Boot Hill Bride by Lauri Robinson Read Free Book Online Page A

Kansas
    Badlands. There wasn't a politician in the state who hadn't
    tried to get their fingers into the Quinter's pocketbooks.
    Some, Howard had to admit, were good, honest men, who
    wanted what was best for the country overall, but it seemed—
    to him anyway—that for the most part a large number of
    politicians had their own agendas and didn't really care about
    being a leader for the people they represented. In his mind,
    Populists were at the top of that list.
    "I believe we may have gotten off on the wrong foot,"
    Thurston Fulton said as his hand fell to his side.
    "I don't believe I was on my feet," Howard said.
    "Uh?"
    He stared at the other man. From what he discerned,
    Populists were little more than crooks who felt they got the
    raw end of the deal when the North won almost twenty years
    ago. These southern delinquents were still out for revenge.
    The party's main plan seemed to be some kind of sub
    treasury scheme, where the dollar was backed by silver
    instead of gold. Unfortunately, in some cases, farther east
    from his understanding, they were collecting support faster
    than a squirrel gathers acorns, but their followers were mainly
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    Boot Hill Bride
    by Lauri Robinson
    poor Missouri dirt farmers looking for aid anyway they could
    get it.
    "Oh, yes, on your feet. Yes, yes, it was a pun. I get it,"
    Thurston Fulton said after several seconds of deep thought.
    Howard squinted, forced himself not to rub at the throb
    forming in his temples again. Damn, he never had headaches.
    Yet that's what Thurston Fulton was—a God-damned walking
    headache. And it appeared he was now his father-in-law.
    Tension tugged at his spine, but he held the want to shake it
    from his shoulders.
    People often told him he was a man of few words. Howard
    didn't know if he agreed with that or not, he just never found
    too many people he wanted to talk to. He let the air pushing
    on his lungs out in a long sigh. The act left him feeling
    somewhat deflated.
    "Well, let me say, my daughter has made an excellent
    choice for a husband. I must apologize for my earlier
    behavior. It wasn't until a short time ago when your mother
    mentioned, well..." he paused briefly, then changed his trail
    of words, "Well, that I realized how perfect you are for each
    other." The man gestured across the lot, toward the building
    site with one hand. "Your hotel—Randilynn will make the
    perfect hostess. She has hosted many parties for me. During
    the time her mother was ill, she handled all of the party
    planning. And did an excellent job of it. Didn't she, Belinda?"
    Thurston glanced toward his wife.
    Howard noticed the black-haired Belinda was several years
    younger than Fulton. Not that it mattered. Furthermore, the
    amount of kohl around her eyes and the beet juice on her lips
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    Boot Hill Bride
    by Lauri Robinson
    made her look like she should be one of Danny J's girls
    instead of the wife of a man who hoped to become governor.
    "Oh, yes, yes, my dear. Randilynn is the best hostess.
    You're certainly lucky to have married her, Mr. Quinter."
    Belinda's eyelids fluttered a mile a minute as she spoke, and
    she wiggled one finger at him.
    He felt like grunting in disgust. His gaze went to Randi.
    Open mouthed, she stared at her father and step-mother with
    a look of disbelief. When she noticed he watched, she bowed
    her head and squirmed. Even her toes fidgeted. He laid a
    hand over the fingers tugging the tails of his red and black
    shirt. Her gaze lifted, moisture surrounded her eyes. The
    sight made his lips tighten in anger. He turned back to her
    father.
    "I'll ask once again. What was it you wanted to talk to my
    wife about?"
    The man looked like a little weasel the way his tongue
    darted out to wet his lips. His beady eyes danced to and fro
    while his Adam's apple worked about in his neck.
    A politician who didn't have a silver tongue, that had to be
    a first.
    "Mr. Quinter, I mean, Howard, I can call you Howard, can't
    I?" Belinda leaned