Samantha Goes Home

Samantha's fists avenge her father
Update: 11/11/1997 to arby

The sun was a ball of flame sinking over the Arizona desert. Another 
spectacular sunset. Samantha Mitchell stood on the veranda of the 
Circle M ranch with a wry, sad, smile on her face. "Now, the sun is 
shining." she thought. She had visited the fresh grave of her father, 
Sam Mitchell earlier today in cloudy, rainy weather. The storm clouds 
had passed about an hour ago, now the sun was out. Samantha had only 
seen her father a few times the last several years. She had been 
attending school in Boston, and had returned home for visits only 
occasionally. Now she was feeling guilty for not having come home more 
often. Her father had decided that the Arizona territory in 1872 was 
not the place in which he wanted his daughter to grow up, so she had 
been sent east to Boston to live with her uncle, Sam's brother, 
Gregory. The Mitchells of Boston were a wealthy family and accepted 
Samantha with open arms. She had been living there for seven years 
when news of her father's untimely death reached her. The details were 
sketchy, but Sam had been shot in the back when returning home from 
town. Samantha had departed immediately for home, and because of the 
time involved in travel had missed the funeral, and had just arrived 
at the ranch today. The first thing she had done was visit Sam's 
grave. He had been buried on a family plot on the ranchland 
overlooking the ranch house and the river. It was a beautiful spot. 

Sam Mitchell had migrated to the Arizona Territory from Texas nearly 
thirty years before. He had married a full blooded Kiowa Indian woman 
whose Kiowa name, loosely translated, was Shining Waters. The Kiowas 
were raiding heavily in Texas at the time, and the prejudice that Sam 
and his wife faced drove them from the country. They had loaded up 
everything they owned and headed west. They found this valley, between 
the mountains and the desert and knew that would be their new home. 
Sam had brought a very small starter herd of cattle with him, and 
began building his ranch house. His good friend, Hal Littleton and 
Hal's wife Becky had made the pilgrimage with Sam and Shining Waters. 
Together, the two families set out to build a new life. Through much 
hard work and perseverance the small ranch prospered. During the Civil 
War they had sold beef to the army, which and maintained a presence 
there to attempt to protect the ranchers and settlers from the 
Apaches. After the war, people flocked to the west, and a town had 
sprung up. The town was given the unique sounding name of Pleasant 
Valley. As the area prospered, the town grew. More people were 
attracted to the area. The Mitchell's ranch had grown to become one of 
the largest and had the best location from the standpoint of available 
water and grazing land. As with all things, with growth came trouble. 
Trevor Crawford, who had made a fortune during the war came to the 
area and with his two sons William and Edwin, had bought a ranch, 
which he renamed Spur. The Crawfords immediately began to buy out the 
smaller ranchers in the valley. As Spur grew larger and larger, the 
Crawfords became more influential in local politics by spreading their 
money around. When some of the smaller ranchers refused to sell to 
Spur, they suddenly had unexplained accidents, such as fires, or 
rustlers running off their cattle. After a series of calamities, they 
became eager to sell and The Crawfords and Spur continued to gobble up 
the land. The local sheriff, Charlie Pitts, was in Crawford's pocket. 
He basically turned his back on their suspected activities in 
acquiring the land. Yancey Dalton had been brought in to be the foeman 
of Spur. While his title was foreman, no one had ever seen him working 
with the cattle. He had a reputation as a gunslinger and had brought 
four other toughs with him. Dalton was a small man, but he maintained 
that Colonel Colt made all men the same size. It was suspected by all 
that Yancey Dalton and his men were responsible for the trouble. 
Yancey fancied himself a hard case  and always dressed all in black. 
He took care of all the dirty work for the Crawfords. All the while, 
Trevor and his sons made a big show in being involved in all kinds of 
civic and church activities in Pleasant Valley. For all appearances 
they were pillars of the community. Soon there were only a few  
ranches left. The key was Sam Mitchell's Circle M. Since he had been 
the first to arrive there, he had the choice location with regard to 
water and grazing rights. The Crawford's made several offers to by the 
Circle M, but Sam turned all of the down. They knew that what Sam 
Mitchell did, the rest of the ranchers would follow suit. After many 
months of escalating events, the murder of Sam Mitchell was the 
climax. The Crawfords had been properly solicitous, but had already 
put out feelers to buy the Circle M from Samantha, Sam's only heir. 
