The Texas Targeteer

PART ONE

MARCH, 1895

NEAR MARATHON, TEXAS

CHAPTER ONE

THE ABDUCTION

Deputy Sheriff Patsy Jones rode along at a steady clip, her eyes observing both the familiar countryside and the female stranger who galloped beside and even occasionally just ahead of her. About an hour earlier this woman had dashed into the Marathon Sheriff's Office and recited a grim tale of robbery and murder.

She had excitedly told Patsy that robbers had killed her husband at their campsite on Rattlesnake Creek. Between moans and sobs, the tall woman (of course, almost everyone seemed tall to tiny Patsy) had said that two men had entered her camp, robbed them and then shot him when he resisted.

The deputy's boss and fiancé, Luke Daniels, was off delivering a culprit to San Angelo. So, as was their pattern, Patsy had left him a note about her whereabouts and ridden off with the surviving victim. The woman, who had said her name was Nancy Cobb, assured Patsy there was no need for a doctor to accompany them. Poor Roy was stone cold dead before I could pull myself away from his side, she'd said blandly, as if her mind had been numbed by that horrid reality.

Nancy Cobb reined in her horse. Patsy noticed that the woman had stiff hands and rode with tight reins: the kind that could hurt a horse's mouth. Horse lover that she was though, Patsy still felt she could excuse the woman's indiscretion. I suspect I'd be pretty up tight, too, Patsy ruminated, if someone had just shot Luke.

Nancy Cobb was not only tall but also rather thick and buxom. She made quite a contrast with the slim and tiny deputy sheriff near her side. The aggrieved wife looked around at the trees and the meandering creek as if she were trying to get her bearings in an area she didn't know all that well.

I think—yeah I think our camp's off there to the left. On the other side of that clump of trees, Mrs. Cobb said without emotion. She sounded as if she were finally beginning to get control of her nerves. Patsy had volunteered to ride out and find the place by herself, leaving Mrs. Cobb with the female cafe owner across the street from the sheriff's office, but Nancy had insisted on leading the law officer to the crime scene herself.

They rode around a bend in the creek, past the trees Cobb had pointed out. There, Patsy spied the top of a tent protruding up over some scrub bushes near a couple of cottonwoods that were just beginning to leaf out after the winter. Patsy's experienced eyes scanned the area and spotted a probable body, lying lifeless on top of the scruffy grass near a couple of large rocks.

The diminutive female tightened her reins, almost instantly slowing the pace of her prize Appaloosa. Her steed was a pretty large horse for such a small lass to ride; yet, they knew each other well and could read the other's intentions from the slightest indication. Let's move in slowly, Patsy suggested. "Those gunmen could still be around."

No way, they left here like a bat out of hell right after they shot Roy. I think it panicked them that they'd killed someone. They were acting as if they might rape me just before Roy went for his gun. But after them bastards shot him, they lost all interest in playtime and bolted out of here at full gallop. Based on the sounds of their departure, I’m guessing they might even have joined up with someone else after they got out of my sight.

"Let's move in slowly anyhow just to be sure. I prefer slow to never in such situations." Patsy's darting eyes observed the surrounding terrain. Instinctively, her right hand unsnapped the strap that secured her pistol inside its holster no matter how hard she rode or ran. She then changed hands on the reins and did the same to the gun on her left hip. Patsy slowly walked Bull's Eye, her equine friend, up close to the lifeless male body. Then she stopped, surveyed the scenery both near and far and then dismounted. Nancy Cobb followed Patsy's lead.

Poor Roy, he didn't have a chance, the just widowed female muttered. She was very closely eyeing Patsy, and wondering just how in hell a young female with such an unimposing physical presence had ever been chosen to wear a lawman's badge.

Wait a minute, Patsy said, as her eyes came off the near by possible hiding places and focused more steadily on the body. I think he's breathing. The deputy now moved very quickly. She dropped down onto her blue jean covered knees, and pushed the rather beat up cowboy hat back off her head and onto the back of her neck, where it hung on by a thin leather strap under her chin. She laid her right ear on the man's chest and listened intently.

Yes, by God, he is breathing. Lithely, Patsy swung her right leg over the lifeless body and straddled it. Athletically, she managed to keep her relatively insubstantial weight off his stomach by balancing her body on both knees. Get me some water from the canteen on my saddle, she instructed Nancy Cobb. Patsy's right hand lightly touched the crusted blood on the victim's chest and then moved up and felt along the edge of his neck for a pulse.

Without any warning the injured man, who was well over six feet tall and thick-chested, pitched Patsy off her perch with a sudden left ward roll that brought him up on top of her. Gotcha, lady Sheriff! He chuckled, grabbing each of Patsy's small wrists in his comparatively monstrous paws. So you didn't think I was dead, eh? What a clever little girl you are.

