Pieces of Sky Read Online Free PDF

gross impropriety of her using his given name. She glared at him.
    He stared back, that silly mustache twitching, those vibrant eyes alight with laughter.
    Resisting the urge to throw her biscuit in his face, she forced herself to resume eating.
    No one spoke. The clatter of spoons on tin plates seemed unnaturally loud in the hushed room. Phelps pulled out a timepiece, checked the hour, then slipped it back into his pocket. Cook set a filled plate before Wilkins then bent to retrieve the two biscuits that had fallen to the floor. After dusting them on his sleeve, he returned them to the tray, taking care to arrange them just so.
    Jessica sensed he had something to say but hoped he would refrain from doing so.
    Alas, not. “You gonna tell him or not?” he demanded of Phelps.
    “Don’t you ever shut your mouth?”
    “I can talk if I want. It’s my house. Besides, he’s got a right to know, don’t he?”
    “Know what?” Wilkins asked, chewing something brown.
    “Aw, hell.” Phelps sighed and wiped his palms on his thighs. He took a deep breath, let it out, then said, “Ramirez is out.”
    The chewing stopped. Other than a slight widening of his eyes, Brady Wilkins went utterly still. Then, in a voice so low it wouldn’t have been heard had the room not been so silent, he said, “What did you say?”
    “He’s out, that’s what!” Cook shouted. “Him and Alvarez. Can you believe that?”
    Wilkins set down his fork and splayed his big hands on either side of his plate. “Explain.”
    Phelps sent Cook another warning look. “I thought Sheriff Rikker might have been out to the ranch to tell you, but Cook said you been in El Paso scouting bulls.”
    “Maybe he told your brothers,” Cook offered hopefully.
    “Maybe.” Wilkins pushed aside his plate. Wrapping both hands around his tin mug, he lifted it to his lips, took a sip, then gently set it back down—each move executed with the careful precision of a man struggling to stay calm.
    But he was far from calm. Jessica could see it in his breathing, in the way his grip tightened on the mug, and the way his eyes had changed to an even brighter, colder blue. Fear fluttered in her chest. She knew about rage, knew the damage a man’s hands could do. And Brady Wilkins had very large hands. She glanced at the others, wondering if they sensed the danger, too.
    By their expressions, they did. The Kinderlys sat in wide-eyed silence. Ashford looked wary, his gaze as watchful as a card player waiting for the hand to play out. Cook fidgeted. Phelps looked ill. But perhaps that was the chili.
    “The law may have him by now,” Phelps said, ending the tense silence.
    “Like hell,” Cook muttered. “That man’s slippery as a heifer’s butt.”
    “Well, I won’t have it!” Leaping to her feet, Maude rounded on Phelps. “As our driver, you are sworn to protect us, and we shan’t go another step until that man is apprehended.”
    “You sure as hell ain’t staying here.”
    Phelps’s palm slapped against the tabletop. “Open your mouth one more time, old man, and I’ll put a bullet in it, swear to God.”
    “It’s my house.”
    Beneath her cape, Jessica began to perspire.
    Wilkins continued to stare into the mug he gripped so tightly.
    “Gentlemen, please.” Ashford graced Maude with an indulgent smile. “I’m sure there’s no danger, ma’am. Remember, you’ll have four men riding with you.”
    Small comfort, Jessica thought, since one of them was Bodine and another was every bit as menacing as the madman they hoped to avoid.
    Sniffing into her hanky, Maude allowed Ashford to assist her from the table. “I told the Colonel we shouldn’t have left Baltimore. Now we’re all going to die.”
    “I think it’s a grand adventure,” Melanie said, following them through the door. “Just like in The Cannibal Diaries .”
    Anxious to make her own escape, Jessica rose and gathered her belongings, wishing Phelps would take the hint and stand so she could slip