Nights with the Outlaw. Lauri Robinson

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СКАЧАТЬ shrugged. “I could hang around until they get back. Make sure that pig doesn’t get out again.”

      Her heart nearly somersaulted right out of her chest. She had to roll her shoulders to keep it where it belonged. An unwavering honesty in his eyes said his offer was genuine. “I sure could use the help,” she admitted. “I’ll pay you the going rate, and you’ll have the bunkhouse all to yourself until Joe and Dobbs get back.”

      He nodded, and she, feeling almost as happy as she had when the new Chester White had arrived, turned for the house.

      Clint couldn’t draw his eyes away as Doreena walked across the worn ground between the big whitewashed house and the hog pen. She was remarkable. The way she wrangled that pig, along with the care she used while piercing its nose, said she had gumption. That alone made him want to help her.

      He turned to make his way to the bunkhouse, and reality hit. What was he thinking? Stay around until her hired men got back? He had to find Martin and Henderson, see they got their due and then be on his way to California. To where the streets were lined with gold and women wore scanty dresses. That’s where a man could forget his past and start anew. Everyone knew that, including him. So why’d he have this odd desire to help a woman he found hugging a tree?

      After cleaning up, and getting no closer to figuring out why he’d offered to stay, Clint stowed his gear under an empty bed in the one-room bunkhouse, and then made his way around the large home, to where shots continued to echo.

      A scrawny kid, with a mop of blond hair had six bottles set up on stumps and was taking aim. All three of his quickly fired shots whizzed several feet over the bottles. An older man, leaning heavily on a cane, said something, but the kid started firing again, so Clint couldn’t hear what it was.

      He made his way over to stand next to the older man. Balancing his weight on the cane, the man offered his hand. “Jeb Stockholm.”

      “Clint Turnquist.”

      “Doreena says you’re gonna hang around a few days and help out.”

      “Yeah,” he agreed, without a qualm, which again was odd.

      “Thanks. We sure could use the help. I messed up my knee a couple of weeks ago and haven’t been much good for anything lately.”

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