Northwest Wyoming Territory—Spring, 1880
Terrified, Elizabeth screamed. “Shut up you dumb bitch, cooperate or I’ll kill you,” said the outlaw slapping her face hard. The blow sent Elizabeth falling back onto the bed. She could see his yellow teeth and some brownish chew dripping from the corner of his mouth. He smelled like whiskey. The outlaw reached down and tore the front of her red dress, exposing her white skin and both breasts. His eyes burned with lust. Bending down he brought his lips down to her mouth. Fear and anger knotted her body. “I think I am going to be raped” she thought to herself. Elizabeth’s worth nightmare was about to happen. The outlaw’s hand cupped her left breast, squeezing it tightly. She bent her head down and bit his hand, drawing blood. “Ouch!” he yelled. “If you want to make it hard on yourself that’s okay with me. I’ll make you suffer.” Suddenly the sod cabin door swung open “Come quick Jeb,” the other bandit said, “there’s a rider approaching us.” “I’ll deal with you later,” he told Elizabeth. “We’ll have a party.” Jeb rushed out the door with his brother. Elizabeth heard them yelling at the approaching rider. Then there were gunshots coming from the cabin. A stray bullet broke through the window and ricocheted off the cast iron stove, barely missing her. Elizabeth hid under the bed, more gunshots could be heard then silence. The cabin door burst open and standing there was a tall man wearing a full length duster. He wore a black Stetson cowboy hat and held a Colt .45 in his right hand. Elizabeth was too scared to come out from under the bed. Seeing a woman hiding the man said, “Come on out of there. I won’t hurt you.” Rolling out from under the bed, Elizabeth stood up and faced the man, holding her torn dress against her chest. She had a quick thought he might be another bad outlaw. “Are you Elizabeth Vivian?” he asked. “Yes,” she said, her voice trembling. “I’m Monty Hawthorne, the Sheriff of Shoshone.” He opened the front of his duster and she saw his silver badge on his chest. “You’re a sheriff?” asked Elizabeth. “Yes I am. Your Uncle George and Aunt Jane are worried sick about you,” the sheriff said, looking concerned. “What about the outlaws?” asked Elizabeth. “They are dead. I saved the territory the trouble of hanging them for killing the stagecoach guard during the holdup,” he said. “Thank God,” exclaimed Elizabeth not fearing for her safety anymore. She held up the front of her torn dress and rushed across the cabin floor. Pressing herself against his strong chest she noticed he was stronger than most men. “Calm down Miss Vivian,” he told her, pulling away and remaining aloof. “Take my duster and cover yourself up.” “Thank you sheriff,” she said putting on the full-length coat. Her terrible ordeal was over. The sheriff reached down and picked up two saddle bags full of gold from the table. “Is this your handbag?” he asked pointing to it. “Yes it is,” she answered, “with my inheritance inside. It’s all I have to my name.” He gave Elizabeth the handbag, “Let’s go to Shoshone,” the sheriff said. They both walked out of the cabin. Elizabeth could see the two dead outlaws on the ground. Approaching one of the outlaw’s horse, Sheriff Hawthorne picked Elizabeth up by her waist and hoisted her onto the horse’s saddle. He gave her the reins, saying “It’s about five miles to Shoshone.” “Good,” said Elizabeth. Then the sheriff mounted his horse. A sense of urgency drove them down the trail. Something intense flared through Elizabeth’s body. She found the sheriff to be quite attractive. They rode along the trail towards Shoshone. When they arrived at the town an hour later, the sheriff and Elizabeth went down Main Street. There was an assortment of buildings and stores on both sides of the street. Elizabeth saw the stagecoach up ahead with a large crowd of people standing around it. She recognized a gray-haired woman as her Aunt Jane. “Oh Elizabeth,” shouted Aunt Jane, rushing up to meet them. “Are you hurt?” “No,” answered Elizabeth. Sheriff Hawthorne dismounted his horse and helped Elizabeth down. He tied both horses to a hitching post. Uncle George, also with gray hair, ran up to her and gave Elizabeth a big hug. “We were worried about you,” he said. “Why are you wearing a duster?” “One of the outlaws tore my dress,” she answered her uncle. “They would have raped me if Sheriff Hawthorne hadn’t killed them.” “Oh dear,” said Aunt Jane. “I’ll mend your dress once we get to our ranch.” “I also lost my bonnet,” said Elizabeth brushing back her reddish-brown hair. “We will get you another one,” promised Uncle George. “When the outlaws started to kidnap me Pastor Stillson tried to fight them off with his bare hands. One of the outlaws hit him on the head with the barrel of the gun knocking him out. Is he okay?” asked Elizabeth. “He is hurt but okay. His wife took him to Doc Waters’ office to get a bandage for his head,” said Uncle George. The crowd became larger at the news Elizabeth had been rescued. Sheriff Hawthorne explained how he tracked the outlaws from the stagecoach site, the gunfight and that he killed the two outlaws. He gave the undertaker directions to find the guards and outlaws’ bodies. Aunt Jane led Elizabeth over to their black buggy and horse. Climbing up to the backseat of the buggy she was joined by her aunt. Uncle George untied the reins from the hitching post and got up to the front seat. Elizabeth waved goodbye to the crowd of people and Sheriff Hawthorne. They left town and headed for the Red Canyon Ranch.
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