An Outlaw in Wonderland by Lori Austin

Author:Lori Austin
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Penguin Group, USA
Published: 2013-05-08T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 17

Annabeth managed to herd the marshal out the door without answering any more questions. Most folks weren’t even aware that they’d asked and she hadn’t answered. Unfortunately, she didn’t think Marshal Eversleigh was most folks. He knew she was evading him.

But she doubted he suspected the truth, that she rode with an outlaw gang and was considered—almost—one of them. That she’d done things that haunted her. She’d had little choice.

She considered the marshal’s words. Had the shot been meant for her? She’d think so, except for that visit from Fedya.

Ethan’s in trouble.

What had Fedya seen, heard, sensed? If someone had threatened Ethan, wouldn’t the sniper have killed them himself? Certainly there was no love lost between the two men, but she doubted Fedya would stand back and watch Ethan be killed if he could stop it. His guilt over Mikey wouldn’t allow that. His trip to Ellsworth to warn Annabeth of impending doom proved it.

But what if Fedya had thrown the sheriff out the window and then had to make a run for it before he could do anything to help Ethan? Though why would he have done that, she had no idea. If she ever saw Fedya again, she’d ask, but chances of that were slim.

Still, if there were trouble, why send Annabeth? Why not send Mikey?

Annabeth had no idea. All she knew was that Ethan was in danger, and she couldn’t leave until she found out why and then eliminated the threat. She just needed to do it before her other life caught up to her.

The distant breaking of glass caused Annabeth to hurry upstairs. The laudanum bottle she’d left on the bedside table had shattered on the floor; what was left inside had seeped into the planks. Ethan lay with an arm thrown over his eyes.

“Ethan?”

“Aye.”

Irish again. Damn.

“Are you . . . ?” She paused. He wasn’t all right. He might never be all right again. “Does your head ache?”

“A bit.” The accent was suddenly gone. He was making her dizzy. “I dropped the bottle before I managed to drink any. Would you get me another?”

“Of course.” She scurried downstairs, snatched up one more, and shoved it into her pocket. On her way out, she also grabbed the carbolic acid—during her night with the medical texts, she’d come across a paper written by Joseph Lister, which explained the rows of carbolic acid in the exam room—as well as a bucket with water and a clean cloth.

She returned to the bedroom, set the bucket on the floor, and tossed the cloth into it. Eyes still closed—no doubt the sun felt like stabbing needles—Ethan lifted his arm from his face and offered his hand. She placed the bottle into it, and he twisted free the top, took several swallows, and gave it back.

Annabeth set the container within reach but not too near the edge of the table. Her gaze went to the broken glass, and she frowned.

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