Coyote: The Outlander (with FREE second screen experience) Read Free Page A

forward.
    “What do you want?” The statement dripped with hostility, and Coyote knew he wasn’t taking her drink order, but she feigned ignorance.
    “I’ll have a whiskey, and my partner will have a beer.” She pushed her derby up and gave the sour-faced man her most ingratiating smile. The man sneered at her, pushing the toothpick deeper in his mouth. His yellow teeth became visible under the dry lips, and he wiggled the pick between his molars.
    “What’s a pretty girl like you doing in a place like this?” The man leaned even closer to her. Coyote wrinkled her nose at the smell of old sweat and tobacco.
    “You seem to be a bit slow in understanding the situation,” she answered, struggling to keep her tone amicable. “I’m ordering drinks for my partner and myself.”
    The man shook his head and plucked a sign from the other side of the bar. He placed it in front of her. A leering grin made his sallow face appear even more unattractive. The sign was painted with thick black letters in handwriting so challenging to read it took Coyote a few seconds to realize what it said.
    No collered aloud
    Her first reaction was to laugh; she pointed at the wooden placard and said: “I don’t think that means what you think it means.”
    “It means, Missy . . . I don’t serve no niggers.” His teeth clenched on the toothpick and he hissed the words.
    Coyote felt hot blood spread from her ears to her cheeks. It took a lot to anger her to the point where she got aggressive, but her self-control was slipping. She hated that word. Her hand slid toward the pistol that hung heavy on her side. A cool hand touched her arm before she could draw, and she turned to look at Caesar’s calm face.
    “Let us go, Coyote. We are not welcome here.” His voice was soft and kind. Coyote wanted to pull away and turn on the barman. She wanted to teach him a lesson he wouldn’t soon forget, to humiliate him in front of his patrons. It wouldn’t be difficult; her tongue was sharp, and as far as she knew, there was not a soul in Indiana that was a faster draw. And yet the dark pleading eyes of the man she considered her brother changed her mind. Her hand, reaching for her weapon, froze in mid air.
    “Please?” Caesar’s hand wrapped around her wrist and pulled gently, urging her to come away. “Let us leave.”
    Coyote shot a look at the barman, who wiggled his toothpick at her. He opened his mouth partially to say something, but something in Coyote’s face, or the way she stood, must have made him reconsider, and he snapped his jaw shut. A voice inside her whispered that she could at least shoot at the sign, blow a few holes in it before they left, but Coyote knew Caesar would be disappointed if she did. This is his fight. I can’t make this about my own pride.
    The hinges of the swinging bat doors squeaked as they walked outside. Coyote’s firm step reflected the frustration she felt. Her heart pounded fast, and she cursed softly under her breath when she walked up to her black stallion, Shenanigans. The longing for a drink was even stronger now, but she wouldn’t be drinking in this sorry excuse of a town. Without another word, she mounted Shenanigans and spurred the large Gelderlander on to a trot. She didn’t speak again until the town was nothing more than tiny lights in the distance.
    “How can you stand it?” She turned to Caesar, who was riding beside her. “How can you stand these idiots ? Why wouldn’t you just let me put that stupid man in his place?”
    “Because he was in his place, Coyote.” Caesar sighed and shook his head. “Your actions would not have changed his view of the world. He would have not started serving my kind if you hurt him.”
    “Men like that need to be taught a lesson.” She inhaled deeply, her nostrils flaring.
    “It is not up to us to punish people for their beliefs, Coyote.” Caesar pulled his brown mare closer to Coyote’s black mount.
    “Why aren’t you angry about this?” She