quiet room filled with round tables covered in red an' white checked tablecloths. A long narrow bar took up the far wall, complete with a back mirror an' quite a few tall stools. The wooden floor showed signs of heavy foot traffic, but it was clean. Not that I had rights to be picky, but I did like a kept floor.

Wantin' no one to notice the shabbiness of my clothes, or the scuffed men's shoes that I wore, I found a place to settle quick. A table near the front window offered a good view of the street in both directions, so I tucked myself against the wall. My belly grumbled impatiently.

A man with a bald gleamin' head an' a huge frame came from the kitchen area. Squat an' wide, with a thick neck an' huge hands, a bulky middle, he looked like a walkin' barrel. I doubted there was much fat to the man. He looked like he could stop a buffalo with his bare hands. Despite all that, I would guess that he wasn't much older than thirty. Spottin' me, he smiled pleasant like.

"What can I get you, Miss?" Gruff, boomin' his voice shoulda been a frightenin' thing, but I caught myself near smilin' in return.

"Whatever grub is hot," keepin' my voice low hid my heavy accent. "Much obliged."

As though he didn't notice, the man gave a quick nod of his head, disappearin' whilst I sat an' fidgeted. I was in it now! There was no way out but I was just too hungry to up an' leave. My comin' musta been a supper bell to other folks to come on down. Just as my supper arrived the doors opened an' a boodle of people came in an' set up to eat. In the space of a blink, the room was abuzz with the chatter an' noise of conversation.

Keepin' my head down, tryin' to look invisible, the smell of hot stew an' fresh bread made it mighty hard to eat slow. I was afraid to eat too quick, 'cause then I'd have to own up to bein' poor that much sooner. It was in my mind to try an' ask for help, but among the men about me, I didn't see one to stir up any confidence.

The helplessness of my current state made my stomach hurt, tears wellin' up in my eyes. Refusin' to cry like a silly girl without her ma, I blinked them away, wipin' a hand across my face. What was done was done, an' cryin' over it would change nothin'! That's what I'd been taught. Bein' alone an' scared wasn't no call to go snivlin' an' whinin'.

I sat quiet over my food, chewin' slow an' steady as other diners came an' went. Outside the rain started up again, beatin' with large drops on the roof. My heart sank at the idea of havin' to sleep out in this weather. As I dwelt sourly on that the bald man came back out from the kitchen, dryin' his hands on a thick apron strapped at his waist.

"Will you want something else, Miss?"

Fear darted through me but I kept my face calm, managin' to meet his eyes.

"No thanks, Mister, this here is fine,"

"Weather outside is getting pretty bad," he commented. "The hotel will fill up quickly if you don't have a room already,"

"I ain't got...I mean, I was so hungry that I..." Slammin' my lips closed against more words, I cussed myself blue inside. I'd done said too much.

Lookin' at me for a moment, he smiled with a soft nod, disappearin' back into the kitchen. I had just about made my mind to make a run for it when the bat doors swung open, a dark shadow steppin' through. His hat an' slicker gleamed with rain, the light bouncin' off his tall frame. With his face was in shadow, hat pulled down low over his eyes, all I could make out was a wide jaw an' bottom lip.

The man runnin' the place came out at the sound of the door, his features breakin' into a smile.

"Ranse!" He boomed. "It's been a coon's age! Finally coming down from the wilds to civilization?"

"Poke," the man called Ranse acknowledged with a grin an' the two shook hands.

"You passin' through?"

"Might stay around a couple of days, been in a lot of rough country lately," as Ranse was glancin' about the room he caught sight of me and our eyes met. Pullin' off his hat, he grinned good-naturedly at me.

"Pardon my manners, Miss. Good evening to you." A voice like smoked honey wrapped around my spine, his teeth white against a dark tan.

My only reply was a shy nervous smile as I looked away. The man Ranse took off his slicker to hang it over a nearby chair to dry. He an' Poke spoke quietly so I could not hear what was said over the hubbub of the diners still eatin'. Though I kept my head down, I took the measure of the one called Ranse with care.

He looked to be a half-breed, his features dark an' sharp, with hair the kind of thick black that shines blue in the light. Though his eyes were equally dark, they were sorta friendly-like, set below thick black brows. He appeared to be about thirty-five though I doubted he'd the years to match it. Breed's tended to look young right up until they died of old age.

Buckskin pants were tucked into worn leather boots that showed some wear, matchin' his faded blue shirt an' tan vest. Still in his hand was his black, low swept hat, an' he wore a deep blue bandana about his neck.

