Runaway Read Free

the table in the back of the saloon. “You!” he ordered one of the men who was standing at the bar, drinking. “Go find the sheriff—and get him back here fast!”
    The man at the bar ran out the swinging doors to do what the bartender had ordered.
    Mose knew just how wrong he’d been to think Lane Madison wouldn’t find him. He had thought he’d gotten away with teaching Lane’s wife a lesson, but now as he faced his old boss, he was scared, real scared. He slowly got to his feet and turned around slowly.
    “Lane—Rick, what’s this all about?” Mose wanted to go for his gun, but he had to make his move when the time was right, or he’d be a dead man.
    “Don’t play innocent with me, Mose,” Lane ground out. “Katie’s dead.”
    “Dead?” he squeaked like the coward he was.
    “That’s right, and you’re the one who killed her.”
    “I didn’t kill her,” Mose lied. He’d thought for sure she’d been dead when he’d left her, so he had no idea how Lane could have found out that he was the one who’d raped and beaten her. Even so, the look in Lane’s eyes heightened the terror that filled him.
    “Katie lived long enough to tell me what you did,” Lane said, rage filling him. “And I’m going to see you pay for it. I’m going to enjoy watching you hang.”
    Mose knew right then he was a dead man—one way or the other. His only hope was to shoot his way out of this, so in a fierce, quick move, he went for his gun.
    But Lane had expected Mose would try to run off, and he was ready for him. When Mose went for his gun, Lane fired, and he watched in satisfaction as the drunk collapsed on the floor, moaning.
    Lane and Rick walked slowly to where Mose lay, their guns still in hand. Lane stood over him, while Rick made short order of grabbing up Mose’s gun from where he’d dropped it when he’d been hit.
    Mose looked up at Lane, quaking and trembling in terror as he clutched his bloody shoulder and cowered before him.
    “Don’t kill me! Don’t kill me!” he squealed.
    Lane stared down at the man who had so cold-bloodedly taken Katie’s life.
    He wanted him to pay for what he’d done.
    He wanted him to suffer.
    Lane’s grip on his gun tightened.
    He wanted to put an end to the drunk’s miserable, worthless life, but he managed to control himself. “Don’t worry, Mose. I’m not going to kill you.”
    Mose was stunned. He stared up at Lane wide-eyed.
    “No, I’m not going to kill you,” Lane repeated. “That would be too easy for you. I’m going to let the law deal with you. You’re going to hang.”
    “Nooo!” the coward wailed, crying and shaking in his fear.
    As he was squealing, the town’s sheriff came rushing in. He’d heard the gunfire and had drawn his revolver, ready for trouble.
    “What’s going on?” he demanded, seeing the wounded man on the floor and the stranger standing over him, gun in hand.
    “It’s all right now, Sheriff,” the bartender hurried to reassure him as he handed over the wanted poster. “Here—”
    The sheriff quickly read the description of the wanted man and then looked down at Mose in disgust.
    “Mose Harper—You’re under arrest for murder. I’m taking you in.” He glanced over at some of the other men in the bar and ordered, “You two, get him up and take him over to the jail. I’ll be right there to lock him up.”
    The men quickly did as they were told, for they knew better than to mess with the sheriff.
    Lane and Rick watched as they grabbed Mose by the arms to drag him from the saloon.
    Only when Mose had been removed from the saloon did Lane finally holster his gun. He looked at the sheriff. “Thanks.”
    The lawman nodded to him as he, too, holstered his gun. “No, thank you. We don’t need killers like him running loose in our town.”
    Rick handed over Mose’s gun to the sheriff, and then the lawman left them to see about locking the prisoner up.
    Rick looked at Lane. “I could use a drink. What about you?”
    Lane