Boot Hill Bride Read Online Free Page B

He
    blinked and dug deep in his reserve to find the strength to tug
    away from the invisible force, then turned to glance around
    the tent.
    This couldn't possibly be happening. Not to him. His
    mother had used her shotgun to marry off two of his older
    brothers, but both of those situations had been different. Kid
    had to marry Jessie to keep Russell from hanging, and
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    Boot Hill Bride
    by Lauri Robinson
    Skeeter had to marry Lila 'cause she'd been pregnant. This
    was a simple misunderstanding. Somehow this Randilynn
    girl...she certainly had a pretty name. It matched her pretty
    face.
    He clamped his teeth together, forced his mind to stay
    focused. For some reason Randilynn had been sleeping in his
    bed. Due to the fact he hadn't slept in two days, he'd been
    too tired to notice. That was it, nothing had happened. End of
    story. There was no need to contact the sheriff. No need for a
    wedding. He opened his mouth, ready to explain.
    The tent flap opened again.
    "Ma, this is the best we could find," Bug said. He and
    Snake struggled to lead a stumbling man into the tent. They
    each held an arm of a tattered, stained suit coat as the bone-
    thin man wearing it tried somewhat unsuccessfully to find his
    balance.
    Ma spun around. "What the...That man's drunk."
    "It's Dodge City, Ma," Snake said with a shrug.
    Howard took a deep breath. "Ma, I told you there's—"
    She stomped her foot and sent an angry gaze to the bed.
    "And I told you there is." Tucking the gun against one hip,
    she used the other hand to grab the preacher's arm. The man
    swayed, then stumbled as she dragged him to the foot of the
    bed. "Get ta preachin'!"
    The preacher hiccupped. His head weaved as his bulging
    red eyes settled on the bed. Both hands fumbled to pull a
    tattered book from his breast pocket. "Beerly belobubbed," he
    mumbled between little wet-sounding belches.
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    Boot Hill Bride
    by Lauri Robinson
    "Oh, for Christ's sake!" Howard started to flip the covers
    off, but as cool air blasted his skin, he remembered his lack of
    clothing. Stark naked, he tucked the edge of the blanket back
    in place. "Ma!"
    She lifted her gun. "Hush up, now." Glancing back to the
    preacher, she said, "Keep preachin'."
    Howard waved a hand in the air. "Put that damn thing
    down. You ain't gonna shoot me."
    Faster than a bullwhip, Randilynn's father snatched the
    gun from Ma's hands. The man reminded him of a snake oil
    salesman, fancy duds, oiled hair, and not an ounce of honesty
    in his short squat frame. Howard steeled his eyes and met the
    man's gaze. A frog croaked in his throat. The man's beady
    dark eyes held more raw hatred than a member of the Dalton
    Gang.
    "Maybe she won't, but I will." Pointing the barrels of the
    gun directly at Howard's chest, where his heart beat against
    his rib cage with enough ferocity to cause a heart attack,
    Thurston Fulton growled, "Don't say another word." The
    man's angry gaze went to the wobbling preacher. "You heard
    the woman. Hurry up!"
    Howard knew when he saw a man who meant business,
    and at that moment he'd swear he was inches away from the
    small cemetery on the outskirts of town which got its name
    from the number of men who'd died with their boots on. Boot
    Hill. The thought made him shiver from head to toe. He didn't
    have any boots on but highly doubted that was a requirement
    to be planted there nonetheless.
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    Boot Hill Bride
    by Lauri Robinson
    He glanced at Randilynn. She trembled just as hard.
    Having no idea what else to do, he settled his arm around her
    shoulders and patted her arm as the drunken preacher
    stumbled through the reading of their nuptials.
    The preacher hiccupped again, and let out a slushy burp
    before he proclaimed, "I preenunce youz huzbund 'n waf."
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    Boot Hill Bride
    by Lauri Robinson

Chapter Three
    Tears the size of raindrops trickled down Randilynn's face,
    and Howard swore he had the fixin's for the worst headache
    imaginable. It felt as if his