Marshal of Hel Dorado Read Online Free PDF

considered the request, keeping both
hands on the reins even as he debated dropping one to lay against her thigh. He
wouldn’t normally ride two handed, but he wanted to keep her boxed in, as much
for her safety as security. It would be harder for her to slip sidewise if she
bumped against his biceps when Corona moved up hills and down.
           It had absolutely nothing to do with the
sensation of soft, full breasts rubbing against him.
           Nothing.
           He cleared his throat.
           “I won’t promise to answer them. But I
figure we can trade, one for one.”
           “Who is Molly?”
           Pain squeezed his heart.
           “My ma.” He said after pulling the reins
tight on his emotions. It didn’t usually trouble him to talk about her, but the
intimacy of Scarlett’s body against his, the blanket of the night and the
breathy, hushed whisper of his voice spoke of trading secrets.
           “Oh. She won’t think it odd that you’re
bringing a woman home tied to your saddle?”
           There was no mistaking the teasing note
that slipped into her voice. He smiled. His mother might very well have had a
problem with it, particularly if she could see into Sam’s thoughts. He found he
liked the idea of Scarlett tied up and he wondered about tying her down, but
the uncomfortable arousal swelled to nearly unbearable.
           “She might.” Honesty might encourage the
same from her. “But she passed nearly nineteen years ago, God rest her soul.”
She died in the labor bed, giving birth to Kid. His brother had a name, but no
one used it. He’d been Kid to his father for months after Molly’s passing, the
grieving Jebediah too preoccupied to name the boy until Cob took him in line.
           “I’m sorry.” Scarlett’s voice was a whisper
of compassion, a soothing salve to the injured soul.
           “It was a long time ago.” Barely six, it
was a struggle for Sam to remember his mother.
           The Flying K had been Molly’s for all of
his life, a home where his father still addressed what his mother would have
wanted or tolerated as though she were still with him.
           Sometimes, in the deep of winter, when the
hard northern winds howled down from the plains, Sam thought he was right.
           He cleared his throat. “And your parents?
Where are they?”
           “My folk passed when I was a baby. I don’t remember
them.” The barest pause, the hiccup of dishonesty layered among the truth.
           Sam frowned. “Then who raised you?”
           “It’s my turn.” She bucked against him, the
faintest of shrugs slapping at his chest. Her hair drifted along his neck, the
soft, sweet tangle clinging to him, tickling.
           “So it is.” He could be agreeable, but he’d
not forget his question. She chortled at his acquiescence. A simple, gleeful
little chortle that she probably would have punctuated with clapping hands if
they hadn’t been secured to the pommel.
           “What’s it like to be a Marshal?”
           It was as unexpected as it was a difficult
question. Sam frowned into the darkness, judging their position by the stars
overhead and the flattening landscape. Kane land nestled amongst the hills,
with a plethora of ponds, shallow creeks and a runoff that swelled every
spring, bringing water out to the parched areas. Where there were springs, his
father had dug wells. They were running parallel to the runoff, a bare trickle
of water skipping over the rock bottom. They would turn east where the runoff
met fresh water, but it would be a good place to break and let her stretch her
legs.
           “Marshal?” Her soft voice pulled him back
to the present.
           “Sam.” He corrected her absently, inviting
even more familiarity into the already increasingly difficult situation. But he
really wanted to hear that breathy little voice whisper his name.
           Cry