Page 60 of Bullets and Dandelions

I smothered a grin. The people sitting behind us were listening to our conversation. “Yes, ma’am. I’m the best, and I never, ever miss.”

“I apologize for babbling on without introducing myself. I’m Jolene Hardy and you are?”

“Tess Reynolds.”

“Nice to meet you, Tess. My husband runs the Buffalo Bill Wild West Show, and we’ve been looking for an Annie Oakley act.”

“Really?”

Jolene pointed. “Here comes my husband now.”

A man in his sixties with long white hair and beard walked toward us. His beer belly strained the buttons on his red plaid shirt. The man’s fringed leather pants hung low on his hips and his gun belt was the only thing keeping them up. An 1878 Colt six-shooter hung on his right hip.

A coyote howled.

I looked at the corrals. My squad was staring at me. I gave them the okay hand signal.

“That’s a bunch of dangerous looking men, honey,” Jolene said.

“They are my… ah, family. There here to do some bull riding.”

“You don’t see women doing anything that crazy, now do you?”

I laughed. “No ma’am.”

“Who’s your new friend, darlin’?”

“This here is Tess Reynolds and she’s our new Annie Oakley act.”

“Wait! I haven’t agreed to anything. I have a full-time job.”

“We can work around that.” He thrust out his hand. “Howdy, Tess. I’m Buffalo Bill Hardy.”

I shook his hand. “Nice to meet you.”

Buffalo Bill’s gaze fixed on my guns. “Are those 1849 Colt Peacemakers?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Want to sell them?”

I shook my head. “Not a chance. I need them for my act.”

“I can’t change your mind?”

A high-pitched almost feminine voice snarled, “What are you doing here, old man? I trespassed you.”

“You can’t trespass me. I own the arena,” Buffalo Bill snapped.

Frowning, I turned my head, and my jaw dropped. I had been expecting a woman not a six-feet-four, muscled-bound male wearing a Yuma County Sheriff’s uniform. I looked at his name tag. Shit! Franklin Doss in the flesh. I took a quick peep at the corrals. There was no sign of my squad.

“I’m the law. Git or I will arrest you,” Doss sneered.

The people in the seats behind us booed loudly.

A man yelled, “You’re a damned bully, Doss.”

“Go harass someone else,” another person called.

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