John Stone opened his eyes, and at first he didn’t know where he was. He was accustomed to waking up on the prairie, with the sky above and his head on his saddle, wearing the clothes he’d worn the day before, bearded and filthy, or he’d wake up in a small hotel room in a strange town he’d never been in before, but now he was in a luxurious large bedroom, and everything was white.
He got out of bed and walked to the window, pulling the drapes to the side. The sun was low on the horizon; it was late in the afternoon.
He felt well rested and strong, and his headache was gone. Sitting on the bed again, he rolled his first cigarette of the day.
There was a knock on the door. “Captain Stone?” asked Esmeralda the maid.
“What is it?” he asked.
“Dinner will be served in a half hour, Captain Stone.”
He washed his face and hands and rinsed out his mouth. Then he shaved with his straight razor. It was a pretty good razor, but not as good as the one his father had given him when he went away to West Point. That razor had been lost long ago during the war, when they’d had to abandon a position quickly and leave everything behind.
He tried not to think too much of his mother and father, because it was too painful, and the pain distracted him from whatever he had to do. They’d died of illness and heartbreak within a few weeks of each other after the plantation had been burned to the ground by Sherman’s army toward the end of the war. Stone had found out about it in a letter he’d received from Marie shortly before the battle of Sayler’s Creek. He couldn’t go home, because he couldn’t walk away from his cavalry troop when it was at the front, but many a Union soldier had dropped beneath his flashing saber during the fight that followed, and that had been his revenge.
Now he had no more rancor left. Unlike others, he’d spent all his on the field of battle for four long bloody years. Now all he wanted to do was find Marie and put his life back together again.
He reached for his gunbelts, but stopped his hands in midair. He was going to dinner with civilized people; there was no need to wear guns. To be on the safe side, he dropped his knife into its sheath in his boot.
He looked at himself in the mirror and saw a tall man with his dark blond hair worn short and parted neatly on the left side, just like when he was in the army. He didn’t suppose he’d changed much since then, except the lines in his face were a little deeper, and his body had filled somewhat.
He left his room and descended the stairs to the first floor of the house. The sun streamed through the windows and Jennifer Randlett walked toward him from the dining room. She wore a long gown, and her eyes were sparkling.
“Did you sleep well?” she asked.
“Like a baby.”
They entered the dining room, and the table was set for three. Mayor Randlett, wearing a suit and tie, appeared through another doorway, carrying a bottle of whiskey.
“Care for a drink?” he asked Stone.
“Please.”
Mayor Randlett poured the drink and handed it to Stone. “I propose a toast,” he said. “To our new deputy sheriff—John Stone!”
He touched his glass to Stone’s, and both of the men drank. Mayor Randlett sat at one end of the table, Stone at the other, and Jennifer in the middle with her back to the window. It was a long table and a considerable distance separated each of them.
Esmeralda brought out the tureen of soup and placed it on the table. She took Stone’s bowl and filled it with steaming chicken broth. Then she served Jennifer and Mayor Randlett. Stone kept glancing surreptitiously at Jennifer. She was really an extraordinarily pretty woman, he realized.
He waited for her to taste her soup, then dipped his spoon in his bowl. It was delicious, so different from the restaurant food he usually ate, or the stuff he wolfed down on the trail. Like so many other aspects of the Randlett mansion, it reminded him of Albemarle, where he’d eaten like a prince three meals a day all his life until he’d left for West Point at the age of eighteen.
“Sorry you had a bad night,” Mayor Randlett said. “Hope you’re not discouraged with your job.”
“We’ll see how tonight goes.”
“Should be easier. This isn’t a bad town. I hate to say it, but the biggest law and order problem we have in this town, as a rule, is our sheriff, of all people. Last night he slapped a member of the town council, name of Thad Cooper, at the Paradise Saloon, and today he threw a visitor bodily into the middle of the street. I understand he behaved provocatively toward you too.”
“Nothing serious.”
“I disagree with you. I think it’s very serious. A sheriff is supposed to be the paragon of law and order in a town, not the worst troublemaker of all. To tell you the truth, Captain Stone, I and other members of the town council want to get rid of Rawlins. He’s an embarrassment to everybody and a threat to public safety. The problem is that we can’t let him go unless we have a good man to replace him with.”
“Don’t look at me,” Stone said.
“Why not?”
