After a man tipped his hat, gave Tara a lingering glance, and walked on, I knew it was time.
"Ready?" I asked Tara.
She smiled at me and waved her hand in the air with nonchalance. "I have the easy task. I had not realized I was such a good actress."
"Or flirt," I added, with pursed lips. I was corrupting her. And Amanda.
She grinned. "Yes, there is that."
I didn't want her to get her head full of ideas that being a flirt was a good thing. It, perhaps, was potentially more dangerous than bank robbery. When we were done with all this, had the money we all deserved, I had to hope she would find a worthy man.
"All right then," I breathed, adjusted my hat that matched the pale silk, and headed toward the bank. Through the glass window, I could see Amanda was where I expected, sitting primly across from the banker at his desk. The man was smiling and almost preened at whatever she said to him. It worked every time.
I entered and didn't offer Amanda more than a passing glance-we weren't supposed to know each other-and saw one man at the counter being helped. No one else was within. Patiently-at least on the outside-I waited my turn. In my periphery, Amanda was engaging the bank manager. Their subdued laughter carried on the still air. She was just as adept at flirting as Tara; her role was working. The man was not paying attention to anything but the beautiful woman before him.
Once finished his business, the man at the counter turned, tipped his hat to me and went out the door.
Daddy's ranch. Daddy's ranch. While I wasn't going to back out now, I still had to repeat those words in my head, maybe to remind myself why I was breaking the law, behaving like a common criminal. No, worse. I was committing armed robbery. Daddy would roll over in his grave at my behavior, but I could not think of that.
"May I help you, ma'am?" the teller asked, offering me an attentive look and a warm smile.
He was a portly man, with long, gray sideburns and bushy eyebrows. The hair remaining on his head was slicked back. His black suit and crisp white shirt were indicators of the bank's prosperity.
Clearing my throat, I stepped up to the counter. "Good afternoon. Yes, I would like to withdraw some money, however I need to find a slip of paper with the amount."
I fumbled with my reticule, careful not to let the gun make any sound when I set it on the wood surface. Glancing out the window, I looked for Tara. "It's quite warm today, isn't it?"
My small talk only made the teller offer me another smile. He was patient as I fumbled, waiting for the right moment.
There she was, right on time. I could see Tara grabbing hold of a cowboy, distress on her face. Even from inside the bank, she looked as if she would swoon. Another man came to assist. How could they not? She was beautiful and in need of help.
Both women were doing their jobs and it was time for me to do mine. Reaching in my bag, instead of pulling out a non-existent piece of paper, I pulled out my gun. I kept it low so it couldn't be seen easily by anyone looking in the window and especially by the bank manager behind me. "Don't raise the alarm. I don't wish to harm you."
"What do you want, ma'am?"
Without looking away from his gray eyes, I told him the sum that was still outstanding.
His eyebrows went up and he glanced about, as if confused. Surely no woman would rob a bank, he probably thought. "You want a specific amount?"
"That's correct."
He cleared his throat. "Don't make a scene. You wouldn't want to be shot, would you?"
His jowls shifted as he shook his head. "No, ma'am, but I think you should just put that away and walk out of here."
"No." I kept my voice low and even. "You will give me that exact amount. Now."
"You won't shoot me," he countered, his hands flat on the counter.
"See the men outside? The ones who are creating a diversion?"
He didn't turn his head, only moved his eyes toward the front window.
"They won't hesitate to kill anyone walking by. Is that a woman they've stopped?"
One man was leaning over Tara, his hand on her forearm, seemingly to steady her. While I knew she was the one working her wiles for the man to do her bidding, from my vantage, she was in the stranger's clutches. Weak and vulnerable.
The teller cleared his throat again.
"You're the one who's robbed the other banks. The Black Widow."
I had no idea how I'd been given that title, but now wasn't the time to discuss it or tell him otherwise.
"Don't get the bank manager's attention." I didn't want him to stall any longer. "Isn't he assisting a woman? My, you wouldn't want so many innocent people killed, would you? Mr. Rollins surely wouldn't want women to die in his bank."
