These were frontier women, and they might have told their husbands—in a ladylike manner, of course—where to stick that suggestion. Ginny and Roz were upstairs, sitting by a window, each with a Winchester rifle. Connie was at the side of the house, also upstairs, with a long barreled ten-gauge goose gun, loaded up with buckshot. At the range she would be shooting from the bedroom window, she could do terrible damage with the big goose gun, and she definitely knew how to use it. “Rider comin’!” the shout came from the barn. “Damn fools,” John said. “Don’t they know that the advantage is ours because we hold the high and protected ground?” “They’re riding with hate guiding them, John.” Bull spoke out of the darkness. “What if the girls are with them?” John asked, a sick note to his voice. “I thought about that,” Sam said. “I got a couple of punchers ready over there in those trees . . . with ropes.” “I bet they’ll be sorry when they drop a loop over one of those gals,”
