Love Finds You in Tombstone, Arizona Read Online Free PDF Page B

drawn and trained on Nevada. “You got two choices. Help us, or get yourself shot.”
    Nevada hesitated, weighing his options. He could probably take this man without too much trouble, but the gunshot would alert the others. The stage had rolled to a stop, and a glance showed two men climbing down from the top and a male passenger stepping out the door. If he moved forward with his plan and took this man down as he wanted to, it was highly probable some of the passengers would be killed in the ensuing gun battle. His gut clenched, and he tightened his grip on the butt of his gun. Something told him he would do better falling in with these men than trying to stop them, and getting himself and others killed—even if it meant pretending to be a criminal. “I’ll help you.”
    The man’s eyes seemed to glow as he peered through the holes in the mask, but his gun didn’t waver or drop. “You don’t get nothin’ but what Jake promised, and you’ll get a dose of lead if you try anything funny.”
    Nevada holstered his gun and raised his hands, palms out. “Sure. Take it easy, friend. Just want to lend a hand, that’s all.” He sent a prayer heavenward, his first one in years, and hoped this time God would see fit to listen. Maybe once he got close to the stage he could still overpower the outlaws and keep this robbery from happening.
    “All right.” The gun dropped a couple of inches but stayed trained on his belly. “Ya still got the mask the boss gave you?”
    “Yeah. In my saddlebag.”
    “Put it on. Unless you want your face plastered all over the county on wanted posters.” He gave a sharp bark of a laugh. “That might be a good thing. They’d be chasin’ you, ’stead of us.”
    Nevada stepped toward his horse. He withdrew the sackcloth mask from his saddlebag and drew it over his head, wrapping the string around his neck to keep it from slipping. The smell of mold almost gagged him. “What’d you have in here?”
    “Some old grain that went bad. Now tie your horse and get a move on.” He motioned with his gun and waited for Nevada to follow his orders, then walked behind him toward the other two outlaws.
    Nevada peered through the eye holes at the motionless stage and stopped short, still a number of yards away from the coach. His heart rate accelerated. A man climbed out and an older woman followed, her wails splitting the air. Her companion patted her back and drew her close, trying to quiet her sobs.
    The outlaw leader stepped forward and uttered a low growl, then raised his voice in warning. “Shut your trap, lady. You don’t look hurt a’tall. Quit your caterwaulin’, or I’ll give you somethin’ to complain about.”
    Her eyes grew round and she gasped, then her lips clamped shut. A slender woman wearing a green dress, a hat, and a veil stepped to the ground. The white glove gripping her arm was stained red and a distinct whimper came from under the veil.
    The burly leader turned at Nevada’s approach and stalked toward him, stopping a good distance from the stage. “Came to help us, did you? Good thing you covered your head. Wells Fargo don’t look too kindly on havin’ the payroll stole off their stage.”
    “You shot a woman?” A growl laced Nevada’s words.
    He placed his hand on the butt of his gun but kept his gaze trained on the man. Conflicting thoughts raced through his mind. No way could he get into a shooting scrape now. Avoiding more bloodshed must be his primary focus, even if it meant quelling his own desire to end this thing. He fought a hard battle inside—and all the years of violence and living by the gun almost won out. But a glance at the woman standing so silent, gripping her arm with only the one whimper, decided the question for him. He loosened his hold on his gun and relaxed his arm.
    “Not a’purpose, we didn’t. One of the men got nervous when the driver wouldn’t stop and shot at the stage. Winged her. Come on, you kin help us relieve them of their