Sean Donovan (The Californians, Book 3) Read Online Free PDF Page B

silence, and after a few more
minutes he thought he heard people leaving.
    He must have been right because his jailer returned to
the cell holding a lamp and a shotgun. He was with
another man, and this man let himself into the cell to remove Sean's bonds. Sean was more than a little aware
of the way the barrel of the shotgun never wavered from
his chest. If he could have spoken, he would have told
the men he couldn't run. His legs would never hold him.

    They didn't speak to Sean or to each other, but before
the men left the cell they stared at Sean for a few intense
seconds. His fear returned fullscale at having these two
men staring at him. Knowing he was completely at their
mercy was even more frightening than when the safe
blew.
    If the light had been better, Sean might have noticed
that the older man's look was regretful, not cruel.

    "He's nothing but a kid." The deep voice was soft,
contemplative.
    "How could you tell under all that hair?"
    "His eyes. Clear as glass and angry, but scared out of
his wits."
    The deputy only nodded, sure that Sheriff Lucas Duncan, "Duncan" to all, was right. He usually was.
    "Want me to stay the night?"
    "No. I'm restless as it is, but stop and let Lora know
that I'm all right and ask her to bring breakfast for two."
    "Right. I'm off."
    An hour passed before Duncan moved again. He'd
been deep in thought and knew that his hunch had been
right: There would be little if any sleep for him tonight.
Had he gone home, he'd have tossed and turned for
hours, disturbing Lora.
    Duncan pushed away from his desk then, the chair
creaking in protest. He had planned to question the boy
at daybreak, but if he was as restless as the sheriff, now
was as good a time as any.

    Duncan was surprised to find his prisoner asleep. He
was stretched out on his back, one arm thrown over his
eyes. Duncan let his eyes run the length of him. He was
big. He covered the cot and then some. It was easy to see
why Hartley picked him; his size alone could be intimidating.
    But Duncan wasn't fooled. He guessed him to be
somewhere around 20 and as wet behind the ears as they
came. And at 54, Duncan had seen more than a few
prisoners come and go.
    He walked back to his desk, sat down, and propped
his feet on the flat surface. After laying his gun across his
stomach, he tipped his hat forward and his chair back.
He caught about an hour's sleep before his wife came in
with breakfast and a smile.

     
eight

    Lora Duncan set her tray on the desk and went immediately to kiss her husband. His arms came around her
plump figure as Lora looked anxiously into his eyes. He
was exhausted.
    "Hartley?"
    "He was behind it, but he's not in the cell."
    Lora nodded and moved to unload her husband's
breakfast. She left the prisoner's food on the tray and
followed Duncan to the cell. She hung back slightly until
he signaled her forward, and then entered the cell and
put the tray on the floor. She didn't linger within, but
once outside took a moment to look at the man sitting
silently on the cot. He was watching her, and Lora was
immediately struck by his youth.
    "I'll be coming back to talk to you as soon as I eat."
    Lora barely heard her husband's words to the man
before she was gently ushered back to the desk.
    "He's young and trying to hide it behind his anger,"
she whispered with tears in her eyes.
    "Yes, he is young, and I think I'd better warn you, they
plan to make an example out of him."
    Duncan's voice was equally soft, and he watched with
pain as a shudder ran over his wife's frame. He hated to see her upset, but it was better that she know now than
on the day the kid swung from a rope.

    Lora had brought along a pot of coffee and joined
Duncan as he ate. They talked of nothing in particular,
and as soon as Duncan was finished he urged her to go
home.
    "What if he didn't like the food? I could always fix him
something else."
    Duncan looked at her with tender eyes, but the set of
his