Let go of me! Patsy growled in her most masculine and sheriff-like voice. Damnit, get off me!

You're feisty for such a little thing, Roy Cobb laughed. Although he was surprised at how much of his strength was required to hold on to Patsy's wrists and stay atop of her as she began to rock and roll and kick her feet. She tried desperately to throw him off her torso, but his superior strength and hundred pounds plus weight advantage proved far too much for her to overcome.

Get that lariat off her pony, Nance, the man snarled. His voice had become a bit strained from the effort required in the unexpected struggle. Now, God damn it, girl, quit that fighting and kicking! Shit! She bit me! All right, all right—that does it! The alleged dead man jammed Patsy's wrists against one another and pinioned them together inside just one of his overpowering hands. His freed right hand then seized the ponytail of her relatively short blonde- hair and jerked her face back and away from his left arm, where she'd just bitten him. Then, he let go of her hair and rapidly used that freed fist to cold cock her right on the jaw. Unfortunately, his fist was so big in comparison to her head it actually whacked her entire left cheek and jaw. The struck area started turning purple seconds after his fist landed.

An involuntary and mournful Owww, slipped out of Sheriff Jones's vocal chords just before her head plopped back down on the ground. For the moment, all her muscles relaxed and her eye lids glazed over.

That's better, Roy Cobb gloated. Damn, she's a gutsy one. I didn't expect that from someone as delicate looking as she is. He took Patsy's lariat from his wife. Get those pistols of hers, Nance. He then rapidly trussed Patsy's hands together, encircling each of her wrists individually and then binding them together with four quick and tight twists in a similar motion to that used by cowboys as they hog tie a calf for branding.

Owww! A recovering Patsy groaned again as the rope tightened against her soft white skin. The ropes were so taut Patsy’s flesh reddened noticeably. The female deputy was slowly regaining a sense of where she was and what was happening, as well as now feeling the pain in her face and hands. However, those pains did not prevent her from tugging on her now hopelessly restrained wrists and starting to wail away again with her legs.

God damn you, woman, you don't know when to give up, do ya? Maybe a little lesson in humility will help. Roy Cobb climbed off Patsy's stomach, holding tightly to the remaining length of rope not required for the binding of her wrists. He stood up and watched craftily as Patsy tried to struggle to her feet. The tall man snickered at her efforts, since it was obvious she was still woozy from the blow to her chin. He watched closely and just as she got about half way to her feet, he jerked the rope attached to her hands and pitched her back on the ground—this time on her stomach.

A muffled umphfff sound came out of Pasty's throat as she did a chin plant and ate dirt, unable to use her hands to break her fall. She began to sputter and engage in some very unfeminine like spitting as she strove to get the dirt out of her mouth and off of her lips with her tongue. What the hell's this all about? She finally muttered, glaring up at the pair of tormentors.

But the fight was not out of the young woman yet. She tugged on her wrists and again tried to struggle to her feet. Damnit, she shouted, you better get these ropes off me or there's going to be hell to pay.

This time the Cobbs laughed at her in unison. Yeah, you're a real threat, Roy smirked. Listen, Sheriff, honey, when Roy Cobb ties them up—they stay tied. How about a little ride? Cobb jerked Patsy off balance again with similar results to the last time. He and his wife both guffawed at Patsy's very unladylike sprawl onto her tummy. Cobb then began backing up very rapidly, towing Patsy over the undulating terrain by her outstretched hands.

Ouch! Oh! Oww! Goddamn you! Ohhh, Shit! Patsy bounced along trying to pull the rope out of his grip but losing that battle without it ever becoming a serious contest. Eventually, she quit yelling and responding to every hurt, set her jaw, and did her best to diminish the damage to her flesh by navigating, when she could, around the largest rocks and sticks in the way.

Cobb dragged Patsy past the clump of trees that sheltered the lower part of his tent from easy observation. He stopped as he swung past the tree trunks and jeered at her. Had enough, ready to say Uncle? Who in the hell ever made the stupid decision to make a little thing like you into a law officer? You ain't big enough to beat up a tadpole.

Roy Cobb was now staring up rather than down at Patsy. He was looking over the available limbs, spied the right one, let some slack out of the coil of rope in his hand and moved over so that he stood under a thick limb that stretched out to the east about ten feet off the ground. With a calculated smile, the cocky man tossed the coiled end of the rope over that part of the tree. He then retrieved the rope from the other side and began to pull on it.

