Read Online Midnight Lover by Barbara Bretton - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Barbara Bretton
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empty room then back at him. "Apparently no one is welcome here, Mr. Reardon."
No uppity Eastern woman was going to get the best of him. "We're closed for repairs."
Again that arching of her brows. "How lovely," she said, smoothing back a stray curl from her forehead. "I appreciate the care you've taken with my property."
"Game's over." Jesse grabbed her by the shoulders and propelled her toward the door. "Been nice but it's all over."
She dug her heels in like a skittish mule a few feet before the door and damned if he didn't find it impossible to move her.
"I can prove it to you, Mr. Reardon."
"The hell you can."
"Let me go and I'll show you my deed."
"You're talkin' crazy. Except for the mines, we don't put much store in deeds."
"Maybe so," she conceded, "but what do you have to lose? Take a chance, Mr. Reardon. If I cannot provide a deed to this property right on the spot, you can put me on that stagecoach and I'll leave town forever."
"Gonna hate to see you go," he drawled, leaning back against the mahogany bar, "but I got the feeling you'd be more trouble to have around than you're worth."
"You shall have ample opportunity to find out," she said, opening her reticule and withdrawing a folded piece of parchment paper, "because I am in Silver Spur to stay."
His eyes flickered over the deed then he tossed it back to her as if it were no more than yesterday's newspaper.
"Don't impress me none," he said, pulling a cigar from his breast pocket and filching matches from a brass cup on the bar. "Anybody can hire himself a lawyer and draw up some fancy piece of paper."
She re-folded the document and put it back in her leather bag for safekeeping as he touched the flame to his cigar.
"I'll have you know this is a legal document, Mr. Reardon. One that will stand up in any court of law."
"Didn't see your name nowhere on it, Car-o-line."
"Then perhaps you have yet to master the skill of reading, Mr. Reardon." She yanked the deed from her bag a second time and shoved it under his nose. "Right there, sir: Bennett."
"I see Aaron Bennett." Damn. Why did that name sound so familiar?
"Aaron Bennett was my father."
"Blonde haired fella. Eastern ways?" A sorry excuse for a man who didn't know an inside straight from a pair of deuces.
"He died in April."
"I know," said Jesse Reardon. "He took the bullet meant for me.
Chap ter 5
Jesse Reardon was so cool and collected that he could have been talking about squashing a spider under the heel of his boot instead of the death of a human being.
The death of her father.
Anger, hot and shockingly violent, rose up from the depths of Caroline's soul. "You killed my father and you have the nerve to stand there before me as if you're proud of your actions?"
"Whoa, little lady," he said, his right hand lingering near his holster, "I didn't say I killed your pa; I said he took a bullet meant for me."
"My father died instead of you?" The thought was horrifying. Reardon was vile, reprehensible, the spawn of the devil himself, and if she had a gun of her own she would see to it he never drew another breath.
"Happens sometimes. You got somebody's a bad shot or your luck's just runnin' hotter than the other guy's. It's—"
The sound of the slap echoed throughout the deserted saloon and Caroline rejoiced n the scarlet imprint of her hand across his lean cheek. Aaron Bennett had died as he'd lived, a victim of both circumstances and his own stupidity, and the waste of his forty two years was suddenly more than she could bear. She hated this tall and arrogant cowboy who stood before her, bragging that he lived only because Aaron Bennett had had the misfortune to get in the way of a bullet speeding straight for the cowboy's own black heart.
Blood rushed into her head, pounding wildly in her ears and at the base of her throat. Wasn't it enough she'd lost her father? Did Reardon have to take away the one thing of value Aaron had left behind to help her better her position
No uppity Eastern woman was going to get the best of him. "We're closed for repairs."
Again that arching of her brows. "How lovely," she said, smoothing back a stray curl from her forehead. "I appreciate the care you've taken with my property."
"Game's over." Jesse grabbed her by the shoulders and propelled her toward the door. "Been nice but it's all over."
She dug her heels in like a skittish mule a few feet before the door and damned if he didn't find it impossible to move her.
"I can prove it to you, Mr. Reardon."
"The hell you can."
"Let me go and I'll show you my deed."
"You're talkin' crazy. Except for the mines, we don't put much store in deeds."
"Maybe so," she conceded, "but what do you have to lose? Take a chance, Mr. Reardon. If I cannot provide a deed to this property right on the spot, you can put me on that stagecoach and I'll leave town forever."
"Gonna hate to see you go," he drawled, leaning back against the mahogany bar, "but I got the feeling you'd be more trouble to have around than you're worth."
"You shall have ample opportunity to find out," she said, opening her reticule and withdrawing a folded piece of parchment paper, "because I am in Silver Spur to stay."
His eyes flickered over the deed then he tossed it back to her as if it were no more than yesterday's newspaper.
"Don't impress me none," he said, pulling a cigar from his breast pocket and filching matches from a brass cup on the bar. "Anybody can hire himself a lawyer and draw up some fancy piece of paper."
She re-folded the document and put it back in her leather bag for safekeeping as he touched the flame to his cigar.
"I'll have you know this is a legal document, Mr. Reardon. One that will stand up in any court of law."
"Didn't see your name nowhere on it, Car-o-line."
"Then perhaps you have yet to master the skill of reading, Mr. Reardon." She yanked the deed from her bag a second time and shoved it under his nose. "Right there, sir: Bennett."
"I see Aaron Bennett." Damn. Why did that name sound so familiar?
"Aaron Bennett was my father."
"Blonde haired fella. Eastern ways?" A sorry excuse for a man who didn't know an inside straight from a pair of deuces.
"He died in April."
"I know," said Jesse Reardon. "He took the bullet meant for me.
Chap ter 5
Jesse Reardon was so cool and collected that he could have been talking about squashing a spider under the heel of his boot instead of the death of a human being.
The death of her father.
Anger, hot and shockingly violent, rose up from the depths of Caroline's soul. "You killed my father and you have the nerve to stand there before me as if you're proud of your actions?"
"Whoa, little lady," he said, his right hand lingering near his holster, "I didn't say I killed your pa; I said he took a bullet meant for me."
"My father died instead of you?" The thought was horrifying. Reardon was vile, reprehensible, the spawn of the devil himself, and if she had a gun of her own she would see to it he never drew another breath.
"Happens sometimes. You got somebody's a bad shot or your luck's just runnin' hotter than the other guy's. It's—"
The sound of the slap echoed throughout the deserted saloon and Caroline rejoiced n the scarlet imprint of her hand across his lean cheek. Aaron Bennett had died as he'd lived, a victim of both circumstances and his own stupidity, and the waste of his forty two years was suddenly more than she could bear. She hated this tall and arrogant cowboy who stood before her, bragging that he lived only because Aaron Bennett had had the misfortune to get in the way of a bullet speeding straight for the cowboy's own black heart.
Blood rushed into her head, pounding wildly in her ears and at the base of her throat. Wasn't it enough she'd lost her father? Did Reardon have to take away the one thing of value Aaron had left behind to help her better her position
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