The Outlaws Read Online Free

funeral if he chose.
    Mark caught Billy’s eye and they nodded to each other, Billy smiling. His companions glowered, especially a tall man in a black frockcoat and black silk cravat. His trim goatee and mustache made him look like an affluent river-boat gambler. He was new to town and Mark didn’t know him.
    Mark passed the men and stopped beside the minister, where he waited for him to finish consoling Tessa.
    “Mr. Halloran.”
    Mark turned to face John Tunstall.
    “Mr. Halloran,” Tunstall said once again. “I didn’t have a chance yesterday to tell you I think you’re a hell of a brave man, rescuing the Nesbitt’s from those Apaches.”
    Mark smiled wryly. “A brave man rode beside me. That always helps.”
    “Billy Bonney. Yes, Billy’s a good hand. Loyal.” Tunstall smiled. “As a matter of fact, I could use another like him”‘
    “I have a job,” Mark said.
    Tunstall nodded. “Keep my offer in mind.’’
    “Oh, John, is this the man who saved poor Tessa?” Susie McSween advanced on them, holding out her hand to Mark.
    Tunstall introduced Mark and Susie clasped Mark’s hand between both of hers, holding it tightly. Looking over her black bonnet, Mark saw the minister move on. Tessa glanced toward him.
    Mark tried to withdraw his hand, but Susie held him and continued chattering away.
    “Maybe I shouldn’t be talking to a member of the opposition,” she said with a roguish toss of her head.
    “I’m not in opposition to you, ma’am,” Mark replied, finally able to ease his hand from hers.
    “But you work for that awful Mr. Dolan!” Susie cried.
    Alex McSween was talking to Tessa now. The tall man in the black frockcoat had left the other men and was striding toward Mark with an angry frown.
    Mark tensed. Except for McSween, who was well known to be a Bible-thumper who never toted iron, every man here was armed.
    “I’m sure I don’t know why anyone would want to be associated in any way with Mr. Dolan,” Susie went on. “Do you know he’s been accusing poor Alex of simply unspeakable--?”
    “Excuse me, ma’am,” Mark interrupted. “I’d like to pay my respects to Miss Nesbitt before I head back to camp.”
    Mark took three steps toward Tessa when the goateed man cut across his path and blocked it. When Mark attempted to veer around him, the man shifted to intercept him.
    “You’re not welcome here,” he drawled. “I suggest you leave. Now.”
    “Get out of my way,” Mark growled. Who the hell did this Southern bastard think he was, ordering him around?
    “You heard what I said.” The Southerner didn’t move. “I’m not telling you again. Get out of my way!”
    The Southerner sneered.
    Mark walked straight at him. The Southerner grabbed at his shirt-front. Mark seized his arm and crouched. With a quick twist he flipped the man into a somersault. He thudded onto his back on the ground .
    Would the bastard draw? Instead, the Southerner’s hand slid along the side of his boot.
    “What have you done to Mr. Rutledge?”
    Mark spun around at the sound of Tessa’s voice. She walked past him to offer a helping hand to Rutledge.
    “Are you all right?” she asked Rutledge as he scrambled to his feet.
    Mark caught a glimpse of a boot with a specially designed pocket made, he knew, for either knives or derringers. Sneaky bastard.
    Rutledge nodded to Tessa. “Don’t worry your pretty little head over me, Miss Nesbitt. I’m fine.” He dusted off his coat.
    She turned to Mark. “I’m surprised, Mr. Halloran.” The hurt in her gray-blue eyes fueled his anger at the Rutledge, who’d managed to put Mark in the wrong.
    “I’m sorry,” he said to Tessa. How could he explain why he’d become involved in a fight at her father’s funeral?
    “You ought to apologize to Mr. Rutledge, not to me.”
    “No.”‘
    Her eyes widened.
    Before Mark could explain, Alex McSween and Tunstall hurried up to flank Tessa.
    Rutledge shrugged. “I’m afraid the gentleman misunderstood me