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Chapter One
If there was one thing Adam Brady was good at, it was making monumentally asinine decisions that landed him in a world of hurt and regret.
And he was almost 100 percent certain he was making another one. Then again, he didn’t have much of a choice. Because thanks to his last asinine decision, namely an ill-advised entanglement with a beautiful woman of dubious character, he was on the run for his life. Again.
Now he was riding through the Colorado wilderness to God knew where. He hadn’t seen a town or ranch or another human soul in two days. On the one hand, that wasn’t a bad thing. It meant he’d shaken that damned Marshal Spurlock off his trail and was probably safe for the time being.
But he couldn’t keep wandering aimlessly forever. He’d run out of food the night before, and while he’d be able to find water, he was getting mighty tired of sleeping in the dirt beside a grumpy horse. He needed some real shelter. And a meal. And, if the aroma coming from the direction of his armpits was any indication, a bath. A manshouldbe able to distinguish between his own scent and that of his horse.
When another two hours of riding had brought nothing into sight but more hills and trails that led nowhere, his hope of finding anything resembling civilization faded. He sighed and dismounted, needing to stretch his legs and work out his numb backside for a few minutes. He’d only taken three steps before his boot caught in a hole, and he tumbled ass over head, landing on his face.
“Ow,” he groaned, pushing himself up to see what he’d tripped in.
He frowned, looking down at the hole. The deep, oddly square-shaped hole.
His eyes searched the brush around him until he saw what looked to be an old post that might have been used in part of a fence. Or signpost. And beneath the overgrown brush and grass, he could just make out the faint presence of an old trail.Huh.
“Come on, Barnaby.” He straightened his hat and tried brushing the dust from his pants—a lost cause at this point—before mounting again. “Maybe we’ll find some place with a roof we can sleep under tonight after all.”
The horse blew out a nostril full of air and plodded forward. He wasn’t much of a conversationalist.
Adam changed their course and followed the direction the old trail would have led. There might be nothing at the end of it but, even if it was an abandoned ranch or settlement, he’d take it.
He kept his eyes and ears open, watching for any sign of an elusive house or town. After another mile or so, he reached an apple orchard and pulled up, stuffing his pockets and saddlebags with the fruit. At least he’d get to eat that night. He munched as he rode, keeping to the outskirts of the orchard. He still hadn’t seen a scrap of anything to show that any of the land he traveled through was owned by anyone, but better to be safe.
And then the vegetation grew sparser. He emerged from the orchard to find a well-worn trail that he followed to the top of a small hill. His heart thudded as he pulled to a stop, gazing down at the town that loomed ahead of him.
Well, “loomed” was a bit of a stretch. There wasn’t much to the town. Several homesteads dotted the small valley the main town occupied. The town proper seemed to have a general store, a tavern that looked to be doing good business, a blacksmith’s shop, barber’s shop, and a two-story structure that was under construction and little more than the studded walls at the moment, though it did have a fully finished roof. Odd.
“Where the hell did this place come from?” he muttered.
Barnaby didn’t have an answer. Neither did Adam. If it hadn’t been for tripping in that old signpost hole, he’d never have found the place. There had been nothing, anywhere, to indicate a town was down there.
Yet there it was.
He nudged Barnaby into motion again, taking his time getting to the town. The closer he drew, the more heightened the tension in his body became until he had to force himself to relax his grip on the reins. He kept on high alert as he rode into town. The people he passed stopped and stared at him. They weren’t hostile, more curious. And wary. Given the location of their town, they probably didn’t get many strangers riding through.
That was both good and bad for him. Good, because it meant he should be safe there. Bad, because his presence was going to stand out. And standing out was the last thing he wanted to do.
There appeared to be something of a celebration going on in the town square. He’d steer clear of that, thank you very much. He didnotlike celebrations. Or organized joviality of any sort. Or people, really, not to put too fine a point on it. He used to. In fact, he used to be a downright delight. Couldn’t get enough of crowds and conversation. But at this exact point in time, people were danger. A man could just never be sure who might be in a crowd. Safer to just avoid other folks altogether.
Unfortunately, he didn’t see a way around what looked like most of the town’s residents clogging the street. The tavern was his best bet for answers about the town, but that was where the largest group was gathered. Maybe he could blend in long enough to get his bearings and slip out before anyone noticed.
He tied Barnaby to a post in front of the general store and tugged his coat into place, slapping at it a few times. The cloud of dust that emerged went straight up his nose and set off a sneezing fit that drew more attention than was healthy for him. He swiped at his nose with a somewhat clean hankie, then made sure the chain on his pocket watch hung straight. Three days in the saddle was taking a toll on his carefully curated wardrobe. He scratched at the half-week’s-worth of beard growth on his cheeks and grimaced. Hopefully tonight, he could find some decent lodging and start setting things to rights. A trip to the barber would be the first thing on his list.
Adam paused, letting another man enter first, before he pushed his way into the bustling establishment. He slid onto a barstool farthest from everyone else, hiding behind the crowd as much as he could.
“What can I get you, Mister?” the barkeep asked.
Adam pulled his hat down low over his eyes and ordered a mineral water. A stiff shot of whiskey sounded better, but keeping his wits about him seemed like a good idea.
The barkeep chuckled when he pushed Adam’s glass toward him. “I think the only other person in town who orders straight mineral water is the sheriff,” he said.
Adam just grunted, but his stomach dropped. There was only one other man he’d ever met who never drank anything but straight mineral water. But there was no way that man would be sheriff of some hole-in-the-wall town. Ofanytown. Even if he was somehow still alive, which, as far as Adam knew, he was not.
“You’re new in town.” It wasn’t a question. And it confirmed that these people didn’t see strangers all that often.
Adam nodded but avoided eye contact, hoping the barkeep would leave him be.
