Page 8 of Runaway Hucow

Tess never saw the giant draw his gun. It just sort of appeared in his hand. A double-barreled shotgun. The biggest gun Tess had ever seen.

A crack of thunder shook the prairie, and the leader of the three bounty hunters went flying backward like a ragdoll into the trees. A second shot followed so close on the heels of the first, it almost wasn’t a separate sound, and the second bounty hunter’s head disappeared in a fine pink mist. His empty cowboy hat twirled in the air for a moment, then it fell to the ground along with his body.

The third bounty hunter had dropped into a crouch as soon as the shooting started. When he realized he was still among the living, a wicked grin cut across his face, and he rose again, pistol drawn.

“That’s one hell of a cannon you got there, mister. But you’ve only got two shots in that thing, and you’ve done spent ’em both. Now I’m gonna—”

The shotgun flew through the air, wheeling end over end like a drum major’s baton. The brass butt plate crunched into the bounty hunter’s nose, and he went down in a heap on the ground.

The giant approached.

Tess dropped her gaze, too frightened to look him in the eyes or thank him. She didn’t even know if she should thank him. What exactly did he want with her? He’d said she was his. What did he mean by that?

Her pulse raced faster as the giant got closer. Despite his massive size, his boots were nearly silent as they tread toward her across the dry ground. Then he stepped out of high grass, and Tess saw that he wasn’t walking on boots at all.

He had hooves.

Tess’s eyes lifted, but not all the way to the giant’s face, only to the middle of his body, where one huge hand was emerging from beneath the buffalo-hide cloak. That hand was covered with short, brown fur that matched the hides.

Gloves, Tess thought. But no gloves fit that tightly. She could see the tendons moving underneath the skin. Thick veins branching like rivers. Nails black as coal.

The fingers held a single enormous shotgun shell. Sunlight glinted off the brass.

The giant stooped, picked up his shotgun, and broke it open. The breech holes were so big, Tess could have fit two of her fingers inside one of them with room to spare. The giant slid the single shell into the left chamber, then he snapped the gun closed again. The third bounty hunter was groaning on the ground nearby, bright blood bubbling out of his smashed nose.

“Look away, ma’am, and plug your ears.”

There was something in the giant’s voice that compelled Tess to obey. She filled her ears with the tips of her fingers and turned her face away. She even closed her eyes for good measure.

The blast was deafening. The force of it shook the ground where Tess was sitting. Even after it was over, she still didn’t open her eyes or take her fingers out of her ears. She couldn’t. Her whole body seemed to have turned into stone. The air around her reeked of gunsmoke and death.

Then a hand was touching her. A hand so big, it engulfed her entire wrist when it gently tugged her hand away from her ear.

“It’s done, ma’am. You can open your eyes now.”

But Tess didn’t open her eyes. She didn’t move at all, aside from her heart, which was racing like a runaway locomotive behind her ribs.

“Are you alright, ma’am? Did they hurt you?”

Tess said nothing.

“Look at me.”

Slowly, she unclenched her eyelids. The giant was crouching in front of her, leaning against his shotgun like it was a walking staff. Blue smoke was still drifting out of the muzzle. Even crouching, he seemed to loom above her.

Tess could see now that he was wearing a pair of tight brown trousers that ended just above his knees, but on his upper body, the only clothing was the ragged cloak of buffalo hides, which left his chest and stomach exposed. His body was packed with slabs and mounds of powerful muscles encased in tight, dark skin lined with short fur. Starting around his neck and shoulders, that fur lengthened into a shaggy brown mane. What Tess had originally taken to be a war bonnet was actually the giant’s own hair. And those long, black horns? They were his too. Really his. Tess’s heart began chugging even faster.

The horned giant was wearing a black handkerchief over his nose and mouth like a bandit. After a moment, he loosened the cloth and pulled it down, revealing a face that was neither man nor beast, but something halfway in between. Tess let out a tiny gasp.

The giant wasn’t a man at all. He was a minotaur.

A bison minotaur.

The locomotive inside her slammed on its brakes, and time seemed to slow to a halt. Tess wasn’t sure how long they both sat there, eyes locked. She only knew that the bisonman was the first to lower his gaze, not to her chest, as most men would have done, but to the ground beside her, where she had dropped her shift. He picked it up and handed it to her.

“You’d best get dressed, ma’am.”

Heat leapt into Tess’s cheeks as she remembered the state she was in. She took the proffered garment and pulled it on over her head. Once she was clothed again, she tried to say thank you, but her throat was so tight, all that came out of her was an awkward little whimper.