A Hard Ride Home Read Online Free PDF

snow-white hair and skin marred with sunspots and deep, leathery wrinkles.
    "Your father rode in and cleared everyone out," Milton told him as he cleaned blood out of a tin basin. "Brought fine furniture from back east to make that big house a home for your ma. People said he was mad, but he wanted her to live like a lady of society."
    Emmett didn't like talking about his mother. "Is there truth in this talk of a posse? Father might be the mayor, but he isn't above the law. If he's got some… bodyguards or such, they ought to be deputized, not acting as a general menace."
    Milton gave Emmett a long look. "Oh, I don't ask questions, Sheriff. Everyone bleeds red when they come through my door."
    The girls were more forthcoming, inviting him on picnics and following him home, strutting past the jail under threadbare silken parasols and chattering on and on about the men who came to dote on them. Trouble was, they mostly wanted to gossip about the sorts of things Emmett wasn't interested in—like fashion and city news and the state of affairs beneath a man's trousers. Though once in a while they got to telling stories that helped piece together the town's checkered history.
    "We were riding for the pass when our wagon was set upon," Beatrice told him, kissing his throat between each word. Her short, soft hair tickled his jaw. "Mayor Grady gave me lodging here, with Miss Devaux, and gave my father work."
    "But—" He pushed her away carefully. "What about Jesse?"
    No one seemed to know where Jesse had come from, or if he had kin, or why he stayed at the Weeping Willow instead of doing honest work, or what his business was with the mayor. Beatrice answered with sly kisses, Josephine changed the subject when he asked, and Rose quirked her mouth in an odd pout and put her hands on him instead of talking.
    There was another girl there, a tiny thing they called Delia who worked in the kitchens and cleaned out the saloon when it wasn't too busy, but she only ever gave Emmett big-eyed glances before darting off like a squirrel.
    Of course, Emmett could go talk to his father himself.
    But every time he stood at the crossroads at the base of the hill, he looked up at the big house and the path seemed tiresome, and steep.
    *~*~*
    When Emmett asked Roscoe to tell him where Jesse came from, Roscoe stopped pouring his whiskey and snatched back the glass, giving him a sharp-eyed look.
    "Have I offended you?" Emmett asked, keeping his hands on the bar top. In their limited interactions, Roscoe had struck him as an affable man, but it didn't hurt to be cautious.
    "Jesse, friend!" Roscoe caught the boy's attention, which was absolutely the last thing Emmett wanted. "Sheriff wants a word."
    Jesse was over on the big red sofa under the window bouncing Josephine on his lap. She whined and held onto his shoulders, and arched, and Emmett flushed all over, realizing he was fucking her right there. Right in front of another man!
    "Five—er—mm—three minutes, Roscoe," Jesse called out, before taking hold of Josephine's heavy braid and pulling her into a tight kiss.
    "That's Alonzo there," Roscoe said, pushing the whiskey back to Emmett. "He drives the coach. Got mule kicked in his manly regions and can't take a woman anymore. So Jesse gets all the fun with Miss Jo." He failed to mask the longing in his voice.
    "Couldn't you volunteer?" Emmett asked, trying—and failing—not to watch the girl bob and squeak with her thin white undergarments riding up her pale, jiggling thighs.
    "I've tried," Roscoe said, giving a low, mournful sigh when Jesse loosened the laces on Josephine's corset and pulled her small breasts free to suckle and paw them. "Oh, I've tried."
    Jesse had lip rouge smeared all over his mouth when he swayed up to the bar a few minutes later, flushed and so fever-hot Emmett could feel it without touching him. Roscoe handed him a shot of something clear, and he downed it with a quick grimace and a quicker grin. He reeked of whiskey and