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he think of me now?

    â€œThat’s really all I can tell you,” Marty told the sheriff the next morning. “I saw two riders. They were masked, and one had a sorrel mount, but I don’t recall the color of the other horse.” Marty continued to hold the mug of hot coffee she’d been given. From time to time she sipped the strong concoction and hoped it would give her the strength to complete this ordeal.
    â€œThat’s quite all right, ma’am. You’ve done more than enough.” The sheriff gave her a broad smile. “There aren’t many women who could have done what you did. Thanks to you, both Mac and JR are gonna make it. Doc says they might have bled to death out there on the road if you hadn’t gotten them in here. Oh, and JR says your shooting was probably what drove those men off. They most likely knew it was a stage full of women and figured to rob them of their jewelry and doodads. They sure weren’t expecting there to be another armed protector inside.”
    â€œNew driver’s ready and the stage is set to head on to Denver,” a man called from the door. Marty’s traveling companions bustled off toward the stage, their babbling conversations creating quite a cacophony.
    â€œThey’ll be talking about this all the way to Denver,” the sheriff said, grinning Marty’s way.
    â€œNo doubt.” She put down her mug and got to her feet. The bloodstains on her traveling jacket and gloves had beenscrubbed out the night before, and for the most part, Marty had been restored to proper order.
    â€œDo you have friends in Denver, Mrs. Olson?” the sheriff asked, escorting her to the stage.
    Without thinking she answered, “I’m to meet my fiancé. We were to have married yesterday, but with the train delay and then the attack on the stage . . . well, I suppose we will marry today. If he’ll still have me.” She had her doubts that a banker would appreciate her antics, even if they were heroic. But it was too late to worry about that now.
    â€œWell, he’d be a fool if he didn’t. In fact, I tell you what,” the sheriff said, pausing at the stage with Marty. “If he doesn’t want to marry you, you just make your way on back here. I know a dozen or more boys who’d snatch you up in a minute.”
    Marty couldn’t help but smile at the man’s expression of admiration. “Thank you, Sheriff. I’ll keep that in mind.”

Chapter 4
    â€œOh my, such excitement,” one of Marty’s gray-haired traveling companions declared.
    â€œWhy, we might all have been killed but for you,” another said as the others agreed.
    â€œI think it’s scandalous,” the woman who introduced herself as Mrs. Merriweather Stouffer announced. No one was sure if Merriweather was the name of her husband or the woman herself, and sadly no one really cared.
    â€œOur father said that a woman ought to be able to handle a firearm,” one of the old women commented, nodding to her companion. “Isn’t that so, Ophelia? You remember, don’t you? Papa always said that a woman with a keen eye and steady hand could take care of herself.”
    â€œOh yes, sister. I do remember. Papa was always so very wise.” The woman nodded with a look of absolute certainty.
    Marty fought back a smile. The old women who had babbled most of the way from Colorado Springs were now even more infused with stories and tall tales. Not only that, but they’d made their admiration and gratitude toward Marty abundantly clear. The matron and her daughter still held herin contempt, and with exception to the occasional comment, they said little. Perhaps they feared Marty might turn her gun on them if they were to become too annoying.
    The stage came to a stop, and in the time it took the shotgun messenger to climb down and open the door, a crowd swooped in and surrounded the stage. Questions were