Sheep's Clothing by Elizabeth Einspanier Read Free Book Online Page B

almost immediately with a snarled curse, though, as though it were red-hot.
    “Doc!” he barked, as he endeavored to pin the struggling DuPont. “Get the knife!”
    I reached out gingerly and picked it up, and found it was cool to the touch. I placed it in my pocket for safekeeping. “What are you going to do with him?”
    “I’d like to beat his head in, but I don’t think that’ll endear me to the local sheriff,” Wolf replied. “Ya hurt?”
    “He slashed my arm,” I replied. “I don’t think it’s serious, though.”
    He nodded. “Good. I’ll sit on him while ya fetch help.”
    And he proceeded to do exactly that, seating himself squarely on DuPont’s back, pinning the man’s wrists behind him.
    “Are you hurt?” I asked, glancing at his hand.
    “I’ll be fine for now,” he returned. “Now git.”
    I left the two of them and dashed into the Lucky Lady.
    May glanced up as I entered, and immediately her eyes found where I was clutching my arm.
    “Goodness gracious, Doc!” she exclaimed. “What happened to ya?”
    “A man outside slashed my arm with a knife,” I said. “I got someone out there sitting on him.”
    May nodded sharply and called into the back for Gib to fetch the sheriff. As he hurried out, May tossed me a clean towel.
    “ Ya get that wrapped up, Doc,” she said. “Best not to let that thing fester.”
    I thanked her and wrapped the towel around my arm as a makeshift bandage. By the time I’d finished with my task I saw that she’d picked up a heavy iron ladle.
    “Now,” she said evenly, “Ya show me where that scoundrel is, and I’ll give him a lesson he won’t forget in a hurry.”
    “No need for that,” I said quickly, not wanting to put her in danger. “Just stay here, and we’ll get him taken care of.”
    She snorted and turned to put the ladle away.
    Just then, I got a dreadful sense of filled space behind me, and my throat dried up like a riverbed in a drought. I turned, and saw Russeau standing less than three feet from me, watching me.
    In daylight hours, Russeau did not seem to be quite the soulless monster that he had appeared the previous night. He was handsome, but not unnaturally so, and while his eyes were dark they were not the black pits of oblivion they had been the previous night. His complexion was fair, as red-haired individuals tend to be. His features were sharp and chiseled, with an aquiline nose, defined cheekbones, and a strong chin. As before, he was well-dressed and well-groomed, but he stank of cologne, which made me wonder why I hadn’t smelled his approach. He looked down at my bandaged arm.
    “What seems to be the problem?” he asked, his voice as smooth as ice.
    “I was attacked,” I summarized. “Fortunately, the cut is not deep.” I did not want to mention the identity of my attacker, lest Russeau think it strange that I would know DuPont’s name.
    “Perhaps so,” said he, his eyes fixed on my arm, “But such wounds do tend to bleed so.”
    I glanced down at the wound briefly. “Fortunately,” I returned, “I’m a doctor. I know how to take care of such things.”
    He smiled, his eyes now flicking back up from my wounded arm to alight on my face. It was all I could do not to flinch away from the intensity of his stare.
    “Ah,” he said, “It’s always a delight for me to meet men of medicine. I am Alexandre Russeau.”
    He held out his hand to me. The fingers were long and slim, their nails a bit overlong and slightly pointed.
    I clasped his hand, and found the flesh to be cool to the touch. “Nathaniel Meadows,” I said, hoping that my revulsion was not visible on my face. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I want to meet with the sheriff when he arrives.”
    “I will not keep you, then,” he said, releasing me and dismissing me with a wave as he turned away. With a great effort, I turned my back on him and headed out the door, perhaps a bit more quickly than I otherwise might.
    Outside, I saw Pack returning with