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Calle lay dead on the ground.

"Laura, have you gone and shot another horse?" yelled her mother
running from the ranch house.

"No horse of mine shies at rabbits," Laura shouted, wiping
blood-spattered hands on her hide skirt. "I'm going in to town to make
sure that lazy good for nothing Joe got the paper set up. Word is,
there's been another killing."

"It's not natural, a young girl like you, obsessed with all these
killings."

Laura ignored her mother and mounted the grey mare, whipping her
cruelly as she galloped away.

In the newspaper office Laura shouted: "Joe, papers! Come on! Hurry up!
If you go any slower the whole town'll be dead before you've set things
up."

"Nobody speaks to me like that, not even you,
Miss-Laura-high-and-mighty." Joe spat on the floor and wiped inky
fingers on his old overalls. Slowly he offered the latest edition. "And
your pa not yet cold in his grave. He might have started this paper,
and you might have inherited it from him...but you can't set the type,
take the pictures, get the news out... and you won't find many that
can."

Laura snatched up the paper and turned to go but was stopped by a tall
man stepping into the newspaper office. "Randy Jackson, howdy ma'am.
I've bought the Taylor ranch." Reluctant to stop Laura grudgingly
offered a hand to the stranger. Randy assessed her in an instant. Blue
eyes twinkling he raised his hat noting, as he did so, that there was
neither wedding ring on her finger nor warmth in her eyes. "I've a
feeling I know you... yes... yes...I do recall... Sunday school picnic
... years ago.... We've got a lot to talk about, you and I. I'll escort
you home, ma'am?"

"I guess so." She said coldly, striding from the office. Without
waiting she mounted the mare and galloped away towards the ranch.

"Can I escort you into town tomorrow? There's good steak to be had at
the saloon."
"I guess so," she said again, as she entered the house.

"I'll call by at noon." He ignored her frostiness.

Silently Laura shut the door. Her mind buzzed with questions. She was
not charmed easily, yet this man intrigued her. Many of the town's
young men had tried their luck and most came off badly. Yet, she felt
strangely attracted to him. Kindred spirits, perhaps?
"Dinner's ready," her mother interrupted her thoughts.

"I saw Randy Jackson today. That last time I saw him was fifteen years
ago at the Sunday school picnic. He's even taller now, strong, he could
plough a field or two."

"You certainly had the hots for him then."

"I never did understand why pa chased him off like that."

"What's in the Tribune?" Ma changed the subject.

"Another killing - old Mr Bridges over the hill.

"That killer's getting awfully close. That's less than five miles
away."

"Killed with a knife, just like the others."

Laura took the paper to her room. "You can read it later, ma."

"I don't want it after you cut all them pictures out. It's not natural,
keeping a scrapbook of murders... you sick in the head, girl?

Laura lay on her bed thinking about the killer who, although unnamed,
was becoming extremely famous. She was insanely jealous. The excitement
at being so close to this new kill was pure ecstasy. Laura could see
the life force oozing from the knife wounds. She could almost taste its
delicious warmth. She caressed her thighs as if to wipe the sweet blood
from her own hands exulting in the thrill that swept through her
loins.
Eventually she slept, only to have nightmares. She was thirteen
again.

"Be quiet girl, lie still," hot drunken breath nauseated her. Rough
hands bruised her breasts. She woke with a start. In the eerie twilight
she half expected to see her oppressor towering above her. Not any
more. She breathed a sigh of relief as she recalled the funeral only
weeks earlier.

Randy arrived at noon the next day. Gunmetal glinting on one hip and
Bowie on the other emphasised muscular blue-jeaned thighs. A timepiece
hung on his waistcoat catching the sunlight. The strong, straight back
sat tall in the saddle.

Dismounting, he checked and re-checked his reflection in nearby
windows. He combed his already immaculate hair as he approached.
"You're still as vain as ever," Laura said, unsmiling.

"I've got to look good for my lady."

"Don't you 'my lady' me," she retorted, irritated by his
assumption.

They rode into town and ate thick steaks. Randy ignored Laura's
silence. On the way home he said: "I'll bet you're one hell of a mean
cook." Without waiting to be invited he said, "I'll call by tomorrow
evening. There's good ripe fruit in your orchard - just right for
desert."

Laura spent most of the next day reading the paper and collecting more
cuttings for the scrapbook.

"There's been another body found," she told Randy excitedly. Dr McCrae
says it looks like the same knife killed all of 'em... probably a knife
like yours." She ran her finger along the edge of the Bowie and then
along Randy's firm thighs.

Randy took her in his arms: "I think that fruit is good and ready."
Laura responded eagerly to his touch. In her mind's eye details of each
murder rolled off an imaginary page adding to her excitement. She used
him ruthlessly to satisfy her passion and then watched as he rode away
by moonlight.

At breakfast Laura said, "I'll go into town, ma... the paper should be
ready."

"Don't be too hard on Joe, he does his best," ma called after Laura as
she rode away.

"Joe! Papers, now!" She thumped her fist on the desk. "Anything new
today?"

"Yea," rising slowly from his seat he spat on the floor, "they found a
piece of glass near old man Bridges. Looks like the glass front of a
timepiece."

"I'll see you Saturday, mind you have the paper ready early." Laura
rushed home to read the latest edition.

She had agreed to a picnic with Randy on Saturday. They set off early
in hot sunshine. "Let's rest a while," he said sitting down in the
shade of a large tree.

"Not too long, mind, I want to get back...read the papers." She
snuggled down beside him, her attention drawn to his timepiece. As a
rule it glinted in the sunlight but today.

Today, something was different. It had lost its glass cover! She ran
her finger round the rim seeking confirmation.

Instantly alert Randy reached for his knife. The Bowie's cold steel
flashed in the sunlight. Laura grabbed his wrist: "Why did you kill
them?"

"Didn't you know, they all worked for my father. They stole from him,
took his land, took corn, cattle. My ma and your pa... but then you
wouldn't know about that... you were only a kid at the time..."

The knife moved through the air. Laura rolled quickly out of reach.
Randy lunged again but tripped awkwardly. Laura grabbed a large rock
and smashed it into his head, again, and again, reaching an orgasm of
unimaginable proportions as she did so. She raised her skirt and
massaged his blood into her thighs.

She searched him. There was only a diary that she slipped into her
pocket for later. Laura rode home leaving Randy where he lay.

Randy's records were meticulous. There were precise details of every
killing, every date and every location. Late into the night she read
the diary over and over, memorising every minute detail.

Four days later the marshal rode out to the ranch.

Laura greeted him, "Good to see you marshal, coffee's on the
stove."

"Been another killing, Miss Laura. I'm sorry to tell you..." he paused,
"its Randy Jackson."

"I must collect the Tribune," said Laura unable to hide her
excitement.

"More cuttings for the scrapbook," ma sighed, "I keep telling you, it's
not natural."
"I'll ride into town with you, marshal. I've a letter for Joe."

At the office Joe stood up slowly and came to the desk. "Joe, you read
this letter good and proper, follow my instructions to the
letter."

Laura walked out quietly and went to the marshal's office. "Marshal I'm
gonna tell you something. Joe'll be here in a minute, he'll be taking
pictures."

In her sick mind she visualised the Tribune's headlines: "Riddle of
Tilletville Killings Solved". Pictures of her leapt from every page.
"Locals shocked as Miss Laura Maitland confesses to cold-blooded
killings." Now she was the one getting all the publicity, the spotlight
was on her. She basked in its warm light!