“I don’t know anything about being a lawman. Last night I realized how unqualified I really am. I’ll last out the month if I can, because I gave you my word that I would, but I’m not crazy about the job. Sheriff Rawlins seems to be maintaining law and order fairly well, although he’s not an easy man to deal with. I’d suggest you think twice about firing him.”
“We could make it a very attractive proposition financially, you know,” Mayor Randlett said.
“Money will be of no use to me in the cemetery, and that’s where I’ll wind up if I become your sheriff.” He looked at Mayor Randlett. “Do you have any idea how dangerous that job is? Do you know what it’s like to confront angry drunken men who’re armed to the teeth? I know Rawlins is a drunkard, but he’s held the job for twenty years and made this town as safe as any on the frontier. I think you should give him the extra money, not me.”
Mayor Randlett and his daughter looked at each other.
“Sorry you feel that way,” Mayor Randlett said to Stone. “I don’t want to be overbearing, but we’d really like you to stay. Are you sure there’s nothing we could do to change your mind? We’re prepared to go to considerable lengths to retain you.”
“No chance,” Stone replied. “Sorry.”
Jennifer gave her father another look, and he gave up. In silence, the three of them ate their chicken soup. Stone continued to glance at Jennifer out of the corner of his eye. He’d noticed the silent communication between her and her father, and realized that his red-haired young beauty had a lot to say about what went on in Petie, but most people probably didn’t know it.
She was a beautiful young woman and someday she’d inherit all her father’s vast holdings. The man who marries her will be a lucky son of a gun, he thought. She glanced at him, and he looked down at his food. I’d better not think about her too much, he said to himself, otherwise I’m liable to get in more trouble than I’m in already.
Rawlins stomped into the Paradise Saloon, scanned the tables quickly, and made his way to the bar.
“Whiskey.”
He was looking for Deke Casey, to keep track of him, but Deke Casey wasn’t there. Rawlins downed a glass of whiskey, left the Paradise, and walked to the Acme, pushing through the swinging doors.
“Whiskey.”
He looked around, trying not to be obvious, but Deke Casey wasn’t here either. Had he left town? What the hell was going on?
He drained his glass, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and walked outside. He thought he’d search the town, first one side of the street and then the other.
He made his way down the sidewalk, his gait steady although he’d been drinking since he got out of bed that morning. Stopping in front of Bob’s Barbershop, he struck a match against the side of the building and lit a stogie. Then he continued his search, and men stepped out of his way. Some crossed to the other side of the street to avoid him. Nobody wanted a run-in with Sheriff Rawlins.
He was courteous to ladies, touching his finger to the brim of his hat and muttering something friendly whenever he passed one of them. He’d been taught to respect women, but their husbands and brothers were liars and low schemers, in his opinion.
He spotted Casey, sitting on the bench in front of the hardware store. Rawlins didn’t slow down or give any sign that he’d seen Casey. He just kept walking, passing him and the blond man sitting beside him, but Rawlins’s senses were wide awake, and he was listening for the click of a hammer being cocked. If he heard it, he was prepared to spin around and send forth a hail of lead.
But there was no click of a hammer, and Rawlins kept moving on. Schuler turned to Casey and smirked. “Fuckin’ old fool,” he said.
“Don’t underestimate Buck Rawlins,” Casey said. “He’s a tough old bird.”
“Don’t look so tough to me.”
“We don’t want a run-in with him. It’s John Stone we want.”
Deke Casey turned and looked at Rawlins’s back as the sheriff of Petie moved farther away on the boardwalk. Casey wasn’t aware that he’d seen Rawlins in the Lanesboro jail ten years ago. A lot of lawmen had been on the scene, coming and going, and Rawlins hadn’t stood out in his mind. A good memory wasn’t one of Deke Casey’s strong points, but he was able to plan robberies like military operations and bring them off successfully most of the time.
“John Stone should be comin’ on duty pretty soon,” Casey said. “Keep yer eyes open for him.”
“The man who shoots John Stone would be famous,” Schuler replied. “He’d git his name in the papers.”
“Forget about it,” Casey told him. “Don’t be a damn fool all yer life.”
“You don’t think I can take him?”
“I don’t know if you could or not, but we’re not gonna play it that way.”
“It’d be the easiest way. I’d just egg him on and shoot him down.”
“You really think you could take him?”
“I know I could.”
“What makes you so sure?”
“I never run into nobody faster than me yet.”
“There’s always the first time.”
