Judith Stacy - Outlaw Love

A horse emerged from the trees on the left, and the third Schoolyard Boy lifted a rifle and aimed it at the stage. Positioned in their cross fire, with no weapon and two passengers in the stage to consider, Clay could do nothing.

From the corner of his eye, Clay saw the pistol at his back wave at Buck, and he mumbled and cursed, too, but tossed down the strongbox. It landed with a thud in the soft earth. The boy under the elm poked Mick in the ribs, and he headed back to the stage. He climbed up top while the widow made her way to the ground on the other side.

Clay looked down at the widow below him. Both arms extended, she held the pistol on him. If a boy was under that dress, it was a hell of a good disguise. For an instant, he considered jumping her, to see if she would shoot. But the sound of her voice rang loud and clear in his memory. Hard, gritty determination. He wouldn’t chance it.

Buck picked up the reins and shouted to the team, and the stagecoach pulled away. Clay watched as the third rider followed them through the hills for several hundred yards, until they reached the crest of the next hill. The boy pulled up and waited, keeping an eye on the stage, making sure no one got off and doubled back.

“Damn it to hell…” Anger coiled in Clay’s belly. He was going to get those Schoolyard Boys.

Clay left the stage at the swing station, got a horse from the stationmaster and rode back to the scene of the robbery. He’d questioned both passengers before leaving, but neither could tell him anything about the little widow. Like Clay himself, the men had hardly noticed her, feeling uncomfortable in her presence.

She’d kept to herself. Then she’d done her talking with the pistol she took from her reticule and made the men draw the shades on the stage windows. The. last they’d seen of her was her dress flapping in the breeze as she climbed up the side of the coach.

He’d tracked the Schoolyard Boys through the hills after finding the empty strongbox under the elms, then lost them after they rode into a creek. Whoever they were, they knew the countryside. Local boys. They’d be harder to catch than outlaws like Scully Dade, who kept on the move.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.