Massacre at Lonesome Ridge: A Zombie Western Read Online Free PDF Page B

further into the office.
    "I'm doing just fine. You're so sweet for askin'." She gave him a winning grin that upped the pink in his cheeks by several degrees.
    Amos coughed. "I'll, uh, I'll wait for you outside, sheriff."
    The sheriff fought back a grin. "I'll be out in a minute."
    The deputy left and Cora clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle her giggle.
    "You're so mean to him."
    She scoffed. "How am I mean? He loves it."
    Connor rose and adjusted his rumpled trousers. "He loves you, you mean. And you're never going to feel the same."
    "I'm never going to feel that way about any man. Not after Michael. Not after what he did." She shrugged. "By the way, it's almost noon, not early morning. You were sleeping, so I waited awhile outside. You better get a move on if you want to hit up the Gaines' place before dark."
    Connor strapped on his gun belt and grabbed the ring of keys off the hook on the desk. "Come on, Finch. Time to leave."
    The old man grunted and groaned, but somehow managed to push himself to his feet and stumble out into the sunlight. "See ya tomorra," he mumbled as he left.
    "I hope not," Connor called after him as he watched the man trip down the stairs into the street. The sheriff turned from the door just in time to see Cora stuff his bottle of whiskey into the basket. He gritted his teeth, but said nothing.
    She turned around with a smile on her face. "I should be going," she said. She harbored no guilt over taking away his bottles. It wasn't the first time, and it would not be the last. She walked over to the door. "Be careful, little brother." She stood on her tiptoes for a moment to kiss him on the cheek. "And keep an eye on Amos, please. I want him to return in one piece."
    Amos was leaning on a post near the door, within earshot, and his cheeks brightened to a deep rouge.
    "Go on, get outta here," Connor said with a laugh.
    Cora gave him a wink before sauntering off down the walk toward the hotel to return the breakfast basket to the cook who provided the sheriff's meals.
    Connor walked up beside Amos and nudged him in the side. "Stop staring at my sister."
    "Sorry," Amos stuttered in embarrassment.
    The sheriff laughed. "I'm joking. If she wasn't family, I'd probably watch, too. Ready to go get in some trouble?"
    Amos crammed his hat onto his head. "Yeah, boss. Let's ride."

Chapter 5
    Charity woke up early on the day of her wedding. She had slept little the night before and felt it in her eyes and face. She yawned wide as she walked down the stairs. Her mother was already up and about, putting the finishing touches on the dresses for the wedding she was in charge of.
    She looked up from the intricate stitching and smiled at her daughter. "You better get going, dear. We don't want you to be late for your own wedding."
    The young woman smiled and hugged her mother. "No, we don't. Try not to be too late either, please."
    "I'll do my best, dear. Now, scoot."
    Charity met the other women at Victoire's boutique. The attendant was waiting for her when she arrived and ushered her through the main room to a door on the left. A room she had never been in before was set up with chairs and mirrors. All of the chairs were filled except one. Several attendants fluttered about, applying makeup and hair before they slipped the bridal party into their dresses.
    "Come, come here, darling." Victoire beckoned Charity over to the largest, most comfortable chair set in front of a beautiful vanity. "Sit, please."
    Charity let herself be pulled about and prodded at while they curled her hair and turned her into a princess. As she watched herself in the mirror, she couldn't keep the smile off her face. Her dreams were finally coming true. She was going to be married to the greatest man in the world and she would be the happiest girl to ever live. Even Catherine's glaring countenance could do nothing to dampen her mood.
    When she was finally ready, the whole group was shuffled out the back door into a string of waiting