Each Time We Love Read Online Free PDF

"You worry too much, Bodene—you just can't face it that I've
grown up and don't need you to fight my battles anymore."
    Bodene snorted and was on the point of replying scathingly
when the silver bell tinkled—once. The intent expression that suddenly
came into Savanna's eyes stopped him, and as the seconds passed, her
face paled, but her gaze remained locked anxiously on that silver bell,
almost as if she were willing it to ring again. "What is it?" Bodene
asked sharply, instinctively reaching for the short-barreled pistol he
kept handy at all times.
    Tearing her eyes away from the bell, she swiftly reached for
the rifle she had held earlier, as well as another one she kept behind
the oak counter. Deftly tossing the second rifle to Bodene, she said
urgently, "The bell is our signal—Sam's in trouble! Bad trouble!"

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Chapter Two

     
    "WHAT
THE HELL DO YOU MEAN, SIGNAL?" BODENE rasped as he
caught the rifle and instantly crowded against the wall, the rifle held
ready.
    Impatiently Savanna hissed, "The damn bell! We have them
scattered throughout all the buildings with pull-ropes in handy places.
One ring means desperate situation; two, that someone looking like or
for trouble is approaching; and three, that strangers are nearing and
to be on the alert. Either Sam has somehow hurt himself or—"
    "Or Murdering Micajah has returned," Bodene drawled coolly.
    Savanna gave a sharp nod of her red-gold head and muttered,
"My, my, how clever you have become these days!"
    A scuffling sound from the dogtrot caused both of them to
freeze. They exchanged a tense look and then Bodene melted into the
shadows and Savanna dashed behind the counter, hastily concealing the
rifle, but ready to snatch it up in an instant.
    Twilight had fallen, and since they had been so busy
conversing, the candles and lamps had not yet been lit and the inside
of the small tavern was filled with murky shadows. Savanna could hardly
make out Bodene's large form in the corner, but simply knowing he was
there helped to calm the nervous tension that coiled in her belly.
    Sam was suddenly shoved violently through the doorway of the
dogtrot, his face contorted by the pain in his right arm, which was
twisted cruelly behind him. A wicked knife blade was held menacingly
against his throat. Over Sam's shoulder, Savanna saw Micajah Yates's
stubble-covered face, his lank brown hair hanging almost to his
shoulders and a smug smile curving his too-full lips.
    Micajah Yates was not precisely an ugly man, his eyes were
very blue and his coarsely handsome features seemed appropriate for his
big, burly build; but unfortunately, soap and water were not often
employed by him, and he had the most unappealing habit of
indiscriminately killing anyone who annoyed him or had the unfortunate
bad luck to cross his path when he was in a bad mood. At thirty-six
years of age, he was a well-known robber and murderer, and Savanna and
Bodene had been acquainted with him from the early days at Crow's Nest.
    Unaware of Bodene lurking in the darkness behind him, Micajah
pushed Sam farther into the room and drawled, "Surprised to see me
again so soon, Savanna?"
    Savanna's eyes narrowed, and leaning her elbows on the
counter, fervently grateful for the nearness of the concealed rifle,
she shrugged carelessly. "Should I be?"
    "Now that depends," Micajah said easily, "on whether you
really thought you had bested me the last time I was here."
    "Why don't you let Sam go and we can discuss it?" she replied
levelly, her slim fingers cautiously inching toward the rifle as her
eyes met Sam's.
    Micajah smiled nastily. "Now, I don't believe we can do that,
sweetheart. If I let Sam here go, you'll try to shoot me with that
rifle you think you're hiding from me. Think I didn't learn anything
from our last encounter?"
    Savanna took a deep breath and forced a smile, neither
stopping her movement toward the rifle nor admitting the truth of his
statement. "So what do we do now?"
    Micajah's blue eyes roved