Saving the Gunslinger
Prologue
The wind blew through Samantha's long red hair, whipping it wildly behind her. Bending over Athena's neck, the duo raced over the hills and across the plains. As she pulled Athena to a stop at the top of a hill, Samantha chest rose and fell rapidly. The sense of freedom coursed through her veins.
Out here, with the wild surrounding her and her best friend Athena as her companion, Samantha always felt the most at peace. "I believe our ride is going to be cut short today, Athena," Samantha sighed as she scratched at the palomino mare's neck and the scent of rain teased her nostrils. Storm clouds were gathering above them and the wind carried the promise of ugly weather.
Samantha was in no hurry to return home. Life had been hard for as long as she could remember, but it had gotten decidedly worse in the last several years. Samantha's father had always been a weak man addicted to liquor and the thrill of a gamble—and he was also a man who seemed unable to tell a good bet from a bad one. With the death of her mother five years ago to a sickness and the death of her brother in a drunken saloon brawl, Samantha's father had only grown worse.
Patrick lived for gambling. Samantha was left to attempt to keep them fed and warm with what little crops and money she managed to salvage from their tiny farm before her father gambled it away. She knew that selling Athena could provide a decent amount of money to live off for a while, but Samantha would sooner part with her left leg than her beloved horse.
A drop of rain fell on her cheek and Samantha turned Athena around. "We better get home, girl. Father will be expecting supper soon anyhow."
The rain had intensified, and Samantha was soaked to the skin by the time she reached home. She swiped her wet hair from her face as she hopped off Athena's back and led the mare into the tiny barn. "Charles?" she called out, wondering if perhaps the elderly man who lived in the barn and helped with farm had taken refuge in the loft.
Silence followed her greeting. The rain beating upon the thatched roof and the wind whipping through the cracks in the barn walls were the only sounds to be heard. A chill passed through Samantha's body that had nothing to do with her soaked clothes or the chill of the wind. Something was wrong.
Athena shifted restlessly, tossing her head. Samantha knew the mare was sensing whatever she herself was sensing. Leading a spooked Athena to her stall, Samantha was stopped in her tracks as she turned the corner.
"Charles!" Samantha cried, dropping Athena's reins and rushing into the stall. She dropped to her knees beside the lifeless body of the man who had lived and worked with her family for as long as Samantha could remember. "Charles, wake up," she all but begged as she gripped his shoulder gently and gave him a gentle shake.
There was no response. His open eyes remained unseeing and staring at the rafters above them. Tears blurred Samantha's vision. What had happened? Bile rose in Samantha's throat when she noticed the blood beneath Charles' head, soaking the straw and staining his gray hair. With trembling hands, Samantha turned Charles' head to the side and quickly vomited upon the straw when she saw that the back of his head had obviously been struck by something large and was nearly completely caved in.
Leaping to her feet, Samantha ran from the barn, back out into the rain. Gasping, she sucked in breath after breath of fresh air. Who would have done that to Charles? The man was kind and quiet and never had a mean or harsh word to say to anyone. Her father would be devastated by the loss of his friend...
Her father! Whipping around, Samantha noticed a black cart parked beside her home. Due to her rush to get out of the storm, she hadn't noticed it when she had first arrived. Was that who had attacked Charles? Was her father the next victim? She had to help him.
Without putting much thought at all into her actions, Samantha raced to the door. Throwing it open and leaping inside, she was quickly stopped in her tracks by the sight she was met with. Her father and a man Samantha had never seen before were sitting together at the kitchen table. A cup of coffee sat before each of them and it was clear they'd been having a conversation before Samantha had burst in.
"Papa?" Samantha's voice sounded small in the heavy silence. Her father met her gaze and she saw the tears in his eyes—his shoulders were drooped as if the weight of the world sat upon them. "Papa, what's going on? Charles is dead...." She spared a quick glance at the pale stranger, with a thin, pock-marked face and long, dirty black hair. "Who is he?"
