Flame by Margaret Tanner

Author:Margaret Tanner
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
Published: 2018-11-06T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Five

Hot searing pain speared through Cal’s chest with every breath he took. He felt as if a red hot poker gouged his flesh, slowly twisting and turning to increase his torment. Sweat pouring into his eyes blurred his vision. His head and body burned with such intensity he wondered why he didn’t burst into flames.

“This is your first taste of hell, Caleb Donnelly,” he muttered. “Get used to it.” At least he had sent the Tolson brothers on ahead to meet Satan. The fires of hell were probably already burning those evil varmints to a crisp.

A warm breath fanned his face, followed by the fleeting touch of soft hands stroking his aching forehead. His eyes creaked open and an angel’s face floated above his. She had milky white skin and auburn hair he noticed through wavering, misty eyes. A whiff of lavender infused his nostrils. Did angels smell of lavender? She reminded him of a soiled dove he had met a few months ago, a red-haired beauty who had stolen from him. It couldn’t be her, unless she had died.

He didn’t see this angel’s wings, and she wore blue rather than white. There had to be a mistake. Why had he gone to heaven instead of hell? His life was not without blemish. He had killed a dozen or more men, but never shot a man in the back, didn’t need to when he was lightning fast on the draw. As a boy, he had stolen food after escaping the clutches of his drunken parents. Maybe he wasn’t evil enough for hell, was hardly suitable for heaven, either.

“Here, drink this.” The soft voice caressed him.

Water trickling down his throat washed away the dusty dryness.

“I have to stop the bleeding and get you home,” she murmured.

He had never really had a home. An angel’s home was in heaven and he would willingly go there if she wanted him to. He had no-one on earth to care about.

****

Laura glanced into the man’s ashen face, another couple of inches to the left and the bullet would have pierced his heart. Blood oozed from his forehead, his eyes were swollen and black. Had someone kicked him in the face? It seemed likely.

His horse grazed nearby, obviously well trained as he had deposited his master near a clump of trees, thus saving him from the searing heat that baked the road.

The man wore his guns slung low over his hips. A gunfighter perhaps? She eased both guns out of the holsters and dashed over to her buckboard. She threw them under the seat before lowering the tailboard.

A black Stetson lay on the ground beside him, dusty and sweat stained like his clothes. She didn’t have the strength to get him up on the front seat, although with her help he might be able to drag himself into the back.

She caught the trailing reins of his foam-flecked horse and secured it to the buckboard. That was the easy part, now she had to somehow move the man.

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