The Accidental Lawman Read Online Free PDF Page B

imitation of a beating heart. She set the watch on her bureau beside her mother’s Bible and took up her hairbrush.
    She unbound her braid, brushed her hair to a high shine and rebraided it, taking more care this time. After tying a grosgrain ribbon at the end, she walked back to the mirror near the front door and gave herself a curt nod of approval.
    No sense in running around looking like something the cat dragged in.
    She took a deep breath, closed her eyes and whispered, “Dear Lord, help me to begin this day anew. As always, I put my trust in You, knowing that whatever happens, You’ll show me the way.”
    She prayed that no one else had seen Evan. She prayed for God to guide her brother onto the right path.
    And she knew that if anyone asked her directly, if Evan had been outside the bank this morning, that there was only one thing she could tell them. The truth.
     
    Two hours later, Hank was prying open a packing crate when the preacher walked into the narrow two-story building on Main Street. The false front over the entrance was supposed to make the place appear more impressive than it really was, but the space had originally housed a Chinese laundry and the acrid smell of lye with an overlay of incense and other exotic odors had seeped into the walls.
    Hank hoped a fresh coat of whitewash would help, but he had no idea when he’d ever get to it. For now, he had to focus on making a living before what was left of his savings ran out.
    “What can I do for you, Reverend?”
    Brand McCormick took in the empty room, the Hoepress and cylinders, all the unopened crates and stacks of books and was polite enough not to mention the smell, though his eyes were watering a bit.
    “Looks like you’ve got your work cut out for you,” he said, blinking.
    Hank nodded. “You can say that again.”
    The preacher hitched up his pant leg and sat on the corner of the desk. “Harrison Barker just reminded me that the fella who tried to rob the bank is still trussed up in his storeroom.”
    “Harrison?”
    “The storekeeper.”
    “Ah.” Hank pictured the talkative man who wore glasses and slicked his hair down, parted in the middle. “What’s Barker going to do with him?”
    “Well…” McCormick shrugged. “I’m afraid that’s where you come in. As sheriff and all.”
    Hank rolled up his shirtsleeves. He’d already shed his jacket and vest and was thinking about unbuttoning his shirt collar. He looked around the crowded room.
    “I don’t have a storeroom, obviously. Even if I did, I wouldn’t want some outlaw locked up in here.”
    “We were thinking that you could take him over to the county seat at Comanche. It’s not far from here, as the crow files. I might even be able to scare up a couple of volunteers to go with you. You could hand him over to Oswald Caldwell, the sheriff over there, and Oz can hold him until the circuit judge comes through.”
    “You want me to escort a prisoner to the jail at the county seat?”
    “You are the sheriff now, Mr. Larson.”
    “Call me Hank.”
    The good reverend nodded. “So, Hank, I was thinking if you left now, you’d be back before nightfall.”
    Hank set down the crowbar and forgot about the boxes. It was a little past noon. Outside, the temperature was rising.
    “You know, I need to get this newspaper up and running, Reverend, if I’m going to support myself.”
    “I’m well aware of that,” Brand told him. “Right now, I’m going to find a couple of men willing to ride over to Comanche with you.” McCormick pulled a silver-backed watch from his vest pocket, checked the time and snapped it closed. “Could you be ready to leave in half an hour?”
    Hank opened and closed his mouth before he said something he’d regret saying to a man of God. He mopped his brow with the back of his arm and ran his hand over his hair. Reverend McCormick was still smiling. Hank doubted anything ever flustered the man.
    “I’ll go if you can find someone to go with me. The