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Grace Excerpt
Faint murmurings drifted to her on the breeze, amid the throaty calls of blackbirds.
Molly knelt on the bank of the Neosho River, a Walker Colt poised in her hand. About twenty yards away a couple lay entwined, the remains of a picnic scattered around them. The girl was young, her bare breast a swelling bud, her face round with baby fat. The man was old enough to be her father. His black shirt was folded nearby, a minister’s collar coiled neatly in the center of it. Though Molly was in plain view, they clearly hadn’t seen her.
She looked around. She’d stopped at a well-worn crossing, frequented by cattlemen and Kansa alike. Today, it was empty. Her horse, Samson, grazed nearby, his piebald coat startling against the monochromatic sky.
Finally she rose and walked toward them, cocking the pistol. When she got about ten feet away she stopped and pointed it at the sky. Then she pulled the trigger.
The shot rolled across the prairie, flushing the blackbirds from the willows. Samson threw his head up, buckling down on his haunches. The couple flew apart, scrambling across their blanket and clutching at themselves.
“Jesus Christ!” bellowed the preacher. He jumped up, wild-eyed. The girl sprawled at his feet, legs splayed, eyes bulging.
“Cover yourself!” he snapped.
She blinked and grabbed her dress, clutching it to her body. The preacher hastily buttoned his pants, glaring at Molly with sudden, indignant rage.
Molly gave a wry smile. “This ain’t what they taught in Sunday school when I was her age.”
“Who the hell are you?” he said. “We don’t have any money.”
“I ain’t robbing you,” Molly said. She cocked the pistol again. “You got no business with that girl. You best step away from her now.” Read More.....
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