Excerpt of Outlaw Trail by Stacey Coverstone

Josie let her weary eyes skim over the parchment once
more. The trail will be long, her pa had said. Will I have
the courage and strength to follow it? Will I be able to
fulfill his last wish and make my own dreams come true?

For the first time in her life, she felt hopeful about the
future as she clutched the map tightly in her fist. Though
excited, she was dog-tired, both mentally and physically.
Her eyes started to drift shut.

She had barely nodded off when the sound of snapping
branches roused her. Her head jerked and her eyes flew
open. Her spine went rigid when a low voice addressed
her. “I’ll take that map now.”

She fished around in her pants pocket for the Derringer.
Her hand touched the cold metal, and she squeezed her
finger around the trigger of the gun and stumbled to her
feet.

“Stay right where you are, and take your hand out of your
pockets,” the voice ordered. “You won’t get hurt if you do
as you’re told. Do it!”

She squinted at the tall figure standing in the shadows at
the mouth of the cave and heard the click of a revolver.
Ragged breaths escaped her throat. “Are you going to kill
me?” she asked in a throaty whisper, as she showed him one
empty hand.

“That depends on how much trouble you decide to cause.
Just hand over that map and I’ll be on my way.”

Inhaling deeply, her eyes roamed over the parchment still
clutched in her fist. The trail will be long. Don’t give
up. Her pa’s words rang in her ears. Nothing was going to
stop her from going after whatever lay at the end of that
trail. Her pa had died so she could have a better life. No
one was going to take that from her.

“If you want it, you’ll have to pry it from my cold dead
fingers,” she replied with bravado.

The man said nothing.

“Show yourself,” she challenged. Josie’s fingers twitched
as she let her hand creep back into her pocket. She
gripped the pearl handle of her Derringer again. “How do
you know about this map? Who are you?”

The man took one step forward, but she still couldn’t see
his face. When he spoke again, she sensed he was someone
of little patience.

“I don’t have to explain anything to a girl,” he
snapped. “Walk around that fire and lay the paper on this
rock over here.” His gloved hand pointed to a stone ledge,
which jutted out from the cave wall.

“I’m not a girl,” she snapped back. “I’m nineteen and this
map belongs to me. I’m not about to give it to some coward
who won’t even show his face.”

Apparently striking a nerve, the man swiftly strode
forward out of the darkness, with his gun raised and
leveled at her. The fire danced upon his features. She
gasped. It was the stranger who rode the white stallion—
the one all in black who’d been watching her in Dry Gulch.
Her heart lurched. He tilted his dusty hat up with a
finger to show her eyes the color of dark molasses. She
could feel the heat radiating from those fiery pupils as
they bore into her.

“Is that better?” he asked.

“It’s you!” she exclaimed. “Why are you following me?”

“I think I already explained. I’ve come for the map. Now,
hand it over.”

She gripped the parchment even tighter. She needed to
distract him while she took a minute to think this
through, so she abruptly changed the subject. “Did you set
that trap back there?”

He blinked. Seemingly caught off guard, he
answered, “Yeah. I did that.”

“Well, it was clever. Was the marshal and his gang your
target, or was I the one you were trying to ambush?” She
didn’t give him time to respond. “I bet you didn’t count
on the fact that mules can jump over six feet at a
standstill, did you?”

The man’s brow creased. “Quit your jabbering, girl, and
pass that paper to me. I’m not in the mood to play games.”
He advanced, stopping in front of her. His tall, muscular
frame towered over her petite body.

Quick as a snake striking, she jammed the map in her back
pocket and thrust the double-barreled Derringer into his
rib. Just as speedy, he shoved his revolver against her
temple.

“You’re fast, but not fast enough,” he drawled. “Put down
the gun.”

“You put yours down first,” she countered.

Neither one moved. Josie’s chest rose and fell in erratic
rhythm. The pistol felt cold as it pushed against her skin.

“Are we going to have a Mexican standoff?” he wondered
aloud.

She felt his warm breath on her face. He stood so close,
his musky smell, mixed with sweat and the faint scent of
lavender made her woozy. “I know how to use this gun,” she
managed. “I’ll shoot you. Don’t think I won’t.” She cocked
the Derringer to show him she meant what she promised.

The tall, dark stranger looked down into her eyes. A
muscle ticked along his jaw. After several long moments,
she felt the release of pressure from her temple.

“Toss the gun down on the ground,” she commanded, as she
kept her gun pointed at his ribcage.

“I’ll toss mine when you toss yours.”

Josie searched his face. “Are you crazy, or just stupid?
You stalk me, want to rob me of my personal possession,
and you think I’m just going to throw down my gun? Why
should I trust you?”

“Because I’ve never killed a woman before,” he said
without skipping a beat. “And I don’t intend to start now.”

His response surprised her. After considering his words
carefully, she removed the gun from his rib. “On the count
of three, we’ll both throw our guns onto the ground. Do I
have your word as a gentleman?” she asked.

The man in black threw his head back and
laughed. “Whatever gave you the idea I’m a gentleman?”

She rammed the Derringer into his gut again and narrowed
her eyes. The gun pressed into taut, rigid muscle. She
realized he could probably break her in half with one hand
tied behind his back, but she was not going to be
intimidated. She had too much to lose to let him scare her
out of what was rightfully hers.

“I’ll kill you right now, mister. And it won’t bother me
none. Believe me. I’ll take my map and high-tail it outta
here, leaving you dead as a stone.”

The man grinned, baring a perfect row of sparkling
teeth. “You’re a tough little half-breed, aren’t you?”

“Half-breed!” she shrieked, lunging at him. She pounded on
his chest with her fists and clawed at his shirt. He
grabbed her wrists and both the pistol and Derringer flew
out of their hands and clattered to the hard ground.