The Outlaws Read Online Free Page A

and took offense.
    Dolan’s hands aren’t noted for courtesy.”
    Mark clenched his fists.
    McSween raised his hands, palms up. “Now, lads, if we all obeyed the law of God rather than the law of the jungle, life on earth would be a prelude to heaven instead of a preview of hell.
    Don’t you agree, Mr. Halloran?”
    “I’m sure you’re right,” Mark said as evenly as he could.
    “If I could persuade every man in Lincoln County to do as I do,” McSween went on, “to put aside their weapons and not bear arms, we’d soon have no need for Sheriff Brady. Nor for the hangman either.”
    “I’m afraid that would take some tall persuading, Mr. McSween,” Mark said. “Most men in the Territory are pretty attached to their Colts. But I do regret upsetting Miss Nesbitt.”
    Tunstall offered Tessa his arm. Without another look at Mark, she took it, giving Tunstall a little smile. Mark gritted his teeth. A glance at Rutledge gave him the dubious satisfaction of knowing the Southerner didn’t like to see Tessa walking off with Tunstall any better than Mark did.
    I can’t let her leave this way, he told himself.
    “Miss Nesbitt!” he called. Tessa looked back at him.
    “I’ll come by and see you in a week or so,” he said. “If you don’t mind.”
    “If you like,” she said coolly, turning away and continuing on with Tunstall and McSween.
    “I suggest you keep away from the young lady,” Rutledge said softly.
    “You can go to hell,” Mark told him.
    “You’ve been warned,” Rutledge said.
    The two men eyed one another.
    Mark wanted to walk away, but he didn’t trust the Southerner enough to turn his back on him.
    “There you are, Calvin,” Susie McSween called. She waved.
    Without another word, Rutledge stalked off to join Susie. As Mark watched her take his arm and smile flirtatiously up into his face, he thought fleetingly that McSween seemed oblivious to his wife’s coquettishness. Maybe not being jealous went along with his peace-on-earth preaching.
    Not that Mark wouldn’t like to see Lincoln County a tad more peaceable. But the way he saw it, laying aside weapons would just get the decent men shot first.
     
    * * *
     
    Two weeks before Christmas, Mark rode into town from Dolan’s ranch. A Yule tree stood in the center of the plaza, a pinon pine from the hills. Red ribbons tied to its branches fluttered in the wind and reminded him of festive St. Louis Christmases of years past.
    The Judge wouldn’t have allowed a skinny pinon pine inside—and now probably not me either, Mark thought ruefully. That wasn’t today’s problem. What troubled him was whether McSween would let him in his house so that Mark could see Tessa.
    When he reached the U-shaped McSween adobe, Mark tied his sorrel to the post and squared his shoulders before walking up die steps to thump the iron knocker against the front door.
    He waited for someone to answer the door. He knocked again. At last it opened. Little Jules peered up at him.
    “Hello, Jules,” Mark said. “Is your sister at home?”
    The boy nodded. Behind him Mark saw the brown face of McSween’s cook. “Quien es?” the woman asked.
    “Mark Halloran. To see Senorita Nesbitt.”
    “Entrez, Senor.” She pointed to the left and hurried away.
    Mark closed the door behind him and stepped around Jules, who tagged after him into the parlor.
    Mark perched uneasily on the leather seat of a wooden chair while Jules sat on the piano stool and stared at him. Trying to think of something to say to the boy, Mark came up with “where’s your big brother?”
    “He went off to Mr. Tunstall’s with Billy.” Jules’ lower lip pushed out. “Ezra never takes me. Says I’m too little. I’m not!” He swiveled on the piano stool until his back was to Mark. He hit middle C on the keyboard.
    “Can you play the piano?” Mark asked.
    In answer Jules ran the fingers of his right hand up and down the scale.
    “Very good.”
    Jules spoke with his back to Mark. “Mr.