The Inheritance Read Online Free PDF Page A

others?”
    “Not yet. But I will . . . soon.”
    “I’ll be sure and have Thompson put a notice in the paper telling folks to be on their guard. It’s good to see you again, Caradon. Been a long time since you’ve been through here.” Dunn reached for the door. “You be sure and tell them over at Ming’s that I said to treat you right while you’re in town. And to feed you some of those dumplings. They don’t get any better.”
    “I’ll do that, sir. Thank you kindly.”
    Caradon made his way toward her, confidence in his gait.
    A little too much confidence, in her opinion. And the closer he got, the more it grated on her. Perhaps it was the weariness from the long trip, or the culmination of everything that had gone wrong before they’d left St. Joseph, but her final smidgen of patience evaporated. As did her fear of getting off on the wrong foot with “local authorities.” Caradon wasn’t local. He didn’t even live here. He was just passing through.
    “For a second there, I wasn’t sure you’d waited for me, Miss Ashford. I appreci—”
    “I don’t altogether know why I did, Marshal Caradon.” She stepped into the light so he was sure to see her expression. “I’m certain you meant well, but I don’t appreciate being spoken to—or coerced—in such a manner. Nor am I accustomed to it. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to find my own way. Good evening, sir.” She turned and began to walk down the dimly lit boardwalk.
    “Ma’am,” the marshal said, loud enough for her to hear, “you should know something.”
    McKenna stopped midstep but kept her back to the man.
    “Ben Slater, the prisoner”—she could hear Caradon walking closer as he lowered his voice—“has accomplices. They’re still out there, fairly close by is my thinking. And they’ve . . . violated women before—”
    McKenna closed her eyes.
    “—on more than one occasion. That was the reason for my request. I didn’t want to say anything in front of Slater. He thinks I was only sent for him, and I’d rather him keep on thinking that, just in case.”
    Slowly, McKenna turned, head bowed, glad her face was shadowed. “I didn’t . . .” She swallowed, making herself look at him. “Obviously, I . . .”
    The subtlest emotion moved across his face, not a smile, not anything she could name exactly, but it was there. And it told her he didn’t hold anything against her. Still, he said nothing. Her face felt like it was on fire, but it was her pride—what little was left—that bore the brunt of her misunderstanding.
    “I spoke out of turn, Marshal Caradon. I–I apologize.”
    “No need for that. All I wanted was the chance to explain my actions, so you wouldn’t jump to any conclusions.”
    The way he said it made her smile. But only briefly.
    He took a step closer. “That said, I’d still appreciate the chance to see you home, if you’re willing.”
    Feeling considerably less comfortable in her surroundings than moments before, she nodded. “That would be most kind, thank you.”
    When they reached his horse tethered two streets over, he assisted her into the saddle. Caradon’s horse was a beauty of a mare—chestnut with a black mane. As Marshal Caradon untied the reins, McKenna scooted back so she’d be riding behind him instead of afore. Her preference. But not his apparently, telling by his short-lived frown.
    He climbed into the saddle and guided the horse down the street. “Not much room back there.”
    She balanced easily enough, having ridden this way with her father when she was a girl. Though that seemed like another lifetime ago. She was accustomed to having her own mount these days. “I’m fine. I’m an experienced rider.”
    “With a hand that needs stitching.”
    She glanced at the bandage. “I’ll hold on. If the situation arises.”
    He gently urged the mare to a faster pace, as though challenging that statement. Sensing his test, McKenna smiled and held on to the cantle, with no