Judith Stacy - Outlaw Love

“One thing’s for sure,” Mallory said. “His pa is going to whip him good if he ever finds out.”

Kelsey nodded, suddenly feeling much older than her twenty-two years. Mallory, the same age as she, and Holly,’ who was four years younger, seemed to have aged immeasurably in these past months, as well.

“Do you think Luther will be all right?” Holly’s brown eyes looked hopeful. “I didn’t mean to really shoot him.”

“Luther is too ornery to die.” Mallory scooped water from the stream again and trickled it down the front of her shirt

“I’ve never shot anybody before—you know I haven’t” Holly wrung her fingers together.

Kelsey patted her shoulder. “Just be more careful next time.”

“Damn, it’s hot” Mallory stood and stretched her long legs. She was the tallest of the three, and her limbs were lithe and supple.

“How do men stand wearing these heavy trousers and big hats and thick shirts?” Holly tied the bandanna around her neck. “Can we be girls next time?”

“I’ll work on it.” Kelsey pulled a pocket watch from inside her jacket. “We’ve got to go. Holly, do you feel up to this?”

She glanced at Mallory, then nodded. “Sure.”

The three climbed onto their horses.

“Do you think the stage will be on schedule?” Holly shifted in the saddle.

“That old sissy Otis Bean would pop a stay if the stage didn’t get out of town on time.” Mallory fastened the buttons on her jacket. “It’ll be on schedule.”

“And you’re sure of what’s on board?”

Mallory smiled knowingly. “I have it on the best authority.”

“Let’s go.” Kelsey led the way into the woods.

A devilish grin crept over Mallory’s face as she eased her horse up beside Holly’s. “Maybe when we’re done we should double back and make sure Kelsey’s lawman didn’t get into trouble again.”

“Mallory, you’re awful. Just awful.” Holly pursed her lips. “He’s probably very capable.”

A slow grin spread over Mallory’s face. “Probably very capable, indeed. A man his size has got at least one thing in his favor.”

“Mallory!” Holly blushed. “The things you say—Why, you leave me breathless.”

“I’ll bet the good marshal could too.” Mallory laughed a low, husky laugh. “What about it, Kelsey? You saw him up close. What did he look like?”

Eyes slate gray, like a spring thunderhead. A day’s dark stubble covering a strong chin and square jaw. Even, white teeth set behind a full, expressive mouth. Broad, sturdy shoulders.

“I didn’t notice.”

Holly shrugged. “We’ve probably seen the last of him.”

“I hope so.” Mallory urged her horse to a faster pace. “A lawman is nothing but trouble.”

“Cold and heartless,” Holly added.

Kelsey felt the gazes of her friends upon her, but couldn’t bring herself to agree with them. They hadn’t seen the marshal the way she did. They hadn’t felt his breath on her face when she cut the noose from around his neck, or sensed the raw power he possessed when she freed his hands. They hadn’t seen the steel gray of his eyes melt into pools of blue when he realized she’d come to rescue him.

Kelsey touched her heels to the horse. “We’ll have to hurry to make it to Flat Ridge in time.”

She pushed the image of the marshal from her mind. The lives of too many people rested on her shoulders for her to waste time on such thoughts. She couldn’t allow herself to think of him. Not now.

She had a stage to rob.

Clay pulled off his black Stetson and sat down on the rickety chair across the desk from Deputy Billy Elder.

“So them two ambushed you, huh?” The deputy’s amusement was thinly veiled, in the guise of taking down Clay’s report. “They got the drop on you. Bushwhacked you. Then tried to string you up. Is that about it?”

The chair creaked under Clay. “Yeah, that’s about it.”

Seated under the gun rack across the room, Sheriff Roy Bottom rubbed a cleaning rag over the barrel of a Winchester. Gray hair bristling from beneath his hat, he appeared content to let. his young deputy handle the paperwork.

Billy looked up from the report on his desk. “And it was only them two. Just Deuce and Luther. They were the ones who bested you.”

Around twenty, Clay guessed his age to be, with the look of an arrogant kid who ought to be taken down a notch or two. Clay had disliked him on sight. “Yeah, just the two of them.”

Billy consulted his report again. “And you’re a United States marshal, sent here on special assignment to clean up the gangs. Have I got that right?”

“You got it right.” Clay lunged to his feet and threaded his fingers through the dark hair at his temple. He’d had enough of Deputy Elder. He headed for the door.

“Chandler… Clay Chandler.” Sheriff Bottom stroked his chin and propped the rifle against the wall. “I heard about you. Brought in Cecil and Cyrus Reynolds, and the Fields gang, as I understand it, all on your own. You’ve got quite a reputation for yourself, marshal. Who are you trailing now?”

“Scully Dade.”

Billy snorted. “Shoot, the Dade gang makes the Reynolds boys look like ladies at a quilting bee.”

Cold determination hardened in Clay’s belly. “I’ll bring him in.”

Sheriff Bottom nodded slowly. “If what I hear about you is right, I believe you’ll do just that.”

Billy mumbled his disbelief and shuffled his reports into the desk drawer.

“Appreciate your help on this one.” Sheriff Bottom nodded toward the cells down the hallway. “At least that’s two less to worry about. Doc says Luther’s shoulder will mend in a few weeks. I’ll hold him here till the circuitjudge gets around again. Deuce’s pa will be by soon. He’ll probably beat the tar out of the boy. You can be sure he’ll stay in town till the judge gets here.”

“Who’s riding the circuit around here?”

The sheriff shifted. “We lost Kingsley.”

Clay had crossed paths with Judge Kingsley a time or two in the past “No loss. Most judges practice law from the bench. Kings ley did it from somebody’s back pocket.”

Sheriff Bottom shrugged indifferently. “We got a new judge now. Some fella name of Winthrope.”

The name coiled a tight knot in Clay’s belly. “Harlan Winthrope?”

He nodded. “Could be. I never met the man. He ain’t been out this way yet. You know him?”

Clay’s stomach churned. “I know him.”

“You’ll be gone before he gets here, huh?” Billy asked.

Clay nodded. He definitely intended to be gone from this town before Harlan Winthrope arrived. “I’ll be here a few more days, that’s all.”

He opened the door, then turned back. “Do you know about a gang called the Schoolyard Boys?”

“I sure as hell do.” Billy rose and swiped his blond hair back with his palm. “Them boys are making a name for themselves around here.”

The sheriff nodded wisely. “They hit the stage at Flat Ridge just this afternoon.”

“This afternoon? You sure it was today?”

“’Course I’m sure. Why?”

Clay nodded toward the cells. “Luther claimed it was the Schoolyard Boys that shot him.”

Billy’s brows drew together and he sucked his teeth. “Now let me besure I got this straight, Marshal Chandler. You were tracking Scully Dade, but lost him and got ambushed by Deuce and Luther and nearly hung. Then you came across the Schoolyard Boys, but they slipped through your fingers and robbed the stage coach not an hour later. Is that about the size of it?”

Clay pulled his hat low on his forehead and gritted his teeth. “That about sums it up.”

Billy nodded slowly. “Much obliged, Chandler. Good having you federal boys on the job.”