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"Copper-Hair"
May. 22nd, 2022 11:34 am"Copper-Hair"
7/11-7/14/1882
I.
This part of Arizona seemed to be composed of little except dirt, rocks and dust, all baking under a merciless July sun. Late in the afternoon, with his shadow long and distorted behind him, Johnny Packard slowed his black stallion Terror to a halt at the foot of the hills where the bounty hunter and Tom Pinto were camped. He knew he had been spotted long minutes earlier since he had to approach without cover, so he kept both hands in plain sight and made no attempt to dismount.
Fifty feet above him, on a broad ledge surrounded by a cluster of round boulders big enough to conceal someone, a small fire of dried twigs heated a battered coffee pot suspended on sticks above it. Two horses, a chestnut roan and a golden Palomino, stood tethered in the shade of the largest boulder. Johnny was glad to see that Tom Pinto seemed unharmed. He was tied hand and foot, a complete prisoner leaning back against a boulder, but at least he hadn't been injured. Yet.
"Howdy. You mind if I get down offen my hoss?" he called up.
Not much could be seen of the bounty hunter. An oversized duster reached to the ground, its upturned collar and a wide-brimmed slouch hat pulled low concealed the hunter almost completely. In that brutal heat, being dressed like that had to be torture. The bounty hunter raised a gloved hand and gestured for Johnny to approach.
The Brimstone Kid knew he was not an intimidating sight. At twenty-three, he was a wiry youth not more than five feet four inches tall and weighing one hundred and fifty pounds if he had been eating town food. He hopped lightly down from the saddle and made sure to keep both hands well away from the butts of his matched 1873 Colt Peacemakers. Johnny tilted his black Stetson far back on his sweat-matted mop of dark red hair. He decided to speak first.
"I ain't fixin' to cause no trouble," he announced. "They is wanted posters of Tom Pinto all over the frontier and if you have claimed him, then the law is on your side. But I can't deny he's a friend of mine. We rode together. I aim to satisfy myself that he's bein' treated well even if yer haulin' him to stand before a judge who has the gallows already built."
"You live under a curse," the bounty hunter said. It was a woman's voice and Johnny gave a start at the surprise. "You carry a dark fragment of the Midnight War with you."
"Wal, I can't say yer wrong," he answered. "It 'pears you know a bit about me."
"Who has not heard tales of the Brimstone Kid?" she said. "Your American West is a savage land far older than your settlers dream. Even before the Red men came, elder civilizations rose and fell here, strange peoples and strange beasts roamed these plains. There is much that has been forgotten."
Johnny Packard took off his Stetson entirely and fanned himself with it. "You know, I once met some folks who talk the way you do. They was Melgar from Androval, wherever that might be."
The bounty hunter tossed aside her hat, shrugged out of the long duster coat and stood revealed as a tall rangy young woman in a blue Chambray work shirt, Levis and soft slippers instead of boots. Slung low on her right hip was a single-action .44 and a wide-bladed hunting knife was sheathed at her other side. The woman had bright auburn hair, glossy and much brighter in tone than Johnny's darker brick-red shade. In a strong-featured face with a wide jawline and full lips, her grey-green eyes caught the sunlight with a flash like a cat's. "Perhaps you have a glimmer of how I am called in your country?"
"I reckon so. Some Lakota I parleyed with told me of a woman warrior who roams alone and who fears no shootist or wild animal or force of Nature. Their name for her is Copper-Hair. Could that be you?"
"It is as good a name as any." The woman took effortless downward leaps and was standing on the ground within reached of Johnny. The agility and strength in her action was impressive enough. Immediately, she moved back another fifteen feet and stood with legs braced well apart. Her right hand hovered near her gun. "I believe you are tempted to free your friend, Mr Packard. That will not be allowed."
"I ain't never pulled iron on a woman," Johnny replied, shifting around to face her squarely. "That goes against all I was taught."
"Your females do not go about armed, nor do they need to," Copper-Hair snorted. "Men protect them. In my land, we do not rely upon others to fight for us. The daughters of Myrrwha are given a sword when they first learn to walk."
"You ain't home now, this is the Arizona Territory." Using his left hand, the Kid tilted his Stetson down to shadow his eyes. The fingers of his right hand hovered within inches of his own revolver. "I don't hanker a reputation as a lady-slayer, to be honest. Unless you give me no choice, I want to palaver, you savvy?"
Copper-Hair smiled thinly. "You have a right to self-defense." With that, her hand dropped down to hook the butt of her revolver and in a tiny fraction of a second, Johnny had drawn and fired in response. No real gunfighter ever tried to wound an opponent, such accuracy could not be counted upon when the stakes were life and death. He always aimed straight for the center of every's opponent's torso to give himself the best odds for survival.
To his complete shock, Copper-Hair left her gun untouched. Instead, her hand whirled up in a tight cirle and there was a whining ricohet as the bullet redirected to smack against a nearby rock. The strange redhaired woman grinned in wicked glee.
Despite his years of bitter experience, Johnny Packard did not shoot again. He was not aware his mouth hung open. It sure seemed to him that Copper-Hair had slapped his bullet aside like a thrown snowball.
