Sheriff on the Spot Read Online Free PDF

pulled back from him, her violet-blue eyes flashing dangerously. “You’ve got your nerve, Pat Stevens.”
    He kept hold of her bare arm and repeated stolidly, “We’re goin’ upstairs to your room.”
    Her red lips curled away from her teeth contemptuously. “And some people in this town think you’re a gentleman.”
    Pat laughed shortly and started pulling her toward the door leading into the lobby. “Bein’ sheriff and gentleman don’t work so good together sometimes.”
    She hung back, turned her head to call vibrantly to the crowd of admirers behind her, “Isn’t there a real man in the bunch? Are you going to let this—this ex-sheriff— treat me like a she-dog right in front of you?”
    Most of the men at the bar knew Pat Stevens intimately; all of them knew his gun-slinging reputation. She got some low growls in response to her plea; there was a slow movement forward, but no man was eager to push forward in front of the rest to make a try at stopping Pat.
    He laughed deep in his throat and kept relentlessly moving her toward the door. “You’d best shut your mouth an’ come along, Ma’am. I got a different reason for taking you upstairs from what you seem to think.”
    Real fear flickered in her eyes, but she said angrily, “All men have the same idea about a girl who sings and dances in a saloon. You’re no different from the rest, even if Sam Sloan does think you’re a little tin god on wheels.”
    Pat shouldered the glass door open, drew her through into the lobby. He turned and spoke quietly to the group of men edging forward, “You boys will save yourselves a lot of trouble if you stay on that side of this door. Happens I’m still sheriff in Powder Valley—an’ this is law-business.”
    An audible gasp came from Kitty’s carmine lips as he closed the door firmly behind them. She swayed back at arm’s length from him and her eyes were widely dilated. Her full bosom rose and fell as she panted, “You’re still—the sheriff?”
    Pat nodded grimly. “I’m still carryin’ my badge.”
    â€œBut—what about the other man? Jeth Purdue?”
    â€œRight now Jeth’s bein’ right quiet inside the locked jail-house.” Pat frowned and gave her an angry shake. “You might’s well come along quiet, Ma’am. I’m takin’ charge here instead of Jeth.”
    â€œDon’t tell him a word, Kitty.” The warning was a venomous snarl from the lips of Joe Deems. He stood at the end of a passageway leading off the lobby into the hotel dining room, and he was flanked by two men with guns in their right hands. Pat recognized the two gunmen as helpers around the hotel. Deems had a bandage around his head. His yellowish eyes were slaty-hard.
    Pat said quietly, “You’re a fool, Deems. This won’t get you anywhere but in jail along with Jeth Purdue. There’s still law in Dutch Springs.”
    Deems said, “I’m playing my own cards, Stevens. Keep your guns on him, boys.” He stepped forward slowly, and his gun-hands stayed behind, covering Pat.
    â€œDid you hear what he said, Joe?” Kitty spoke swiftly. “He’s still the sheriff!”
    Deems grated, “I said to keep your mouth shut.” He stopped in front of her and warned Pat, “You better let go of her arm.”
    Pat shrugged and let go of Kitty Lane’s arm. There was a red splotch on the white flesh where his hard fingers had held her in a merciless grip. She stepped swiftly backward, rubbing the bruised place with the fingers of her other hand.
    Pat glanced beyond her at Deems’ two men. Their guns were held loosely, in the manner of men who knew what they were doing. He knew it would be suicide to go for his own holstered weapons, and he’d stayed alive this long in Powder Valley by not trying his luck against such