Petticoats and Pistols

Evan Henson, a Union battle-tested veteran of the
Civil War, dismounted. He stood six-one and paused. “I am so sorry, Miss Dory.
Your ma was one of the finest women the Good Lord ever put on this earth. You
say it was Kreb who killed her, huh?”

“Sure nuff,” Dory confirmed. 

Evan exhaled deeply and turned around slowly shaking
his head. “You know Alton Kreb. He has the most money of anyone in this territory
and he ain’t about ready
to go to the hoosegow on his own.”

“That’s just too doggone bad,” Dory fired back. “He broke the law and now he’s gotta pay for it.”

“You don’t understand. The man probably owns the sheriff over
there in Junction County. Maybe a few of the judges also.” 

“Well, that is just tough, Mr. Henson. I’m going after him and there ain’t a thing you can do to stop me,” she decreed with fire in her eyes. “But there is
something you can do.”

“What’s that?” Evan wondered. 

“Make sure we
have enough guns and ammunition to go after Kreb,” Dory vowed, and straightened up in her petticoat.