Boot Hill Bride Read Online Free Page A

the
    other rested on the back of her head, holding it in place. She
    lifted her eyes, slowly raising her gaze to meet his.
    "Are you all right?" he half mouthed, half whispered.
    Blood rushed up her neck, into her cheeks. It burned the
    flesh from the inside out.
    His eyes asked the question again.
    She had no idea if she was all right or not, but nodded
    nonetheless before she eased her hands off his balmy skin.
    Her palms burned as hot as her cheeks.
    His hand slipped from her hair, held the blanket taut as
    she twisted back around and scooted an inch or two away
    from him. She clutched onto the edge of the cover and tucked
    the wool below her chin again. The sulfuric smell of
    gunpowder clung in her nostrils.
    The woman who'd introduced herself as Stephanie Quinter
    held a gun almost as long as she was tall. The long double
    barrels pointed toward the roof of the tent. Randi's gaze
    followed the barrel, up and up, tipping her head toward the
    tattered edges of a large hole flapping in the wind. Sunlight
    shone through the opening and blazed a stream down on the
    short, little woman.
    "Now that I got your attention..." The woman flipped the
    gun about and stuck the stock against her shoulder. Randi
    cringed as the round ends of the barrels pointed toward her
    father and Belinda. "No one's gonna get the sheriff. The
    preacher'll be here any minute." The end didn't wobble as the
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    Boot Hill Bride
    by Lauri Robinson
    weapon shifted, came to point at Aunt Corrine. "All that
    snifflin's irritatin' me."
    Aunt Corrine squeaked as she gave a compliant nod.
    "Ma, there's no need for a preacher. It's a simple
    misunderstanding," the man said.
    The gun once again moved, stopped to point straight at
    the bed. "I think we all understand everythin' just fine,"
    Stephanie Quinter said, her brows arched in a distinct,
    knowing way.
    "She..." the man started. His gaze shifted, landed on
    Randi.
    Unable to mutter a word, she grimaced cowardly and gave
    a slight shrug.
    He started again, "I—"
    "Will marry my daughter or you'll find yourself planted in
    Boot Hill!" Her father pointed a finger at the two of them.
    The gun swung a bit more. "We ain't gonna start shoutin'
    at one another again."
    "Yes, ma'am," her father said and lowered his hand. His
    feet shuffled a touch.
    Shocked, Randi glanced back at the gun-wielding woman.
    The wide brim of her gingham bonnet flapped as she
    nodded, and frizzy gray hair peeked out around her serious
    face. The gun lowered a mite. "These two'll be gettin' hitched
    as soon as the preacher shows up."
    Belinda opened her mouth, but the other woman was
    quicker. The gun barrel snapped up again, level with Belinda's
    nose. "I don't want ta hear no more of your caterwaulin'
    either."
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    Boot Hill Bride
    by Lauri Robinson
    Her stepmother huffed and puckered her lips. The slow,
    meaningful shake of her father's head made Randi gasp.
    She'd never seen him reprimand Belinda for anything. The
    sight almost made her smile before she remembered the
    serious nature shrouding them. Surely her father wouldn't
    make her marry the man next to her. She didn't even know
    his name, for heaven's sake. Dread crept up her spine. Yes,
    he would .
    Her gaze shifted and she swallowed. Hog. At one time
    during the past few minutes someone had called him Hog.
    That was an unusual name. She gave her head a quick,
    clearing shake, trying to scold her mind for wandering again.
    No wait, Howard. He'd said his name was Howard.
    He stared at her. It was a thoughtful and not necessarily
    unpleasant look. Calming warmth wrapped around her spine,
    floated all the way up her back before rippling over her
    shoulders. All of a sudden it was as if they were the only two
    people in the tent—in the world.
    Howard tried to pull his gaze off the girl, but it was
    impossible. An indescribable flush had rushed from his toes to
    his ears and paralyzed him as if he were drowning in those
    big brown eyes and could do little more than sink lower.