"What do you want?" Sweat trickled down the man's temple.
I pointed to his hand. "Just the amount I told you."
He opened a drawer, began counting out bills. A small stack grew quickly, then he pushed the amount toward me with stubby fingers. "That's not the entire sum, but it's all I have that's not in the safe."
Drat. Why couldn't it have been more? The man wasn't lying, the drawer was empty. It wasn't time to dwell on what I didn't have. "Thank you," I said to the teller. "The men outside will remain, ensuring you don't raise any warnings right away."
While my fingers shook, I shoved the money into the reticule along with the gun.
"Good day," I said, as if I hadn't just robbed him.
I turned on my heel and walked out of the bank. Turning away from Tara and the men who were assisting her in her false swoon, I worked my way down the boardwalk, but not so quickly as to draw attention to myself. Men who passed tipped their hats to me, unaware I'd just robbed the bank.
No shouts or shots rang out. No one called or chased after me. My reticule was heavy about my wrist and I felt alive and shaky, petrified and thrilled all at once. As I collected my horse at the livery and rode out of town, I realized I'd done it. Again. With the help of Amanda and Tara, we'd gotten even more money from Mr. Rollins. Not all of it, but more. It would have to do. Just knowing Mr. Rollins' banks weren't as formidable as he assumed was a perk, but we'd have to rob again.
Amanda would feign surprise at being in a bank while it was robbed and Tara would have been taken to the nearest restaurant for some shade and a glass of water to recover. Neither would be associated with the robbery itself and would quickly slip out of town. We would meet in three days in Helena. While we'd hoped this was the last time, we'd planned ahead for one more if it was needed. And it was.
Once more, then. On to Helena, then we'd be done. Hopefully, they would find suitors and marry quickly. They deserved happiness, a family. Love.
I knew the same would not be for me. I'd had a husband a long time ago. While Orville had been kind and doting, we'd been young. My heart had been tender at his death, but not broken. My life had changed so much. Daddy was gone. I was alone, content I was taking back what should have been Daddy's.
I was happy I wasn't in jail.
I rode west, having time to get to Helena. I only had the small house Daddy and I had rented in town after the bank took the ranch. There was nothing there, only a few clothes. All our furniture, our mementos all burned. It meant nothing to me. I just had to stay away from towns with banks I'd robbed, to be ready to flee at any time. To run. Being alone was the price of revenge.
The day's thrill of success was balanced heavily with the knowledge that I was a vigilante. I'd sought justice where there was none.
I was no longer a wife. I was no longer a daughter.
I was an outlaw.
CHAPTER TWO
Seth Bane
"I'm sorry, ma'am, but there are no more rooms."
I was coming down the stairs from the second floor when I heard the man at the front desk. The hotel wasn't large, but there weren't too many places in town appropriate for a lady like the one standing before him.
"The boarding houses are full. I've come all the way from Rollinsville. Where am I to stay?" she asked, her voice deep, yet smooth. She wasn't panicking, no histrionics, but she had reason to be concerned. A woman, who seemed alone, shouldn't be roaming the streets of any town in the territory.
I put my hand out to stop Landon in his descent, but didn't take my eyes off of her.
Fuck, she was beautiful. Dark hair pulled back into a neat bun, but a few curls draped down her slender neck. She wore an emerald green dress with a matching hat. It sat perched on her head as pure decoration; it would do nothing to shield her face from the harsh sun. Her clothing was nothing fancy and the neckline of her dress was a few inches north of inappropriate. Quite modest. That didn't matter. The lush curves of her breasts, slim waist and full hips could not be hidden. Any conscious man could imagine what they'd feel like beneath him.
She gave me only a profile, but that was enough. Pale skin, high cheekbones, cherry red lips and a pert nose. I'd seen many a beautiful woman, bedded quite a few, but none had ever made me feel as if I'd been kicked by a wild mustang.