( the rest of the story )
7/11-7/14/1882
I.
This part of Arizona seemed to be composed of little except dirt, rocks and dust, all baking under a merciless July sun. Late in the afternoon, with his shadow long and distorted behind him, Johnny Packard slowed his black stallion Terror to a halt at the foot of the hills where the bounty hunter and Tom Pinto were camped. He knew he had been spotted long minutes earlier since he had to approach without cover, so he kept both hands in plain sight and made no attempt to dismount.
Fifty feet above him, on a broad ledge surrounded by a cluster of round boulders big enough to conceal someone, a small fire of dried twigs heated a battered coffee pot suspended on sticks above it. Two horses, a chestnut roan and a golden Palomino, stood tethered in the shade of the largest boulder. Johnny was glad to see that Tom Pinto seemed unharmed. He was tied hand and foot, a complete prisoner leaning back against a boulder, but at least he hadn't been injured. Yet.
"Howdy. You mind if I get down offen my hoss?" he called up.
Not much could be seen of the bounty hunter. An oversized duster reached to the ground, its upturned collar and a wide-brimmed slouch hat pulled low concealed the hunter almost completely. In that brutal heat, being dressed like that had to be torture. The bounty hunter raised a gloved hand and gestured for Johnny to approach.
The Brimstone Kid knew he was not an intimidating sight. At twenty-three, he was a wiry youth not more than five feet four inches tall and weighing one hundred and fifty pounds if he had been eating town food. He hopped lightly down from the saddle and made sure to keep both hands well away from the butts of his matched 1873 Colt Peacemakers. Johnny tilted his black Stetson far back on his sweat-matted mop of dark red hair. He decided to speak first.
"I ain't fixin' to cause no trouble," he announced. "They is wanted posters of Tom Pinto all over the frontier and if you have claimed him, then the law is on your side. But I can't deny he's a friend of mine. We rode together. I aim to satisfy myself that he's bein' treated well even if yer haulin' him to stand before a judge who has the gallows already built."
"You live under a curse," the bounty hunter said. It was a woman's voice and Johnny gave a start at the surprise. "You carry a dark fragment of the Midnight War with you."
"Wal, I can't say yer wrong," he answered. "It 'pears you know a bit about me."
"Who has not heard tales of the Brimstone Kid?" she said. "Your American West is a savage land far older than your settlers dream. Even before the Red men came, elder civilizations rose and fell here, strange peoples and strange beasts roamed these plains. There is much that has been forgotten."
Johnny Packard took off his Stetson entirely and fanned himself with it. "You know, I once met some folks who talk the way you do. They was Melgar from Androval, wherever that might be."
The bounty hunter tossed aside her hat, shrugged out of the long duster coat and stood revealed as a tall rangy young woman in a blue Chambray work shirt, Levis and soft slippers instead of boots. Slung low on her right hip was a single-action .44 and a wide-bladed hunting knife was sheathed at her other side. The woman had bright auburn hair, glossy and much brighter in tone than Johnny's darker brick-red shade. In a strong-featured face with a wide jawline and full lips, her grey-green eyes caught the sunlight with a flash like a cat's. "Perhaps you have a glimmer of how I am called in your country?"
"I reckon so. Some Lakota I parleyed with told me of a woman warrior who roams alone and who fears no shootist or wild animal or force of Nature. Their name for her is Copper-Hair. Could that be you?"
"It is as good a name as any." The woman took effortless downward leaps and was standing on the ground within reached of Johnny. The agility and strength in her action was impressive enough. Immediately, she moved back another fifteen feet and stood with legs braced well apart. Her right hand hovered near her gun. "I believe you are tempted to free your friend, Mr Packard. That will not be allowed."
"I ain't never pulled iron on a woman," Johnny replied, shifting around to face her squarely. "That goes against all I was taught."
"Your females do not go about armed, nor do they need to," Copper-Hair snorted. "Men protect them. In my land, we do not rely upon others to fight for us. The daughters of Myrrwha are given a sword when they first learn to walk."
"You ain't home now, this is the Arizona Territory." Using his left hand, the Kid tilted his Stetson down to shadow his eyes. The fingers of his right hand hovered within inches of his own revolver. "I don't hanker a reputation as a lady-slayer, to be honest. Unless you give me no choice, I want to palaver, you savvy?"
Copper-Hair smiled thinly. "You have a right to self-defense." With that, her hand dropped down to hook the butt of her revolver and in a tiny fraction of a second, Johnny had drawn and fired in response. No real gunfighter ever tried to wound an opponent, such accuracy could not be counted upon when the stakes were life and death. He always aimed straight for the center of every's opponent's torso to give himself the best odds for survival.
To his complete shock, Copper-Hair left her gun untouched. Instead, her hand whirled up in a tight cirle and there was a whining ricohet as the bullet redirected to smack against a nearby rock. The strange redhaired woman grinned in wicked glee.
Despite his years of bitter experience, Johnny Packard did not shoot again. He was not aware his mouth hung open. It sure seemed to him that Copper-Hair had slapped his bullet aside like a thrown snowball.
( the rest of the story )
