RenegadeHeart Read Free Page A

into their heads to try and
help a convicted man escape his fate. Patrick Murphy, the town’s previous
lawman, had been killed en route to Yuma, shot down in cold blood by his
prisoner’s brother. Fortunately, such things were rare, but they did happen.
    Resolutely, Rachel put such thoughts from her mind. Slipping
out of her blue flannel night-rail, she dressed quickly and headed downstairs
to prepare breakfast for herself and her father.
    She found six-year-old Amy Cahill waiting for her in the
kitchen. Amy was a frequent visitor at the Lazy H. Her uncle, Joe Cahill, was
foreman of the Halloran ranch.
    “Good morning, Amy,” Rachel said cheerfully as she tousled
the girl’s blonde curls.
    “You slept late,” Amy remarked. “Are we making pies today?”
    “If you like.” Rachel spread a clean cloth over the kitchen
table and put the water on for coffee. “You’ll have to pick some berries
though. I’m fresh out.”
    “Can I pick them now?”
    “Have you had breakfast yet?”
    “At home,” Amy said, scooping up the berry basket from a
shelf in the pantry. “Mama made pancakes.”
    “Be careful,” Rachel cautioned as Amy skipped out the back
door.
    “I will,” Amy replied, her tone implying that was a warning
she heard frequently.
    The berry bushes were located behind the smokehouse. It was
a long walk, but Amy didn’t mind. Skipping along, she glanced at the sand hills
located some miles away. She had been admonished time and again not to go
there, but she promised herself that one day she would explore the forbidden
mountains of sand.
    But now, pies were uppermost in her mind. The bushes were
heavy with fruit and Amy hummed softly as she moved from bush to bush,
collecting blackberries. Her basket was nearly full when she found the man. He
was lying in a shallow hole in the ground, partially covered with dead leaves.
    Startled, Amy stared at the man for a long time, wondering
if he were dead. He looked like he was asleep, but then, her best friend, Joe
Bob Somers, said that was how dead people looked, like they were sleeping, so
how was a girl to know? The man lay so still, Amy decided he had to be dead,
and all the scary stories she had ever heard about ghosts and haunts made her
shiver with apprehension.
    She was about to turn and run for home when the man rolled
over and she found herself staring into a pair of pain-glazed yellow eyes.
    “Are you all right, mister?” Amy queried tremulously.
Slowly, she began to back away from the man, surprised to find she was more
afraid of him now that she knew he was alive than she had been when she thought
he was dead.
    “Need help,” the man rasped. He tried to sit up, but fell
back heavily. His face went white beneath its tan. “Water—”
    “Sure, mister. Just lie still and I’ll bring help. Honest I
will!”
    But the man was unconscious again and did not hear her.
    Rachel held the front door open as Joe Cahill and two of the
Lazy H cowhands carried the unconscious man into the house. Twenty minutes
earlier, Amy had run into the kitchen shouting, “A man, Rachel! I found a man
in the berry bushes. I thought he was dead, but he wasn’t!”
    Once Rachel had calmed the excited child down, she had
learned that Amy had first gone to her uncle and that Cahill was even then
bringing the man to the house.
    Rachel looked at the stranger’s face as he was carried
inside. Who was he? Where had he come from?
    “He’s bad hurt,” Cahill remarked.
    “Take him into the spare bedroom,” Rachel said. Frowning,
she went down the narrow hallway ahead of the men. Turning left, she entered
the spare bedroom located at the end of the hall and quickly turned back the
bedclothes.
    “Don’t know if he’s gonna make it,” Cahill muttered as the
cowhands laid the injured man on the bed. “That bullet wound looks like it’s
festering.”
    “It’s in God’s hands,” Rachel murmured. “All we can do is
patch him up and hope for the best.”
    Logan Tyree stirred