Beautiful Bad Man Read Online Free PDF Page B

knew it, and she knew in a day or two he’d be back. He’d claim she owed some enormous sum for the food, or he’d pretend surprise at finding beef on the place and threaten to have her jailed for rustling.
    He’d use the threats to try to frighten her into signing the property away. When she didn’t frighten, he’d hurt her. As if she cared. A brittle little laugh escaped, her breath puffing white in the cold air.
    She went back inside, slamming the door with anger-driven strength. That food could all sit out there and rot, or the coyotes could carry it off. Her chest heaved as she leaned against the inside of the door, struggling to repair her shell of indifference.
    The dull, gray place inside eluded her, and she had to face a truth every fiber of her being rebelled against. When it came to food sitting available in her front yard, the line she worried about was drawn so dark no one could mistake where it lay.
    Time passed. Her small flare of temper receded, and resignation returned. She carried the food inside, picked up her sack, and went to gather cow chips for the stove.
    The next morning Norah rose early and heard the jingle of harness and creak of approaching wheels bearing a heavy load. She made it outside as the wagon disappeared around the side of the house and hurried after it.
    The driver pulled the horses up, set the brake, and jumped down. The sight of firewood piled high in the wagon bed distracted Norah. She could barely remember the scent of wood smoke. Like beef for the table, settlers on the treeless prairie did without wood for their fires.
    She forced her attention back to the man — sure enough, the interfering one. Too tall and broad in the shoulders for comfort. Evil-looking, with empty dark eyes. Several days’ beard growth emphasized the predatory, hawkish look, as did that noticeable crook in the bridge of his nose. As if she cared. He didn’t scare her. Couldn’t.
    “Take that away. I don’t want food from you, and I don’t want wood.”
    He gave her the same contemptuous look as two days before. “Don’t you have a coat that fits?”
    “You’re trespassing. Go away and leave me alone.”
    He ignored her, gathered an armload of wood and carried it past her. Frustrated, she followed him into the house and watched him drop the firewood beside the stove with a clatter.
    “What’s the matter with you? Are you deaf? I don’t want that wood. Go away.”
    “I wish I could. The trouble is I owe you, and we’re both stuck dealing with it.”
    That made no sense. He couldn’t owe her anything. The only way he could owe her was if....
    A wave of dizziness had her groping for the edge of the table for support. “You killed Joe,” she whispered.
    “No, Mrs. Hawkins, I did not. Here. Sit down before you fall down.”
    He pulled out the closest chair, but she darted around the table and dropped to the one on the opposite side. The quick movement brought back the light-headed feeling, but he didn’t need to know that. She set her jaw and glared at him, letting the hate show.
    “I’m going to unload that wood and stack it,” he said, ignoring her attitude. “Why don’t you take a crack at doing something useful, like cooking some of that food you don’t want. Then we’ll talk.”
    Norah listened as pieces of wood bounced first off the frozen ground and then off each other. What right did a killer have to talk to her like that, to look at her with such contempt? So she was tired and discouraged and had decided life wasn’t worth living. How she felt and how she lived her life or didn’t live it was none of his business.
    If she didn’t cook, would he do it himself and try to force her to eat? If he hadn’t killed Joe, or at least helped others do it, how could he owe her anything? He had to be lying, but why would he bother?
    She rose to her feet and stood a moment, relieved when the dizziness didn’t return. She needed to visit the privy, and after that maybe she’d fetch