Life at the Coffin Joint (Deadwood Undertaker--Book 1) by Ann Charles

Author:Ann Charles [Lucky, Ann Charles & Sam]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: The Deadwood Undertaker Series
Publisher: Ann Charles
Published: 2019-03-19T00:00:00+00:00

TWELVE

“I’m shootin’ somebody today,” Rabbit grumbled from his horse behind Boone. “A lot!”

“Okay.” Boone continued leading the way toward Gayville, his head lowered against the cold wind.

Rabbit had started the day downright surly. He’d continued the testament to his beleaguered presence in the Hills as they’d traveled through the windblown sleet that stung cheeks and froze fingers, not to mention that it made seeing the trail a pain in the ass.

“And keep Nickel walkin’ the chalk,” the snarly wolf riding behind Boone added. “Can’t hardly follow through this snow with you weavin’ all over.”

“Right.”

Ordinarily, Boone might have snapped back at his partner in return for a comment like that, but he was giving Rabbit more rein than usual this morning. The crabby cuss had woken at the break of dawn with a shout, thrashing about from another one of his nightmares. After Rabbit had steadied his breath and gathered his senses, he’d described another grisly vision of Uncle Morton’s lifeless body and milky, unseeing eyes with a steady voice. But his hands hadn’t stopped trembling until midway through breakfast.

While Boone tried not to let on as they ate and prepared for their man-hunting trip to Gayville, Rabbit’s visions had darkened the outlook for the day even more, leaving him chilled to the bone about what they might find at the Bloody Bones mine.

In the past, visions had come to Rabbit on occasion, so his prophetic dreams were not new to Boone. Unfortunately, those visions were often more accurate than not, at least as a whole if not in detail. The grim images Rabbit had described upon waking were now stuck in Boone’s mind, probably the same as they were in Rabbit’s.

If Uncle Morton were indeed dead, then Boone would hunt down and kill the bastard responsible for his demise. Whoever, or whatever, would suffer the same fate as his uncle.

Revenge aside, there were other dark clouds filling the horizon that had Boone’s nerves strung tight as he cut a trail through the snow to Gayville. This particular growing storm had nothing to do with the damned sleet and snow currently swirling around them, but rather Rabbit, who was chomping at the bit behind him. Boone could feel the unbridled rage rolling off his sidekick, and history had shown that when riled, Rabbit’s common sense was left stabled in the barn in favor of impulsive, ill-considered deeds. Sooner or later, Rabbit’s recklessness would most likely see him hurt.

Or killed.

And Boone couldn’t allow that. He wouldn’t.

Uncle Morton had seen it in Rabbit, too, of course. The old freighter hadn’t missed much when it came to the two of them. He didn’t dare take his eyes off of Boone or Rabbit for too long, or one of them would land up to their necks in trouble. He’d once told Boone that at times raising two curious boys was like holding a skunk by the tail. Boone could believe it. Hell, Rabbit alone had enough starch in his britches to drive a preacher to cuss most days, especially once he’d started filling out his boots.

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