The Lady Takes A Gunslinger (Wild Western Rogues Series, Book 1) Read Online Free PDF

his lower back. Reese groaned and arched backward. His knees buckled as he slid down the bars, unable to stop himself with his hands pinioned behind his back in handcuffs. A few more blows and he suspected he'd lose consciousness. He feared that more than the beating. Even with Connell Smith, Sanders's deputy, standing by, Reese figured Sanders wasn't beneath hanging him in his cell and calling it a suicide. He struggled to stay coherent.
    Sanders's face came close to his. Bits of spittle flecked the sides of his grinning mouth. He was enjoying this, Donovan thought, the way a mad dog enjoys tearing apart his victim. Sanders had been looking for an excuse to put him in his place for a long time now. At last he'd gotten it. Reese squeezed his eyes shut.
    The marshal grabbed the lapels of Reese's shirt and yanked him close. "Oh, no you don't. I'm enjoying this much too much to let you miss this." He backhanded his face hard.
    Reese tasted blood on his lip. "Shag off."
    Sanders laughed. "You always were a stupid bastard, Donovan. Never knew when to quit, did you? I told them. I warned them they never should have let a mick in the ranks of the Rangers. I told 'em it would mean only trouble. First it was John Malchamp. And now my brother's paid with his life."
    "He drew on me fir—"
    The fist came again, knocking Reese sideways against the floor. He lay there for a moment, breathing hard, his bloody cheek pressed against the dirt. Sanders yanked him upright again.
    Connell Smith took a step forward and opened his mouth to say something, but a look from Sanders silenced him. Reese's gaze slid back to the deputy. He was young as Deke, and green, and in the past had even spoken kindly to him. Smith was an eager paper soldier, poor and ambitious, but Reese doubted the idealistic gleam in his eye had ever been quite so tarnished as it appeared just now.
    "My brother didn't deserve a bullet from the likes of you," Sanders said, rubbing the bloody knuckles of his right hand.
    "So why don't you just kill me and get it over with? No witnesses here. Just ol' Connell there. He won't talk, will ya, Connell?"
    Connell's face flushed and he swallowed hard. "I reckon as how I would. No matter who he killed, Marshal, he deserves a trial."
    Sanders wiped his mouth harshly against the edge of his dirty sleeve. "You goin' up against me, boy?"
    "No, sir. I just think—"
    "You aren't paid to think," Sanders snapped. "You're paid to follow orders. So do your job!"
    Connell flinched, his breath coming fast with anger. "Yes, sir."
    Sanders turned back to Donovan. "You'll get a trial, then I got a rafter in the livery all picked out and a nice long rope. You're gonna almost feel that dirt under your feet, but you're not gonna be able to quite get a hold of it. An' while the life is squeezin' out of you, I'm gonna watch. I'm gonna watch, Donovan, for Deke. Ain't nobody gonna help you." Sanders lifted him by the shirtfront and shoved him into the cell. Donovan's head cracked against the dirt floor and he squeezed his eyes shut.
    "You're a dead man, Donovan. You can count on that," Sanders finished, and slammed into his outer office, leaving Connell behind to lock him in.
    Connell stepped over Donovan's legs, reached behind him, and unlocked the handcuffs. A new pain rushed to Reese's nearly numb hands as feeling returned, but he had only the strength to draw his arm up near his face on the floor.
    "I reckon there ain't nothin' I can do," Connell told him.
    Reese shot a disgusted look at him.
    "Deke was more a son to Sanders than a brother," Connell explained in his own defense. "Raised him nearly himself. But the apple don't fall far from the tree. Deke was trouble waiting to happen."
    Donovan opened one eye and looked up at the deputy. "It was self-defense."
    "Can you prove it was?"
    Donovan edged up on his knees and Connell backed warily out of the cell, slamming the door shut. Dragging himself to his feet, Donovan gripped the bars, breathing hard. He