Velda Brotherton

Doaks squeezed at her jaw until her ears rang. "You know that, gal? You ain't even purty. And what do I have to show for my trouble? Paid good honest money and what do I have? Nothin' but trouble, that's what. I git through with you, you'll damn well know how to pleasure a man."
He staggered backward on the slope of the street, feet tangling. His grip loosened. She doubled both knees into her chest, kicked out, and caught him hard in the stomach.
He let out a tremendous whoosh and doubled over.
She bounded away, drinking in fresh air. Free.
Behind her he retched, the others whooped and hollered. She chose a route that would take her up the hill onto the square and raced through the dusky dark. Rounding a sharp curve in the road, she caught a second wind and took off, only to slam broadside into the haunches of a plodding horse. With a gasp she bounced off and landed flat on her backside. Momentarily breathless, she managed to roll over and scramble to her hands and knees. In another instant she had vaulted once more to her feet.
The rider, a big man dressed in buckskins, dismounted agilely and headed for her. "Here now, what's your hurry?"
A quick glance over her shoulder told her that the drunken crowd was fast approaching.
The man's silver eyes glittered, he breathed the stench of whiskey over her. Was there nowhere to go, no escape from such men?
He had a hold on her and she jerked to get away. "Let me go, you pale-eyed snake." Switching to Cherokee she spat quick, insulting words at him, but he wouldn't turn loose.