The Lady and the Lawman Read Free Page B

Christmas goose the cook prepared every year.
After being hoisted up onto his dead cohort’s horse, she took a bit
of time to adjust herself in the saddle to get comfortable, bruised
backside smarting while Tobacco Chewer held her horse's lead and led
her to a fate unknown.
    They
rode for several hours before approaching a small town, watching it
grow in the distance. It appeared small, a few buildings and houses
dotting the flat, green landscape.
    Her
whole body ached as she shifted from side to side with the animal’s
gait. Hot and tired from riding under the intense sun, her emotions
were worn to the quick. Tears came quick to her eyes but she blinked
them away, knowing it wouldn’t do her any good. She
was going to be sold, unless God gave her a miracle. Crying wouldn’t
change that.
    The
ropes that bound her had begun to dig into her wrists long hours ago,
but she continued to try to wriggle free. Her skin, rubbed raw in
places, had become painfully sore. Sweat trickled onto the raw flesh,
making it sting all the more. Her fingers had fallen asleep despite
her effort to keep flexing them open and closed. But with the town
looming closer, and her fate about to change, her numb hands were the
least of her problems.

CHAPTER
TWO
    Grant
Masterson studied his fellow card players as he downed a shot of
whiskey in one gulp. It burned a quick path to his belly but it
didn’t quiet the pain, the anger that churned there. It was late,
he was tired, and he was stuck in a low-life saloon, gambling with
men who were th e
lowest of the low. His night couldn't get any worse.
    Croft
didn't spend much of his profits on sprucing up the place. Sawdust
coated the floors, blotting up the backwash of tobacco spit and
whiskey. The saloon girls had been around one too many times and it
showed.
    The
room was full. Men from ranches all over the area were drinking their
sorrows, or whatever else ailed them, away. And the ladies of the
night Croft provided were there to help. The combination was raucous,
the sounds of hard drinking, and in one corner that he could see, a
little slap and tickle between a randy ranch hand and a lusty
barmaid, threatened to make the headache at the base of his neck even
worse.
    “ I
don’t have enough to cover the bet,” Croft said hastily. The
saloon owner rifled through the scant dollars left in front of him.
    “ Too
bad.” Robert Dalton pulled his gun out from beneath the table.
“Bet!” He cocked the weapon and pointed it at Croft.
    Several
men watching the game stepped back and found amusement elsewhere. Grant didn’t blame them. Most of these men needed more trouble like
a hole in the head. Wishing he could just step away too, enjoy
himself, maybe in the arms of a woman who hadn't been more than
friendly with every man in a twenty mile radius. There wasn't a soft,
desirable woman like that in town. Hadn't been one in years.
    Croft
raised his hands. “Now hold on there. I don’t think—”
    Dalton
cut him off before he could say more. “You’re right Croft, you
don’t think. You listen to me,” he shouted. “I’ve already put
more than cash on the line here, damn it. Now ante up!”
    The
saloon owner jumped in his seat, startled by the tone.
    “ Sheriff,
aren’t you gonna do something about this? I’m being threatened in
my own saloon!” Croft looked to Grant for help. He shrugged. It
might be his job as the keeper of the peace to solve this problem,
but Grant had no sympathy, no motivation to help the bastard.
    If
Dalton wanted to shoot the mean old coot, it wouldn’t bother him in
the least. One less cantankerous lout to deal with in a town full of
them. In fact, he might even sleep better if Dalton did. Croft would
be dead and Dalton would hang for the crime. Seemed like an easy way
to kill two birds with one stone. Grant smiled inwardly at the
appealing thought.
    Unfortunately,
he had a star pinned to his chest and he had an oath to live up to.
No matter how much he didn’t want to