The Gunslinger by Lorraine Heath Page A

off while you get away.”
    He heard more gunfire, stretched up and got off two shots before quickly ducking back down. Several returning bullets chunked bits of bark off the nearby trees.
    â€œYou can’t stay here,” she told him.
    â€œI’ve got no choice. Someone needs to distract him. Now go!”
    She leaned forward as though to kiss him briefly, then reeled back, horror etched across her face as she stared at the bright red blood coating her hand. Wrenching his duster aside, she gasped at the blood flowing freely, drenching his shirt and trousers. His side felt as though someone had built a blazing fire within him.
    â€œWe’ve gotta get you to a doctor,” she said.
    He cradled her cheek, despising the way his hand trembled. He held her gaze, hating the truth he had to impart. “I’m hurt bad, Lillian. Take the boy and get to safety. Tell the sheriff that Ward finally did something he can arrest him for.”
    â€œI won’t leave you to die. I’ll send Toby—”
    He grabbed her arm and jerked her close. “And who the hell is gonna take care of your brother if you’re killed? You were a sweet roll in the hay, lady, but that’s all you are to me. Now get the hell out of here.”
    She pulled back, tears brimming in her eyes. “That’s a damn lie. You’re just trying to make me leave.”
    He drew her against him, unable to stand the anguish in her eyes. He brushed his lips against her soft hair. “My life has meant nothing. For God’s sake, let my death mean something. Take the time I can buy you and get out of here.”
    He heard her muffled sob before she withdrew from his hold and gave him a jerky nod. He slipped his shaking fingers into his pocket but couldn’t latch onto a matchstick. She brushed his hand aside, reached into his pocket, withdrew a matchstick and slipped it into his mouth.
    His voice nearly strangled him. “Thanks.”
    â€œI love you,” she whispered hoarsely before scrambling down the embankment toward the horses and Toby. He peered over the edge and fired twice, taking satisfaction in a man’s yell. Then he dropped back down. He looked over his shoulder and saw Lillian and Toby riding out. Relief swamped him along with the blackness. His final thought was that he’d finally acquired something worth living for, but it was too late.
    S I TTING UNEASILY ASTRI DE his horse on a rise, John Ward listened as the echo of guns firing rang from the trees. For his mother’s sake, he wanted the woman run off. The fella he’d just hired would only get paid if he got the job done.
    Riding along the river that separated his land from the whore’s, keeping a look out for strays while he discussed with two of his men where he wanted a new barbed-wire fence strung up, he had instantly gone on alert when the first shots rang out. It sounded as though the man he’d hired was in the process of earning his money.
    â€œShould we check it out, boss?” Guthrie asked.
    John considered, then shook his head. “No.”
    â€œIt’s the gal’s land,” Hop said. “She might be in trouble.”
    â€œShe’s got Wilder looking out for her.” Although, truth be told, it sounded like she had a whole army. Then he spotted her urging her horse into a gallop as she cleared a copse of trees and waved something white over her head. A flag of surrender. No, petticoats. He didn’t want to recognize a spark of respect for her gumption.
    She drew her horse to a halt. “John Ward, I’ll give you everything you want if he doesn’t die!”
    He eased his horse forward. “Who?”
    â€œChance Wilder. Your man shot him. Stop him from killing him. Send someone for a doctor. Don’t let him die.”
    â€œYou’re willing to give up the land and house for a gunslinger?”
    She nodded quickly. “Please, help him.”
    Her plea, the worry in