Chapter 2

“Come now,” the first bandit continued. “There’s no need to try and hide, Mr. Johnson. We know you’re here. We know your face. And we think you know why we’re here for you.” That’s when he stopped, spotting a rotund gentleman near the front row. “There we are.”

Randolph Johnson, a squat, fat fellow with an expensive suit, burst from his seat and tried to escape through the front door. But as he did, it swung open to reveal an Indian twice the size of a normal man. His face was not covered, and his features were square and serious. His black hair was tied in a knot beneath his own cap, which barely fit his huge head.

Johnson, sweating, turned back and forth. Guns behind him, a beast before him. He truly had nowhere to run. Near the middle, a man began to stand, perhaps to alert the conductor or try and help, himself. But with a cock of his rifle, the Chinaman kept him at bay.

“Keep still.” His voice, Violet immediately noticed, was unlike a man’s in every way. Why, this person was a woman. The well-meaning passenger quickly sat back down, his wife clutching his arm. The woman pulled her rifle away and nodded to the Indian standing at the doorway.

Without a word, the native grabbed Johnson by his collar and yanked him through the door and up to the roof of the train. The black man followed, but the woman lingered. She turned, her rifle at the ready, though no one dared go after them. Once more, her eyes fell to Violet. Violet hadn’t cowered, or looked away as so many other children had. Instead, she sat in her mother’s lap, staring intently at the outlaw, as if afraid to blink and miss something.

Under her bandanna, the woman smiled, and shut the door behind her. The minute she was gone, a great commotion rose up with the passengers. Some brave men tried to get through the door, but found it barred from the other side. Violet quickly rushed back to her window with just enough time to catch the three outlaws riding away, Randolph Johnson dragging behind them in the dirt.

* * * *

Violet woke slowly. Outside her window, the sky was still somberly gray, but she could hear the birds and bugs begin to stir. The springs in her mattress creaked as she sat up, a sweat already coating her skin from the humid night before. Downstairs, she heard Charlie up and working on breakfast.

She went to her washbowl and wet her hair and face. Patting it dry, she caught sight of her reflection. It’d been ten years since her move to the Donovan Estate in Arkansas. And ten years since seeing the notorious Railwalker Gang in person. Since then, Violet had grown into a respectable young lady. Her hair had transformed into a dark honey color, her childhood freckles fading. While her more innocent features gave way to womanly shapes, her eyes remained the same. They were still wide and brimming with curiosity.

By the time Violet had changed for the day, the sun was starting to peek over the little town of Redrock. Violet’s home was near the end of the town, looking over the small stretch of buildings along a single, dirt road. There was the general store, owned by Mr. Munts, the barber, a school house, church, saloon, barnyard, and a few homes and businesses sprinkled here and there.

“Violet!” came a call. “Up yet? Breakfast’s almost ready!”

“Coming, Charlie!” Violet gave her hair one last brush before heading downstairs. Charlie had been hired by Mrs. Donovan just a few days after their arrival. Born in the south and later freed as a young woman, Charlie moved out west to make a name for herself. She had pitch black skin and even darker eyes and hair. Only her smile and the white of her eyes contrasted her face. Violet had grown a good liking to Charlie, and Mrs. Donovan made it a point to pay her well.

“Good morning, Miss Violet,” she said pleasantly. “We’ve got hotcakes today.”

“Oh!” Violet looked over Charlie’s shoulder with glee. “What’s the occasion?”

“No occasion, Miss,” said Charlie with a smile. “Just figured I’d make ‘em.”

“You’re too good to me, Charlie.” She kissed Charlie’s cheek. “You need any washing water?”

“No, Ma’am. I gots it all already, thank you.”

“Well, I’m gonna go see Maple before breakfast,” said Violet.

“You be sure and wash up before you eat!” Charlie called after her. Violet nodded and walked through the back door of the kitchen. The Donovan Estate covered about one hundred and fifty acres, most of it overgrown with trees. There was, however, enough open land to support a small group of horses, raised by Violet herself.