The Gunslinger Read Free Page A

him. Everyone in town believed she deserved that sort of treatment.
    Toby strained to heft the man. Wilder’s hat tumbled off his head to reveal a riot of ash blond curls. His hair looked incredibly soft, like Toby’s had as a baby. She hadn’t expected that of a man who killed others to make money. Unconscious, his face completely relaxed, he looked young, much younger than she’d originally thought he was.
    â€œHelp me, Lil,” Toby pleaded with labored breaths.
    How could she explain her dilemma to her innocent brother? What sort of example would she be setting if she left him to die? She couldn’t control this man’s actions. She could only control her own. Giving Toby a sharp nod, she bent to help her brother carry the hired gun into the house.
    T HE RAGING FIRE burned through his shoulder. Chance wanted to stay huddled behind the wall of agony, but the softness beckoned him, touched him, spoke to him.
    He struggled to open his eyes. He was in a room he didn’t recognize, beneath a quilt that didn’t belong to him. His right shoulder was swathed in bandages. The woman sat on the edge of the bed, patting a warm damp cloth over his bare chest, humming a tune—“Red River Valley.” Ruby shadows shimmered over her hair. He decided the muted shades were caused by the flame from the lamp sitting on the bedside table. She appeared young and innocent, too innocent to be an old man’s whore. He knew all about Jack Ward because the man’s family had paid him to come to Lonesome.
    â€œWhat’s Lil short for?” he croaked.
    Her hand stilled, right above his pounding heart. “Lillian. Lillian Madison.”
    â€œPretty name.” A tinge of scarlet crept into her cheeks, and he knew he could easily drown within the fiery blue depths of her eyes if he wasn’t careful. Fortunately, experience had tempered him into cautiousness.
    â€œYou should have told someone you’d been shot,” she scolded, as though he were a child to be looked after.
    â€œWould have brought out the vultures,” he said wearily.
    Her delicate brows knit together. “The vultures?”
    â€œMen looking to gain a quick reputation. It wouldn’t have mattered that I was bleeding like a stuck pig. Killing me is killing me.”
    She drew back her shoulders. “Yes, I suppose it would be quite an accomplishment to shoot the fastest gun west of the Mississippi.”
    With difficulty, he rolled his head from side to side. He didn’t know why he wanted her to understand, but it seemed important that she know the truth—or at least part of it. “I’m not fast at all.”
    â€œThen how in heaven’s name did you gain your reputation?”
    â€œI’m deadly accurate.”
    She bolted from the bed, the movement jarring his shoulder, sending shards of agony ricocheting through it. Groaning low, he slammed his eyes closed and gritted his teeth, waiting for the wave of pain to ease. He concentrated on the steady staccato beat of her heels as she paced the floor. In each step, he heard the anger, frustration, and disappointment. Then the pacing came to an abrupt stop. He opened his eyes, knowing what she would say before she spoke the words.
    â€œAs soon as you’re strong enough, I want you off my property.”
    She strode from the room in a flurry of whispering skirts. He sank further into the softness of the bed. The pain had shifted from his shoulder to his heart, the incredible ache almost unbearable.
    But he would bear it as he had since he was fourteen. He’d live with the agony, the guilt, and the loneliness . . . until the day that he came upon a man who was more accurate than he was.
    Closing his eyes, he drifted into the welcome oblivion where the past was merely a shrouded mist.
    â€œ I S HE GONNA die, Lil?” Toby asked.
    Lillian studied the man lying in her bed. When he awoke earlier, she’d thought he was