Taken by the Cowboy Read Free Page A

through the puddles to try and escape.
    Boom!
Another
gunshot ripped through the night. Her heart exploded with fear, and
she tripped backwards over a plank in the street. Down she went,
splashing into a puddle on her backside. No sooner than her butt
began to throb, she looked up to see a man falling out of a second
story window!
    He dropped onto the
over-hanging roof and rolled straight toward her. Jessica scrambled
to her feet and slipped through the slick muck, barely escaping the
plummeting man's path. Just as she slid out of the way, he landed
heavily in front of her, splashing muddy water onto her cheeks. A
second later, a metal object dropped into a puddle beside her.
    "Sir!" she hollered,
dropping to her hands and knees to help him. "Are you all
right?"
    He was face down in the
mud, and Jessica was just about to roll him over when the saloon
doors swung open, smacking against the outside wall. Men and women
poured out and gathered on the boardwalk to stare at her in shocked
silence.
    "What in God's name
happened?" someone asked.
    “This man fell out of a
window,” Jessica replied. “He needs help.”
    The stranger ran toward
her and together, they rolled the injured man onto his back.
Jessica stared in horror at his face. A clean bullet hole gaped
between his eyes, and blood trickled down his nose.
    “Dear Lord,” the
stranger said. He stood up and quickly backed away.
    “Somebody call 911!”
Jessica shouted. She pressed her ear to the man’s chest to listen
for a heartbeat. When she heard nothing, she knew there was no
hope, but she still wanted an ambulance. A cop car, too.
    If there was such a
thing in this backward place.
    “Will somebody call an
ambulance?” she shouted in frustration.
    “Now...just be calm,
miss,” the stranger said. “We don't want any trouble.”
    “What are you talking
about?” she replied. “I don't want to cause trouble. I’m trying to
help him. Doesn’t anyone have a cell phone?”
    That particular request
was met with blank stares.
    “I saw her wavin’ a gun
around like some kind of lunatic!” someone offered.
    “I wasn’t waving a
gun,” she explained. “I was trying to kill a June bug."
    There was a series of
'oohs' and 'ahs' from the crowd as everyone backed away in
unison.
    Realizing she was
quickly becoming a primary suspect in this man’s murder, Jessica
raised both hands in the air and stood. "Look, everyone needs to
stay calm. It wasn't me. I was just trying to help him."
    "Do you know who this
is?" the stranger asked.
    Jessica shook her head.
“No.”
    "That's Left Hand Lou!"
someone called out from the crowd.
    Before Jessica had a
chance to comprehend what this meant, people rushed over to get a
look at the corpse.
    "He's wanted in three
states!" someone hollered. "You just killed the fastest draw this
side of the Mississippi!"
    What did they think she
had done? She hadn't shot him! And what did they mean—
the
fastest draw this side of the Mississippi
? This wasn’t
Gunsmoke
, for pity’s sake.
    "Wait a minute,” she
said. “Seriously. There’s been a mistake.”
    Just then, a deep voice
cut through the commotion. "Can I ask what's going on in this
little gathering of yours?"
    Unable to discern from
where the voice had come, she looked all around through the
darkness.
    "Ma’am? I asked you a
question." The crowd parted, clearing a wide path for the inquiring
man to approach. Jessica was finally able to get a glimpse at him,
although the brim of his black hat shadowed his face from the dim
lantern light spilling out of the saloon.
    He moved slowly toward
her, and she was taken aback by how handsome he was, with dark
hair, blue eyes, and a fit, muscular build.
    Closing the distance
between them, he pushed his open black coat to the side. His
purpose was clear as he rested his large hand on an ivory-handled
revolver holstered to his leather gun belt.
    His trousers—also
black—were snug and worn at the knees, and his boots were spurred.
Jessica