Bleeding Texas by William W. Johnstone Read Free Book Online Page A

truth.
    Instead she said, “I wish everybody could just settle things and get along. If this turns into a range war, I . . . I don’t know what’s going to happen.”
    Lee knew. If a range war broke out, people would die. There was no getting around it. Creels and Fontaines both, more than likely.
    Crazy ideas had started to percolate in his head lately. He wished that both families could get together at a wedding.
    Instead it was a lot more likely that funerals would continue to keep them apart.
    He put that grim thought out of his head and cupped a hand under Samantha’s chin.
    â€œYou got your dress picked out for the social?” he asked her.
    That put a smile on her face. She said, “Yes, I do. It’s really pretty.”
    â€œGood, because I intend to dance with the prettiest girl there.”
    â€œYou mean Lauralee Parker?”
    â€œNot hardly,” he said with a grin. “I’m lookin’ at the prettiest girl.”
    â€œI don’t know, Lee,” she said as she grew solemn. “It seems like if we were to dance together, it would be just asking for trouble.”
    â€œTown’s supposed to be neutral ground, especially at something like a social.”
    â€œI know, but I’m just not sure how my brothers would react.”
    â€œWell, we’ll wait and see how things go,” he told her in an attempt to ease her mind.
    But make no mistake about it, he thought, he was going to dance with Samantha Fontaine.
    And anybody who didn’t like it could go to hell—especially if his name was Fontaine, too!

CHAPTER 7
    Riders on horseback, couples in buggies, families in wagons, all began to converge on the town of Bear Creek one evening several days later. Twice a year the town held a social that featured food, music, and dancing, and people from miles around, from Hallettsville all the way down to Victoria, attended.
    The festivities were held at the Bear Creek School. The students’ desks and benches were carried out to clear the floor for dancing. A group of fiddlers and guitar players set up shop where the teacher normally stood. To one side of the room was a table with a big punch bowl on it. Marshal Jonas Haltom and his deputies would take turns guarding the punch all evening to make sure no cowboy with a flask of Who-hit-John tried to spike it.
    Another table held an assortment of pies and cakes baked by the ladies of the town. They would be auctioned off to raise money for the school. The mayor would probably make a speech, too.
    But the dancing was what drew most people—other than the Baptists, of course. And even some of them figured the good Lord would forgive them if they backslid a little, as long as it was only twice a year.
    Bo wore his usual dark trousers and long dark coat over a white shirt and string tie. Scratch had traded his buckskins for a tan suit, and he sported a string tie, as well.
    â€œDon’t we look like a couple of Kansas City dudes?” Scratch asked as they stood along one of the walls, sipping too-sweet red punch from tin cups.
    â€œSpeak for yourself,” Bo said. “This is what I wear most of the time.”
    â€œYeah, but you got your hair slicked down more than usual. I don’t reckon you really needed to do that to impress Lauralee.”
    â€œI don’t care whether I impress Lauralee.”
    â€œWell, I think she’s tryin’ to impress you. And everybody else in the place, to boot.”
    It was true that Lauralee Parker was attracting a lot of attention. That blue dress had been so skillfully repaired that it was impossible to tell it had ever been torn. Her blond curls were piled up in an elaborate arrangement, and her face, with a minimum of paint, glowed with a natural beauty.
    The dancing hadn’t started yet, so at the moment Lauralee stood talking to some of the women from the town. Not for the first time, Bo admired her ability to win folks over. In a lot of