The Mail Order Midwife's Secret (Wanted: Wives In The West 2) Read Online Free PDF

full as a tick again,” he said. “And it ain’t even nightfall yet! We’re wondering if you can stick him in the calaboose ‘till it wears off.” Hank “Six Shooter” Hensley was always getting drunk and stirring up trouble. But he usually liked to gamble with a clear head, giving Sheriff Lockhart a couple of hours before he had to tangle with him.
    Normally, having one too many in the Acre wasn’t enough to get you locked up, but with Hank, whenever whisky was involved, so was his gun. The only reason he hadn’t been locked up for good was because he had plenty of money to grease the palms of those who ran the town. He owned quite a bit of land in the Acre, and during the daylight hours, was as fine an upstanding citizen as you could imagine. Come nightfall, his thirst for card games and alcohol turned him into a different kind of man, but his deep pockets helped all that trouble disappear.
    “Keep him happy and I’ll be there shortly,” the sheriff replied. He closed the door and heard Joseph get on his horse and ride back into town. It was going to be another long night. The only thing John looked forward to was church tomorrow. It was the first time he’d be meeting Millie, the woman in the photograph that Pastor Littlejohn and Mabel had shown him. John wasn’t nervous or hesitant about the possibility of falling in love again. He was ready —and he knew Rose would have wanted him to be happy, too.
    When the sheriff showed up in town, Marshal Roy Jennings was holed up inside the Emerald Saloon, where Hank had chased him down the street for fun by shooting at his feet. He’d made the unfortunate mistake of trying to get Hank to go home and sleep it off. Jennings wasn’t respected in Hell’s Half Acre. He routinely had to run from cowboys who tried roping him like a calf when he interfered in their activities. Sometimes they even caught him—and they’d all laugh as he laid there in the middle of Main Street with his feet tied to his hands, until Lockhart got there to release him.
    The sheriff needed sleep, so Jennings usually handled the day shift, since it was somewhat quieter. That was the time of day the marshal would go through the streets, cleaning up the mess made by the drinkers and gamblers the night before. “I’ve had it!” Jennings yelled when the sheriff walked through the swinging doors. “He’s out to kill me!”
    “Now, Roy,” said the sheriff, “he’s just having a little fun is all.” It was well-known that Hank never tried hurting anyone intentionally. He loved his six-shooter, but he mostly just liked to shoot up the mirror behind the bar, or the signs outside as he was riding back home in a drunken stupor. Sometimes, though, people did end up wounded, and then he’d be let off with a fine, always making restitution to the victim the following day when he sobered up.
    “It’s not worth it, John,” said the marshal. “The town council hasn’t paid me in three months. I’ve submitted my time and they keep putting it off. I quit.” He took off his badge and tossed it onto the bar before leaving out the back way so that Hank wouldn’t chase him down again.
    “Well, that’s just great,” the sheriff muttered on his way out the front to deal with Hank. “Hank!” he bellowed. “Get over here. We need to talk.” There wasn’t a man in Fort Worth who didn’t have respect for Sheriff Lockhart. Sober or soaked, everyone answered to him when he called your attention. Hank slid off his horse and crossed the street, looking sheepish.
    “I didn’t mean him no harm,” he slurred with a smile. “Let me set things right.”
    “I want you to go on home now,” Sheriff Lockhart said. “Tomorrow you’re going to come pay your fine and issue Jennings an apology. You’ll also find a job for him in one of your businesses, now that he’s quit on me.” John couldn’t blame Jennings for quitting. It was true that the town council was behind on payments, and the jobs they