Her last thoughts were of her mother.  With no one to look after her how would she survive? But that was irrelevant now.  She had a date with destiny.  Nova's body sagged in his hands.

Those fat fingers were being forcibly removed from her throat.  She felt her knees buckle and she fell to the cobbled ground below.

She awaited the inevitable. Nothing. No tunnel of light, or choir of chubby angels to greet her. Instead the darkness lingered. A noiseless no-man's land. Was this some kind of hell for her alone? Had god witnessed her thoughts of petty theft, and decided to send her to the fiery pits?  Would she be keeping her father company till the end of forever? But,  there was no way she could watch over her mother from there! Fear sent her into survival mode, and she fought her way back.

Crunch. The noise broke through the darkness. Nova could feel Rick Hornsby's body being dragged off her. Her lungs ached as she noisily rasped oxygen in.

Nova could hear the sound of bones cracking, as her attacker's face was pummelled by a well-built stranger. Hearing - and feeling - the splash of water as her would be assassin was thrown into the horse's trough.

Horses reared and whinnied, stamping their hooves in fear. Amongst the mayhem she was lifted bodily and thrown on top of a horse. Her newest abductor straddled the steed behind her, his arms pinning her in.

Nova could feel how tense his body was through her thick coat, and it sent a tingle of awareness down her spine. Who was this well built stranger hauling her about?

Turning in the saddle she viewed his face. "You!" She whispered. The condition of her lungs prevented her from elaborating.

The silent cowboy nodded politely, as dug his heels into the horse's bare flanks. "You're safe with me."

It wasn't genteel to disagree loudly, she told herself.  Casting her gaze down, she was struck by surprise.  The appaloosa she had petted... it was his. For all his faults, he had a good taste in horses.   "Where are you taking me?" Her nerves were stretched beyond belief.

"Away from here."

"Why? You saved my life. Any man assaulting a woman, in The West, is punished by death."

"I don't trust Sheriffs."

What kind of low life was he? Fear coursed through her veins. "No!" She tried throwing herself off the now cantering mount, but his grip tightened about her waist.

"What are you doing? You'll kill yourself!"

"I'd rather that than let you do the honors." In her shock she'd almost let her finely honed English accent drop.

"Trust me."  His teeth were clenched.

"Just let me go home!"

"I'm taking you to collect yourself. I don't want to spend the rest of my night locked up."

An outlaw. If only she knew what part of the country would be offering the ransom for him. She'd flick him over without hesitation. What a cruel irony that she was squished up against a handsome bank note but had no idea where to cash it.

His heartbeat was rapid against her back. He was nervous. She peered over her shoulder at the face of her savior. Black hair framed charcoal black eyes, which glinted in the full moon. His expression was impenetrable as he stared out in front of them. He didn't look to be new to pub brawls, or even to violence. There was something in his gaze which was untouchable and distant. It was a look she'd seen often in boys returning from war. Fresh Faced enthusiasm replaced by steel.

He caught her stare and gave a half smile. Instead of calming her, that lone smile filled the air with tension. Nova's heart hammered erratically against her ribs.  Yet, regardless of her overwhelming feelings of mistrust, her body sagged against his. She felt the warmth creeping up her back. The faint scent enveloping her. 

They moved together, cantering past the Barber Shop and Bank, dead quiet on the still Summer's night.  Hearing the steed's metal spats clinking rhythmically.

"Here we are." His warm breath tickled her neck, generating goose bumps down her neck, and across her shoulder. He brought the horse to a standstill in front of a quiet hotel on the outskirts of town. He dismounted and held a hand out for her.

Nova's skirt slid up her leg, showing more than the proper amount of stockings, and a brown leather garter which held a pistol for her safety.

"The gun?" He asked. "For mugging innocent men?"

"I've not met an innocent man yet," she said in a defiant tone.

His dark eyes moved over her, hungrily, from top to bottom. "One look at you and they are corrupted."

Nova was suddenly thankful of the white body paint, which covered the deep blush spreading rapidly across her cheeks.

There was something about the way he watched her with those black eyes. That oozing sex appeal. She never knew what to expect from him.

"I need a stiff drink," he said. "Come." Turning he led the way.