Running a ranch like the Circle M was no job for a young woman was the 
prevailing logic. What they did not know was that Samantha Mitchell 
was no ordinary young woman. They were about to find out. 

Each of her parents could easily be seen in Samantha. From her mother 
she got her beauty with shining black hair, high cheek bones and olive 
complexion. She was tall, like Sam. He had been six foot four, and 
weighed a solid two hundred and forty pounds. Samantha was close to 
five feet ten inches tall, and built solidly as well. She had wide, 
strong shoulders tapering to a small, hard stomach. Her legs were 
powerful, and her long sleeves covered arms that carried much more 
muscle than was fashionable in that time. Her mother had been killed 
when she was six in an Apache raid on the ranch. Sam and Hal had 
raised her more like a son than Sam's daughter. She learned to ride 
and shoot and even fight. By the time she was fourteen, she could ride 
like the wind, was a deadly shot with a variety of weapons, could 
throw a knife with uncanny accuracy, and could outfight all of the 
boys in the valley.
She was constantly shooting at targets, and in the stables Sam had 
hung up a large bag stuffed with hay, which she was constantly 
punching and kicking. Hal taught her to quick-draw with a six-gun. He 
and Sam also taught her how to properly make a fist and throw a punch. 
Then at sixteen, everything changed for Samantha. She had been invited 
to a party, and Becky had taken her in to town and together they 
bought her a new dress to wear. She was absolutely breathtaking. When 
Sam saw her, he was overcome by how much she looked like her mother. 
She had a grand time at the party. As it was breaking up one of the 
boys who had been sneaking whisky all night, tried to force himself on 
her and ripped her new dress. Samantha went berserk. She demonstrated 
her fighting skills in public for the first time in several years. Her 
fists smashed the offender's face to a bloody mask before knocking him 
out. When Sam found out what happened, although he was proud of her 
for being able to defend herself, he thought that he had definitely 
not given her the kind of upbringing a young lady should have. He 
packed her off to Boston to live with his brother and his family and 
attend school.  Samantha came home in the summer, and the bond between 
father and daughter remained strong. Sam would just shake his head 
when she continued to take target practice and work on the quick-draw 
that Hal taught her. She even prevailed on Hal to hang up her old 
punching bag in the stable and she continued to work on that as well. 
Now at twenty three she was the sole owner of the Circle M. She was 
determined to run the ranch. Hal would still function as foreman and 
all of the cowboys and ranch hands were fiercely loyal to her. 
Samantha also promised herself that she would do everything she could 
to find out who killed her father and avenge his death no matter how 
long it took.

The first thing Samantha did the next morning was to see sheriff 
Charlie Pitts. It was evident from that short conversation that Pitts 
had done very little to solve the murder and was going to put it down 
as a random crime committed by unknown assailants. Samantha was 
determined to find out who killed her father if it took the rest of 
her life. She returned to the Circle M and went up to her room. She 
still had not moved into the master bedroom that had been her 
parents', and could not bring herself to do it, so she remained in the 
bedroom that had been hers all of her life. She opened a trunk and 
removed a box. Inside the box was a well oiled gunbelt and holster and 
a Colt .45. As she spun the cylinder of the Colt, she thought about 
the day she received it. When she started learning to shoot, Sam had 
given her a .36 caliber Navy Colt which was smaller, therefore easier 
for her to handle. After she had turned 15, Sam and Hal had given her 
the Colt .45 caliber, saying a big girl needed a big gun. Samantha had 
been five-seven by the time she was 15, so she could handle the 
heavier weapon. She had practiced with the bigger gun until her arms 
ached, but she had become very proficient with it. She buckled the 
gunbelt around her slim waist and placed the Colt in the holster. She 
turned and faced the mirror. Her hand became a blur as it pulled the 
pistol from the holster and the only sound was the click of the hammer 
as it was cocked. "Not bad, after all this time." Samantha thought. 
She repeated the movement over and over, seeming to get faster and 
faster as she practiced the move. As she practiced she formulated a 
plan. One of Yancey Dalton's gang Abner Dunston, seemed to be the most 
likely candidate to try to get information from. Samantha had observed 
him during her last few trips home. He spent a lot of time hanging 
around the saloons in town, and he drank a lot, compared to the rest 
of his crowd. He was the only local resident who was a member of the 
gang. Samantha also had good reason to remember him. He was the boy a 
few years ago who had gotten drunk and attacked her at a party. She 
had left him unconscious and bleeding. That incident was responsible 
for her being sent to live with Sam's brother Gregory in Boston. 
