Desert Dust - Book 1

Chapter 1 - Smokin' Barrels

26th July, 1880

The streets of Tombstone shimmer beneath the harsh afternoon sun as dust swirls between wooden storefronts. Alex was crossing the road when a group of rough-looking outlaws swagger out of the saloon. Their laughter is loud, cruel. One of them grabs her arm, jerking her back, causing her hat to fall off her hair and onto the dirt.

"Easy now, sweetheart," he sneered.

Before she could speak, the sound of hooves cut through the noise. Three riders approach - Wyatt and Morgan Earp, and beside them, a pale, sharp-eyed man with a calm, dangerous air. Doc Holliday dismounted first, his voice lazy but cold as steel. "Gentlemen... I believe the lady didn't invite your company."

The outlaws sneered, hands twitching toward their guns, but Doc's Colt is already drawn, his smile faint and fearless. "Best apologize quick," he says softly, "before my patience runs out."

For the first time, the street went silent.

Alex grabbed her revolvers from her hips, left and right, and shot.

Four loud bangs - four dead outlaws.

"Apology accepted," Alexandra growled, the smoke still rising from her colts, as she turned towards Doc and the Earps.

"Thank you for the distraction, gentlemen, but I'm quite capable of handling idiots myself."

Doc didn't flinch, didn't even blink at the gunfire. Smoke curled from her twin Colts, and the four outlaws lay still in the dust, eyes wide with surprise.

He just stood there, hat low over his sharp gray eyes, a ghost of a smirk playing on his lips. Then he tipped that same hat, slowly in salute.

"Well now," Doc drawled, voice smooth as aged bourbon. "I do believe I've been upstaged by a lady."

Wyatt gave Alex an approving nod; Morgan chuckled under his breath.

Doc stepped forward carefully - no sudden moves - and picked up her fallen hat from the dirt without asking permission first. Brushed it off with one gloved hand before holding it out to her like an offering... or maybe courtship?

Alex holstered her revolvers before taking the hat from him and shaking it with her free hand.

"We can agree that that was self-defense, can't we?"

Doc watched her shake the dust from her hat, his expression unreadable - except for the quiet amusement in his eyes. He knew self-defense when he saw it. These men had touched what wasn't theirs; they'd drawn first with their hands.

And Alex? She hadn't hesitated.

"Self-defense," Doc echoed, voice calm as a still pond. "Four armed bastards against one woman? Hell yes."

Wyatt crossed his arms and nodded firmly beside him, an agreement without words.

Morgan spoke up then: "You're fast with those irons."

"Alexandra Lorton. Friends call me Alex or Ginger," Alex looked them all up and down before finally placing her hat back on top of her hair - tipping the brim at them.

"And if I'm not mistaken, then I am dealin' with the famous Earps and Doc Holliday, ain't I?"

Doc's lips curled into that lazy, dangerous smile, the one that made saloon girls sigh and gamblers sweat.

"Well now," he said, tipping his own hat in return. "The lady knows her names."

Wyatt stepped forward first, always the lawman, removing his hat with a respectful nod. "Wyatt Earp."