Read Online Night of the Wolves by Heather Graham - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Heather Graham
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the West right now didn’t seem to be interested in the usual ill-gotten gains. They were after souls, it seemed.
Where on earth had that thought come from?
She dismissed it quickly, shuddering despite herself.
“I slept okay,” Alex answered at last. “Maybe coffee will make the world look brighter,” she added hopefully.
“Right here, honey,” Beulah said, setting a cup in front of her. Her father had chosen wisely. No delicate china here. Their dinnerware was attractive, but of a thicker mold. The cup she lifted was sturdy, and the coffee was delicious.
“Beulah, you perform wonders out here,” Alex said, the compliment heartfelt.
“Well, thank you, child. And what, may I ask, are you planning to get up to today?” Beulah asked, eyeing the tailored shirt, riding breeches and boots Alex had chosen.
She meant to see where her father had died, but she decided not to mention that fact to Beulah.
“Oh, I just want to do a bit of riding.”
“Riding,” Beulah said, disturbed. “Now, Miss Alex, you’ve seen what can happen around here.”
“I’m going to coerce Deputy Hinton into being my escort, and I’ll be careful,” Alex promised.
Beulah pointed a finger at her. “You promise me, you swear on the souls of your blessed parents, that you’ll be back before sunset.”
Outlaws could and did attack by daylight as well as in the dark, Alex thought, but she decided to humor Beulah. “Yes, ma’am.”
Beulah sat back, eyeing the compact Colt six-shooter, caliber .58, that Alex had strapped around her hip.
“You didn’t forget how to shoot while you were off in the big city, did you?” she asked.
“I swear I remember how to shoot, so you mustn’t worry,” Alex assured her.
Beulah poured herself a cup of coffee and took a seat at the table, smiling slowly. “Just so long as you’re careful. You’re all we’ve got now, and keeping you safe is mighty important to us. Your father was a wonderful man. He was always so wise and so clever—” her smile faded “—until Linda.”
“Where is my father’s widow, anyway? Did he really marry her? Legally, I mean. According to his letters, it was quite a whirlwind thing.”
Beulah let out a sniff. “First time I ever saw your father thinking with his pants.”
“Beulah!”
“I’m sorry for the indelicacy, but it’s true. No sooner had he met her than he stopped coming home—he’d be sleeping over at the saloon every night.”
“So she was…working there? What was she? A pianist? A hostess, or maybe a bartender?”
“Whore,” Beulah said flatly.
Alex digested that for a minute before speaking. “Beulah, we’ve both learned over the years that everyone has to survive somehow. My father was a good man, and if he fell in love with Linda, she’s probably a fine woman. But where is she?”
Beulah snorted. Alex lifted a brow, and Beulah told her, “Your father weren’t never a complete fool. He left her a little bit of money, and she took it and moved out. He made sure with a big Eastern lawyer that the property and everything else went to you. Linda found out just how ironclad your father’s will was, and she didn’t stay to butt her head against any walls.”
“All right, the property is mine, but she was married to my father,” Alex said. “Surely, she must know she’s welcome here anytime.”
“Speak for yourself, Miss Alex,” Beulah said. “That one—she’s a tough cookie. I don’t know what went on while your father was alive. Maybe she really loved him—he was certainly worthy of love. But since he died…well, here it is. Some women are whores because they like being whores. It’s addictive. They like pretty things. And they like men.”
“Linda is back working at the saloon?” Alex asked.
“When she’s in town. She comes and goes,” Beulah told her.
“Oh, I see.”
In fact she didn’t really see at all. She thought of her long journey out, the train cars crammed with people that began to reek
Where on earth had that thought come from?
She dismissed it quickly, shuddering despite herself.
“I slept okay,” Alex answered at last. “Maybe coffee will make the world look brighter,” she added hopefully.
“Right here, honey,” Beulah said, setting a cup in front of her. Her father had chosen wisely. No delicate china here. Their dinnerware was attractive, but of a thicker mold. The cup she lifted was sturdy, and the coffee was delicious.
“Beulah, you perform wonders out here,” Alex said, the compliment heartfelt.
“Well, thank you, child. And what, may I ask, are you planning to get up to today?” Beulah asked, eyeing the tailored shirt, riding breeches and boots Alex had chosen.
She meant to see where her father had died, but she decided not to mention that fact to Beulah.
“Oh, I just want to do a bit of riding.”
“Riding,” Beulah said, disturbed. “Now, Miss Alex, you’ve seen what can happen around here.”
“I’m going to coerce Deputy Hinton into being my escort, and I’ll be careful,” Alex promised.
Beulah pointed a finger at her. “You promise me, you swear on the souls of your blessed parents, that you’ll be back before sunset.”
Outlaws could and did attack by daylight as well as in the dark, Alex thought, but she decided to humor Beulah. “Yes, ma’am.”
Beulah sat back, eyeing the compact Colt six-shooter, caliber .58, that Alex had strapped around her hip.
“You didn’t forget how to shoot while you were off in the big city, did you?” she asked.
“I swear I remember how to shoot, so you mustn’t worry,” Alex assured her.
Beulah poured herself a cup of coffee and took a seat at the table, smiling slowly. “Just so long as you’re careful. You’re all we’ve got now, and keeping you safe is mighty important to us. Your father was a wonderful man. He was always so wise and so clever—” her smile faded “—until Linda.”
“Where is my father’s widow, anyway? Did he really marry her? Legally, I mean. According to his letters, it was quite a whirlwind thing.”
Beulah let out a sniff. “First time I ever saw your father thinking with his pants.”
“Beulah!”
“I’m sorry for the indelicacy, but it’s true. No sooner had he met her than he stopped coming home—he’d be sleeping over at the saloon every night.”
“So she was…working there? What was she? A pianist? A hostess, or maybe a bartender?”
“Whore,” Beulah said flatly.
Alex digested that for a minute before speaking. “Beulah, we’ve both learned over the years that everyone has to survive somehow. My father was a good man, and if he fell in love with Linda, she’s probably a fine woman. But where is she?”
Beulah snorted. Alex lifted a brow, and Beulah told her, “Your father weren’t never a complete fool. He left her a little bit of money, and she took it and moved out. He made sure with a big Eastern lawyer that the property and everything else went to you. Linda found out just how ironclad your father’s will was, and she didn’t stay to butt her head against any walls.”
“All right, the property is mine, but she was married to my father,” Alex said. “Surely, she must know she’s welcome here anytime.”
“Speak for yourself, Miss Alex,” Beulah said. “That one—she’s a tough cookie. I don’t know what went on while your father was alive. Maybe she really loved him—he was certainly worthy of love. But since he died…well, here it is. Some women are whores because they like being whores. It’s addictive. They like pretty things. And they like men.”
“Linda is back working at the saloon?” Alex asked.
“When she’s in town. She comes and goes,” Beulah told her.
“Oh, I see.”
In fact she didn’t really see at all. She thought of her long journey out, the train cars crammed with people that began to reek
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