Stranger At The Door

The door shook, and dust flew into the room.  The little cabin was shaking as Annie ran to the door. 

"Give me some time, I will be right there," Annie stated.

The door crept open as the strange, rugged man entered the room.  His red eyes were filled with rage as he stomped into the cabin.  The musk of his clothes and his alcohol fueled breath entered the room.  

"Now don't you move, little Missy, or else we might have a problem," the man stated.

He snarled as he pointed his pistol at her with his devilish smirk, and he glared around the room. 

"Any man home, or is it just you and the food smells good?" the man asked.

"My husband is away now, and what do you want from me?" Annie replied.

"The lawmen is looking for me, and I need a place to stay low away from the posse," the man replied.

"Well, they might check here, and you have a chance to escape now," Anne suggested.

"I am smarter than that, now serve me some of that dinner there," the man replied.

Anne gently entered the kitchen, checking on the chicken soup.  The pot was hot because more wood had just been added. The heat was all she could feel as she stared at the outlaw.  She stirred the soup and breathed in its warm steam.  The situation was not improving as he sat at a sloping table, waiting for a home-cooked meal.  It had been hours since the laundry was beaten and supper started, and now this outlaw was in her house while her husband was traveling.  The sweat was only increasing as the outlaw entered the kitchen area.

"Dinner ready and best be not planning anything awful," the outlaw stated.

"It will only be a few more minutes, and you can have a seat as you wait," Annie replied.

The outlaw put his gun back in his holster and sat down as he looked at Annie.  Annie simply continued cooking, her mind racing for ways to solve her problem.  She looked up and remembered the wanted poster in town.  It was for the bandit, Shooter Stan, a famous robber of stagecoaches.  It was a match for the man at the table.  A good hearty meal would hopefully keep him satisfied, but he only stared till she looked back. The reward she thought was a thousand dollars, dead or alive, and that would help even with the current expenses.   As she took the soup off the stove, she even prepared the bowls with some special salts for both to eat.

Stan looked at his soup and gulped it up, and even had a second bowl before Annie could even get a sip out of hers. He slurped up all the chicken goodness as he was famished from being on the run.  His eyes glazed over in happiness to feel the warm liquid enter his stomach.  His grouchiness settled as a third bowl was ordered, and Annie just complied with grace.  Slowly, he began to feel tired, as he was ready for some rest.  He passed out onto the floor, and there he lay.  Annie finished her soup and gently rummaged through his belongings, finding a large amount of cash in his pocket.  She swiped it quickly and hid it as she took his guns and knives.  He was still asleep as she had tied his hands and bound him for the authorities.  The place was cleaned, and then she took his revolver and put it on his chest and shot.  The blood flowed, but eventually all life left the crooked outlaw. The rest of the night was quiet, and as he lay on the floor, Annie slept and plotted for the next day.  

She rode her horse into the wilderness and finally found the posse looking for him.  As they were led back to the house, there lay Shooter Stan, missing his bounty from the bank. They loaded him onto their horses and rode off to the town to declare that he was dead.  Annie cleaned up the blood and still had some dinner left over from the night, but put away the special salts that she had been feeding the mice.  As her husband arrived, he was glad to see her even in the sad shack.   Later, the reward was given to her and was received with great pleasure. That night was never discussed, but the legend lives on of the woman who took on an outlaw.