Keeley's Ride

    Note: I already HAVE a Western story, actually which I like and which has received praise from a few readers. However, the Assignment asks for a story written according to the prompt; so I am reprising “the strong female character” from my prior story and putting her into this new situation. Who knows, we might have a themed collection going here.
    Word Count: 620

    Keeley paused and pushed her fiery hair off her wet forehead and back out of her eyes. Once again, she wished she’d caught that train back east as she’d planned. Instead, her escape from Kansas didn’t happen the way she’d figured it.  Before she could leave town her guardian’s body had been discovered and an outcry ensued. Nothing would suffice but that she must leave immediately, so she hopped the stage to Cheyenne, and from there worked her way to the Bar_RM Ranch, where she now toiled in the stable, saddling Missy to go search for the missing calf.

         If it weren’t for the mamma cow’s bellerin’, Keeley would just leave well enough alone. But she knew if that cow was still hollerin’ when the boss man rode back from town, there’d be hell to pay-again. She’d had enough of overbearing domineering men in her life. After all, if it hadn’t been for her guardian’s over-developed sense of control, she’d never have shot an arrow at him.

         Saddling Missy, who didn’t seem interested in riding out today either, Keeley headed for the creek, figuring the calf might be out there caught in a bush-or not; really she didn’t care. She just didn’t want to listen to another man’s rant.  But as she approached the creek, which still burbled from the spring melt, she heard the calf’s plaintive lowing, and pulled up near a bush where the little fool had become entangled. When she reached down to pull it loose, she saw back in the branches of the shrub a bonnet, worn and dusty and faded. Keeley yanked at the calf to move it out of the way, and fell back on her posterior. Getting up grumbling and dusting herself off, she pushed the calf away and it ran back up the slope. She reached into the bush, scratching her arm badly as she did, and pulled at the bonnet wound snugly into the branch.

         She didn’t need another bonnet; this one looked as if its better days were decades in the past. Yet it hung heavy, as if weighted, so she decided to take a closer look. She reached in her pocket for the blade she always carried now, since her near miss on the stagecoach, and ripped at the ties, nearly dropping the bonnet’s weight as she did. She sank to her knees, almost under the shrub, and pulled the bonnet toward her, gasping as she looked into its interior. It was filled with gold coins!

         Just then a loud click resounded in her consciousness, and she quickly glanced over her shoulder. The ranch foreman, Jack Grinnell, stood there aiming his rifle at her eyes. “Gimme it!” he demanded, grimacing. “Just hand it over! It’s mine!” Keeley thought as fast as she could. She had no intention of surrendering this much gold; there surely was enough in the bonnet to  pay her train fare from Cheyenne to Boston to find her grandparents, wealthy shipbuilding heirs.

         She didn’t have time to think nor plan; action was required. She looked him in the eye: “Okay. Let me stand up and I’ll hand it to you. Just back up and give me some room to get up.”

         As he backed away a few steps, Keeley swiftly stood, stepped to one side, then swatted at the rifle barrel with the weighted bonnet. Grinnell cursed as the barrel dipped, but she expected that, and conked him on the temple. As he collapsed, Keeley bashed his skull once more, then swiftly packed the bonnet of gold into the saddlebag and jumped astride Missy. She raced away, headed for Cheyenne on a stolen nag, carrying a treasure she’d found by serendipity, leaving another victim behind her.