Each Time We Love by Shirlee Busbee Read Free Book Online Page A

widened and he glanced over at
Micajah, a question in his gaze.
    Not without a little pride, Micajah smiled faintly and dipped
his head.
    The stranger reached for his glass and in one swift gulp
swallowed the contents. A shudder went through his slim frame as the
fiery whiskey seared its way down his throat. Carefully setting the
glass down, he looked at Micajah and said bluntly, "There is a man I
wish you to, er, remove from my path. He is a wealthy man,
well-thought-of in Natchez and not without powerful connections."
    "Adam St. Clair?" Micajah asked, already calculating how much
he could squeeze out of the man for the deed. Afterward, he might even
be able to make the pigeon pay a tidy sum to keep the secret between
them.
    The man nodded, his fair hair gleaming faintly in the
flickering light. He glanced around nervously, and seeing that no one
was nearby, he leaned forward and said intently, "I will be willing to
pay you four thousand dollars in gold. Two thousand now and the
remainder when the job is done."
    Micajah took a long, slow sip of his whiskey, never revealing
that he was impressed by the sum. "Why do you want him killed?" he
inquired thoughtfully. "Murder's a drastic solution. What'd he do to
you?"
    The man's lips thinned. "I don't think that it is any of your
business."
    A cold expression in his pale blue eyes, Micajah said flatly,
"Then find someone else to do your killing for you."
    The stranger sighed. "There is a woman involved. He has her,
but I don't want him to keep her. It is that simple."
    Satisfied with the answer, Micajah poured himself and the
others another whiskey. Raising his glass, he muttered, "Here's to the
demise of Adam St. Clair!"
    All three men drank to Micajah's deadly toast. Putting his
glass down on the rough pine table, Yates asked bluntly, "How soon do I
get the money?"
    "Don't you want to know anything about him? Where he lives?"
the stranger asked uneasily, suddenly wondering if his money wasn't
simply going to disappear the instant it reached Micajah's grubby hands.
    Micajah smiled coldly. "You can tell me all about him once you
tell me how soon I get that two thousand."
    "I can arrange for you to have it tomorrow morning," the man
admitted, uncertainty clear in his eyes.
    "Good! Meet me at Spanish Lick tomorrow morning at eleven with
the money… and before another week has gone by, your Mr. St. Clair will
be singing with the angels!" Micajah grinned darkly. "Or dancing with
the devil!"
    After the stranger departed, Micajah and Elliot sat there
discussing their new employer. Elliot admitted he had never seen him
before, nor did he know his name, but he had the impression that the
man was a stranger to these parts. They speculated on that for a bit
longer, but decided it didn't matter—as long as he paid them the money,
they didn't care who he was! With hardly a pause, they switched the
conversation to the more enjoyable subject of how they would split the
money.
    "Fifty-fifty, as usual?" Elliot asked eagerly.
    Micajah flashed him an astounded look. "When I have to do all
the work?" he demanded scathingly. "All you did was steer the pigeon to
me!"
    Elliot grinned. "Can't blame a man for trying!
Seventy-five/twenty-five?"
    "That's better," Micajah said, nodding his unkempt head. "Now
tell me what's been happening while I've been gone."
    The two men talked for some time, finishing off the bottle of
whiskey. Eventually they parted, and with a slightly unsteady step,
Micajah began to make his way toward the boardinghouse that he used
whenever he was in the area.
    Natchez-under-the-Hill was a dangerous, deadly place, even for
rogues like Micajah and as he half stumbled, half walked down one of
the twisting, narrow alleys, he gradually became aware that someone was
furtively dogging his footsteps. At once he fumbled for his knife and
cursed violently under his breath when he remembered that he had
dropped it at O'Rourke's Tavern. His pistol was in his saddlebag back
at the livery