Outlaw's Bride Read Online Free

information on outlaw Dirk Bledso. Two smiling women emerged from the land title office. He touched the brim of his hat. “Morning, ladies.”
    They eyed his trail-worn appearance and ragged shoulder-length hair. Chins tilting upward, they pointedly looked in the opposite direction. One raised a dainty lace handkerchief to her nose and sniffed as she passed.
    And a good morning to you. He wasn’t surprised by their lack of civility. A lot of folks didn’t cotton to drifters.
    His gaze shifted back to the posters. No telling how old these things were. He smoothed a torn fragment, holding it down with his palm. Outlaw Jack Brooks, wanted for thieving horses. He’d been hanged two years back, in seventy-four, for his crimes.
    A gust of hot wind ruffled the tattered flyers, and Johnny reached to steady one. Nothing posted about the Bledso gang, in particular Dirk, the yellow-bellied coward who had consumed Johnny’s life since the day he shot and killed the McAllister family. Bledso, known in some circles as the Viper, always seemed to be one county ahead of him. Then, about two years ago, all news of the Bledso brothers had dried up. They seemed to have vanished from the face of the earth.
    The slaughter drilled through Johnny’s mind as it had hundreds of times in the past sixteen years—Mama’s screams, her pleas that the children be spared. Baby Elly’s frightened whimpers while little Lara slept, never knowing the terror she faced. Johnny’s hand tightened into a fist. Pa’s angry shouts, in his struggle to save his family, still rang in his ears. The images cut through his soul like a knife.
    Memories tightened Johnny’s stomach, and the acrid taste of sun-dried hay choked him. Sweat had rolled down his temples into his shirt collar as he huddled in the barn loft, terrified for his life. No twelve-year-old should have to witness such carnage. No one of any age should have to see those horrors.
    A ruckus inside the bank jerked Johnny back to the present. Raised voices barked orders, growing persistently louder. He stepped toward the open door as three masked men burst through in a hail of bullets. Two aimed their pistols over their shoulders, returning fire.
    A big man with a bushy red beard encircled the waist of a young, screaming girl with one arm while he shot with the other. Fighting to break free, she kicked and struggled.
    Johnny dodged another round of bullets. Instinctively, his hand flew to his holster. Before he could pull his pistol, the frantic girl latched onto his hand. His fingers reflexively clamped around her arm and he pulled, trying to break her assailant’s grip.
    The outlaw held on.
    “Let her go!” Johnny shouted.
    The bearded man tightened his hold, trying to drag his squirming hostage toward a waiting horse.
    Diving in headfirst, Johnny knocked the man to the ground. They scuffled, each trying to gain control of the hysterical girl.
    The young woman kicked and clawed. Her skirt flipped over her bonneted head and Johnny blindly grappled with a sea of frilly petticoats. Bystanders stood rooted to their spots, eyes wide and mouths agape.
    A fourth man backed out of the bank, guns blazing. Two doors away, the sheriff and a deputy spilled from their office, weapons drawn. Bullets zinged and ricocheted in rapid-fire volleys.
    Johnny finally gained control of the female. He tucked her close, and in a split-second decision, he made a break for his horse, shielding her with his body. The girl fought like a wildcat, flailing and squealing, pounding his chest as he forced her across the porch, keeping low.
    She dug her toes into the boards. “Let go of me this instant!”
    Clamping his arm tighter around her waist, he grasped the saddle horn and his foot found the stirrup. Something heavy slammed into his chest and wedged itself between him and the girl. He glanced down to see a bank bag. Teetering in the stirrup, he strained to balance, and then he swung into the leather, positioning her