Samantha thought given the right opportunity she had a chance to get 
the truth from him. She headed for the barn to continue her practice 
with her mind on Abner Dunston. She would get him to talk if she had 
to thrash him again.

Tim Felton rode slowly down the main street of Pleasant Valley. "Who 
ever had me sent here sure has a lot of clout with the right people." 
Tim thought. He was a deputy U.S. Marshal. He had been pulled from the 
case he was investigating and sent to Pleasant Valley to investigate 
the murder of Sam Mitchell. What he did not know was that Samantha had 
complained to her uncle in a long telegram that the local sheriff was 
doing nothing to find Sam's killer. Gregory used the political 
influence that goes with wealth to get the best man available assigned 
to the case. That man was Tim Felton. He had been in law enforcement 
for over thirty years. Now, at the age of fifty five he was a skilled 
investigator who almost always solved his cases and showed no signs of 
slowing down. All he knew was that Sam Mitchell, a prominent rancher 
had been gunned down and the sheriff seemed reluctant to pursue the 
case. He had the name of Sam's daughter Samantha as a contact. He 
would have to conduct his investigation from scratch. He stopped in 
front of the sheriff's office and went in. Tim identified himself to 
Charlie Pitts and asked for the case results so far. He was told that 
there was no case that the murder had been attributed to random 
outlaws passing through the country and the case was closed. Tim 
informed the sheriff that it was now officially reopened and the U.S. 
Marshall would now be in charge. If the sheriff had done nothing to 
this point, he should just stay out of the way. Tim could see why the 
family was upset. He left the sheriff's office and checked into the 
hotel. He stopped in the dining room and ordered dinner. He decided to 
contact Samantha Mitchell first thing in the morning. 

When Tim Felton arrived at the Circle M early in the morning Samantha 
was surprised and pleased to see him. They discussed Sam's death and 
the events surrounding it for a long time. Samantha produced a list of 
ranchers who had sold out to the Crawfords for Tim to interview. She 
told him about the so called "accidents" that befell anyone who did 
not accede to the Crawford's wishes. Tim would immediately set out to 
check this out, but he told Samantha that what they really needed was 
a witness who could corroborate their stories. Samantha thought she 
knew just the witness they needed. She had to get Abner Dunston to 
talk. Tim left to conduct his interviews with the ranchers and 
Samantha went in to town to find Abner. She didn't have to look that 
hard. He was at the Lucky Dollar saloon and gambling hall, drinking 
and hustling the dance hall girls. Samantha bided her time and finally 
Abner drunk as usual staggered out of the saloon and to his horse. He 
mounted unsteadily and headed back in the direction of Spur ranch. 
Samantha ran to her horse and raced out of town. She took a wide berth 
around Abner and got ahead of him. A little over half way to Spur 
there was a place where the trail narrows to pass between two large 
boulders. Samantha planned to intercept Abner at that point. She had 
no idea what she was going to do. She would appeal to him as once 
being a childhood friend to help her. She waited out of sight where 
the trail emerged from the boulders.  She didn't have long to wait. 
She could hear Abner approaching, singing loudly as his horse picked 
it's way along the trail. As Abner passed through the boulders, 
Samantha rode into the middle of the trail facing him. Abner reined 
his horse in and leaned forward in the saddle to get a better look at 
the person blocking the trail. "Hello, Abner" Samantha said. 
"Samantha? Samantha Mitchell?" Abner was surprised. He had heard she 
had returned to town, but had not seen her. Samantha spent the next 
few minutes talking to Abner, then she took a deep breath and plunged 
ahead. "Abner, I need your help. I am sure you know who killed my 
father. There is a new U.S. Marshal here to investigate now, and I 
want you to come with me and tell him what happened. It would really 
mean a lot to me if you would." Abner said, "Let me get this straight. 
You want me to go with you to see this new marshal and testify against 
my employer and friends who you think killed your dad?" "Yes" was 
Samantha's one word answer. Abner started to laugh. "I still remember 
what you did to me at that party when we were just kids. I was 
humiliated and embarrassed to be beaten up by a girl like that. You 
left here, but it took a long time for me to live that down. I 
wouldn't piss on you if you were on fire now get out of my way!" 
