Tender Touch by Charlene Raddon Page B

you,” Wight greeted with a sneer. He sat on the edge of his cot using the rip of a thumbnail to scrape the other nails clean. The boredom of sitting idle in a jail cell had him desperate for something to do. He’d even come to look forward to the lousy meals they fed him. At least then he could exchange insults with the deputy sheriff while the tray was slid under the bars.
    “Don’t threaten me, Wight,” said Stinky.
    “Then listen up. I’ve got a proposition for you.”
    “I’m listening.”
    Barret moved over near the cell door. His stubby fingers curled around the thick bars. “You heard why I’m in here?”
    “Yeah, you finally done in your wife. Glory thinks you did it so you could marry her.”
    “Sure,” Barret snorted. “When hell becomes heaven and they make me king. The whole thing was a set-up. She’s run off and you’re going to help me find her.” Stinky tugged thoughtfully on his scroungy tuft of a beard and decided he believed Wight. “What do you want me to do?”
    “She probably beat it out of here by the most expedient means available, any direction she could go. Check passenger rosters for steamships and stage coaches starting with yesterday morning. Check hotels and boarding houses, too. But first, go to my house and find the daguerreotype I had done of her. It’s in my study. Show it around.”
    Venom filled Barret’s voice. He gripped the bars so tightly his knuckles whitened. “I’ll find that bitch if it’s the last thing I do. She’ll learn she can’t dump on me and get away with it.”
    “Yeah?” The sun filtering through a tiny barred window cast shadow-stripes across Stinky’s sallow face as he studied Wight. “What’s in it for me?”
    “You do as I ask and I’ll tear up your marker. That ought to make it worth your while. Is it a deal?”
    Stinky thought it over. It would be good to get out of debt and out from under this man’s thumb. Barret Wight was known for his ugly temper. Stinky could refuse and hope they hung the bastard, but that would be risky since he understood they hadn’t even found Mrs. Wight’s body yet. Besides, life had been dull lately and the challenge of finding a runaway wife appealed to him.
    “Yeah, all right,” he said. “It’s a deal.”
    “One more thing. She has a sister in Louisville, Kentucky. Julia Somerville, I think. She might have gone there.”
    “This ain’t gonna do y ou much good if they hang you.”
    Barret snorted at that. “Rainey hasn’t got shit for evidence. He’ll have to let me go eventually. And when he does, I’m gonna teach that bitch wife of mine a lesson she won’t forget.”
     
     

Chapter Six
     
    The day passed so slowly Brianna thought it would never end. At first the stiffness in her body had been eased by her bath and a few miles of riding, but as the day wore on, she began to ache worse than ever. Her only comfort was that riding astride rubbed new spots raw instead of the same old ones. Her cloak helped to disguise her outlandish outfit, but the veil was missing from her hat—thanks to Mr. Nigh. She ducked her head whenever they passed other travelers and tried to take comfort in the thought that anyone noticing her bruises would probably blame him.
    To make up for their late start, they ate dry jerked beef and leftover breakfast biscuits while they rode and stopped barely long enough to water and feed the horses. They avoided inns and villages. Her guide spoke only to give orders and never so much as glanced at her. She gladly kept her distance from his ill-temper and reserved her conversation for the cat. It was long after dark before he led the way from the road to seek a place to camp.
    Brianna was too exhausted to eat. She fell into her bed the moment her shelter was built, and was instantly asleep. Once she awoke during the night to see him huddled under his buffalo robe, leaning against a tree as usual. His eyes were open and watching her, as cool and unfeeling as when she had