The Sapphire Gun by J. R. Roberts Read Free Book Online Page B

won’t be flapping my arms or nothing, but I should be able to hold the reins.”
    â€œGood.”
    â€œYou think he’s coming back?”
    â€œI’d guess so,” Clint replied. “Especially since both of us rode away from there with the gold. Otherwise, there wasn’t much sense in them ambushing us in the first place.”
    â€œSo they were after the gold?”
    â€œUnless you’re carrying any diamonds or rare pieces of art in that wagon, I’d say the gold is the most valuable thing you’ve got.”
    Johnny rolled his eyes and nodded. “Good point. Maybe I’ve had a bit too much of this whiskey.”
    â€œDid that man look familiar to you?” Clint asked.
    At first, Johnny shook his head. Then, he cocked his head a bit and said, “You know, I might have seen that fella at my party.”
    â€œWas he with anyone?”
    â€œJust some pretty Mexican lady with long hair. You think she’s a part of this?”
    â€œI don’t know. I just hope he was some asshole who overheard something at the party and decided to make a play for it.”
    â€œWhy?” Johnny grunted. “Isn’t that bad enough?” Clint’s hand reflexively lowered to rest upon his holstered Colt. “No. It can get a whole lot worse than that.”

TWELVE
    Franco sat hunched over as Rosa rubbed her hands along his back. Dusk was setting in, and the shadows were growing just enough for the firelight to bring out the angles in his face. As the flames crackled and sent the occasional ember sailing off, Franco prodded the wood at the heart of the fire with a thick branding iron.
    â€œAt least you killed one of them,” Rosa said in a consoling tone.
    Franco’s lips curled into a sneer as if forming the words before he spoke them. “I might have killed him. All I know is that I hit the one on the wagon.”
    â€œWhat about Adams? You must have hit him, too.”
    â€œPerhaps.”
    â€œOh, come now,” she cooed as her hands worked on loosening the knots in his muscles. “I’ve never seen you miss a shot like that. He didn’t even know you were there. You must have hit him.”
    â€œPerhaps,” he repeated impatiently.
    â€œIf you didn’t kill them, then are you . . . just going to let them go?”
    Franco wheeled around as if he meant to take a swing at her. Just as he caught sight of Rosa, his face twisted into a pained grimace and he turned back around. “I’m not going to let them go,” he said. “I’ll just have to catch up to them at a different spot.”
    Eventually, Rosa’s hands found their way back to Franco’s shoulders. She caressed him at first, but then began to massage him once more. “I didn’t mean to doubt you.”
    â€œI know.”
    â€œYou should probably see to that wound before it gets any worse.”
    Slowly, Franco nodded. Even now, he couldn’t remember exactly when he’d been hit. He was certain, however, that the bullet had come from Clint’s gun. Picturing Clint’s face as he lifted the branding iron from the bottom of the fire, Franco pulled in a breath and pressed the hottest end of the iron against his side.
    His flesh hissed and steamed the moment it made contact with the iron. Every muscle in Franco’s body squirmed beneath his skin, and even Rosa’s hands weren’t enough to soothe him. He kept the iron there for as long as he could bear it. After a few seconds, the searing heat started to feel cold.
    â€œThat’s it,” Rosa said. “Now take it away.”
    Franco started to take the iron away, but quickly discovered the tip was stuck to his skin. Before the iron became seared into him any deeper, Franco pulled and twisted it away at the same time. That pulled a bit of meat off, but still left the main wound mostly shut. Before he lowered the iron, Rosa was reaching around to place a moist rag