âI have a confession to make,â Sam said. âAbout me.â
âAre youâ¦are you an outlaw? A wanted man?â Prissy held herself very still, as if she were afraid of the answer.
âNo,â he said.
âAre youâ¦are you married?â Her voice was a shaky whisper. âDid you leave a wife behind somewhere?â
He couldnât stop the hoot of laughter that burst out of him and seemed to bounce off the twisted tree limbs hanging above them. âNo, Prissy! No, Iâm not married, or promised or anything like that.â
âThen what could it be?â she asked, her blue eyes puzzled in the sun-dappled shade. âIf youâre not in trouble with the law, or marriedâ¦â
âIâm sorry, I donât mean to make you play a guessing game,â he said, contrite over the worry that furrowed the lovely brow framed by her strawberry-blond curls. âHereâs my confessionâI didnât come to Simpson Creek for the sheriff job.â
âY-you didnât? Then whyââ
âI came to meet you.â
Houston, Texas, June 1866
âHold him a moment, gentlemen,â the silky voice purred, like a sleepy lion preparing to toy with some hapless creature his cubs had brought down.
Sagging between two burly men who each held an arm to keep him upright, Sam Bishop opened his eyes just enough to see Kendall Raney clenching his fist and drawing it back. The flickering lamplight winked from the pigeonâs egg-size ruby on the manâs ring finger. Sam closed his eyes, reluctant to watch the pain coming at him. Pinwheels of fiery light exploded in his head, and everything went black.
He awoke moments later when they dropped him unceremoniously on the filthy floor of another room. His arms were tied behind him, his legs bound together. He gave no sign he was once again aware, hoping the dust wouldnât make him sneeze. Unconscious men probably didnât sneeze, and the pain an innocent sneeze would send shooting from the ribs they had broken might make him groan aloud.
âYou want us to finish him, Mr. Raney, and leave him in some alley?â
He heard an anxious whine and the scuffling of small paws on metal. Added to that was an acrid smell that suggested the beast hadnât been let outside lately. He opened one eye just a crack. His back was to the cage, so he couldnât see the dog; all he could see was Raneyâs booted feet and beyond him a square, squat safe on the floor against the wall.
âWait till itâs dark,â Raney said. âThen weâll take him out to the bayou. Iâve seen half a dozen bull alligators out there sunning themselves on the banks. I imagine theyâd relish a taste of this fellow.â
The other two chuckled but their laughter was tinged with uneasiness. âSounds like youâve used those gators to solve your problems afore, boss,â one of them said.
âOnly when someone is foolish enough to accuse me of cheating,â Raney answered in his silky voice.
Again, too-hearty chuckles. âHope they donât mind if heâs already dead by then,â the other said. âHe ainât hardly breathinâ. I think I broke his skull when I hit him.â
âI donât think theyâll mind. Meat is meat, after all.â
âYou oughta take off that ring, boss. Looks like yer handâs swellinâ. You might not be able tâgit it off later.â
âI believe youâre right. Why donât you step outside a moment, fellows? Then weâll stroll down to Miss Bettyâs place for supper. Itâs on me, as payment for your services.â
âWhy, thanks, Mr. Raney,â one of them said. âYou want us to walk yer dog for ya?â
âNo, weâre going to take that cur along when we go to the bayou. Heâs nothing but a nuisance. Heâs too small for fighting and he chewed up my best gloves, blast his hide. The gators can have him along with that senseless fool on the floor.â