Samantha coolly looked at him. Quickly she drew her pistol. "I am 
sorry you still feel that way. Get down off that horse. You are not 
going anywhere until you agree to help me." The situation and suddenly 
turned ugly. Abner wished he had not had so much to drink. He was 
having trouble thinking clearly. Slowly he dismounted. Samantha slid 
out of her saddle keeping the pistole trained on Abner. She walked 
close to him and disarmed him, taking his revolver and tossing it 
several feet away. Again she asked for his help, and again Abner 
refused, demanding she give back his weapon and leave him alone. "Turn 
around and put your hands behind your back." She ordered Abner. He 
complied having no other choice. As he stood with his back to her, 
Samantha raised her pistol in the air and brought it crashing down on 
Abner's head. He collapsed on the ground in an unconscious heap. 
Samantha dragged his body over to a tree that had a long limb 
protruding about eight feet off the ground. Next she went to her 
saddle and got her rope as an idea began to form in her head. She 
finished her task and waited for Abner to wake up. As he started to 
come around he could tell something was drastically wrong. He could 
not move. He looked around and found that each of his arms were tied 
to the tree. He was suspended with his boots just barely touching the 
ground  with all of his weight supported by his arms which were tied 
to the tree limb. Abner also discovered that his feet had been secured 
to the ground by stakes inserted in the ground and his feet were tied 
to them. Seeing him begin to move, Samantha approached. "Now, I want 
the whole story and don't leave anything out" she said. "And if I 
don't tell you what are you going to do?" Abner sneered at her. "Use 
you for target practice" she replied. Samantha drew her pistol in a 
quick draw and snapped off a shot. The bullet whistled inches from 
Abner's left ear. "Just warming up" Samantha said. She reholstered the 
gun. She drew and fired again. This time the bullet sped between his 
legs missing his most precious possession by only a couple of inches. 
Samantha approached Abner. "If you won't tell me what I want to know, 
I will keep backing up five feet and doing this, until I am way over 
there." she pointed to a spot about fifty feet away. "I might not be 
this accurate from that distance. I would hate to shoot off your ear, 
or that pathetic little thing between your legs, but from there it 
might happen."  Abner laughed at her. "You won't shoot me. You are too 
much of a Goody-Two-Shoes to shoot anybody, much less someone trussed 
up like you have me here. So I'm not telling you anything." Samantha 
knew he was right. She could not shoot him. It was against everything 
she had ever been taught. Slowly she put the gun away. "You're right, 
Abner. I can't shoot you. However, I know you remember what I did to 
you at that party. Well, I can still beat you until you agree to tell 
me what I want to know. Before I'm finished, you will be begging me to 
take you to the marshal. So think about that for a minute."  Samantha 
strode over to her horse and removed her gunbelt and hung it over the 
saddle horn. She returned to Abner "What happened to my father?" she 
asked. "Kiss my ass" Abner snarled. "I'd rather kick it" Samantha 
answered. With that she kicked him right in the groin with the toe of 
her right boot. The suddenness of the movement surprised Abner who was 
anticipating more conversation, then the unexpected pain was shocking. 
He wanted to fold up and fall, but he couldn't. Samantha grabbed his 
hair and yanked him erect. Before he knew what was happening she 
smashed her strong right fist straight in to his nose. Driven by her 
powerful arm and shoulder muscles the fist broke his nose with a loud 
crack. Blood sprayed on both of them. Again searing pain, this time 
spreading across his face. Now her left fist whistled into his belly. 
This time Abner thought he was going to vomit. He could taste the bile 
in the back of his throat. He was not in the best of physical 
condition and her fist sank far into his fairly soft stomach. Samantha 
stepped in and drove her right fist into that soft gut for a second 
time, sinking it even deeper in the soft flesh than the previous 
punch. This time Abner could not hold it. Yellow and green liquid came 
up from his battered stomach and out through his mouth. Samantha 
leaped back just in time to avoid most of it, but some splattered on 
her shirt and boots. 
 "If I ever have to do this again, I'm taking my shirt off." she 
thought as she looked down and saw both the vomit and blood on her 
shirt. "What a mess"  She returned to the task at hand. Abner was 
barely hanging on to consciousness. Taking deliberate aim, she sent 
her left fist crashing just under his right eye. More pain for Abner, 
and the tissue there started to swell and change color immediately. 
