Rocky Mountain Rose (Rocky Mountain Bride Series Book 3) Read Online Free PDF Page A

worked until she padded across the floor and picked up her white stage dress. The spots of blood stood stark against the pure cloth, and she knew it did happen. Sam really was dead.
    Casting about, she found her trunk and dressed quickly, then reloaded Nellie. Her money was sewn into the stitches of her skirts; she took the time to gather it all and tucked it safe in her bodice. It would be enough to get out of town. Pulling a few items into a bag, she snuck out of the hotel, finding the back stairs Lyle had carried her up last night. He was a strong man, to climb them without pause.
    She remembered how he held her, how the gentleness in her blue eyes made her heart ache. What would it be like to have a man in her life who would look at her that way? Who would hold her every night and wake her with a kiss? If she closed her eyes, she could still feel Lyle Wilder’s arms around her, see his beautiful profile watching over her in the darkness.
    No. She would not think of him.
    Tugging her bag up onto her shoulder, she pushed her hair out of her face savagely and stomped away from the building. The smell of fried onions and potatoes wafted through the alley, but Rose kept hurrying on. There was no time for breakfast if she was to find a horse, or a wagon ride before noon.
    When she stepped onto the main street, she realized her first mistake. Men stood on the street, pulling horses and talking. One by one, their heads whipped around as one as she walked by. Women weren’t a common sight in Colorado Territory, much less pretty redheads.
    Cursing her telltale hair, she hurried down the boarded sidewalk. One man stepped out to accost her, and she met his gaze boldly. She’d learned early; never show fear. Most men would take cues from her and pounce only if she showed weakness.
    She reached the end of the sidewalk and her luck ran out. Two men, muscled and ugly, stepped onto the porch and blocked her way.
    “You’re Rosie May,” one said.
    She tried to push past them, but they caught her in a grip, dragging her back. One ripped her sash, and her Nelly fell out with a clatter, only to be kicked away. Helpless, Rose’s first thought was to shout for Lyle, but when she started to cry out, one attacker slapped her. Together the thugs manhandled her down an alley and into a building she hadn’t seen since she was with Mary.
    At this hour of the morning, the bar was empty, though it still smelled of beer and unwashed bodies.
    Rose’s cheek throbbed where the man hit her, but she struggled a little as they dragged her up the steps. She would’ve gotten another blow, but one of the thugs stopped his partner.
    “Don’t mark her,” he said. “She’s Doyle’s now.”
    A chill went through Rose’s body as she recognized the name of the man who had peddled her sister’s flesh.
    They pushed her into a small, dark room, and all of a sudden, Rose was a little girl again, hiding under her sister’s bed while their drunken father raged, and then, later, listening to the sounds of the men Mary entertained so they’d have food to eat the next day.
    Sinking down onto the floor, Rose put her head into her arms and rocked back and forth.
    After a while, the image of Lyle rose unbidden behind her closed eyes. Tall and dark, handsome as an angel and wicked as a devil, he was the prince Mary had believed would save them. It had been years since Rose had allowed herself to think on it, but there, in the dark, she prayed for her hero to come.
    Doyle’s men left her in there for hours, no doubt to wear her down. Noises started to seep through the doors as night fell and the saloon filled up. Rose took to pacing, checking every crack and corner for a way out, and finally forcing herself to stand in the middle of the room and do breathing exercises for her voice.
    Finally, the door burst open, and the men dragged her, cringing, into the light. At the end of a hall, one thug held Rose while the other knocked on a door.
    “Enter,” a voice