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

take my meals in the dining room.”
    “Yes, sir.”
    Kellen did not wait to hear if she had more to say. He shut the door.
    Emily Ransom cornered her friend in the deserted dining room. “You spoke to him?” she whispered. “What is he like? Was he wearing his guns?”
    Sue glanced around—the second check she’d made of her surroundings since Emily waylaid her. “You better let me pass, Emily Ransom. Mrs. Sterling is going to give you what for if she catches you lollygagging.”
    “I do not care about what for.” Emily held her ground, giving Sue no opportunity to escape. “Just warn me if she’s waggling her wooden spoon.”
    Sue grabbed the ends of her braids before Emily took to yanking on them like they were udders. “He shut the door in my face.”
    Emily’s bright blue eyes widened a fraction. “He did not.”
    “There is no point in you asking me questions if you are not going to believe what I tell you.”
    “I believe you.” She crossed her heart to add emphasis. “Did you speak to him at all?”
    “Of course I did.” Without releasing her braids, Sue recounted her conversation word for word. “And then he shut the door.”
    “Well, had you finished your piece?”
    “Yes, but he did not know that.”
    “Perhaps he did.”
    “I should have known you would take his side, EmilyRansom. You already have it in your mind that you can flirt with him.”
    Emily was not at all offended. “What I would like to know is why you don’t have it in your mind. The man is as handsome as sin, and he’s traveling alone.”
    “Maybe that’s because no good woman will have him.” Sue let go of her braids and set her hands on her hips. “And how do you know he is handsome as sin? You didn’t see him.”
    “Ah-ha! He
is
handsome. I knew it. You only get yourself in a knot when they are prettier than dew on a rose.”
    Sue flushed. “Now you’re speaking nonsense.”
    “I don’t think so.”
    “Maybe he was wearing his guns. Did you think of that? Maybe that’s why I’m tongue-tied.”
    “Was he?”
    “No.”
    “Could you see them in the room?”
    “No.”
    “Do you think Rabbit and Finn were lying about the guns?”
    “Wouldn’t surprise me if they were. They like to make themselves important.”
    Emily could not disagree with that. “Maybe I’ll ask him about the guns.”
    Sue’s mouth parted, snapped shut, and then parted again. “You wouldn’t.”
    “I might.” She showed Sue her saucy smile, the one that rarely failed to get noticed by male guests at the Pennyroyal. “I just might.”
    Sue pursed her lips in disapproval. She was one year Emily’s junior, but in ways calculated by maturity and common sense, she was her senior by a decade.
    “Oh, do not be such a prude,” Emily said dismissively. “What color are his eyes?”
    Sue hesitated.
    “Did you even look at his eyes?”
    “I looked,” said Sue. “I’m thinking. It’s not easy to describe that color that sits on the horizon in winter. You know, whenthe sun is still low in the sky, and the day is going to be nothing but cold. Bitter cold.”
    Emily blinked. “Why, Sue, you
did
look.”
    “I told you I did. Looked away, too. That’s the kind of eyes he has. You want to look, but then you want to look away.”
    Emily was thoughtful. “Maybe the boys weren’t telling tales. It sounds as if Mr. Coltrane has the eyes of a killer.”
    “I did not say that.”
    “Eyes like a wolf, I bet.”
    “I didn’t say that either.”
    Emily ignored her. “Was he still wearing his hat?”
    “No.”
    “What about his hair?”
    “What about it? Do you think there is such a thing as hair of a killer?”
    “I won’t know until you tell me about it,” Emily said practically.
    “It’s thick and unruly. Too longish for my tastes, riding on his collar the way it does. Maybe he’ll want the barber. You could point him in Mr. Stillwell’s direction. Better yet, tell him to ask for Dave Rogers.”
    “And see him scalped? I do