Read Online Death Rides Alone by William W. Johnstone - Free Book Online

clothes. They’re some of my husband’s things. They might be a little small for you, but at least they’re clean and dry.”
    â€œYou’re alone?” Luke asked.
    â€œOf course. Who else would be with me at this time of night?”
    Luke leaned the shotgun against the wall, then lifted the bar across the door. He picked up the Greener again and held it in his right hand while he used his left to twist the key in the lock.
    â€œIt’s open,” he said.
    Mary Baxter came into the office carrying a bundle wrapped in canvas. She had taken off the apron and replaced it with a light jacket.
    â€œHow did you know I needed clean clothes?” Luke asked her as he put the shotgun back in the rack.
    â€œI heard the commotion as I was locking up the café and saw you rolling around in the street with Clete Hobson. Honestly, at first I didn’t know whether to laugh or be horrified. Then I realized it was a serious fight. I thought he was going to hurt you.”
    Luke put his left hand to his throat and said, “It wasn’t for lack of trying that he didn’t.”
    â€œAnyway, I saw how you’d gotten mud all over and I knew you were going to be spending the night here in the marshal’s office, so I thought you might be more comfortable in clean clothes. I went home and got these.”
    She set the bundle on the desk.
    â€œI suppose I should be going now ...”
    â€œWhy don’t you wait around for a few minutes while I get cleaned up?” Luke suggested. “There might be some coffee left in the pot over there on the stove.”
    Mary smiled and said, “I’m not sure I want to drink any coffee that’s sitting in a pot in a lawman’s office.”
    â€œI can tell you from experience that’s probably a wise way to feel,” Luke told her. He picked up the bundle of clothes. “I think I saw a little washbasin in the back. Just let me lock and bar the door ...”
    â€œI can do that.”
    â€œYou’re a woman of many talents, Mrs. Baxter.”
    â€œYou don’t know how many, Mr. Jensen.”
    â€œI wouldn’t mind learning. Perhaps we could start by calling each other Mary and Luke?”
    â€œI think that would be a very good start,” Mary said. “But only a beginning ...”

CHAPTER 8
    Mary brought breakfast from the café for both of them, early the next morning. Luke hated to impose on her, but he asked her if she could bring something for Judd Tyler, too.
    Even cold-blooded killers had to eat . . . until they kept their date with the hangman.
    â€œI’ll bring a couple of extra biscuits for him,” she said, “but he can drink whatever sludge is left in Marshal Donovan’s coffeepot.”
    â€œYou won’t get any argument from me on that score,” Luke said with a smile.
    The sun wasn’t up yet when Mary came back with a tray containing plates of ham, fried eggs, and biscuits, along with a fresh pot of coffee. She and Luke sat down at the marshal’s desk to enjoy the breakfast.
    Luke washed down some of the food with a sip of coffee, sighed in satisfaction, and said, “After last night and this meal, I truly do feel like a new man.”
    â€œI’m glad I could . . . reinvigorate you,” she said.
    â€œOh, you did that just fine, sure enough,” Luke said. “I’ll never forget you, Mary.”
    â€œBut those memories won’t be enough to make you hurry back here to Bent Creek, will they?” she asked with a faint wistful tone in her voice.
    Luke shrugged and said, “My work takes me a lot of different places. I don’t usually know where I’ll wind up next, let alone six months or a year from now.”
    â€œWell,” she said, a little cooler now, “you know where to find me.”
    Luke thought it best to concentrate on his food for a few moments after that exchange.
    When they had finished eating, Mary