Wild Burn by Edie Harris Read Free Book Online

scrambling for some sort of meaning.
    Owning slaves had never sat quite right with that soul of his, a softness in his character that his father had detested. Del had been conflicted, confused, absolutely trapped by the responsibilities of his family name… So he’d run.
    He knew exactly what kind of man he was, and he’d known for many long months: he was a coward.
    He grimaced at his reflection once more before stepping away to slide his braces up to his shoulders. Mrs. Yates had very kindly laundered the dirty garments in his pack, and the newly cleaned clothes did as much toward refreshing him as had the day of sleep. She had also left a tray of food next to the pile of clothing outside his door. Though long gone cold, he’d devoured it before dressing, but he could definitely stand to eat another meal prior to starting his day’s work.
    He sat on the edge of the bed to pull on the sturdy wool socks he wore beneath his boots. The sooner he began looking into Cloud Rider’s warring tribe, the sooner he could leave this town and head…somewhere else. He shook his head as he strapped on his gun belt. He shouldn’t care whether he left today or left a month from now. The money would come to him either way, either from the sheriff or the government, and Red Creek was as good a place as any to kick up his heels. There was no reason he shouldn’t stay here.
    There was no reason he should , either.
    His duster and hat hung on a hook by the door, and he grabbed both as he strode from the room. The narrow second-floor hallway boasted eight doors, each with a brass number nailed to the dark, stained panel. His was the last and the farthest from the stairs, situated in the northwest corner and bearing an “8” on its front, and the large window at the end of the hall closest to him afforded him a view of the main street. The boardinghouse stood on the edge of town, with only the local livery stable between it and the short grassy walk to the half-dozen outlying cabins.
    He pinpointed the one belonging to Miss Tully. Sheer ivory curtains hung in the small windows fronting the second cabin from the end. This early in the morning, a soft glow came from within, and as he stared, a shadow passed behind it. A slender, womanly shadow, and Del could easily imagine the pretty young schoolteacher wandering around a tiny cabin nearly identical to the one in which John White Horse lay recuperating.
    A tiny sliver of guilt pricked at his gut, and he turned to head down the stairs. His appetite diminished, he bypassed the communal dining hall and exited through the rear of the house. The air outside was cool, fresh and carried the sweet scent of mountain pine. He drew deep breaths into his lungs and waited, waited, for his mind to clear. He urged his better sense to tell him that, no, he shouldn’t be striding determinedly toward Miss Tully’s cabin, and no, he shouldn’t knock his hat back on his brow with a rough-skinned knuckle to get a better look at her front door. A door that needed a fresh coat of paint, maybe in a sunny yellow.
    When he thought of her, he thought of sunny yellow paint.
    His mind also wasn’t clearing quickly enough to tell him he shouldn’t be knocking on her not-yellow door and then holding his breath as he waited. Waited to hear the soft shuffle of her footsteps behind the door, waited as the early-morning light came slowly sliding over the hill just beyond the cabins. He’d climbed down that hill with her yesterday, her ear bleeding and a full-grown Indian man clutched between them, and his mind certainly hadn’t been any clearer then, either.
    When the curtain fluttered on the window next to the door, he stepped back and kept his face angled toward the ground. Unthreatening, that was him. Only there to inquire after her health. Maybe to find out how he could make amends, because he really should make amends. Perhaps she’d be willing to share a meal with him at the boardinghouse.
    Suddenly, he was