“John Stone just had one lucky day, that’s all. Lemme draw on him, Deke. It’s the bestest way to git rid of him. If all of us try it at the same time, it’ll be too messy.”
Casey looked at Schuler, who wasn’t the first fast gun he’d known in his life, and they all had the same trait, an eagerness to test themselves again and again in the most dangerous competition of all. But Schuler was right when he said it’d be messy if all of them tried to shoot Stone down at the same time. Maybe he should let Schuler do the dirty work. It certainly would be easier that way.
“I’ll think it over,” Casey said.
Schuler smiled. He could see that Casey was moving closer to his position. He reached down to his Colt and wrapped his fingers around the barrel. John Stone, he thought, you’re as good as dead.
In his luxurious bedroom, John Stone strapped on his two gunbelts. He put on his hat and left the room, descending the stairs to the main floor of the mansion.
He entered the vestibule, and Esmeralda opened the front door for him. Stone stopped in front of her and gazed down at her face. “You know, you look an awful lot like my old mammy,” he said in his southern drawl. “Been meaning to tell you that.”
“Was she good to you?” Esmeralda asked.
“I loved her with all my heart.”
Esmeralda beamed, and Stone walked out the door. He crossed the veranda and descended the steps that led to the walkway, on the way to his second night as deputy sheriff of Petie.
It was dark, and another full moon hung in the sky over the mountains in the distance. Stone was thinking about the discussion he’d had with Mayor Randlett and Jennifer at the dinner table earlier. It was clear that they wanted to oust Sheriff Rawlins and install him, John Stone, as sheriff. He knew the Randletts would continue their efforts to recruit him, and he wouldn’t be able to get away from their pressure because he was living underneath their roof.
There was another problem with living in the Randlett mansion, and that was Jennifer herself. She was a pretty little thing, and Stone was attracted to her. He thought she was attracted to him too. Sooner or later they’d be alone together in a room of the mansion, and anything could happen.
Stone didn’t want anything to happen, because he was engaged to Marie. I’ve got to find another place to live, he thought.
He was reluctant to move out of the Randlett mansion, because he loved the luxury, but he’d have to move out if he wanted to get some peace of mind. I’ll ask around tonight. Should be able to find something suitable.
In a few minutes he was in the center of Petie, approaching the door of the sheriff’s office, and he noticed that the new window had been installed. The door was unlocked and he pushed it open, seeing Buck Rawlins seated behind his desk. The other desk was vacant; Pritchard had gone home for the day.
“Evening, Sheriff,” Stone said, trying to be friendly.
Rawlins looked up from the shotgun he was cleaning on his desk. “What the hell you think you was doin’ last night?” he asked roughly. “A lawman don’t git into brawls with people. When that cowpoke took a broken bottle on you, you should’ve shot him. You ain’t afraid to shoot somebody, are you?”
“Yesterday when I asked you what the job involved, you wouldn’t tell me anything.”
“I ain’t yer nursemaid. If you didn’t know nothin’ about the job, you shouldn’t’ve took it.”
“I needed the money.”
Rawlins snapped his shotgun together and glowered at Stone. “You want my job, don’t you?”
“I’m leaving this town as soon as my month is up.”
Rawlins snorted. Without another word or even a glance at Stone, he picked up the shotgun and headed for the door.
He left Stone alone in the office. Rawlins’s desk was cleared; all the wanted posters had been put away. Stone wondered how his prisoners were doing. He took the keys from the notch and unlocked the door to the jail area.
He found the two prisoners together in the dark, damp cell. One had his arm bandaged and lay with his eyes closed on his cot, his face pale. The other sat on his cot with his back to the wall and looked sideways at Stone.
The man’s face was badly bruised, and both his eyes had been blackened. He looked at Stone with undisguised hatred.
Stone returned to the outer office and was about to sit behind Pritchard’s desk when the door opened. He looked up and saw Toby Muldoon, broken guitar in hand.
“Miss Elsie wants to palaver with you,” Muldoon said, “but it ain’t no emergency.”
Stone didn’t have anything pressing to do, and thought he might as well walk over there before he got busy.
“I’ll see her now,” he said.
He and Muldoon stepped outside into the darkness, and Stone locked the door.
“Buy me a drink?” Muldoon asked.
Stone handed him some coins, and they parted. Stone headed toward the north end of town where Miss Elsie’s establishment was located. He hadn’t gone ten steps when he was accosted by Mabel Billings, president of the Ladies Auxiliary at the Petie Church of God.
