Under Starry Skies Read Online Free PDF Page A

government to take him off a list that threatened to mar a flawless military career and list him as a deserter and traitor.
    Tye was so absorbed in his thoughts, he neglected to see the small skiff dart out of a stand of scrub oak along the riverbank behind them and glide silently and swiftly to the side of the flatboat.
    “Look! A thief!” Maria screamed, jumping up.
    Tye whirled about as Brett’s small boat plunged swiftly through the water and drew up beside them.
    “Have care,” Tye shouted in warning to the masked individual. He could see sunlight flash off the barrel of Brett’s drawn gun. “We have women and explosives onboard.”
    “Allow me to board,” Brett’s muffled voice demanded from behind the bandanna covering his lower face.
    Abigail jumped up beside Maria. “You’re not going to let him do it,” she said with a hiss. “Stop him!”
    “May I point out to you the obvious, Miss Abigail—he’s holding a gun?” Tye shook his head in disbelief. “Unless you have a monumentally better idea, I would remain seated. One bullet in those crates and we’re feeding the catfish. Sit down. Let me handle this!”
    Brett Trumble leaped lithely aboard and threw the rope from his skiff around a tie-down along the side of the flatboat. Tye could see his green eyes swing a wide arc around the boat and come to settle on the crates. There was no mistaking his surprise and puzzlement.
    Beside Tye, Swamp rose and instead of growling, cocked his head curiously at Brett. Tye motioned to him to sit, but as soon as he obeyed, his tail began thumping wildly on the bottom of the boat. Tye prayed no one noticed the dog’s affable behavior.
    “You carry unusual cargo, my friend,” Brett drawled. “Coffins, a dog, women, and explosives. All worthless when a man needs some quick money.” He pointed his pistol at the mailbag. “Perhaps the mail might hold something of more value.” He walked to where the women had resumed their seats on the trunk and reached for the bag beside Abigail, but her hand flashed down and clamped onto it.
    “No, you can’t have it,” she said through clenched teeth. “This mail is worthless to you, but people are waiting for these letters with news from loved ones and home. They need to be delivered.”
    “Give him the bag, Abigail,” Tye ordered, his voice low and insistent. “Let’s not join your dear cousins.”
    Abigail’s jaw tightened, and she flashed an irritated glance at him. “Whose side are you on? This is worth two dollars if we deliver it to Pueblo.”
    “Side?” Tye’s voice raised an octave. “What the blazes are you thinking? He’s holding a gun!”
    “Give it to him. Please , Abigail,” Maria pleaded. She stood. Her face was the color of newly fallen snow, and her hands trembled as she tugged at her sister’s sleeve. “Please, Abigail, don’t be difficult.”
    Tye watched Abigail reluctantly release her grip. Brett quickly scooped up the bag, then turned to survey the flying petticoat. “Yours, miss?” He looked at Abigail.
    She blushed. “Sir, you are no gentleman!”
    He laughed and hooked a thumb over his shoulder toward the coffins. “Oh, I suppose they were?”
    “But, of course. My cousins were gentlemen to the very day they died.”
    From behind his bandanna, Brett chuckled. “Next you’ll be telling me they were men of the cloth.”
    “No, of course not. The O’Donnells were honorable men who worked the mines and never once stole from others, I might add.”
    “Irishmen, eh? I knew it!” BrettBrett flapped his hand in front of his concealed face. “Shoot-fire, it seems they died with the best Irish whiskey still on their breaths. My daddy said there are many men who’ve been known to hit the sauce with one foot in the grave. These miners are living proof.”
    Tye watched Abigail’s eyes widen and her face blanch, and for a brief moment, he swore he could smell whiskey on the gust of wind seeping over them from the north riverbank. He