Free Love Under Two Gunslingers by Cara Covington

Sheriff’s office?
    There was only one thing to do in a strange town if you wanted to know all the latest goings-on, and that was go to the local saloon.
    The place appeared crowded and with a hum of excitement and energy layered over the smoky haze that told Liam as soon as he stepped foot inside the door that something had happened here tonight.
    He wandered toward the bar, careful to appear an ordinary man, just like any ordinary man who found his way to Springfield
Missouri
and the Frontier Saloon.
    He heard the voice before he saw the speaker and smiled in recognition. There always seemed to be at least one loud-mouth in any saloon who’d seen it all and knew it all, and with a little prodding and free whiskey, would tell it all.
    Liam personally felt insulted on behalf of the women of the world whenever he heard men ridicule their gossiping ways. In his experience, the male of the species gossiped far more easily and often than females could ever hope to.
    “I tell you, I ain’t seen nothin’ like it since that day when Wild Bill gave it to that Tutt feller. That man out there tonight would have made old Bill proud, God rest his poor, betrayed soul.”
    The bartender came right over, and Liam ordered a shot of whiskey. He looked over at the gossip and said, “Get you a drink? I hear you had some excitement out here tonight.”
    “That’s real friendly of ya, mister. Thanks. Name’s Pruitt. Thomas P. Pruitt.”
    The bartender smirked and poured a shot out for Pruitt.
    “John Smith,” Liam said, extending his hand. “Did I hear you mention Wild Bill? That wouldn’t have been Wild Bill Hickok, would it?”
    “The very same. Most folks coming into Springfield don’t know that Wild Bill had his first shoot-out right on these here streets, oh, musta been back in sixty-four, sixty-five. And I tell you, mister, what I saw out here on these same streets tonight put me in mind of that historic moment, yes indeed it did.”
    It didn’t take many drinks or much prodding for Pruitt to finish his tale.
    “And the Sheriff didn’t arrest the shooter?” Liam asked, giving the appearance of hanging on Pruitt’s every word.
    “Arrest him? Hell, ought to give the guy a medal. That Morgan’s been up to no good ever since old Robert E. signed over all of our hopes and dreams to that rascal, Grant. Everyone what saw the whole thing knows Morgan was gunning for that guy. Feller out walking down the street with a lady by his side, minding his own never mind! What kind of low down animal tries to shoot a feller when there’s lady close by? A low down rotten one, that’s what kind. My opinion, Morgan needed killing.”
    Liam stayed just long enough that he could slip out unnoticed after Mr. Pruitt found someone else to buy his drinks and tell his stories to. Standing in the cooling night air, Liam cleared the scent of booze and smoke out of his head and tried to think.
    Holy hell, Jamie is going to be pissed . He was supposed to send a message off, announcing the success of the venture. Couldn’t do that yet. But he would. By God, he would.
    All he knew about the two escorting Sarah was that they’d hired out their guns, supposedly of the same ilk as Morgan and his men. Probably these gunslingers assumed they’d been Morgan’s target.
    Yes, of course they would . Who would ever think otherwise? The best course of action, then, Liam thought, would be to target Mrs. Maddox from a distance and do it quickly. He was good enough to get the shot off and get away. But first he needed to locate her. He knew she’d been booked into the Lyon House Hotel over on South Street.
    Thinking, Liam walked from the Frontier to the train station. He took note of the buildings and thought about the angles and trajectories. He recalled how it had been in the thick of the war, when he’d been ordered behind enemy lines to reconnoiter. If necessary, he would kill any who might prove themselves obstacles to his getting the job done.
    Jamie