The Gunslinger by Lorraine Heath Read Free Book Online Page B

even if she did, what could he offer except the opportunity to watch him die when his luck ran out?
    â€œToby!” she called out, then retrieved a bowl of gravy and a plate of bacon, set them on the table, reached for her chair—
    Chance beat her to it, pulling it out for her. She stared at him as though she hadn’t expected him to know the courtesy a man extended to a woman. Or maybe she just thought he wouldn’t have bothered, when the truth was that he wanted to do more for her. Again, dangerous thoughts that could lure him into forgetting the dangers, the loneliness, the ugliness his life entailed. He couldn’t ask her to share it, wouldn’t ask her.
    His gaze dropped to her lips, and he contemplated taking one more kiss, just one.
    The boy barreled in and dropped into his chair, breaking whatever spell had frozen them in place. She sat. Chance took his seat. She held the basket toward him.
    â€œLil makes the best biscuits,” the boy said.
    â€œI’m sure she does,” he said, taking her offering and plucking out a biscuit that nearly scorched his fingers. He smothered it in gravy before adding the eggs and bacon to his plate. He’d wolfed down half his food before he realized she was eating slowly, delicately—civilized. “Been a while since I sat down to a meal with folks.”
    She smiled softly. “I take it as a testament to my cooking when it’s eaten with such enthusiasm.”
    â€œCan’t remember when I’ve had better.” Returning his attention to his plate, he finished off what remained before helping himself to seconds. He figured it was the best way to compliment her.
    â€œToby, we’ll be going to town this morning,” she said.
    The boy snapped his head around and stared at Chase, worry clouding blue eyes a shade lighter than his sister’s. “You’re coming, too, ain’t you?”
    Giving him a brusque nod, Chase watched as relief washed over the kid’s face.
    â€œWe’re going to speak with the sheriff,” she said. “After that everything will be fine.”
    He wondered where she got her optimism. He thought it a shame that the folks around here would never give themselves the opportunity to know her. John Ward would ensure it, and he knew there was little he himself could do about it.
    His plate empty, he downed the last of the sweet coffee she’d given him earlier. Then he stood. “Appreciate the meal. I’ll be getting ready for our trip into town. Just let me know when you’re all set to go.”
    He strode through the doorway and into the vast expanse of the yard. Eating in her home—and it was a home, not a house—had been a mistake. With the force of a bullet through the chest, it had reminded him of what he’d never possess. He was more determined than ever to ensure she kept it.
    At any cost.
    L ILLIAN WAS WA SHING the plates when she heard the echo of the first bullet. “Wait here,” she ordered Toby.
    Broom in hand after sweeping beneath the table, Toby opened his mouth to protest. Two more reports cracked the stillness of the morning.
    â€œNo arguing,” she called over her shoulder, already rushing to the door. Opening it without thought to the dangers she might face, worried only about Wilder, she stepped onto the porch, surprised by the absence of men holding guns. She started to glance around—
    Another gunshot. Jerking her head to the side, she saw Wilder standing a good distance from the house, his back to her, gun in holster—then the Colt was free of its moorings and he fired at a red bandana hanging from a tree branch. It whipped through the air before settling into place and fluttering in the breeze.
    He slid the gun back into the holster, dragged his shirt over his head and dropped it to the ground. She watched in horror as he began removing the bandage. She started running. “Chance Wilder, don’t you