“We’re expecting you in church this Sunday, Captain Stone,” she said, wagging her forefinger before him, and it looked like a sausage.
“I’ll be there if I can make it,” he replied.
“Nobody should be too busy to attend worship,” she admonished him. “We also hope you plan to attend our Harvest Moon Ball.”
He told her he didn’t know anything about the Harvest Moon Ball, and she proceeded to explain it in detail. He listened politely, but finally, after several minutes, couldn’t handle it anymore.
‘Tm sorry, but I’ve got to get going,” he told her. “I have to see somebody on the other end of town.”
“We’ll be looking for you at the Harvest Moon Ball,” she said.
He tipped his hat and headed for Miss Elsie’s place again, hoping he hadn’t been rude. He realized that Jennifer almost certainly would attend the Harvest Moon Ball, since she was the mayor’s daughter, and he’d probably wind up dancing with her. Maybe he’d better start figuring out an excuse so he wouldn’t have to go to the ball, because he didn’t want the temptation. Jennifer was too pretty and he was too lonely, a dangerous combination.
“This must be him,” Deke Casey said.
Casey and Schuler were sitting on the bench in front of the tobacconist, and they looked at Stone approaching on the sidewalk. Casey had never seen him before, but he spotted the tin badge.
“I could take him down right now,” Schuler said, his fingers closing around the handle of his gun.
“Don’t look at him. We don’t want to make him suspicious.”
Casey and Schuler tilted their hats over their faces and leaned back, as if they were taking a nap. Stone barely noticed them as he walked by; he was thinking about Jennifer Randlett.
They waited until he’d passed, then pushed their hats back and looked at his broad shoulders and the two guns on his hips as he merged with the darkness and disappeared.
“Looks like he knows what he’s about,” Casey said.
“I want him,” Schuler said.
“You might be gittin’ in over yer head.”
Casey considered himself a good judge of men. Stone seemed tough and confident, nobody to take lightly. Men usually didn’t exude that kind of confidence unless they had something to back it up.
“You don’t think I’m fast?” Schuler asked.
“I know you’re fast.”
“I wanna draw on him.”
“Let me think about it.”
“What if I didn’t care what you thought about it, Deke? What if I just went and did it myself?”
Casey looked at Schuler, whose eyes were bright with excitement, as if he’d just seen a pretty girl.
“How come you want to fight him so bad?”
“I wanna see how fast he is.”
“What if he’s faster than you?”
“He ain’t.”
“How do you know?”
“I know.”
Casey wondered if Schuler really was as confident as he appeared, or if he was just trying to convince himself. Schuler had always seemed a little erratic, but there was no doubt that he was fast. Casey had seen him kill before.
“I want to draw on him,” Schuler said, squeezing the handle of his gun. “I want to show everybody who’s fastest.”
“We got plenty of time,” Casey replied. “Let’s go have a drink.”
The outlaws arose, and walked down the boardwalk to the Paradise Saloon. Across the street, two beady little eyes watched them. They belonged to Toby Muldoon, sprawled on a bench, his guitar lying on his lap. When they were nearly out of sight, he got to his feet and followed them, shuffling along drunkenly, carrying his old guitar.
Buck Rawlins lived in a shack on the outskirts of town. He opened the door and saw Rosie, the waitress at the Acme Saloon, combing her hair in front of a mirror that hung on one of the walls.
“Where’s my supper?” he growled.
“On the stove where it always is. What do you think you’re doin’ with that shotgun?”
“Mind yer goddamn business.”
Rawlins laid the shotgun on the kitchen table, then went to the cupboard and took out a bottle of whiskey and a glass. He sat at the kitchen table and poured himself some whiskey, waiting for Rosie to serve him.
She walked to the stove and ladled out a bowl of beef stew, placing it before him, along with some bread and fresh butter.
He tore off a piece of bread and stuffed it into his mouth, chewing like an old bull. She looked at him and couldn’t help smiling, because she considered him a big baby underneath his noise and bluster. He didn’t treat her well, but she loved him anyway. He spooned some of the stew into his mouth.
“Like it?” she asked.
“It’ll do.”
He never complimented her cooking, but she knew he liked it because he always cleaned off his plate or bowl. She watched him eat, then took off her apron and hung it up.
“Got to go to work now, hon. Try to behave yourself tonight, okay? Stay out of trouble for a change.”
