When a Texan Gambles Read Online Free PDF Page A

came low, mixed with his shallow breath—“come closer.”
    Moving cautiously, she marveled he still had the strength to kill her. The blade sliding out of his flesh must have been painful. He was a big man. Killing her would probably take little more effort than snapping a match between his fingers.
    She thought of using the knife to protect herself. But threatening a man with the weapon that had just been embedded in his back seemed overly cruel, even for a murderer like herself.
    “Yes?” she whispered close to his ear.
    He still didn’t move, and she wondered if he guessed that any action on his part might be his last.
    “I’d owe you another favor if you can get me out of here before I hit the floor.”
    His words were so low, she wasn’t sure if she heard them, or just thought them.
    Determination flickered in his eyes and Sarah understood. The pain didn’t matter, or the fact that he was losing blood with each beat of his heart. His life, and probably hers, depended on him being strong enough to walk out of this place.
    Carefully she lifted his right arm and placed it over her shoulders. He braced himself against the table and stood, leaning heavily against her.
    She didn’t bother to ask if he could make it. She knew he would. He had to. “Well, Sam,” she said for all to hear. “We’d better be going. You said you’d like to get an early start.”
    Slipping her hand around the back of his waist, she felt the warm blood against the leather of his vest. It trickled through her fingers and puddled on the floor behind them.
    The men staring at them didn’t offer to help. They watched like vultures waiting for an animal to fall. She didn’t know Sam Gatlin. Didn’t understand what he was about or why he was so feared. But as they moved across the room, she made up her mind that if Sam fell, she’d somehow pull his Colts from his gun belt and kill any man who stepped toward them.
    Denver held the door. “The wagon’s loaded and ready. I even tossed your old dress in there in case you need something to change into on laundry day.”
    The huge woman made her voice sound higher, brighter than her face told Sarah she felt. She was a lady used to putting on a show.
    “Sam ordered the wagon supplied before he got stabbed. Phil’s pulling it up now.” Her hand patted Sarah’s arm as her voice lowered. “Everything’s packed, including a loaded rifle under the seat, hon. The hard part’s over now. He made it out of the saloon. Won’t many men be brave enough to follow.”
    “How much do we owe you?” Sarah wondered how she could repay the woman.
    “Nothing,” Denver answered, backing into the street ahead of them. “Sam’s account is still black with me and with the store owner. He’s traded with us many a time over the years.”
    As the two women lifted him into the back of a wagon, the bartender hurried out with several bottles of whiskey. He helped lay Sam facedown on a bed of blankets and straw, then placed the Colts he wore on either side of the blanket close to Sam’s hands.
    “Just in case you need them,” the bartender whispered as he moved away.
    There looked to be enough supplies for a month, maybe longer. The bartender turned to Sarah and added, “I’ll see the rented buggy gets back to Cedar Point with the first folks I know heading that direction.”
    Sarah had no time to worry about the buggy but nodded her thank-you anyway.
    Denver Delany opened one bottle of the whiskey and dribbled it across Sam’s wound. He didn’t make a sound. Sarah guessed him beyond feeling the pain, for his eyes were closed. It had taken the last of his reserves to walk out of the bar.
    She watched as Denver covered the wound with several towels and wrapped him with a dusty buffalo robe. The scraggly hide looked so nasty Sarah doubted the original owner would wear it.
    The bartender handed Sarah two more bottles of whiskey. “He’ll be needing this when he wakes up, ma‘am. If he wakes