Once more Samantha drove her hard fist deep in his already injured 
belly. This time it seemed to disappear from sight it buried so deep 
in his gut. If anything had been left in Abner's belly, he would have 
puked again. Samantha put her lips close to his ear. "You were right, 
Abner. I could not shoot you. But I can keep this up all day. In fact 
I haven"t enjoyed anything this much in a long time." Abner mumbled 
something. Samantha leaned closer to hear him. "PPPPlease ddon't hurt 
me anymore. I'll tell you everything, but you have to protect me. 
Yancey will kill me." 
 "Marshal Felton will see that nothing happens to you. All you have to 
do is tell him the truth. Now I am going to give you one more reminder 
of what will happen to you if you try to change your mind about 
cooperating." Samantha said. She cocked her right fist and smashed a 
vicious punch to Abner's jaw that spun his head almost around to his 
back. He slumped out cold with only the ropes hold him up. Samantha 
cut him down and carried him to his horse. she put him face down 
across his saddle like a sack of flour, and leading Abner's horse with 
it's unconscious owner. 
She then set out to find Marshal Tim Felton. After about twenty 
minutes, Abner began to moan and show signs of waking up. Samantha 
stopped the horses and dismounted. She walked back to where Abner was 
slung over the saddle. She helped him to sit upright in his saddle. 
His hands were not tied, she did not think that was necessary. His 
pistol was tucked in her belt as a precaution. "If you behave yourself 
and don't try to get away, I will not tie you up. Just remember, if 
you try to change your mind, this is only a sample of what you will 
get if you do not tell the marshal all you know."  Samantha resumed 
the lead, and they traveled on in silence. They found the marshal at 
the sheriff's office. Not trusting the sheriff, Tim Felton sent him 
away, then brought Samantha and Abner to the office. "This is Abner 
Dunston and he has something to tell you." Tim looked closely at 
Abner. "He seems to have been in some sort of accident" Tim said.
"He just needed a little persuasion to tell us what happened to my 
father."  Samantha replied. "Alright Abner, what happened?" The 
marshall asked. Abner told his story. "The Crawfords were always 
worried about Sam Mitchell. As long as he resisted selling out to 
Spur, other ranchers would hold out as well. Yancey Dalton and his men 
tried all of the things that had worked with other ranchers, like 
burning down the barn, stealing cattle, and things like that. None of 
them worked on Mitchell. He was a stubborn old goat. Finally Yancey 
decided the only way was to kill him. Even the Crawfords did not know 
that Yancey planned to murder Sam. They were used to getting their way 
with money, influence, and occasionally some strong-arm tactics, but 
they would never have had him shot on their own. Yancey is just plain 
mean. Old man Trevor Crawford was shocked when he learned what Dalton 
had done. They were able to get more small ranchers to quit and sell 
after the killing, however, so they accepted it. Charlie Pitts is on 
their payroll, so there would be no investigation. They had everything 
going their way, until you two showed up. That is what happened to Sam 
Mitchell, he was shot in the back by Yancey Dalton, without the 
knowledge of the Crawfords. However, the Crawfords covered it up when 
they found out what happened and forced out even more ranchers."  
"Thank you, Abner," Samantha said. I know how hard that was for you to 
do". Abner gave her what would have to pass for a smile with his 
battered face. "I actually feel better now than I have in a long time. 
I should have done that a long time ago. I was just mad about the way 
you humiliated me at that party, and now you have done it again."  
Samantha gave him a small smile back. "This time no one will know what 
happened to you. I won't tell, you certainly won't, and nobody else 
knows what happened. All I want you to do is tell this story in 
court." "If I do that, do you think we could be friends again, 
Samantha?" Abner asked. "I don't see why not." was her reply. She 
gently ran her fingers over his bruised face. "You help us put Dalton 
and the Crawfords in jail, and I will be forever in your debt"
 The marshal spoke for the first time since Abner told his story. 
"Abner is the witness we need. I have found three ranchers who were 
forced to sell to Spur who are also willing to testify. All that is 
left is to form a posse and go arrest the Crawfords and Yancey 
Dalton."  He went out to raise the posse, needing at least twenty men. 
