A Lady in Defiance Read Free

moment that the
rear wheel jumped back up on the road, a cracking, shattering sound exploded
from the front of the wagon. In a blur of a motion, the mule closest to the
ledge and Sampson broke apart; half the yoke hung from the mule’s harness and
it swung round like a hammer, catching John in the side of the head. Naomi saw
in a split second the look in his eyes, that he knew what was coming, but there
was no stopping it. He and the mule, loosed so suddenly from the wagon tongue
and harness, simply launched like projectiles over the ledge.
    Naomi saw John reaching
out for her but before she could even react, he disappeared over the ledge.
    She heard her sisters
scream. Or was that her? She heard the mule’s panicked, desperate braying and
then…silence.
     

 
     
    Chapter 1
     
    Charles McIntyre stared placidly at his cards and stifled a
yawn. He had not expected young Isaac Whicker to present such an entertaining
challenge. Their little game had started at three and by seven they were still
playing, though in a nearly empty saloon. This was the calm before the Saturday
night gale.
    Absently noting the low rumble of thunder, McIntyre decided
it was time to finish the game. He had better things to do. Glancing across the
table at his sallow-looking, gangly opponent, he could see the boy swaying and
blinking as he fought against the effects of the whiskey. Hunched bleary-eyed
over his cards, Whicker had fought surprisingly well to keep from losing his
mercantile, but he’d never really stood a chance. McIntyre needed the store
back and would have it back if he had to crush Isaac Whicker like a bug to get
it.
    Ironically, he realized, that wasn’t the best way to start
this new venture of making Defiance respectable , as the railroad gents
had termed it. A lawless town would be a trackless town, they warned. Fine. Get
a few legitimate businesses running, calm the town down, put a nice hotel where
the mercantile is. Then the great American iron horse would come steaming into
Defiance, bringing with it opportunity, success and wealth. Not to mention,
carrying his gold away to the mint in Denver.
    Oh, he knew he could simply bribe the right people, grease
the wheels as it were, but he preferred to seek that as a last option. He even
had the funds now to build his own railroad, if he desired, but McIntyre liked
his money right where it was–in his own pockets. For the time being, he’d
decided to take the easy road.
    Ending the game with more boredom than ceremony, he laid down
his cards. A royal flush. He thought he heard Whicker’s breath catch and looked
up. The boy had turned impossibly pale and his blond hair looked suddenly dull
and lifeless, like that of an eighty-year-old man. The tiniest speck of
compassion attempted to make itself known to McIntyre, but he irritably flicked
it away, like a greasy crumb on his silk vest.
    Scratching his thin, black, and perfectly trimmed beard, he
leaned back in his chair. “Unless you can beat that, I own the mercantile.”
    Whicker shook his head and slowly placed his cards face down
on the table. “No,” he whispered, “I don’t reckon I can.”
    Satisfied that was an admission of surrender, McIntyre rose
to his feet. This game was over and he was ready to spend some time with the
intoxicating Rose, catnapping in his bed. “You played a good game, Whicker,” he
drawled in a deceptively charming Georgia accent. “The best I’ve had in some
time, but you were destined to lose. I’ll give you forty-eight hours to clear
out. As we agreed, the inventory and gold stake are mine. You may keep all of
your personal effects, including the wagon and your horse.”
    That last was overly generous, but taking a man’s horse was
just plain mean and McIntyre did not consider himself that
callous−although he was quite sure Rose would have something to say about
it. That feisty Mexican wench held on to things with the death grip of a
mountain lion. Whicker replied only with a