Patrick opened his mouth to speak but her father was interrupted by the stranger before he could utter a word. "My name is Mr. Matthews. I apologize for the death of your farmhand. I'm afraid he recognized me and knew exactly why I was here. He was hoping to stop me." The stranger slid a lock of greasy black hair from his face. "I couldn't allow that to happen."
Samantha swallowed hard as the stranger stood up and began to circle around the table in her direction. Her father's voice was shaking when he said, "Please, leave my daughter alone."
Icy blue eyes scanned across her body, lingering on her most intimate of places and causing Samantha to shiver. "You know I can't do that, Patrick," Mr. Matthews tsked. "A deal is a deal."
"Deal?" Samantha's voice trembled as she took a step away from Mr. Matthew's advance. "Father, what is he talking about? Do something."
The strangers cold smile did nothing to erase the predatory hunger in his eyes. "You truly are everything your father said you were. A true beauty in every possible way." Those eyes lingered on her breasts, outlined beneath her wet clothes. His tongue ran across his thin upper lip. "You're mine now, sweetheart."
"What is he talking about, pa?"
Patrick pushed himself to his feet, though Samantha realized her father was avoiding meeting her gaze. "I was drunk, Samantha. Don't worry. I won't allow this...."
Mr. Matthew's waved his hand dismissively. "You truly have no choice. You made a deal with me, Patrick, and I don't allow anyone to go back on their deals. I gave you that money and you gave me your daughter."
Samantha felt as if she had been punched in the gut. She shook her head. Surely this man was lying. Her father was a weak man with many vices but he would never sell her....
"I can see you have your doubts," Mr. Matthews noted. "Ask him, Samantha. Recently he was gone for over a week. That was when we met. He was drunk, that is true, but he knew what he was doing. He needed money to continue his time at the poker tables. I was there to offer him that money but when he was unable to win and pay me that money back, I demanded something in return for my loan. That's when your loving father here told me about his beautiful daughter."
Hot tears of betrayal stung her eyes. All she needed to do was glance at her father to know that this Mr. Matthews was speaking the truth. "How could you?" she whispered, through the lump in her throat.
Patrick avoided her gaze. "Mr. Matthews, please, give me a month and I'll have your money. Don't hurt my daughter."
Mr. Matthews chuckled. "I have no intention of harming my own property."
Confusion, betrayal, sadness, and fear all coiled in Samantha's gut. She had to get away. "I am no one's property," she countered, taking another step toward the door. "My father will have to have find some other way to pay you back the money owes."
"I don't think he will." Mr. Matthews reached for Samantha. She attempted to leap away from him but his long, thin fingers wrapped around her forearm and held her firmly in place. "You are mine."
"No, I am not." Samantha swung her free hand and caught Mr. Matthews in his temple. The addled man stumbled backward slightly and his grip loosened enough for Samantha to pull her arm free. She turned on her heel and ran for the door, throwing it open.
"Stop where you are or I'll kill your father."
Samantha froze. She turned her head to see that Mr. Matthews was holding a revolver in his hand and it was aimed directly at her father.
Patrick's throat was bobbing, his jaw trembled, and tears soaked his eyes. "Run Samantha."
"But....." Samantha's heart shattered in her chest. Despite all his flaws, that man was still her father and she loved him.
Patrick shook his head. "Run."
Samantha wanted to argue but her father's voice grew more stern. "Run."
With a nod, Samantha grabbed up her skirts, turned on her heels and raced out the door. At the sound of a booming gunshot behind her, Samantha spared a backward glance in time to see her father fall to the floor with blood on his face.
More tears and bile rose but Samantha fought them both. Her very life depended on her getting away. Charles was dead, her father was dead, Samantha would not let herself be taken... There would be time to mourn and fall apart once her escape had been made.
The rain was still falling heavily but through the droplets, Samantha saw Athena standing outside the barn. She raced to the mare, hopped on her back, and took off into the forest where Mr. Matthew's would not be able to follow on his cart.
From home, she heard his voice call out against the wind. "Run, little Samantha. I'll find you! You're mine!"