After he left Samantha looked at Abner. "You stay here. When all of 
this is over, we can get reacquainted. I really had a crush on you 
until the night of that party. You broke a young girl's heart with 
what you did that night."  Abner hung his head. "I thought you were 
the most beautiful girl I had ever seen. I still do for that matter. I 
had never had anything to drink before in my life. I would have given 
anything to change that night. I probably deserved everything I got, 
but it is embarrassing to be beaten up by a girl." "As I said, maybe 
we can start over, but you will have to stop drinking." Samantha said. 
"I'll never touch another drop of whiskey" Abner promised. Samantha 
smiled at him and went out after the marshal. 

Samantha found the Tim and his posse preparing to ride out to Spur 
ranch. "I'm going with you."
She said. "I know better than to try to talk you out of it, so lets 
go." The marshal said. The posse rode out of town on the road to Spur. 
Charlie Pitts entered the sheriff's office. "Where are they going"" he 
asked Abner. "To arrest the Crawfords and Yancey Dalton for murder." 
he answered.
"I can beat them there by riding cross country and warn the Crawfords" 
Charlie said. He started out the door. A clicking sound behind him 
caused him to stop. Charlie turned to face Abner holding  his pistol 
which Samantha had returned. It was pointed directly at Pitts' chest. 
"You are not going anywhere, Charlie." Abner said. "Drop your gun and 
come over here." Pitts slowly complied. Abner then escorted him to the 
jail cell in the back and locked him in. "I think the marshal will 
want to talk to you about your part in all this when he gets back, 
Charlie" Abner said. "So for now, we'll just sit here and wait for 
them to get back."

With Charlie Pitts stymied in his attempt to warn Spur, the posse 
achieved complete surprise.
They surrounded the ranch, and with only a few shots fired, the 
Crawfords, who were not ever considered fighters, surrendered. As the 
posse was rounding up everyone Samantha anxiously inquired " Where is 
Yancey Dalton?" One of the gang members scoffed. "He turned out  to be 
yellow. As soon as you got here he sneaked out and took off" Tim 
quickly organized a pursuit admonishing Samantha to stay with the men 
arresting the Crawfords and their gang. As soon as Tim was out of 
sight, she mounted her horse, and took off across country. She had an 
idea where Yancey might try to hide. Spur had an old line shack in a 
canyon that was off the beaten path and that Tim and his men would 
never find. She had stumbled on several years ago almost by accident 
when she was out riding. She headed straight for it. 

Samantha arrived at the cabin and cautiously scouted the area. Yancey 
was not there yet. She hid her horse and went into the cabin to wait. 
In less than an hour she heard the sounds of a horse approaching. she 
pulled her gun from her holster, and waited. The door opened and 
Yancey Dalton came through it. He had never been a good looking man 
but now he really looked the worse for wear. His black clothes which 
he wore all the time were torn and covered with dust, and he had a 
wild look in his eyes. At first he did not see Samantha sitting there. 
"Hello Yancey, what took you so long?" Samantha asked in a voice like 
she was having a conversation on her back porch. Yancey blinked 
waiting for his eyes to adjust to the dim light in the room. "Its 
Samantha Mitchell" she answered. "I'm here to make sure you pay for 
murdering my father."
Samantha watched him carefully. He made no move to reach for his 
pistol. "I should shoot you down like the dog that you are, but I will 
give you the chance that you never gave my father". She stood up and 
holstered her gun. "Now we are even. Draw any time you are ready!" 
Samantha said in a cold voice. Dalton still made no move to draw his 
pistol. Finally Samantha said. "If you won't draw, then I will count 
to three. At that time I will draw and fire." She regarded Dalton with 
contempt. Samantha started to count. " One, two, thr-" as she reached 
three, Dalton threw his hands up in the air and said "I'm not drawing. 
If you shoot me it will be in cold blood, and I know you can't do 
that." Samantha was almost beside her self with anger. She had looked 
forward to extracting her revenge on Yancey Dalton and now she could 
not. Then she remembered Abner.
