Eternal Outlaw by Georgina Gentry

Author:Georgina Gentry
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Zebra Books
Published: 2014-08-26T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

The men put Angie, still kicking and screaming, out of the buggy in front of her hotel. “For shame! Wantin’ to save that outlaw! What kind of a woman are you, anyway?”

“And what kind of people are you,” Angie screamed at them, “lynching a man because he made banker Hiram mad?”

She must have hit pretty close to home because the men ducked their heads, cracked the whip and drove away in a hurry.

Two women passing by, escorted by the old postmaster, clicked their tongues with disapproval. “You shameless hussy! We all saw what was going on.”

“And he’s a known gunfighter,” said the postmaster. “We was doin’ you a favor.”

“This is a terrible place!” Angie screamed back. “A town of lawless people.”

“You get out of town, you trollop!” a passerby yelled. “We got a right to keep law and order here!”

God save the world from self-righteous prigs, Angie thought, blinded by tears as she ran into the hotel and began to pack. She couldn’t bear to look any of these people in the face again; besides which, if she was here tomorrow, they’d probably run her out of town.

“Johnny, why did you have to come here?” she sobbed as she packed. She hadn’t realized how much the arrogant gunslinger had come to mean to her until she’d seen his limp body hanging from that limb.

Well, she couldn’t do anything for Johnny now; she could only look out for herself. Her mind dull with anguish, Angie counted her money. It was almost gone, but she might have a little more than enough for a train ticket out of this terrible town.

And go where? She was trapped back in time, and as far as she knew, there was no way to return since that sinister mirror had been broken. Johnny might have known another way out, but the crowd had just lynched him. At the moment, Angie didn’t care much what happened to her.

Maybe it didn’t matter which way she went, as long as she left. It was late and dark as she picked up her small suitcase and walked to the station. There was no one on the streets; perhaps they were all hiding inside, ashamed of themselves for turning into a lynch mob, or maybe some of them had had the common decency to stay behind and bury the dead man. Wilbur Hiram had been the ringleader. She could only hope God’s justice caught up with the pompous banker for what he had done. Angie entered the train station and went to the lone ticket agent, a middle-aged fellow with red wattles of skin like a turkey gobbler.

“I’d like a ticket.”

“To where, ma’am?”

She hesitated. The pain of seeing Johnny Logan lynched had left her completely numb; she couldn’t even think. Angie counted out her money. “I—I don’t know. Where’s the next train headed?”

“Comin’ through toward daylight; going on to Oklahoma Territory.”

“That’ll be fine.” It also left her a couple of dollars for necessities. She bought the ticket and sat down to wait.

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