He grunted, and she bent over, kissing his cheek, squeezing his shoulder. He smelled like tobacco and whiskey. She turned and walked to the door.
He listened to her leave, but didn’t look at her. It was hard for him to tell her how much he cared about her, because he thought it’d make him appear weak, and Buck Rawlins didn’t like to appear weak. But he knew he’d probably be lying in a gutter someplace, if it weren’t for her. She kept him clean, well fed, and loved. He didn’t dare tell her how much she meant to him, because in his experience the moment you started being nice to women, that’s when they thought about leaving. He’d been through it before and didn’t want to go through it again.
He finished the bowl of stew, went to the stove, and got another. Rosie sure is a damned good cook. He sat at the table again and continued to eat.
His thoughts turned to John Stone. He’d been wondering what to do about him, whether to let Casey kill him or not. Rawlins was at war with himself over Stone. One part of him wanted to see him get killed, and the other part thought he should do his duty and help Stone.
He finished the bowl of stew and reached for his bottle of whiskey, as if maybe he could find the solution there.
Two red lamps glowed on either side of the door to Miss Elsie’s place, and light streamed out of the windows. The door opened and two men came out, their arms around each other’s shoulders, singing a bawdy song. Stone watched them pass, then entered Miss Elsie’s place.
It looked pretty much as he’d seen it the previous night, except it was full of men and women, and a man played a violin in the corner. The customers sat on sofas and chairs, and women in tight-waisted gowns, their faces covered with makeup, sat with them, talking, giggling, flirting, and sometimes fondling them. A couple ascended the stairs toward the rooms on the second floor, and another couple came down the stairs, a satisfied smile on the man’s face.
Stone took off his hat and spotted Miss Elsie on the other side of the room. She wore a green dress and was sitting beside Howard Conway, the day desk clerk at the Olympia Hotel. Her eyes widened when she noticed Stone, and she patted Conway’s knee, getting to her feet and walking toward Stone, her upper breasts were shaking with her every step.
“Heard you wanted to speak with me,” Stone said.
She smiled and waved the fan in her hand. “Could you come to my office for a moment? Won’t take but a minute.”
He followed her down the hallway, and they came to a large room with a desk, a sofa, and several comfortable chairs.
“Have a seat,” she said. “Can I offer you something to drink?”
“Whiskey.”
She poured a glass of whiskey for him and one for herself. He sat on the sofa and she sat opposite him on a chair, handing him his glass. He heard a woman laugh in the hallway, and the faint strains of the violin came to his ears.
“I just wanted to thank you personally for what you did last night,” Miss Elsie said to Stone. “I’ve decided to put you on my payroll. Ten dollars a week, to show my appreciation. I pay it to Rawlins and I might as well pay it to you too.” She opened a drawer of the desk behind her, took out a metal box, opened it, and counted out some coins, placing them on the coffee table before him. “That’s your first week.”
Stone looked at the money. “I can’t take that.”
“You earned it.” She smiled, and her teeth were small and white except for one on the bottom that was made of gold. “Consider it a supplemental payment.”
“The city pays me my salary. I think it’s against the law for me to take a bribe.”
“This isn’t a bribe.”
“I think the law would consider it a bribe.”
“There’s no law here except you and me.”
“I’m the law,” he said.
“I know that, and I’m just giving you a little present. Nothing wrong with that, is there?”
“I think there is, to tell you the truth.”
She leaned back in her chair and scratched her chin. “You’re the strangest lawman I ever seen.”
“I’ve never done this kind of work before in my life.”
“You sure did a good job here last night. Buck Rawlins himself couldn’t’ve done better.”
“Sheriff Rawlins is a good man. Don’t underestimate him.”
“If you think he’s something now, you should’ve seen him twenty years ago.”
“A lot of people in this town have a short memory when it comes to Sheriff Rawlins.”
“It’s sad what’s happened to him,” Miss Elsie said. “Too much drink is affecting his mind. The people in this town used to love him, but now they’re getting fed up with him. You look like you’d make a good sheriff.”
“Not interested.” Stone unbuttoned his shirt pocket and took out the picture of Marie. “You ever see this woman?”
Miss Elsie took the picture and squinted at it. “Maybe and maybe not,” she said. “So many people look alike. Pretty little thing, though.”
“Think hard.”
She shrugged and handed the picture back. “Can’t say for sure. I run into a lot of pretty girls in my profession, as I’m sure you can understand. They come and they go. Do you think she might be in the same business I’m in?”
