Peacemaker (9780698140820) Read Free Page B

to his hairline. He stood up from his stool, revealing that he towered a good four inches over Caleb and weighed a good deal less. Good Lord, the man was gangly. “Um . . . er . . . six bits.” Caleb counted out the seventy-five cents from his wallet, pushing them across the countertop. The storekeeper bit one, then dropped them into his till and took his seat again.
    Caleb leaned his elbows on the counter. “Can I ask you something, sir?”
    â€œYou can always ask.” There was caution in his voice, but Caleb read curiosity in the set of his lanky shoulders.
    â€œWhy is everyone in this town treating me like I’m about to eat their children?”
    At least the tall man had the good grace to blush. “Well, sir . . . To be perfectly frank, you’re new, and no one really knows you yet. But the last Peacemaker . . . he made it real clear that he wasn’t required to pay for anything. Which was fine, really! ’Cause this close to Indian territory, we surely appreciate all you do for us. But . . . sometimes maybe he took a bit more than folks was really comfortable with, you understand?”
    â€œYeah, I understand.” Caleb gritted his teeth. It explained a lot about the reception he’d received all over the circuit. “Maybe you could do me a favor and let folks know that I’m the new Peacemaker, and I pay my own way.”
    The old storekeeper’s face broke into a slow smile, like he could scarcely believe his good fortune. Good gossip was better than a bag of gold dust, if everyone came to see what the storekeeper knew. “Yessir. I could do that.” He offered his hand. “Hector Pratt.”
    â€œCaleb Marcus.” There it was, the tingle of faint power just beneath the skin. More than Teddy at the tavern, but still relatively average. Caleb often wondered what people felt when they shook his hand.
    â€œWell, Agent Marcus.” The storekeeper offered him a jar of lemon drops. “Welcome to Hope.”

Chapter 2
    Caleb had never met Donovan Hazard, but he already knew he didn’t like the man. He sat at the bar, sipped his coffee, smoked a cigarillo, and listened to Teddy MacGregor expound on the life and times of the previous Peacemaker for the borderlands region, and he developed a quiet seething hatred.
    â€œSo whatever happened ta the mon? We just got word a few weeks ago that a new agent would be takin’ his place.” Teddy, like most good bartenders, seemed content to spread whatever knowledge he’d gleaned.
    â€œHe was at the Little Bighorn.” Caleb took a swig of his coffee. The urge to grimace had passed finally, but the coffee was nearly mud it was so dark. “Scoured.”
    Teddy winced. “I cannae say I liked the mon, but I wouldnae wish that on anyone.”
    The Peacemaker nodded his agreement, and whispered the word
vonk
to himself, channeling a small bit of power into his fingertips. The tingles were pleasant on his skin and discharged in a static spark when he touched the metal bar rail. “But for the grace of God, and all that.”
    â€œThat’s the truth of it there.” Teddy raised his glass of water in respect. “So what brings you out here? I cannae imagine this is a route you’d pick, given the choice.”
    â€œEven the frontier needs law. I swore an oath to uphold that law.” That was the polite answer to that question, but as Caleb finished his coffee and pondered the twists of fate that had put him here, he couldn’t help but feel the glimmer of bitterness deep in his chest. “I was an artillery captain in the war. Got injured.” He gestured to the vicious scar down his face. “By the time I was on my feet again, the war was over and the president was forming up this new law enforcement organization. I thought it would be a good place for me to be helpful.”
    To say he’d been injured was an