"Unbuckle you gunbelt slowly, with your left hand and kick it over 
here." she ordered him. Yancey complied. Samantha picked it up. She 
walked to the door and opened it. She placed Dalton's gun rig outside 
the door on the porch. She then began to remove her shirt, slowly 
unbuttoning it and holding it in her hand when she was finished. "You 
are right, I can't just shoot you down, although that is what I would 
really like to do. Since I can't do that I have to get my revenge in 
another way. You will stand trial for murder and be hanged, but before 
I am through, you will wish I had shot you.".   Samantha reached down 
and unbuckled her gunbelt. Once more she opened the door and placed 
her shirt and her gunbelt outside the door.  She turned to face Yancey 
Dalton unarmed wearing only her boots, pants and brassiere. Yancey 
could not believe his good fortune. All he had to do was whip this 
girl and freedom was his. As Samantha approached him, he got a good 
look at her. His confidence evaporated with a study of her body.  She 
was two inches taller, and several pounds heavier. Her shoulders were 
wide and powerful looking. Her chest deep and strong. Her belly was 
flat,hard, and rippled with muscle. But it was her arms that both 
scared and fascinated him. He had never seen a woman with arms like 
Samantha.
 Her forearms looked like snakes were imbedded in her skin as the 
muscles writhed and rippled through them. Large veins cris-crossed 
them like rivers. When she moved her biceps inflated to a size he had 
not seen on many men,  looking like grapefruits had been inserted 
under her skin. They were full, round and looked hard as granite. Her 
triceps looked like horseshoes were imbedded under her skin on the 
backs of Samantha's arms. 
"You should feel lucky, Yancey" Samantha said. "You are one of only a 
very few men  to have ever seen me without all my clothes on. I was 
always embarrassed and self - conscious because of my muscles. Proper 
ladies don't have muscles like mine I always heard. Now I am glad I 
have these muscles. I have seen what they can do to bad little boys 
like you. I have been getting this body ready for something like this 
for several years. I hope you enjoy it as much as I will."  Dalton was 
now thoroughly intimidated by her obvious power and her statements as 
well.  "She is still just a woman." he thought to himself. "I should 
still be able to take her, or at least get out the door where the guns 
are."  Suddenly Yancey launched himself at her, diving and driving his 
head into her midsection. Samantha was taken totally by surprise. she 
was driven back against the wall of the cabin, and slammed into it 
with great velocity. She slid down the wall. Yancey drove his boot 
into her crotch as hard as he could kick. Samantha moaned and curled 
up in a protective ball clutching her wounded pussy. Yancey could have 
won the fight right there before it had even started if he had 
followed up his advantage. His mind was still on escape however, and 
he headed for the door. He tripped and fell over the table. He 
regained his feet and angrily shoved the table over out of his way. He 
reached the door and opened it. He could see his horse still saddled 
and ready to ride tied up in front. He stopped and dropped to his 
knees to retrieve his gunbelt before running to his horse. He had the 
gunbelt in his hands when a strong hand reached out and jerked him 
back through the door in to the cabin. Samantha had recovered enough 
to crawl over to the door and prevent Dalton from regaining his 
pistol, and escaping. Yancey lay on his back where he had landed after 
having being flung back in the cabin, and Samantha was still on her 
knees. They faced each other across the room. Samantha regained her 
feet first. Slowly she stalked across the cabin to where Yancey was 
now on his knees, trying to also get to his feet. He lunged at 
Samantha again, but this time she anticipated the move. She stepped to 
her right and Yancey stumbled past her. As he went by, she drove her 
knee into the small of his back as hard as she could. The knee driven 
by the big muscles in her leg, blasted into the small of his back. 
Yancey felt like he had been hit in the back with an axe. He was 
momentarily paralyzed, then fell to the floor. He felt real fear for 
the first time as he looked up and saw Samantha looming over him. Her 
dark eyes were blazing with anger, her muscles were rippling with 
power, and her fists were clenched. For some reason his eyes locked on 
her fists. They were not exceptionally large, but her knuckles were 
prominent and they looked very hard. He got a much better look at the 
right one as Samantha stood over him and sent her right fist crashing 
down on his left eye. White hot pain shot through the left side of his 
face and he dropped from his knees face down on the floor. Samantha 
reached down and grasped his shoulders in both hands and lifted him to 
his feet. She could see the tissue around his eye was already 
beginning to swell and change color. "Now I am going to show you why I 
took off my shirt, Yancey" she said. Samantha took a step backward to 
gain room to swing, and launched a tremendous punch that smashed 
straight into his nose. A loud pop told her that she had broken it, 
and blood sprayed all over both of them. She now had his blood on her 
fist and her chest. It was streaming down his face to splash on his 
chest. Yancey had never felt pain like that in his life. it felt like 
someone had driven twenty penny nails through his face with a 
sledgehammer. Yancey was immobilized with pain. His back was killing 
him, his eye was throbbing and swollen shut, and his broken nose was 
almost unbearable. All this from just three blows from Samantha. 
