Desperate Hearts Read Free

stick to sellin’
your beer, Sparks, and there won’t be any fuss,” the scar-faced Clem
warned, pointing his finger in Chester’s face. “We found this
young’un hangin’ around outside, all curiouslike. We aim to oblige
him and show him what a man does in a saloon.”
    “ I told you I was waitin’
for someone,” the kid protested. Clem tightened his hold on the
back of the boy’s shirt and shook him the way a dog would a rag
doll.
    “ Hell, if you want to stick
with that story, son, that’s fine. We was all greenhorns once
ourselves. Time you learned about life. Here, have another drink.”
Clem grabbed the whiskey bottle from the bar, sloshed another shot
into the youngster’s glass, and repeated the force feeding. Half
the liquor dribbled down the front of the kid’s shirt.
    “ Now, let’s see if one of
Chester’s girls don’t have time to make you a man proper. You’re
such a little spud, she’ll probably let you dip for honey cheap.
Anyway, it ain’t good for a man not to get a leg across a gal now
and then.”
    Clem scanned the barroom and spotted a
saloon girl. “Gracie! Hey, Gracie! Look what we brung you!”
    Rankin recognized the long-limbed painted
female who had occupied Sawyer Clark’s lap earlier. Seeing the
youngster, she disentangled herself from her chair and sashayed
over.
    “ Hi there, boys. Where’d
you get this little rabbit?”
    “ You got a few minutes for
him, don’t you, Gracie?”
    “ Well, sure. I like ’em
young. They’re more polite. And they’re quick." She flipped her
shawl over her shoulder and surveyed her prospective customer.
“This one looks a mite scared, but we’ll get along just fine.” She
took his hand to pull him along.
    The boy renewed his efforts to get away,
kicking over a spittoon in the process. But the miners only laughed
again and pushed him toward the stairs. Gracie stopped to take his
face between her hands, and leaned in to kiss him.
    This had gone far enough, in Rankin’s
opinion. Disgusted, he scanned the saloon. While the customers in
the Magnolia watched with ardent interest, no one appeared inclined
to break this up. The two drunks who had been watching him from the
corner looked on with guarded interest but didn’t move. Damned
cowards, all of them. Obviously, Clem and his gang were just
fearsome enough to keep the men in this place from defending a
scared, unarmed kid. When the miners passed Rankin’s table, he
pushed back his chair and stood.
    “ Let the boy
go.”
    Gracie turned toward Rankin and uttered a
squeak. She looked at the boy again, as if really seeing him for
the first time. She dropped his hand and backed away.
    Clem pushed his battered hat farther down on
his big, square head. “You’d best mind your own bidness, stranger.
We’re just having some fun with the little feller.”
    Rankin considered the youth. His face was
the color of chalk. “He doesn’t seem like he’s having fun. Find
someone closer to your own size to push around.”
    Clem looked him up and down. A sour, knowing
grin split his scarred face, revealing rotten teeth. “I guess that
wouldn’t be you, either, would it, runt?”
    Like the wind sighing around the corners of
a house, a quiet, wordless moan rolled through the spectators. At
the surrounding tables, Rankin was aware of people rising and
inching toward the door before profound silence blanketed the
saloon. Sawyer Clark’s smirk flashed through his mind.
    He stepped closer, staring unblinkingly into
the miner’s ugly face. Clem didn’t blink either.
    Rankin heard Chester clear
his throat again, harshly, as though he had a quail egg stuck in
it. “Clem, this here is Jace Rankin—you know, the bounty hunter . He killed
a man in here today.”
    Rankin felt all eyes focus on him, though
his own gaze remained fixed on the miner.
    “ I ain’t scairt of no
son-of-a-bitchin’ bounty hunter,” Clem declared, but his eyelids
twitched.
    “ You should be,” Rankin
whispered, and smiled