The Gunslinger by Lorraine Heath Page B

her eyes, almost had him feeling remorse for his actions and treatment of her. He hadn’t gotten a good look at her the night he’d visited, but he could see her clearly now. She was so much younger than he’d thought. What had possessed his father to go after her? Had he wanted to recapture his youth, most of which he’d lost in the war?
    Suddenly silence reigned.
    Devastation washing over her pretty face, she jerked her head around to gaze back at the trees. He wouldn’t feel guilty if the gunslinger was dead, but when she looked back at him, he knew he would have many a restless night if the man died.
    â€œI swear I’ll do whatever you want. But please—”
    â€œHop, head into town,” he said, cutting her off before she could finish. “Fetch the doc and the land agent. Guthrie, check out what happened on the other side of the river. If Wilder is still alive, take him to—” He had to search for her name. He’d called her his father’s whore ever since he’d discovered she existed. “—Miss Madison’s.”
    â€œYes, boss.”
    Both his men took off at a gallop. John could tell by the cloud of worry in her eyes that she wanted to return to Wilder, but she’d stayed to honor the bargain. He couldn’t let her into his house, not where his mother might catch sight of her.
    â€œHow did you meet my father?” he asked.
    â€œYou don’t get my history, Mr. Ward. All you get is my house.”
    He couldn’t stop the small smile that formed. “My father always liked a woman with gumption.” Not that his mother had fit that description. He’d always thought his parents an odd pairing, his mother constantly needing reassurance. But his father had pampered her, given her all she wanted, except a faithful husband.
    John nodded in the direction of the trees. “Go on. I’ll meet you at your place with the land agent. We’ll finish this business today.”
    Without another word, she urged her horse into a gallop. A shame she brought such pain to his mother. He thought he might have enjoyed getting to know the gal.
    T HE RAIN FELL softly on his face, and the fragrance of roses in their first bloom wafted around him. He heard the voice of an angel whispering his name and felt her gentle fingers caress his brow. He’d expected to drop straight into Hell, and here he was: on the other side of Heaven.
    Struggling through the agony, desperate to gaze upon the angel’s face, he forced his eyes open. Darkness surrounded him and a halo of light circled the angel. Tears glistened over her lovely face as she smiled tenderly. His heart tightened with a bittersweet pain that made the throbbing in his side pale in comparison.
    â€œHello,” she whispered, her voice low, as though she feared anything she might say would bring him pain.
    He licked his parched lips. She brought a glass of water to his mouth. He drank slowly, having been shot too many times not to know better than to take his time adjusting to the land of the living. “I’m not dead,” he croaked inanely.
    Her smile widened. “No. You were lucky.”
    â€œThe other fella?”
    â€œYou shot him a couple of times, but he’s recovering as well, from what I understand.”
    â€œHe’ll be at my back someday.”
    â€œI don’t think so. It’s likely he lost the use of his arm, at least when it comes to drawing a gun.”
    â€œThe boy?”
    â€œToby’s fine.”
    â€œGood. Good.” Nodding, he drifted back into oblivion.
    Lillian pressed a kiss to Chance’s brow before gently wiping her tears from his beloved face. They’d found him and the other man unconscious, lying in the dirt, bleeding into the ground. They’d brought Chance here and taken the hired gun to Ward’s. Before she’d signed the deed over to John Ward, she’d made him promise to pay the man enough, offer