The Rustler Read Online Free PDF Page A

in Sunday clothes. “Bunch of ranchers caught a couple of cattle thieves and strung ’em up. They want you to come. You and Sam O’Ballivan. I sent Zeke Reynolds out to Stone Creek Ranch with the news.”
    A chill trickled down Wyatt’s spine. For a moment, he was out there under that rustler’s moon again, in the aftermath of a storm and a stampede he’d been lucky to survive, distant shots echoing in his ears.
    Rowdy snatched the telegram from the messenger’s hand and scanned it a couple of times, in the way of a man who hoped it might say something different if he read it enough. Swore under his breath.
    â€œYou’re not a Ranger anymore,” Lark said quietly, gazing at her husband with luminous brown eyes. Her hair was fair, like Rowdy’s, and shorter than most women’s, just touching her shoulders. “And you’re the marshal of Stone Creek, not Haven.”
    â€œIf Sam goes,” Rowdy told his wife, avoiding her eyes, “I’ll be riding with him.”
    â€œMe, too,” Gideon said.
    Wyatt didn’t speak, and that was a hard thing, not offering to help. If there was one place he couldn’t afford to be seen in, it was that little border town, just outside of which he and Billy Justice and the boys had helped themselves to more than five hundred head of cattle.
    â€œYou’re staying right here,” Rowdy told Gideon, but his tone lacked conviction. Like as not, Gideon would get his way.
    Meanwhile, Wyatt saw his dream of settling down, living under his own name instead of yet another alias, marrying up with a woman like Sarah and raising kids and cattle, scatter into the air like the fluff from a dandelion head. As soon as Rowdy and Sam O’Ballivan rode out, he would, too—heading in the opposite direction.
    He should have known he couldn’t live in the open, like ordinary men.
    Rowdy handed the telegraph operator a coin and dismissed him with a muttered “Thanks” and a distracted wave of one hand, reading the message again.
    â€œIf you’re going to Haven,” Lark said firmly, getting to her feet, swinging the baby onto her hip in the same motion, “so are Hank and I.”
    â€œWho’s going to mind Stone Creek?” Wyatt asked, not because he cared much about the answer, but because he thought Rowdy might get suspicious if he didn’t say something. “Is there a deputy?”
    A slow grin broke across Rowdy’s strained, thoughtful face. “Yes,” he said. “I’m looking at him.”
    Wyatt felt hot color rush up his neck. “Me?”
    Rowdy nodded. “You,” he said.
    At last, Wyatt stood. “I don’t know anything about being a lawman,” he protested, but carefully. “Until two years ago, I had a price on my head.”
    â€œSo did I, at one time,” Rowdy said, unfazed. He could be like an old dog mauling a soup bone when he wanted something. Changing his mind wouldn’t be easy, if it was possible at all. “Turned out pinning on a badge was my salvation,” he said, catching Lark’s eye as she set the baby down on the rug beside the dog and moved to begin clearing the table. “That and a good woman willing to take a chance on a former train robber.”
    Lark blushed prettily. “If you think you’re going to charm me out of going to Haven, Rowdy Yarbro,” she said, “you are sadly mistaken. As soon as I’ve done these dishes, I mean to pack for the trip.”
    â€œGideon will take care of the dishes,” Rowdy said. He was watching Wyatt again, though, and there was something disconcerting in his eyes, an intent, measuring expression. They hadn’t talked about the months between Wyatt’s release and his arrival in Stone Creek—there hadn’t been time. But Rowdy was a hard man to fool, and he clearly had his suspicions.
    Gideon banged the dishes and cutlery around in the sink, but