The Reluctant Hero Read Free Page A

use the two bits for that, but in the way of children, the boy had moved on to other things. “Sammy runned away.”
    Matt lifted his gaze to Lanetta.
    â€œThe dog,” she said. “We haven’t seen him since . . .”
    He could see her struggling with the words. “Since that awful day?” he finished for her.
    She nodded.
    â€œIf he shows up, I’ll see he’s taken care of.”
    â€œWhen something like this happens, I guess everybody feels like running away,” she said.
    That was a fact. Sometimes the hardest part was staying.
    He unfolded his body and met her gaze. “You’re not running away. There’s just nothing here for you now.”
    Reaching out, she squeezed his hand and gave him a tremulous smile. “Thank you, Matt. Thank you for everything.”
    â€œYou take care now, Lanetta.”
    She grabbed her boys’ hands, spun on her heel, and rushed toward the stagecoach.
    â€œWhy, Sheriff, you’re a liar.”
    Matt grimaced. He’d forgotten the dang dime novel writer was standing behind him.
    â€œYou didn’t go to get that reward money for yourself. You went to get it for her. You are a hero.”
    He spun around, disgusted with the pleased expression on her face, as though she thought she had him all figured out.
    â€œIf I was a hero, her husband would still be alive.”
    With that he retreated into his office, slamming the door in his wake.

Two

    The difference between right and wrong, good and evil, was branded on his soul.
    â€”From Tex Knight in Pursuit of Justice
by Andrea Jackson

    Pacing within her hotel room, Andrea Jackson could barely contain her excitement.
    She’d found him at long last. Her hero.
    Reluctant though he may be, she had no doubt that he was the one. The one she’d been searching for. He stood tall and straight, and she could envision him sitting just as tall and straight in the saddle. His black pants hugged thighs that no doubt spent a good deal of time guiding a horse. He wore a black jacket over his white shirt, leaving his gun barely visible, but his hand had been at his side, curled slightly as though with the slightest provocation, it could grab the gun and have it accurately aimed, possibly even fired, before she had time to blink.
    When he’d removed his hat, his midnight black hair had fallen across his brow, landing just above his incredibly deep brown eyes. Smoldering eyes. Without compunction or embarrassment, he seemed to assess every aspect of her being, as though cataloging her features to memory. She thought any desperado caught by his intimidating stare would surrender on the spot, without hesitation, without a gun being drawn or a bullet being fired.
    The Ace in the Hole Gang being a notable exception.
    She’d certainly thought twice about staying in front of him, and it had taken every ounce of courage she possessed not to back up and off the boardwalk, not to head for the street and the hotel when he’d tipped back his hat and pinned her with his hard glare.
    But she’d reminded herself that he was the good guy. Not that the features of his face revealed even a hint of goodness.
    His thick mustache had framed a mouth that didn’t seem prone to smiling, but she had little doubt that it did its fair share of kissing. He had an animal magnetism that drew her in even as it held her at bay. Dark, feral, dangerous.
    Her heart was only just now stopping its rapid thudding. He’d unsettled her more than she wanted to admit. She hadn’t been this flustered since the founders of the bank where her father had served as president had knocked on her door to announce that following his death, they’d discovered he’d been swindling funds. They’d threatened to take her house, everything she owned, put her and her aging mother on the street, and smear her family’s good name unless Andrea was willing to repay what he had taken. She was willing.