Night Marshal Books 1-3 Box Set: Night Marshal/High Plains Moon/This Dance, These Bones by unknow

Author:unknow
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Literature & Fiction, Genre Fiction, Horror, Westerns, weird western
Amazon: B00I2GPZMM
Publisher: Denton & White
Published: 2014-01-26T05:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Sara Beth smiled, the pretty smile that brightened her whole face and brought out the full power of that stunning beauty she wore so easily.

“What— How— I can’t—“ Jack stopped himself. That damned Indian had got him off his game and Sara Beth’s sudden appearance had made him fold before he’d even looked at his hole card.

Jack took a deep breath, touched a finger to his brow where his hat would normally have been, and said, “Morning, ma’am. I didn’t expect to see you today, at least not here.”

She laughed. The sound tinkled like toy bells, high and short. “Morning? It’s afternoon, silly.”

“For me, afternoon is always morning.” After a pause, he added, “The hazard of being a professional gambler, I’m afraid. How’d you find me?”

She laughed again. “You told me last night. Don’t you remember? You said you were staying in the old barn on the west edge of town.”

Sara Beth spun in a circle, wide-eyed, her arms out, her dress splaying. “Everybody knows about this old barn. No one comes here, because it’s supposed to be haunted, but it can’t be. You haven’t seen anything scary since you’ve been here, have you?”

Jack thought about Chief’s scowl. “No, not really.”

He looked around the barn. Haunted? He’d dealt with werewolves, vampires, and shape-changing Indians on this trip already. How bad could ghosts be?

When he looked back at Sara Beth, she was shifting from foot to foot.

“Sorry,” Jack said, “I can’t offer you a seat. We don’t have one. There might be some coffee—“

“I won’t be staying. I just needed to tell you. . . .”

“Tell me what?””

“I’m quitting. I’m going back east. Lord Wolcott says he’ll pay me ten times what my ranch is worth, even considering the oil that’s buried there. I’m selling him the ranch tonight.”

“Sara Beth, you don’t have to do that.”

“Yes I do. I have no choice, Jack. I was never meant to live out here, anyway. The oil was my husband’s dream, not mine. Before I married, I was a lady. Men courted me from every state around. I should have never given that up for some bum who drug me out to the middle of nowhere chasing some dream that would never be.”

Jack had his doubts about her self-proclaimed ladydom, based both on her western accent and her lack of a mourning dress. “Your husband died for that dream.”

“He threw his life away, you mean. For nothing. For some sticky, smelly liquid that no one wants and no one will ever want.”

She smiled but it didn’t touch her eyes. “None of that matters now. I came here to tell you that Lord Wolcott will be at my house at ten tonight. I’ll have the deed and he’ll have the money. But I don’t trust him, Jack. What could possibly keep him from killing me and taking the deed?”

“I could,” Jack said.

“Oh, Jack, would you?”

“Of course. Wolcott and I have some issues to settle, anyway. Ten o’clock tonight sounds like a perfect time to do it.

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