Texas Lucky Read Free Page B

wide awake but could not bring herself to go outside.
    Every so often there was more gunfire. More shouting and yelling. Horses thundering through town and women screaming as they snatched their children out of the street to safety.
    The day passed.
    Tess knew she could not continue hiding in her room. She had to have food.
    Finally, toward dusk, she tied on her bonnet, eased open the door, and stepped into the dark hall.
    Lester was not at his desk.
    Good.
    She had lost count of the number of times he had knocked on her door wanting to know if she needed anything.
    He had even stood there and given her a description of the murder Curt Hammond had committed, even though she did not want to hear it.
    Hammond, Lester said, had picked a fight with Abe, then shot him in cold blood.
    Tess supposed things like that happened all the time and wished she could close her eyes and open them to find it was all a nightmare, that she was back home, her world neat and orderly as it had been before the war…before her father came home to die after sealing her fate.
    She crept on down the dimly lit hallway, hoping she would not encounter some man looking for his evening’s pleasure.
    Reaching the boardwalk, she saw that the street was fairly deserted. People were having supper, she supposed, which was what she desperately wanted to do.
    She looked around for a café but did not see one.
    The church steeple loomed in the distance.
    She began walking in that direction. The minister would help her. He was probably married, and his wife would feed her. Maybe they would even invite her to stay in their house until she could figure out what to do next.
    Threatening clouds were approaching from the distant mountains. A brisk wind was blowing, whipping her skirt about her ankles. She stumbled on the uneven planks. Sand was blowing in her eyes, and she blinked furiously, unable to see where she was going. It was a terrible time to be out, and now she knew that was the reason no one was else was about.
    The shops were all closed, even the trading post, where she gazed through the window longingly at a basket of apples. Oh, why hadn’t she gone out earlier? she chided herself. Why did she have to be such a willy-nilly? Probably if hunger hadn’t driven her, she’d have stayed holed up forever.
    That was something that greatly bothered Tess about herself—her cowardice. For a longtime, she had excused it as merely being shy, but then Perry had accused her of letting people walk all over her, never standing up for herself. He cited an example of how the butcher had once sold her spoiled meat, and she’d not gone back to complain, wanting to avoid confrontation.
    There were other examples, as well, but Tess had not worried about it. She did not like arguing; instead she sought to get along with everyone, and had always tried to be a good and obedient daughter, never crossing her father over anything.
    Until he sold her to Saul Beckwith.
    She supposed she should feel some kind of sadness over Saul Beckwith’s death but couldn’t. After all, she had not known him, and though it was unfortunate he had died so uselessly and tragically, the only sorrow she felt was for herself and her predicament.
    She had thought a lot about Curt Hammond and guiltily had to admit to a moment of excitement when she had believed he was the man she was to marry. Despite what he was—a killer—in the scant moments they’d had together, she had found him interesting and appealing.
    Strange, too, that she could feel remorse over him but not for Saul Beckwith.
    But maybe, she reasoned, that had to do with wondering whether she should have kept still and let him get away instead of acting like a hysterical fool, as she was prone to do when things went awry.
    Her aunt had even taunted her when she put her on the stagecoach that it was a good thing Saul Beckwith would be unable to get his money back. When he found out how nerveless she was, he’d know she was not suited for