This Gun for Hire Read Online Free PDF Page A

waiting for him.”
    “I never heard anyone say that she had kin. Most of us don’t, or we have kin that don’t claim us.”
    Chick’s dark eyes narrowed as they settled on her mouth. “You haven’t taken a notion in your head to protect someone, have you?” He did not wait for a response. “Because I have to tell you, that would be as foolish a notion as there ever was. I got the sense that you’re the sort of woman that Whit would want under him. Hair color’s right. He likes it dark. And you’re on the bony side of thin. You put me a little in mind of his sister, fragile-like.” He elbowed Amos to get his attention. “What do you think? Does she put you in mind of Whit’s sister?”
    “Not sayin’ one way or the other. Hell, I’m not even going to think about it. The way Whit talks about her, it ain’t right.”
    Chick shrugged. “Just an observation. It makes me wonder if you were bait, you being new to Mrs. Fry’s establishment, her being a businesswoman who doesn’t want her girls roughed so they can’t work. You have anything to say to that?”
    “No,” she said. “I don’t.”
    He grunted softly, skeptically, but then turned his back while he helped Amos tear at the knots at Whit’s ankles.
    “Would it help if you had a knife?” she asked as she looked on with interest.
    “Yeah, it’d help,” said Chick. “Do you have one?”
    “No, but I can get one from the kitchen.” She started to turn, but Chick barked at her to stop. She tried another tack. “Perhaps some cold water in his face would bring him around. Then he could walk out on his own.”
    “Well, do you have
that
here?”
    “Behind you, on the vanity. The pitcher’s half full.”
    “All right. Bring it here.”
    She did, holding it in her left hand so she could grip it properly without interference from the derringer. When shereturned to the bed, she went around to the side opposite Amos and Chick so she was facing Whitfield. His eyes were still closed. Except for the occasional snore shuddering through him, he was quiet. Amos and Chick had been successful at untying the ropes, and Chick was unfolding Whitfield’s stiff legs while Amos tried to arrange his arms in what he imagined was a more comfortable position.
    Comprehending her time for action was short, she cleared her throat and held up the pitcher. Amos and Chick looked up in unison and, confronted by her genial smile, did not see the shower of water coming at them until they were wet-faced and sputtering. She threw the pitcher, aiming for Chick’s head, but he sidestepped it, and it glanced off his shoulder and hit Amos squarely in the jaw. Amos yelped, palming the side of his face while Chick momentarily lost his mind and threw himself across Whit and the bed to get to her.
    She raised her right hand and delivered a hard blow to the crown of his head with the derringer still in her palm. He collapsed, arms and legs splayed, pinning his friend under him. She entertained the fleeting thought that she was fortunate the pistol did not discharge because then she would have no defense against the revolver Amos was trying to draw. He fumbled with the strap in the same manner he had fumbled with the knots.
    “Leave it,” she said. “Leave it or I will shoot.”
    Amos’s fingers stopped twitching. He blinked rapidly; water dripped from his eyes like tears. When he could see clearly, he stared at the derringer and put his hands out. “Easy now. Go easy. Just tryin’ to do a friend a favor. You mind if I look after Chick? You clobbered him pretty hard.”
    “He’s fine.”
    “Maybe I could just pull him off Whit.”
    “You can try.”
    Amos started to reach for Chick’s legs and then stopped abruptly. He straightened.
    She smiled. “Uh-huh. I’ll shoot.”
    “You ain’t right. In the head, I mean. Even for a whore, you ain’t right.”
    She declined to comment, asking instead, “Where did you and Chick leave Mrs. Fry?”
    “Behind Sweeney’s. We bumped