The man pulled harder. Marian stumbled forward. And before she knew it, she was falling toward the ground, the ribbons of her reticule still wrapped around her wrist. The fabric tore with a sickening rip as the dust rose around her.
And then it was gone. The thief had won.
Chapter Two
If first impressionsmattered, Last Chance, Nebraska failed dismally.
That was Cole Robertson’s first thought as the homes on the edge of town came into view. Brown winter grasses, brown dirt, brown dust on the houses. Even the sky appeared to be a sickly sort of pale blue here.
No wonder the town was in desperate need of people.
Cole had heard of Last Chance as he made his way south from the Dakotas. He had no particular destination in mind when he left the town of Riggs, South Dakota—only that he needed to put some distance between himself and Fanny Meyers. Somewhere north of here, he’d run into another little town, and while stopping in the saloon, had learned that Last Chance was the place to go for men looking for opportunity. One man mentioned the town had even found the means to order up a machine to drill water from the ground.
Half wanting to see this contraption and half hoping Last Chance might offer a place to settle for a while, Cole had aimed his horse southwest—despite the town’s dire-sounding name.
He didn’t know what he’d expected when he arrived, but this dreary looking place definitely wasn’t it.
Cole frowned at the houses skirting the town line. Had those men further north pulled the wool over his eyes? Surely a place with a water drilling machine wouldn’t look so . . . dull.
He choked back a laugh. Dull was what he needed after Fanny in Riggs. And Christina in Custer. And Sarah in Deadwood. And—
It was no use recounting the pattern his life had taken up until now. What he needed was an uneventful town with uneventful women, but plenty of opportunity for a man like himself to build something akin to the life his father had always told him to go after.
And so Cole rode on. Just as he passed the first house, he heard a shout.
He drew up his horse, Neptune, pausing in the middle of the road.
“Let go!”
The voice was clearly female, and it came from somewhere beyond the homes to his left. He nudged Neptune back into motion, heading between two houses toward the distressed voice.
He crested the back corner of one of the houses—and spotted a man wheeling backwards after grabbing something from . . . Cole squinted against the sun and found the woman who had cried out. She was on the ground, and from the outstretched hand she dropped, it was clear the man had taken something from her.
Cole didn’t hesitate as the man scrambled to regain his balance. Cole urged Neptune forward, cutting him off. Just as the fellow tried to change direction, Cole leaped from the horse and tackled the man to the ground.
The fall must have winded him, because the man didn’t resist as Cole pried the patterned bag he carried from his hand.