Shaped lean an' tough, the stranger reminded me of a wolf. The well-worn gun belt with a smooth polished black ivory handle did not escape my notice neither. I felt my heart quicken. Judd had tol' me a'plenty about men who had guns showin' wear like that an' I had no likin' for it. That kind was followed by nothin' but misery an' killin'.

Now, mind you, this Ranse was not a handsome man by most standards. He was too wide of jaw an' narrow of lip, an' his nose, though of a fine shape, showed sign of bein' broken once or twice. His face was wide with high cheekbones, his forehead not too tall, but yet he was not ugly. Only lean, an' savage. Still, where I'd come from, he'd be as fine a catch as any, as he had two good legs an' was still breathin'.

The thought sent chills through me. That way of thinkin' would serve me no good at all! The man Ranse noticed my subtle starin', but other than a quick flick of his eyes to let me know he'd caught me, he paid me no mind.

Time slowed to a crawl, an' my food went cold on the plate. I'd kept my bites pea-sized, chewin' each one a good twenty, thirty times, for what was I goin' to do? The crowd changed from quiet, respectable folk to loud, boisterous men who worked hard slavin' in the silver mines. A rough crowd, salty an' gruff, they had little enough manner an' breedin', but then again, what was I?

Poor, no family, on the edge of losing respectability, I was in no place to pitch stones. Havin' only the clothes on my back, an' the body that God gave me, I was in sore need of catchin' a break.

Bein' plenty strong I was used to doin' a good many chores set out for boys an' young men. I could rope an' ride, brand cattle, ride herd, an' I was accustomed to the heft an' balance of a rifle. If I was to tell it straight, though, I'd no talent for hittin' what I aimed at. Thanks to Ma's early attentions I could cook, sew, knit, keep house, all the womanly things expected of the female variety.

Just shy of seventeen, still growin' both up an' out, I was embarrassed of my soft curves. Most times I hid them best I could. If'n anyone had asked me, I woulda said my hair was a deep, shiny copper that hung past my waist. There was a smatterin' of freckles across my nose an' cheeks, an' bein' out in the sun only made them stand out more. My round face made me look chubby, though I had a good chin, my Ma's chin.

I had her eyes too, a pale sort of sea green with flecks of gold in them. Pa had always loved her eyes, an' I did too. I'd never been called pretty, though Ma often would try to convince me I wasn't plain, but Pa always shook his head lovin' like, smilin' at me. 'Don't matter what you look like girl,' he'd say, 'only what you do really matters, an' you'll be a right fine woman one day.'

Loud, raucous laughter startled me from my musin' to find a group of miners leerin' my way. My stomach turned sour, though this sort of attention wasn't new. Since I'd been on my own I'd dealt with more than my share of crude comments an' ooglin' from drifters an' rough cowhands. Someone whispered somethin' that made them burst out in harsh laughter. My cheeks went hot as my heart dropped to my scuffed shoes.

In my men's clothin', I knew I looked odd. If'n Judd had just bought me fabric, I could've made my own dresses! Through my shame though, was anger, for what right did they have to poke fun at me? Wasn't we of the same cloth? Poor, no schoolin', scrapin' ends together for each meal?

There was one minor doin' most of the laughin', a lanky fella with broad shoulders, long thin arms, an' a narrow face. He had a curved nose like a hawk, an' a bright shock of carrot red hair. Narrow, deep-set eyes burned with courage from the gut-rot brew he'd been tossin' back. Swipin' the back of his hand across his mouth he hitched his belt an' came my way.

"Seat taken, Miss?" pullin' out a chair without waitin' for my answer, he plunked down.

"Maybe," was my quiet response, for what was I to say? I was scared an' angry. What gave him the right to harass me?

"Waitin' on yer fella, huh?" the man thought he was a clever type, but I'd seen smarter pigs. "Seem's mighty ungentlemanly of him to leave you here sittin' all alone. This can be a dangerous town, rough on tender, lonely womenfolk."

"She's not alone," we both looked up at the low smooth voice.

The half-breed stood there, his dark eyes flashin'. A small plate was balanced on one arm, a larger one in his hand, a steamin' cup of coffee in the other. The hawk-nosed man turned slowly in the chair, then got up as the one called Ranse moved forward, settin' his things at my table.

"I apologize if you got the wrong impression, but this seat is taken. I'd be obliged if you would let me sit down."

"You 'spect me to believe that a white girl would let a half-breed share a table?" the miner spat the word with contempt.

"If you have any desire to live through the night, you will be good enough to stop talking, and walk away," a dangerous an' dark tone had crept into the breed's voice. It sent chills down my spine.

The miner backed up, concern an' uneasiness on his face. Thinkin' me easy pickin's, he'd not expected me to have a guardian. His gaze hit the floor. Without a word, he went back to his friends an' they were a quiet bunch after that.