The Loner: The Bounty Killers

The Loner: The Bounty Killers by J. A. Johnstone Page B

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Authors: J. A. Johnstone
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pressed her mouth to his.
    The kiss took him a little by surprise. Instinctively, his arms went around Carly’s slim, supple body. Her lips were warm and sweet, and he was human enough to react favorably to what she was doing. Without thinking about it, he returned the kiss.
    But only for a moment, and then he reached up and disengaged her arms as gently as he could so that he could step back. “What was that about?” he asked quietly.
    “You know good and well what it was about, Mr. Browning,” she said. “I just wanted you to know what’ll be waiting for you if you ever decide to come back to Las Vegas.”
    “You plan on waiting for me?”
    “That’s right.”
    “Don’t,” The Kid said. His voice had a brutal flatness to it. “Just don’t.”
    “Why not? Are you . . .” The words caught a little. “Are you spoken for? Do you have a wife somewhere?”
    Yes, I have a wife somewhere. She’s buried down in New Mexico Territory.
    He couldn’t say that to her, so he said, “Just take my word for it, Carly. You don’t want to wait for me. Find some other young man and marry him. Have a good family and a good life.”
    “But I—”
    “You can’t have either of those things with me,” The Kid said.
    She took a deep breath and said, “All right.” Her voice was taut with anger. “If that’s the way you feel.”
    “I’m afraid it is.”
    She turned away and said, “Good night, Mr. Browning,” as the front door opened and her father came out on the porch again.
    “Good night,” The Kid said.
    Fairmont waited until his daughter had closed the door behind her, then said, “It’s getting chilly a little sooner than I expected.” He handed The Kid his hat.
    “Miss Carly didn’t like what I had to tell her.” Fairmont held up a hand. “I don’t need to know about it. Come on, Browning.”
    The Kid untied the buckskin and led the horse as the two men walked along the street. Fairmont was as good as his word and took The Kid to a livery stable that looked clean and well cared for. He told the proprietor to take good care of The Kid’s horse.
    “I sure will,” the man said. “And you don’t have to worry about paying for it, Mr. Browning. The whole town knows that Henry Bennett is taking care of that.”
    “I’m obliged,” The Kid said. He slung his saddlebags over his shoulder and slid the Winchester from its sheath. He would take them with him to the hotel.
    The two of them walked on. Music and laughter came from some of the saloons, and the general stores were still open to serve some latearriving customers. Overall, though, the town was pretty quiet.
    When he said as much, Fairmont replied, “Yes, Las Vegas is a nice, peaceful place most of the time. It’s had its wild days in the past, but I think it’s settled down now for good. I hope so, because I’ve had enough of drifting. I’d like to stay on here as marshal until I’m ready to take off the badge for good.”
    “I’d say the town would be lucky to have you.”
    They had completed their circuit of the town and found themselves back at the marshal’s office. The Kid said, “We didn’t stop at the hotel.”
    “Blast it, I forgot.” Fairmont pointed a thumb at his office. “Let’s step inside here for a minute, and then I’ll take you back down there.”
    “I saw where it was. No need for you to come along, Marshal.”
    “Yeah, but there’s something in here I want to show you. It’s important.”
    The Kid didn’t fully trust the lawman, but Fairmont sounded sincere.
    “All right, just for a minute. I’m pretty tired.”
    “That’s all it’ll take.”
    Fairmont opened the door and led the way inside. A lamp with its wick turned down low burned on the desk. Fairmont went over to it and turned it up so that the yellow glow in the room brightened.
    “I got to thinking,” he said as he pawed through a stack of papers on the desk, “that there might be a reward for those bank robbers, and you’re entitled to a

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