The Last Renegade by Jo Goodman Read Free Book Online Page A

looked around while he waited for someone to appear. Above the walnut wainscoting, the walls were painted butter yellow. There was a bench just below the stairs for the weary traveler, and an area rug fashioned with the colors of every burnt shade of a high plains sunset covered most ofthe polished hardwood floor. Sunlight from the windows at his back dappled the walls and rug and…
    And set the woman’s hair on fire.
    Blinking would have been too obvious. Instead, Kellen’s wintry, blue-gray eyes narrowed a fraction as he took in the curling flames leaping and dancing away from the woman’s scalp. Some might call that color copper, but Kellen Coltrane thought that understated the brilliance of the blaze and didn’t explain why he had been struck dumb. It wasn’t until she stepped from sunlight into relative shadow that he remembered why he was standing at the front desk of the Pennyroyal.
    “I’m looking for the Widow Berry.”
    “Are you? About what?”
    Kellen arched an eyebrow. He couldn’t decide if she was being protective of the widow or if caution was in her nature. More than caution, he thought. Suspicion.
    “About a room, for one thing,” said Kellen. He spoke more firmly when he added, “And business.”
    She stepped closer, close enough for him to catch the fragrance of lavender. Her dress was plain, severely cut, and crisply pressed. He imagined her flicking lavender water over the dull green fabric before she set an iron to it and thinking herself daring for having done so.
    “Mr. Church?”
    Kellen watched her put out a hand, not to take his, but more tentatively than that, in the way a person does when there’s a need to confirm that something is real. Her slender fingers hovered just above his elbow for several long moments then fell away. She didn’t step back as he’d expected her to. Rather, she subjected his face to the kind of scrutiny that a wife was apt to employ when she expected to catch her husband in a lie. He stood for it because there was no harm in doing so, and just as important, it amused him.
    The commotion at the entrance as the boys and Walt carried in the first trunk did not distract her from her study.
    “Which room, Mrs. Berry?” Rabbit asked.
    “Mr. Coltrane needs the biggest one you have,” said Finn.
    “Two trunks and a bag,” Walt said. “Room six would probably be best.”
    “You’re not Mr. Church,” Raine said.
    “You’re the Widow Berry,” said Kellen.
    Finn nudged Rabbit when the three adults began talking at the same time. “When people get to talking like that, I’m always wishing I had Pap’s bell.”

Chapter Two
    Kellen stopped unpacking to respond to the knock at his door. “Who is it?” There was a long pause, so long that Kellen began to think he’d only imagined the interruption.
    “Sue Hage, Mr. Coltrane. The maid.”
    Kellen opened the door just enough for his frame to fill the space. The young woman in the hallway showed no interest in trying to see past him. On the contrary, not only did she keep her eyes averted, she took a rather sizable step backward. He thought she was probably not yet twenty, but certainly she was old enough to give a better accounting of herself. Her fingers twisted nervously in her apron, and she was biting down hard on one corner of her lower lip.
    “Mrs.Berrysentmetoaskifyouraccommodationsaresatisfactory.” She darted him a glance as she sucked in a breath. “Are they?”
    Kellen had to mull the words over before he could seize their meaning. “I have need of a table and a chair,” he said. “If that can be arranged, my accommodations will be entirely satisfactory.”
    The request appeared to flummox the maid. She fidgetedwith one of her long, straw-colored braids and shifted her slight weight from side to side.
    Finally she said, “We do not serve meals to guests in their rooms.”
    “Then it’s a good thing there are other uses for a table and a chair. You may tell Mrs. Berry that I intend to