“I hope not.”
She smiled. “You don’t approve of my business?”
“I guess it’s better than starving to death in the street.”
“Who’s the woman?”
“Friend of mine.”
“If I think of anything, I’ll let you know. You can show the picture to the other girls, if you like. Maybe one of them ran into her someplace along the way. My girls have been around. Sure you won’t take the money?”
“I’m sure.”
She put the money back into her metal box. “If there’s ever anything else I can do for you, don’t hesitate to ask. If you want to spend some time with one of my ladies, feel free to do so—on the house, of course. It’d be a pleasure to entertain you, Sheriff Stone.”
“I don’t think so, but thank you anyway, Miss Elsie.”
She looked askance at him. “You’re kind of a tight ass, aren’t you, John Stone?”
“Guess so, Miss Elsie.” Then something occurred to him. “Say, you wouldn’t have a room here for me, would you?”
“Where are you staying now?”
“With Mayor Randlett.”
She thought for a few moments. “How do you like attics?”
“They’re okay with me, if they’re quiet.”
“I could put a bed up there. There’d be a lot of room, and it’d be plenty quiet. When would you like to move in?”
“I could get my things right now and come back in a half hour or so.”
“The bunk will be waiting for you. You can even take your meals in the kitchen with the rest of us, if you like.”
Stone walked into the Randlett mansion, and Esmeralda came toward him out of the darkness.
“I’d like to talk with Mayor Randlett,” he said.
“The mayor’s out,” Esmeralda replied.
“Is Miss Randlett in?”
“She’s upstairs in her room.”
“Do you think I could speak with her?”
“I’ll ask her.”
Esmeralda headed for the stairs, and Stone walked into the parlor, sitting on one of the chairs. Opposite him was the fireplace, and above it was a gigantic painting of a woman who looked something like Jennifer. Stone assumed it was Jennifer’s mother.
Jennifer entered the living room, wearing the same dress she’d had on at dinner. “You wanted to see me, Captain Stone?” she asked with a smile.
Stone got to his feet. “Yes, I wanted to tell you that I’m moving out.”
The smile disappeared. “Moving out?”
“Yes, I’ve found another place to live. You and your father have been very kind to me, but I thought I should have my own place. Didn’t want to get in the way here.”
“You weren’t in the way.”
“I thought it would be best this way.”
“Where’s your new place?”
Stone felt the color coming into his face, but she’d find out the truth sooner or later anyway.
“I’ve taken a room at the other end of town,” he said.
“Whereabouts on the other end of town?”
He swallowed hard. “At Miss Elsie’s place.”
There was silence for a few moments, then she said, “I see.”
He smiled nervously. “Well, thank you very much for everything. You and your father have been very kind.” He realized he was talking too fast and too loud. “I’ll go upstairs and get my things now.”
He fled from the parlor, wondering what she must be thinking of him. She’d shown an expression of surprise or maybe even shock for a second, but then her face had regained its customary composure.
In his room upstairs, he stuffed his belongings into his saddlebags. He picked up his rifle, looked around to make sure he wasn’t leaving anything, and spotted his razor lying next to the washbasin. Tossing it into the saddlebag, he left the room.
Jennifer was waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs. “I hope you’ll be happy at Miss Elsie’s,” she said without a trace of sarcasm in her voice.
“It’ll only be for a month,” he replied, “and then I’m moving on. Thank you again for your hospitality. You and your father have been just wonderful, but sometimes a man likes to be on his own. I’m sure you understand. And now if you’ll excuse me, I’d better get moving on. I’ve got a lot to do tonight.”
He dashed toward the door, and Esmeralda held it open for him. The cool night air hit him in the face as he made his way to the street, his saddlebags slung over his shoulder and his rifle in his right hand.
Jennifer stood by the window and watched him go. That’s what men are like, she said to herself. They always take the easy way.
She climbed the stairs to her bedroom, a troubled expression on her face. It bothered her to think that he was the only man who interested her, and he didn’t care about her at all.
She entered her bedroom and pinched her lips together in frustration. On the dresser in front of her was the book she’d been reading when Esmeralda had come to tell her that John Stone wanted to speak with her.
In a sudden angry motion she picked up the book and was going to throw it across the room, but caught herself, took a deep breath, and sat down.
“Damn!” she muttered, opening the book to the page she’d been reading before. “Damn!”