Very quickly the task became harder as the slack disappeared. He was again dragging Patsy toward him. But since he was not pulling her along as rapidly as before, Patsy managed to scramble to her feet just a few strides away from where Cobb was standing. The gloating male, however, was unfazed by her change in posture and just kept pulling.

Patsy was compelled to step right up under the tree limb, her hands and arms being jerked ever straighter up into the air.

All right, all right, God damn it—STOP! She yelled, in a very dispirited tone of voice. But Cobb kept pulling. Patsy's feet began to leave the ground: an inch, a foot, and finally almost two feet before her captor seemed satisfied. He then walked over to the trunk of the tree and tied the rope off, securing Patsy just a little lower off the ground than she'd been at her apex. She was now about a foot and a half off the ground, which placed her at just about eye-level with him.

OK, you've made your point, Patsy growled, grimacing at the pain in her wrists and arms. You're stronger than I am.

And when I tie them up they? Come on, say it.

Patsy looked up at her wrists, felt the pain all the way down her arms, twisted her hands unsuccessfully trying to seek out some wiggle room, and then, with her eyes turned downward, tacitly admitting defeat she mumbled Stay tied. Yes, damn you. I concede I'm likely to stay tied. Now, damnit—at least let me put my feet on the ground. This hurts like hell.

At that moment Nancy Cobb came upon the scene leading hers and Patsy's horses. You gonna leave her like that? She asked, a slightly disapproving smile on her face. He's had lots of practice tying women up, Jonesy. He’s even done it to me a few times. I kinda enjoyed it but I doubt that you will.

She'd like it if I did to her what I usually do to you, Sugar. Roy rolled his eyes. What do you think? Have we got time for a little threesome?

You better not, you ass hole. I knew she was gonna turn you on. The minute I saw that cute little ass, blonde hair and pearly white skin, I said to myself she's gonna be trouble.

She is kind of cute at that. Maybe just one kiss, and then we can get on with our business. Cobb stepped towards Patsy with a leer on his face. His intentions were obvious but abruptly interrupted. When only six inches separated them, Patsy drove her small, right booted foot directly into his crotch.

Keep your frigging hands off of me, she snarled, but her words actually sounded rather pathetic. Her soft, quite feminine voice and the pain she was obviously feeling combined to prevent the tone of her voice from matching the dirty deed she'd just executed.

Cobb dropped straight to his knees, grasping his testicles and cupping them in both his hands. He made a kind of howling noise. Owwwwwww!—Damnnnnnn!

The momentary joy Patsy gleamed from the sight of his pain was obvious—a smile leapt onto her lips and she aimed another kick—this time with both feet and straight at his head.

But Cobb had not forgotten Patsy. He eyed her with anger and saw the double kick coming. He dodged it, rolled onto the ground and lay there cursing for a good twenty seconds or so just below the range of her harmlessly flashing red booted feet. Patsy began kicking and twisting, trying to see if she could find some way to free her hands. She even started swinging her body back and forth in an effort to increase the pressure on her lariat.

Nancy Cobb helped her man to his feet. She looked sympathetic to his plight but was actually hiding just a bit of smug satisfaction that had swept over her right after the little lady had temporarily gotten the best of her big macho man. Serves you right for trying to get too chummy with her, Roy, she thought, but didn't say.

Roy Cobb whistled. Damnation! Maybe I can see how that little bit of calico got to be a law officer after all. She's a feisty little bitch. Let me see those guns of hers, Nance. Cobb was walking around in a circle, limping and still partially bent over. He was trying to walk off that sickening feeling that regularly follows a blow to the testes. He was almost amused though at Patsy's continued, if useless, squirming as she dangled in the afternoon breeze. Her tiny feet were kicking about like pistons, and her body was swinging back and forth. All that action doing nothing, he noted, but increasing her pain.

Take her horse and tie him up over there out of sight behind the tent. Cobb spoke as matter of factly as if he were just giving instructions for setting up a routine campsite.

Nancy followed his orders, and as she did so the still slightly hurting male lovingly fingered Patsy's shiny, yet unusually small, Colt pistols. Whooooeee, he cooed. "These are some pieces of work, little lady. Where'd you get your hands on pistolos like these? There has to be a story behind you, my dear. You don't look at all like the kind of sheriff one would find out here in the boonies. And one would definitely never expect to find guns like these two anywhere near Marathon, Texas. Lookee here, they even got your names engraved on em. Patsy on one side and Jones on the tother—neat balance, too. They're a little light for me but real fine weapons. And what's this other writing mean: The Texas Tar-ge-teer, Targeteer? What the hell’s that?"

