Page 18 of Hard Bounty

“May I inquire your name?”

The old man once again stood up as straight as possible, but even then, he was still pretty short compared to John’s towering frame.

“Augustus Reilly, sir. At your service. Are you in need of provisions? You’ll find a well-stocked trading post here.”

“I might need some later,” John said. “But right now, do you have a room I could lock her up in? A back storeroom or something?”

Mr. Reilly appeared nervous but finally bobbed his head. “Sure. I think we could secure her in the storeroom.” Even though there wasn’t anyone else in the store, he leaned closer, putting his hands on the counter, and asked quietly, “She isn’t the dangerous sort, is she?”

John looked at Mary, considering his answer. “No,” he finally said.

She looked pleased at his response.

Turning his focus back to Mr. Reilly, he said, “But she will try to escape if given the chance. So once we put her in, I’d thank you kindly if you didn’t unlock that door until I come back to collect her.”

He heard Mary huff a bit.

“Yes, yes. That’s fine,” the store’s proprietor said.

“Are there any weapons in that room?”

“I have some guns,” he said, his eyes turning proudly to a glass case just a few feet away. “I sell them, you know. I keep the extras in the back until it’s time to restock the case.”

“We’ll need to move them before she goes in there,” John said.

Augustus Reilly left his spot behind the counter and got busy removing any items a fugitive might use as a weapon.

“Much obliged,” John said. “Judge Parker’s court in Fort Smith thanks you for your assistance.”

The older man puffed his chest out in pride. “You know, I once thought of being a lawman. Mother forbade it, though. Wanted me to go into preaching instead.”

“But you wound up running your own store?” John asked.

“Yes, but also spreading the good word, sir. You see, every Sunday, I roll out a pulpit and have meetin’ for anyone around these parts who wants a little old-time religion. Why, this place is really packed some weeks! I bring in itinerary preachers, too.” The portly man looked at Mary. “I’ll be leaving a Bible in that room, ma’am, in case you’re so led to read it and change your wicked ways!”

With that, he stormed off, presumably excited to retrieve a copy of the Good Book.

John couldn’t help himself again. He looked at Mary and said, “You should take him up on that offer. I think there’s one of the chapters in Proverbs that talks about being a virtuous wife, if my Sunday learning serves me right. You might want to start there.”

He laughed as she stuck her tongue out at him.

Damn, she was cute.

But it was all he could do not to give her a smack on the bottom for her sassiness.

You’re doing it again, John. Getting too familiar with her. You best take a step back.

He heeded his own advice and cleared his head. Right now, the important thing was getting those horses back—and not getting himself killed in the process. He didn’t need any distractions, no matter how pretty that distraction was.

So, once Mary was safely locked in the storeroom with that Bible, he left the store and strode toward the saloon.

His horses were still there. And he was ready to get them.

Chapter Twelve

Mary was a nervous wreck.

First of all, she hated being locked up. But secondly, and perhaps making her the most anxious, was the fact that John was going to face the horse thief all by himself.

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