Rocky Mountain Widow (Historical) Read Online Free PDF Page A

revolvers in each hand aimed, dead center, at Joshua’s heart.
    Joshua didn’t hesitate. He drew.

Chapter Two
    C laire Hamilton couldn’t make the nausea go away, nor the way her head kept feeling as if it were swinging to the right and then the left, like a tree branch caught in the clutches of a spring tornado. Not even the burning nastiness of Mrs. Adelaide Gable’s whiskey could clear her head.
    Of course, if she’d known it was liquor, she never would have taken a swig. She’d thought the elderly widow had handed her water.
    â€œYour color is coming back some, my dear.”
    Mrs. Gable gave a grandmotherly pat on the side of her face, which was more of a slap. Claire’s eyes watered.
    The elderly lady grinned. “That’s more like it. It’s always good to have a bit of fight in you. Now stand up. I’ve got you.”
    Mrs. Gable’s gruff kindness heartened her. She was in agony from being around so many people. From having to accept condolences that did not come across assincere. How could they? She’d done her best, but surely her bruises could only be so well disguised.
    Anybody who’d met Ham didn’t particularly like him. Decent folk, anyway.
    She was grateful for the older woman’s help. Her quiet assessment was knowing, though she couldn’t guess that it wasn’t grief that troubled her, but a miscarriage. Mrs. Gable’s grip was surprisingly strong for a woman of her advanced years, but then Adelaide Gable was no typical lady. Everyone knew that. She’d raised her sons after the death of her husband and had the respect of nearly everyone in the county. Her bright green eyes had seen a lot in her life and she seemed omniscient.
    â€œHere’s the doc, in case you’d rather stay clear of him.” Mrs. Gable’s rough whisper was loud enough to carry over to Ham’s mother.
    It was a fine thing that her mother-in-law was preoccupied by her own grief and distracted by her own circle of comforters. She was quieter now, after having tried to hurt Joshua. The doctor had come. He was on the far side of the crowd surrounding Opal and she could not see him directly, but he was essentially only a few steps away.
    She was supposed to be resting, and surely that would be the first thing out of the doctor’s mouth, well-meaning and all. He could easily come to her and ask how she was feeling. What if he mentioned the miscarriage?
    The sorrow was blacker than any she’d known, and while she was not grieving her husband, she was mourning her baby. She felt as if some vital part of her had been cut out and she was empty as a forgotten cup gathering dust.
    No, she could not take the doctor’s kindness. Memories of his face swam before her eyes, how concerned he’d been. How his was the only kindness she’d known aside from Joshua’s that night, and she could not open her heart. It was too raw, and if Opal overheard, then think of the outcry she would make.
    Claire knew the only way she would be all right was if she didn’t dwell on her loss.
    It was better to keep her real grief to herself. And that gave her the strength to pick up her right foot, despite the sharp pain in her lower stomach.
    It’s only from emotional upset and being up too long, she told herself but feared it was worse. She resisted the urge to lay her hand on her stomach, as if minimizing the movement of her torso would bring less pain.
    But such a movement would surely be noticed by one of Ham’s brothers. Rick was watching her beneath the brim of his stained hat, his black eyes as inhuman as a rat’s. Just like her husband’s eyes had been.
    It’s almost as if he’s still watching me. She shivered and slid her hands into her coat pockets and kept them there. She limped through the worsening storm, looking like the grieving widow they all expected her to be.
    A sudden shout rang through the snow-thick air. What was