Patsy gave up on her squirming and rocking efforts. All it was doing was making her whole body ache more and causing the rope to feel tighter about her not very powerful wrists. Look, Mister, no hard feelings, but if you'll untie me now and give those guns back, I'll forget about this whole nasty encounter. On the other hand, if you don't, my partner will soon be all over your ass with an angry posse.

"Yeah, that's bull shit and you know it, Jonesy. Nancy spent yesterday in town asking questions. Your boss is off to San Angelo with a prisoner, and you're the only law left in that god fersaken little town.

You know, he went on, I bet you don't weigh much more than a silver dollar, honey pie. Still, that was not very nice what you just did to me. I think you're a bit too uppity for your own good. Perhaps you need some taming. Cobb stepped closer to his victim, this time eyeing well-shaped legs.

Patsy began to rock on the rope and flail out with her legs wildly again. Her intent was to make it too dangerous for Roy to get any closer.

But Cobb warmed to the challenge. He faked to his right and then dodged back to his left, moving very rapidly behind his dangling target. Patsy tried to spin around and get her legs between them, but she was a tad too slow. The man made a fist with his ham like right hand and cracked the hapless victim on the back of her head.

A uhhh slipped out of Patsy's throat, and then her whole body went limp as her head drooped down over her chest.

Sleep tight, Jonesy. Cobb said with a smile on his lips before he moved back in front of her. With wide-eyed appreciation, he now slowly eyeballed her whole body from head to toe. His wife was right, he thought. This was indeed a very attractive little slip of a thing. Small all right, but hell, even dynamite sometimes came in small packages. Roy reached out and seized a tuft of Patsy's shiny blonde hair, lifted her head, and stared at what he now realized was a most comely face. He appreciated the fact it was unencumbered by any cosmetics as far as he could tell. Nancy had been a saloon girl, and she wore makeup like she was gonna prance out on stage any minute.

He noticed that Patsy had shiny high cheekbones and a small little dark birthmark just to the right of and slightly below her upper lip. Everything else about her face was almost as white as fresh snow. Except, that is, for her lips that were more pink than red. She sported very light eyebrows and eyelashes—long pretty eyelashes. Her eyes were shut, but Roy remembered how lively and flashing with anger those deep blue eyes had been earlier.

Might be a good idea to secure those legs, he mumbled to himself, before she comes to again. He tilted her head back a little more with a clasp of her hair and kissed her, briefly. Umm, surprisingly soft skin, he thought to himself. This kid could pass as just exactly that—a little girl.

Roy Cobb unbuckled Patsy's empty gun belt and let it fall to the ground. Next, and it took a little fumbling, he unbuckled the small leather belt holding her pants up over her almost non- existent hips. He then pulled the belt out of the loops that secured it to her pants, and to no surprise watched, fascinated, as her pants slowly slid down on top of her boots. He snickered. It was an expression of his excitement as the lower part of Patsy's slender torso was slowly yet totally exposed to his view.

The abductor whistled, very quietly, for he did not want his wife to know about the fun he was having. Underneath Patsy's jeans, he could now see that she was clothed in nothing but a simple pair of blue cotton underpants. There were no fancy silk panties but ordinary cotton briefs like those worn by little boys.

Roy tried to completely remove her pants, but they hung up on her boots. So he pulled the boots off her feet, and then smiled as the pants dropped to the ground below her. She was suddenly an even more seductive sight. For under her boots, she was wearing calf- high, cotton socks that were a perfect blue match to her skimpy panties. Roy Cobb was definitely aroused. Patsy Jones looked incredibly frail, vulnerable, and enticing. She was hanging there with that exceptionally white, taut and firm body contrasted by her sparse blue under-apparel and a red shirt. Roy knew exactly what he wanted to do. An intense burning in his crotch area made it perfectly clear. He cursed—knowing that with Nancy near by it was just not going to happen.

Hastily, Roy used Patsy's belt to secure her ankles together. No more nut-kicking for you, my sexy little thing, he muttered under his breath. He then turned his attention to her small red boots that had fallen to the ground. He hadn't paid much attention to them earlier, since they'd been pretty much covered by her pant legs. Now, however, he realized that they, like her pistols, were exceptionally well crafted. They were made from unusually rich leather and so soft they felt almost like gloves. The boots were predominantly red but highlighted with some blue tool work that included both words and shapes. He fingered the high quality leather and examined the blue parts closely.

Each side of the individual boot uppers contained a blue map of the state of Texas, while the middle front and back of the uppers were etched with her name, Patsy in the front and Jones in the rear. Under the maps the words TEXAS TARGETEER appeared on each boot. The TEXAS word on the outside and TARGETEER on the inside. Yep, Roy, my boy, there's a story behind this classy looking little lady, and I think you best larn it.

