McLeod, Anitra Lynn - Dirty Cowboy (Siren Publishing Classic ManLove) by McLeod-Anitra-Lynn Read Free Book Online Page B

forward when Everett stopped the oxen.
    As much as he wanted to keep plowing forward, he knew that would only aggravate the situation. Cleverly, the man had placed himself dead in their path. Loose sand lined one side of the trail and a ditch lined the other. If they tried to move aside, they’d likely get stranded. Everett knew the man had timed his arrival to get them to this spot.
    Now the man’s indistinct features became clear. He was tall in the saddle of a roan horse. Grit made him look swarthier than he was. At one time, his hat had been light brown, but now it was so caked with sweat and dust it was almost black. His eyes were shifty, his clothing was as battered as his hat, and the cruel slash of his lips indicated a man who only smiled when he was hurting another. In his hand, lying loosely across his lap, was a gun. Everett couldn’t tell what kind the pistol was, but he figured it didn’t much matter. If it was loaded, and the man was a half-decent shot, he could ventilate them in quick order.
    “I don’t want no trouble,” the man said.
    Everett’s heart sank. If this man was just a scout or a man traveling the other way, he would just tip his hat and toss a greeting. The only man who said he didn’t want trouble was a man aiming to make some.
    “Fine by us,” Everett offered evenly.
    “Toss out your weapons.”
    “Ain’t got none.” Everett showed his empty hands.
    Dalton shrugged but kept his hands in his lap.
    The man’s eyes narrowed. He looked them over real careful like, but what seemed to sell him on the idea was Dalton’s bare feet.
    “Where are your boots, boy?” Gone was the suspicious frown. In its place bloomed a cruel grin. Just as Everett predicted, he only smiled when he was picking on another. This man looked a lot like the man who had put the scar under Everett’s chin. That bully had the same twisted smile that didn’t indicate a welcome, but a show of aggression. “I asked where are your boots, boy?”
    Dalton shrugged.
    “Ya mute, boy?” The man lifted the gun, pointing it casually at Dalton.
    To Everett the barrel looked enormous. Wide and long, a barrel like that had bullets that could rip a hole in them big enough to stand in. Everett’s heart pounded so hard his vision wobbled. He wanted to reach out and clasp Dalton’s hand, but he didn’t dare move a muscle.
    “We ain’t got no money. If you want some grub, we’re happy to share, but that’s about all we got,” Everett said, hoping to draw the man’s attention off Dalton. What he’d said was no lie. Everett would give him everything he had if he could just walk away with Dalton.
    “Not surprising, considering the man don’t have any boots.”
    At that, Everett thought that maybe their sad state would set the man’s sights on the next target.
    “Go ahead and climb down off of there.”
    No such luck. Seemed he was hell-bent on taking what little they did have. Everett kept his face impassive as he considered. In order to take their wagon, this man would have to tie off his horse to the back, and climb up. When he did, he’d be vulnerable. That would be the time to make their move. Without the wagon for travel and shelter, they wouldn’t last two days out here. Just when he was thinking the two of them had an advantage against the lone gunman, three more dots came over the horizon. Everett’s hopes sank.
    Gingerly, Dalton climbed out of the wagon. On the verge of joining him, Everett stopped cold.
    “What are you doing, boy?”
    Everett would have asked the question, too, but he didn’t want to make a tense situation any more confusing than it already was. Instead, he just watched and wondered.
    Button by button, Dalton unfastened his shirt from neck to navel. When he was done, he lifted his shoulders and let the shirt slide off his arms. Before the garment had even touched the ground, he set to work unfastening his trousers.
    In the bright sunlight, Dalton’s pale flesh seemed even more fragile.