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took the deer back to the restaurant.  The ladies, went upstairs to Mrs. Ellen ’s apartment while Jax took the deer around back and skinned them out. 
                 

Chapter Seven
     
                  Jax had never gone this long without using his guns.  It had to be a record of some sort.  So far no one had figured it out, at least no one he knew of.  He couldn’t have been more wrong.
    The stage coach brought a package to the general store addressed to Miss Virginia Barnett .  He took it since he was there getting flour for Mrs. Ellen .  He didn’t open it.  It was none of his business, still h e wondered what it was. He thought it felt like books.  He didn’t see much wrong with that.  Everyone sho uld learn to read, he thought.  T here were still uneducated people all across the country, more out west than back east. 
    He carried the package in and set it down on the counter, while he took the flour to the kitchen.  “Where’s Virginia, she got a package in on the stage.  I sat it on the counter for her.”  “She’s upstairs, I’ll let her know when she comes back down.” 
      Virginia ran through the kitchen door, snatched the package off the counter and went back up the stairs with it.  She threw herself across the bed and tore the package open.  She set the other books aside and picke d up the one titled, The Angel o f Death. 
    She read; T he Angel of Death, is a ruthless killer, however, he’ s never killed anyone in cold blood .  He rides into town on his big black ste ed and before the day is over , he’s called out into the street. He aim s with perfect ac curacy.  He puts a bullet through the heart of every man he kills before they even have time to pu ll their weapon.  He never draws first, and he tries to talk the youngsters out of it.   He has never walked into a town and started the fight, although he always makes his presence known.  The very danger with which h e carries himself tells of the danger without anyone ever uttering a word .  His presence strikes fear in most men.  Women, throw themselves at him unmercifully and children imitate him in the streets.  His attire is a b lack hat, black vest, black pant s and black boots.  He wears a pistol on each hip and knows how to use both of them with equal deadliness.  He’s been known to rescue damsels in distress and occasionally join s up with a posse to ride down bank robbers and evil doers.  The Angel of Death fits into such categories as Wild Bill H ickok and Wyatt Earp though he ha s likely killed more than the two of them combined.
    Virginia heard footsteps on the stairs so she closed and hid the book under her mattress.  “Virginia, what are you doing up here?  We have customers.  What is that on your bed?”  “Oh it’s just a couple of dime novels I ordered for my brothers.”  “Why on earth, would you buy them such filth?  Do they actually read that mess?”  “Yes ma’am, they have several of them.”  “Well come on, I suppose you can wrap them up for them later.  We’ve got work to do.” 
    Virginia followed her granny down the stairs and went back to work. Her eyes kept roaming over to Jax as she cleared off the table.  He definitely fit the description in the book.  She took in his clothes and noted that he wore two pistols and rode a black horse.  He had to be him, she thought.  Still she wouldn’t say anything.  It was as those two scruffy men said.  Maybe, he wanted to settle down somewhere and not have to worry about looking over his shoulder.  She decided to keep her suspicions to herself.  
    Virginia wondered about the women it mentioned in the book.  Had he really rescued damsels in distress?  Then she remembered, he’d only recently rescued her.  That was just more proof that he did indeed fit the profile.  She felt jealousy rise up in the pit of her stomach as she thought about those women falling all over themselves to get to him.  She