Cooper's Wife. Jillian HartЧитать онлайн книгу.
awaited her there? What kind of life?
“We’ll be sorry to see you go.” Kind and genuine, Tom Brickman had always treated her with respect, despite her illegitimate daughter. “I’ve heard you are to be married.”
“Yes, I am.” Anna’s stomach quivered with a mix of excitement and trepidation.
“Then I wish you and your daughter a safe journey and a happy future.” Tom pushed the last of the coins across the counter.
A door opened; she felt the breeze sweep through the bank. A murmur rose through those standing in line behind her. Anna folded the six twenty-dollar bills in half, then in half again. She saw Tom’s smile fade and fear shadow his eyes.
Bootsteps knelled in the silence. “Hands up where I can see them. Now.”
So dangerous and lethal, that voice. Prickles skidded down her spine. Anna tucked the folded twenties into the top of her glove. Her sleeve fell forward to hide the money from sight.
“Mama.” Mandy’s whisper came quietly, and the girl held tight to Anna’s skirts.
“Just stay with me, pumpkin.” Anna tucked her little girl behind her. Those footsteps knelled closer, ringing in the tensed silence. She could see one of the robbers. He held two gleaming revolvers, one in each unflinching hand. A hat was pulled low over his forehead and a handkerchief masked most of his face from view.
Anna swallowed, fighting fear. Sometimes innocent people waiting in line were killed in bank robberies. She heard Tom’s quick intakes of breath, saw the tensed line of his jaw. He was afraid, too. The second outlaw stepped out of sight, gun on the bank owner. The vault was in the next room and the two men disappeared.
“I’ll just take that from you.” Deep, that voice. Somehow familiar. He dropped a canvas sack on the counter. “Put your money in there, little lady.”
“Yes, sir.” She didn’t want to anger him. She thought of her daughter with her little fists wrapped in her skirts. Anna’s fingers felt wooden and clumsy, but she took a deep breath and forced herself to drop the remaining $5.37 into the empty canvas bag.
“That’s right.” The robber’s guns gleamed in the lamplight as he waved them at Tom. “Fill the sack, boy. Do it and I’ll let you live.”
Anna took a tiny step back. She felt Mandy’s tight hold on her skirts, felt the child pressing hard against the backs of her knees. She needed to get her daughter as far away from that gun as she could.
“Not so fast.” Almost laughing, that voice.
She studied the broad brim of the sweat-stained hat, the dust marks on the bandanna, the fine cloth of the robber’s shirt and trousers. Blue eyes met hers.
For one brief moment she thought she was looking into the eyes of a man she’d almost married. It hadn’t worked out between them. Could never work out. He wasn’t fond of children, and she wanted a large family. She wanted to give Mandy brothers and sisters to play with.
“I want the reticule, too.”
Oh, her nicest one. Anna’s heart sank. She unwound the string handle from her left wrist. Nothing of value was inside, just a small comb, a few hairpins and Mandy’s favorite hair ribbon. Not much to lose, considering.
Tom reached into his drawer and piled crisp bills on the counter. Anna dropped her reticule into the robber’s sack. Mandy stumbled, clutching Anna’s skirts. She laid a hand to steady the child. She did not like that this armed outlaw was only a few inches away from her daughter.
He watched her, watched all of them. She heard the tick of the clock on the wall, the rattle of old Mr. Fletcher’s watch chain as he stood in line, the squeak of the outlaw’s left boot when he shifted his weight.
“Hurry up,” he threatened Tom, waving his guns. He moved and again his boot squeaked.
Anna felt a prickle along the back of her neck, felt the cold knowledge low in her stomach. She cast her gaze downward and saw the shiny leather boots, brown and highly polished, scuffed along the left toe where he’d caught it on her sister’s loose porch step.
The man behind the mask, the man with the guns and the familiar blue eyes and voice was none other than Dalton Jennings. Her breath caught. She had to be wrong. Dalton was the shenff, a leader of the town.
A clatter of metal against the counter broke through her thoughts. The robber—no, Dalton Jennings—snatched up the half-full sack. He held it out, walking down the aisle, accepting watches, wallets and reticules, scaring one old widow woman out of her ruby wedding ring.
Anna had never felt so afraid. It was Dalton. She recognized his walk, a slight limp in his left leg from a once badly injured knee.
“Count to one hundred before anyone steps outside.” The second robber joined him, two huge money bags in hand. Together they pushed out the door. “I have an armed man hidden across the street to make sure you all know how to count.”
Anna tried to think what to do. Then the robber’s gaze latched on to hers. Her heart fell. Sweat broke out beneath the brim of her bonnet. Recognition thudded in the air, heavy like thunder. Dalton Jennings’ eyes narrowed, his gaze sharp on hers. A sensation passed between them.
Did he know that she recognized him? Fear tasted coppery in her mouth. Like a deer caught in a rifle’s sight, she waited.
Then Jennings strode away with his money. The door snapped closed. The bank owner and Tom rushed around making sure their patrons were safe. Mandy cried and Anna held her, debating what to do. No doubt the town sheriff would show up soon, dressed in his black trousers and black vest, sporting his tin badge, wearing those boots with the scuff mark on the left toe.
How could she face Dalton when he returned as the sheriff? Anna rocked Mandy, cradled the girl tight in her arms. Thank heavens she still had her money, tucked out of sight against her wrist.
The men robbing banks and stagecoaches in the Ruby Range area had killed before. People who could identify them, be they men, women or children. What would Dalton do to her when he returned?
She would go home and think of what to do.
Chapter One
“Bumpy, Mama.”
“I know, pumpkin.” Anna ached at the sight of exhaustion pinching Mandy’s button face, bruising the skin beneath her big blue eyes. “The stagecoach driver said we’ll be in Flint Creek before suppertime.”
The three-year-old sighed. Suppertime was so far away. Knowing just how she felt, Anna took the child on her lap and hugged her tight until she smiled.
Anna hadn’t dared to relax since their desperate flight from home. Was Dalton already on her trail?
But with each passing mile, Anna breathed easier. This was the third day of travel and no sign of trouble. Did she dare to hope that Jennings wasn’t following? Maybe, just maybe, she and Mandy were safe after all.
But despite her hopes, the worry tight in her stomach didn’t ease. Dalton wasn’t a man to forget.
“Too tight, Mama,” Mandy complained.
Anna loosened her hold on the child. What would happen to the little girl should Jennings find them?
The first sound of trouble came as a gunshot from outside the stage. The second was the scream of a horse. Was it Dalton? Fear pumped through her veins. The stage rocked fiercely to the right side, then limped to a stop.
What should she do? How could she protect Mandy? She glanced at the other travelers seated beside her and across the aisle. Would they help her? The banker who boarded the stage at Dillon mopped sweat from his brow with a monogrammed handkerchief. He didn’t look armed. But the ruffian seated beside him, who smelled of stale cigarette smoke and whiskey, hauled out a highly polished