High Mountain Drifter by Jillian Hart Read Free Book Online

told her, aware of Verbena ahead of him, waiting in the hallway. She didn't exactly look at him. The lamplight shone on her, emphasizing her bruises.
    "The bounty hunter?" yet another woman asked, coming to stare out at him. This one was a strawberry blond and betrayed a hint of fear when she spotted him.
    Not unexpected. He shrugged. Feeling like a giant, he towered above the rest of the women coming up to look at him. Much more than the promised five. He blushed, feeling too rough, too uncivilized. Instinct told him to back up, head outside, get some space but he stood his ground.
    "Well, this is good news." Even with fear in her eyes, the strawberry blond gave a little sigh, as if with relief. "We are grateful to have you here, Mr. Reed. The sheriff told me all about you. That you will be able to do what he can't."
    "Milo's obligations are to the whole town, every citizen," he said, gripping his rifle, needing to defend his friend. "His duty to them has to come first. I have no such restrictions. When I hunt someone, nothing stands in my way. I don't stop until the job is done."
    "Just the man we need, then." Verbena's cane tapped against the floor as she opened one of the closed doors. "Excuse us for a moment. Mr. Reed and I need to talk."
    "Leave the door open," the strawberry blond ordered, turned on her heal and retreated back down the hall with a swish of her blue skirts.
    Zane stood there, his chest all tangled up with knots, making it hard to breath. He didn't like so many women staring up at him, wide-eyed at his guns, taking in his rough appearance. He couldn’t help how he looked, he was who he was. He'd learned to accept that a long time ago.
    Thump, thump, thump
. Verbena's pink dress ruffle swished behind her as she crossed the room. Slender shoulders, tiny waist, slim flare of her skirt. From behind she looked little and vulnerable. His gut clenched at the strip of purple bruise at the back of her slender neck, just above her dress collar. Little strands of reddish brown hair curled at her nape, wisping over the injury. He'd seen those marks before. Someone had gagged her hard or had half-strangled her to control her. His chest squeezed in sympathy, fueled his determination to protect her and her family. He followed her into the room, where it was only the two of them.
    "Well, Mr. Reed, come sit." Verbena reached an overstuffed sofa in the center of an airy, impressive library. "Make yourself comfortable."
    "This is a nice home you have here." He felt out of place, like a shadow in a room full of light. Walls of bookcases rose from the carpeted floor to the high coved ceiling. Big windows let in lots of gray daylight and views of the rainy landscape. Mountains and hills, valleys and meadows. He leaned his rifle against the wall by the door and eased deeper into the room.
    "Thank you. We inherited it. It feels pretty grand for us, but we're managing to adjust." She settled on the pretty sofa and leaned her cane against the nearby end table. In dainty pink calico, she looked soft and kind, contrite. When she raised her jeweled blue eyes to his, remorse shadowed her gaze. "Again, I'm sorry about how I treated you in town. I don't know what came over me. I'm not usually like that. In fact, I'm never like that."
    "I ruined your dress." He shrugged, crossed in front of the window, heading toward the comforting heat radiating from that big river rock fireplace. Lively flames crackled and danced, and it felt good since he'd only had time to half-thaw while in the sheriff's office.
    "It was only a dress." She hung her head. Wisps of her rich, lustrous hair fell forward, into her eyes, framing her china-doll face. "Dresses can be cleaned, repaired, replaced. They don't matter, not really. I'm truly sorry. I should give your money back."
    "Don't bother." He bit the inside of his mouth because he was in danger of losing the harsh grimace he liked to wear. A bounty hunter had to keep his tough reputation. She really was