Excerpt

Shallowhorne quickly took in those that were seated in the room as the golden glow of afternoon light filtered down from the windows on the second story of the “Old Liberty.”  While most of the people of Plymouth City were good people, the natural protection afforded by the atmosphere also made it a haven for misfits, fugitives and malcontents—along with bounty hunters.  Somehow, they always managed to find their way into the “Old Liberty.”  Everything looked safe to Shallowhorne though, and nobody seemed to care that he had come in.  As he looked toward the right rear corner, he could see that the table Maria always left empty for him was still available.  “Come on,” Shallowhorne said over his shoulder to Otis, who followed him back to the table.

“I wonder where Maria is?” Tom asked as he sat down, noticing only Maria’s three hired helpers caring for the saloon.  He positioned himself at the table so that he was facing directly at the door.  Since she had been on the planet, the Latanian woman had cared for the men’s supplies, as had the previous owner of the “Old Liberty.”

“I don’t know, maybe in the kitchen,” Otis replied, his attention focused more on the blond girl in the opposite front corner of the saloon.  He thought for a moment, and then continuing the conversation they had earlier, he directed Shallowhorne’s attention toward the same attractive looking girl.  “Hey, Tom”—he started, “if things don’t work out between you and Miss Maria, what about that blond girl over there?”

“No,” Shallowhorne began.  “Gentlemen prefer blondes—” Before he could finish, a hush fell over the room and the band stopped playing as all attention was fixed on a woman standing at the double swinging doors of the saloon.  She was a beautiful, black-haired Auri-Entel woman the likes of which Shallowhorne had never seen before.  “—And I am no gentleman,” he concluded.

The woman was lit from behind by the late afternoon sunlight outside, but Shallowhorne could still tell that she was not dressed in the traditional garb of an Auri-Entel woman. She had on a long-sleeved, loose fitting white shirt, well-fitted black pants, a matching black vest, spurred boots, and a round-brimmed hat.  A pair of mirrored, round-lensed glasses hid her eyes.

She looked around the room until her gaze finally fell upon Shallowhorne.  When her eyes found him, she began gracefully crossing the room in his direction; her movements were slow and deliberate—each step punctuated by the ching of her spurs.  As Shallowhorne—and everyone else in the saloon—was observing the way she walked, he noticed that the woman had a gun and holster at her right hip, and a bullwhip at her left.  By the time she reached Shallowhorne’s table, the music and the din of chatter and clinking glasses had resumed, though somewhat subdued as all eyes were focused in the mysterious woman’s direction.

When she finally reached the table, Shallowhorne could see that her vest had a black-on-black embroidered design of Auri-Entel character script.  Then he looked up into her glasses and smiled at the female enigma. She did not return the smile.

“Are you Shallowhorne?” she asked very directly.

“That would be me,” Shallowhorne said with a slight tip of the hat.  “And you would be Miss—?”

      “Ms. Keym,” she shot back coldly.  Then, without even turning in Smith’s direction, she said, “Beat it, Chunk.”