The Lady Takes A Gunslinger (Wild Western Rogues Series, Book 1) by Barbara Ankrum Read Free Book Online

got."
    The woman in black sniffed and nodded wordlessly.
    As the heavy pine door slid shut behind the marshal, Reese clapped his hands together in silent applause for the performance she'd just given. "Well done," he acknowledged in a half whisper, "but the accent could use a bit o' work. 'Katherine' was a good touch, though. And a good guess, I suppose."
    The woman dropped all trace of grief from her posture and crossed the short distance to his solitary cell. Gripping the bars, she peered at him through the shadowy morning light. The black silk veil fluttered with her indrawn breath. "What happened to your face?"
    He raised a self-conscious hand to the tender, swelling bruise beside his eye. "What, this? A little gift from the local authorities."
    "Sanders?"
    He nodded.
    "I'm sorry."
    He dragged a gaze down the length of her and back up again. "My sister, Mary Kate, might be sorry. I don't know who you are."
    She lifted the black silk away from her face and draped it over the compact little black hat pinned to her hair.
    Grace the Graceful stared back at him with that cockeyed smile of hers.
    "Jesus, Mary, and Joseph—"
    "You needn't be sacrilegious, Mr. Donovan." She paused, covering her embarrassment by looking down at her dress. "I thought you'd be happy to see me."
    "And why would I be?"
    "Well, that isn't to say... I mean... I know last night was rather... unfortunate..."
    Slumping back against the mud wall, mutely, he eyed her with disbelief.
    "...but you see, I had to come." She caught her lower lip between her teeth. "I thought the widow's weeds and veil were a good idea since Sanders knows me and wouldn't let me within fifty miles of you otherwise." She spun in a circle for his inspection. "What do you think?"
    He thought she might be daft. Or worse.
    One blond wisp of hair spilled down her forehead, dangling above those enormous—wildly innocent—blue eyes of hers. The picture of hopefulness. Limned by dark, spiky lashes, her eyes were the sort people stopped and stared at. They were a lavender blue, as deep as a field of Texas bluebonnets. It came as something of a shock to realize that without the haze of alcohol blurring his vision, she was a raving beauty, with skin the texture of fine porcelain and a touch of color high in her delicately shaped cheeks. Her mouth curled upward naturally at the corners, giving her a perpetual grin. And when she smiled... God Almighty, when she smiled...
    He must have been drunker last night than he'd thought to have missed it. But even with that realization, he cautioned himself against being distracted by things that he no longer had any hope of tasting.
    "What are you doing here?" he asked finally.
    Her eyes took on a wounded expression. "Well, you could try showing a bit more gratitude."
    Leaning back against the cool adobe wall, he eyed her with indifference. "Gratitude? Ah, now that's rich. Perhaps if I had a bit more 'straw' in my bricks, I'd be capable of such a thing."
    She bit her lip, looking contrite.
    "Is there any particular reason," he went on, rubbing his aching temple, "that I should be grateful t' the likes o' you?"
    Leaning closer she smiled sweetly and whispered, "I mean to save your stubborn neck. That's why."
    He might have laughed if he'd found the humor in it. "Ahh—in that getup of yours, I felt sure you were here t' tell me you'd be the only mourner at my burial, if Sanders feels moved to plant me. Then again, he may just box me up for viewing, like an extended sort of open-air wake as a kind of warning to all other bloodthirsty murderers in the area. In which case, I could use someone to lead the hymns on my account. How 'bout it, princess? Know any good ones?"
    She wrinkled her nose. "He won't be hanging you at all. Not if we can help it."
    He raised one amused eyebrow. " We ? There are more of you?"
    "Oh, yes. There's Brewster, too."
    Reese's headache was coming back with a vengeance. "Look, I've had a long night." He patted the empty pockets of