Dalton just wanted to lie down and pass out. "You should have drawn 
your gun when you had the chance. Now you have to suffer for Sam." he 
vaguely heard her say. All at once he felt like he had been gored by a 
steer, as Samantha's left fist buried itself in his stomach. The 
vicious blow lifted his feet completely off the floor. Had she not 
reached out and grabbed him, he would have gone to the floor again. 
Three more times that brutal fist gored his belly. Each time his feet 
came off the floor as Samantha bent her knees and drove ripping 
uppercuts deep into his soft gut with that hard fist. Bile and blood 
were now leaking out of the corner of his mouth. Still the vengeance 
minded woman pounded her fist into his flesh. She was taking at least 
fifteen seconds between punches so he felt the full effect of the pain 
from each one, and each one seemed to be even harder than the one 
before.  His legs had long since been unable to support Yancey and the 
only thing holding him up was Samantha's strong right arm. After ten 
of these terrible belly blows, she let him collapse to the floor. 
Yancey lay there groaning and thrashing from side to side with the 
pain. Samantha, after pausing in the horrible beating, decided that 
her thirst for revenge on the man who murdered her father had not been 
quenched. She slowly moved over to the battered killer and once again 
hauled him to his feet. Tears filled her eyes as thoughts of Sam 
Mitchell filled her mind. Her fists smashed his face with bone jarring 
force. Her right drilled his nose and once again a fountain of blood 
spouted forth to color her chest and shoulders red. His "good" eye was 
her next target with two hammering blows with her left fist making it 
a twin for the right one as it started to close and turn purple. She 
started to cry as she continued to rain thunderous punches into Yancey 
Dalton's face. She could feel his teeth begin to crumble as her hard 
knuckled fists blasted his mouth. Yancey had long since passed the 
ability to feel pain. He was like a puppet dancing under her 
unrelenting fists. Finally she gathered control of her emotions. 
Samantha gathered herself for one last bone-shattering blast from her 
lethal right fist. As it slammed home she could feel the bones cave in 
under his eye from the explosive power her
 huge muscles generated. Then she let the unconscious murderer slump 
to the floor. There was not an inch of flesh on his face that did not 
show the marks of her fists. His face was battered almost beyond 
recognition. He would be horribly disfigured for the rest of his life, 
which probably would not be long. He would surely be tried and hung 
for his actions. Only death would relieve the pain he would live in 
from now on. Samantha looked at her blood covered fists, and at her 
chest and shoulders that were also blood spattered. She allowed 
herself a small smile and thought "At least this time I was smart 
enough to not ruin another shirt." She still marveled at the damage 
her fists had done to the killer. She hated to admit it, but a 
primitive part of her secretly enjoyed what she had just done. She 
looked at Dalton again. "He's not going anywhere for a while" she 
thought. 
She put on her shirt and rode to meet Tim Felton and his posse. 

She met them just a few minutes down the trail. They all returned to 
the line shack to arrest Yancey Dalton. "I don't think he is going to 
be able to hear us for a while" said one of the posse members as he 
came out of the cabin after going in to arrest Dalton. "He looks like 
he was caught and run over in a stampede. I wouldn't want to tangle 
with whoever did this to him." he said.
'Who did this?" Felton asked Samantha. "I found him like this" she 
answered. "I see" said Felton as he saw her skinned and bloody 
knuckles. "At any rate, he will hang for his crimes. We have Abner's 
testimony, and now several of the Crawford crowd are lining up to 
testify against Dalton to try to save themselves. By the way, that 
Abner sure has it bad for you. He seems like a nice kid who made a 
mistake. He won't be charged, but if you asked him to work on your 
ranch, I'm sure he would leap at the chance." Then looking down at her 
hands he said "Riding through this rough country can be hell on your 
hands without gloves. You should soak those knuckles in ice water when 
we get back.". The posse had to rig a travois to haul the still 
unconscious Yancey Dalton back to Pleasant Valley. As they rode toward 
town, Samantha reflected on Tim Felton's words. Maybe there was more 
to Abner Dunston than she first thought. If he were to work at the 
ranch under Hal's guidance, he might prove to be a worthwhile suitor 
after all. Most of all, now Sam Mitchell could rest easy. His murder 
had been avenged.