Patsy's head rolled from side to side and she groaned. She lifted her head off her chest and her eyes opened, although unfocused. Roy decided to get cute. He kissed her again, powerfully, and sure enough, it hastened Patsy's return to her senses. She yelped, although the sound was somewhat muffled by his lips. But then she bit him on his lower lip, and Roy jerked back and away from her. Angered, he instinctively swatted her with an open-handed slap across the face.

Nancy returned to the scene just as Roy finished that slap. She caught the two adversaries exchanging glares. Patsy's hateful; Roy's domineering.

What the hell are you doing with her pants down, Roy? God damnit, I just knew she was going to cause trouble between us.

I'm just tying her up nice and secure, Nance. I didn't want either one of us to get kicked by these sharp-toed boots again. Look at these; the goldarned things are very expensive boots. He showed Patsy's prized red footwear to his wife.

Nancy paid little attention to them. She was still quite suspicious of the victim's lack of attire and her husband's proclivity for chasing women. I think you could have tied her up just as securely with her pants on.

There you go again, jumping to the wrong conclusion. I needed her belt to tie her feet. But when I took the belt off, the dern pants just fell off. Come on, Nancy. How can you be jealous of a little skinny ninny like this? Why she ain't got half what you got. I like my women with meat on their bones.

Yeah, well then why don’t you leave her alone and let me tie her up.

You tie her up?

Yeah me, and while you're at it, maybe you should tell that bulge in your pants that you don't like skinny women.

Cobb knew what she meant, and that she had him. Ah, come on Nance. That happened when I had to fight with her to get the belt off. Rubbing up against her did fire me up a little, but it don't mean no never mine. Remember what happened the last time you tied someone up? Our asses almost got caught—that's what. That a-hole wiggled loose in less than two hours.

He put an arm around Nancy’s shoulders and led her away from Patsy. You know, Nance, I’m getting a gut feeling that we have something special here. What lady plays sheriff, totes around two guns on a waist hardly big enough for one, and has expensive and special-made guns and boots? I wanna larn some more about this little cunt, and I don't think it would be at all to our benefit if she wiggled loose before our work's done.

Nancy Cobb stared at the helpless Patsy. So, OK you’ve started tying her up and you can finish. Make sure those ropes are tight; someone that tiny can slip outta things. You ought to anchor her feet with a rock or something, too. Then she won't be able to kick at all.

Nance figured she was never going to hear the end of Roy's ridicule about that lug she'd tied up who'd gotten away. What was there about lawmen? She pondered. He'd been a skinny one too. He apparently just slipped right out of her knots. When do you want to head to town? She asked her husband.

Roy looked at the sun and pegged it for about 1:30 in the afternoon. Bank closes at four. We best hit the saddle pretty soon. How bout it, Sheriff? You getting thirsty? He noticed Patsy’s eyes flickering open and shut.

I don't want a thing from you. Patsy spit her words out but immediately regretted them. It was one thing to act tough and keep up the appearance of not being afraid, but food and drink were necessary. It was a hot day, not nearly as hot as Texas could be, even in March, but hot enough, and if she remained tied up here for hours, she knew she was going to need all the strength she could muster to keep her wits and abilities about her. Patsy took account of her new situation, noting that her feet were tied and her pants and boots missing.

OK, you a-holes, she thought. You think you’ve got me now, but I'm a lot stronger than you think and I look. But she still couldn't allow herself to do what she knew she ought to—speak up and ask now for the drink she'd just turned down. She couldn't do it cuz that would seem like she was giving in, and Patsy Jones had always hated to give in—to anybody.

CHAPTER TWO

NIGHT OF AGONY

The Cobbs abandoned Patsy an hour later. They left her hanging from that tree with her slender white legs exposed to the late afternoon sun. Just before they left, Nancy had rolled a heavy rock under Patsy's feet and tied a rope tether around the rock and up to the belt securing Patsy's ankles together. Fortunately, she left a tiny bit of slack so at least no additional strain had been added to Patsy's arms—arms that were already aflame with the pain of supporting her full weight—little as that was.

Roy Cobb had also given Patsy a departure gift. He took the red bandana she wore around her neck and converted it into a gag, tying it tightly around the back of her head. Patsy could still make noises, but the words she tried to utter were clearly not only muffled but also slurred almost beyond recognition.

Patsy waited quietly until her pair of abductors were out of sight, and then she began determined efforts to try and wriggle her hands loose from the ropes that bound them. But it quickly became evident to the young woman that Roy Cobb had not just bragged about being a good roper. Her hands were tightly secured, and she