Angel of the West: A Mellerdramer
Jacqueline T. Lynch
Copyright 2011, 2015 Jacqueline T. Lynch
All rights reserved by the author. Unauthorized copying is prohibited.
The outlaw clutched Cal Foster by the neck and shoved him off the train, then pointed a rifle at him. No chance to shoot; gunfire suddenly resounded from the hill. The rifle leapt of the outlaw’s arms like a fidgety cat, at which point Cal Foster, awaiting his demise, vomited, which was his habit in moments of distress. The shocked outlaw gaped at the lone cowpoke on the hill had so dramatically disarmed him. He sneered and shouted,
“We’ll meet again, wrangler!” and went back to his train robbing as the locomotive picked up speed and grew smaller in the distance.
Foster twisted around to look for his rescuer. A small figure with a slow, easy gate walked down the hill. His hat was low over his eyes and two braided ropes of hair hung from either side.
“It’s an Indian,” Foster thought, and wondered if he would be killed after all. Indians did that sort of thing in the dime novels. Back in Albany, New York, dime novels were his chief source of information about the West.