Excerpt from Desert Bandits
by Cindy Davis

About two hundred feet ahead was Frank, trotting toward me. I scanned around for a place to detour, but he was too close. If the reins had been alive, I think I might have strangled them. I held my breath and pulled my hat even lower, hoping he wouldn't recognize me as he slowed to go past.

But, he didn't pass, he ducked under a low branch and rode toward me.

I could feel his eyes burning holes in the top of my head. I gritted my teeth, then let go quick, hoping he wouldn't see how scared I was. Rags raced around Frank's horse barking at his hooves. I yelled at him to cut it out.

"Hey, ain't you the kid which fell off the wagon t'other day?" He spit the words at me like he was used to asking questions, and giving orders.

I thought about denying it, but the tone in his voice stopped me. "Yeah, thanks again for stopping to help."

"Where you headed?"

"I'm taking some eggs and vegetables to market. My parents are expecting me home soon." I thought if I let him know I'd be missed, he might not kill me.

He rode slowly around my wagon, the reins tight. The horse, anxious to be on its way, snorted and pranced as Frank looked in my wagon from all sides, lifting the canvas to see underneath. Now he was on my right side, his horse almost brushing against my seat.

"Did you find your trunk yet, sir?"

"No," he growled. "You see them guys again?"

"No, sir. If they were headed toward Flagstaff, I guess they'd be long gone by now."

I guess he didn't want to hear that, because next thing I knew, he was hauling me off the seat by the arm. I started to yell, 'Hey, what're you doing?' but it came out sounding like "Hey-mmphrct!" as I slammed to the ground.

"Monk and me checked where you said. Ain't no one been there in at least three days."

I stayed sitting on the ground, figuring if he was going to hit me, he'd have to get off his horse to do it. And if he was going to shoot me, didn't matter if I was sitting or standing.

So, I waited, and sat, and tried to explain, "I didn't tell you where they went. All I said was where I saw them. You and your partner decided where they must be heading."

"You're gonna help me find that trunk!"

"Huh?"

"You and yer little buddies. You're gonna help me find my stinking trunk."

"What's in that trunk that's so all-fired important, anyway?"

Frank hit the ground without using his stirrups.

I pushed my heels into the dirt and backed my rear end as fast as I could, feeling my pockets filling with sand.

Rags leaped forward and bit Frank on the butt.

Frank yelled and kicked my dog, who fell to the side yelping. I was about to get up. Nobody was gonna hurt my dog.

Before I could though, Frank grabbed the front of my shirt and lifted me up. I heard my buttons popping off and knew I was in trouble with Mom, but not as much as I was with Frank. When he let go, my feet were several inches off the ground and I hit like a stone against a wall.

Rags, still yipping, chased after him again. Frank started to pull his pistol from the holster. "Rags, no!" I yelled and threw myself between the gun and the dog. Rags backed off, a low growling somewhere deep inside him, his eyes shooting sparks at Frank.

"Mister, don't you hurt my dog again or I swear I won't ever help you."

"You'll do as I say! And, what's in the trunk is no nevermind to you. All you need to know is, you're going to help me get it back or I'm going to rip out your guts and feed 'em to your dog." He pointed the gun at Rags for what seemed like a year, then banged the end of it off the tip of my nose. Right off, it made my nose run and my eyes water.

I gotta say I never been so scared in my life -- not even when Sarah almost died of the fever last year.