Boot Hill Bride Read Online Free PDF Page A

brain was being squeezed and
    would soon ooze out his ears. He patted her shoulder and
    pinched at the bridge of his nose with his other hand.
    The preacher, still swaying as if a stiff wind was whipping
    him about, started mumbling something about getting paid,
    which made everyone else in the room start talking at once.
    His head was going to explode. The pressure had become
    more than he could take. "Get out! All of you get the hell out
    of here!" Securing the end of the blanket across his hips with
    one hand, Howard reached over with the other and grabbed
    the end of the shotgun. A hard yank forced it to slip out of
    Thurston Fulton's hands. Flipping it around, he tucked it in the
    curve of his elbow and waved it at the crowd. "Get out! Now!"
    Everyone froze, their stares glued on the double barrels of
    Ma's prized gun.
    He cocked a finger, pressed it against the second trigger
    hard enough to make a soft click emit and let everyone know
    the slightest move would send the shell exploding out the
    end.
    They scrambled. The preacher was the fastest. He'd gained
    his balance, and as if the devil himself nipped at his heels he
    ran for the doorway closely followed by the half-dozen others.
    The tent flap fluttered, snapping in the wind, and then
    slapped shut.
    35

    Boot Hill Bride
    by Lauri Robinson
    Howard stared at the canvas doorway for several minutes.
    Watched how the wind tried to flip it open. Maybe if he sat
    here long enough he'd awaken and praise the Lord it had all
    been a bad dream.
    The silence became thicker than bread pudding. He could
    easily cut it up and serve it with raisins and whipped cream. A
    hiccup, moan, or some other such noise beside him made him
    realize there was no waking up from this dream. He laid Ma's
    gun on the floor and twisted to gaze at the woman next to
    him.
    Once again her tousled hair and rosy cheeks made the
    breath in his chest stall. If he didn't know better, he'd think
    just what everyone else had been thinking. After all, what
    man on earth would be able to control himself waking up next
    to her? Disheveled or not, he'd never seen a more stunning
    woman, not even in a dream or two.
    She blinked, look at him expectantly.
    His befuddled mind couldn't think of a thing to say, well
    nothing appropriate, anyway. Shrugging his shoulders, he
    held out his right hand. "Howard Quinter." He almost groaned
    aloud.
    Still clinging to the edge of the blanket tucked beneath her
    chin with one hand, she grasped his big hand with her other,
    tiny, trembling one. "Randilynn Fulton."
    Now what , he thought, but instead said, "Nice to make
    your acquaintance," and gave her icy little hand a gentle
    pump.
    "Likewise, I'm sure," she murmured.
    36

    Boot Hill Bride
    by Lauri Robinson
    He pulled his hand from hers, used it to scratch his head
    and brush the hair that should have been cut a month ago
    away from his face. "Well, I—I reckon we ought to get
    dressed."
    Her face became even redder, but at least big tears no
    longer trickled down her face. "Yes, yes, I suppose we
    should," she said, nodding her head like a little bird searching
    for a flight path.
    His cheeks had grown extremely warm. Damn. He hadn't
    blushed since he was a schoolboy. He scratched his head
    again. "Well, uh, you want to turn around?"
    "Oh." She whipped her face toward the wall faster than an
    escaping wren. "Yes, yes, of course."
    He rubbed both hands over his face, took a moment to
    massage at his pounding temples, before he flipped his legs
    over the edge of the mattress. With a corner of the blanket,
    he kept his hips covered and tried to reach his clothes with
    his feet. The ensemble of unwanted guests had scattered
    every article. He couldn't even reach a sock. With a
    backwards glance, he checked to make sure she wasn't
    looking.
    At that moment, he forgot how to breathe. Simply, utterly,
    forgot. The wool blanket still covered her front, but her
    twisted position revealed her bare back, left it open to his
    gaze.