Free First Class Male by Jillian Hart Page A

surprised him. That would have given the man he’d once been a lot of hope. But he wasn’t that man anymore, and he had to let her go. It was the right thing.
    “Have a safe trip this time,” he said lightly, stepping back, letting her go. He forced himself to ignore the hook of pain between his ribs as he stepped away from her. “Have a good life, Callie.”
    “You too, Mason.” She managed a smile, gorgeous. Everything about her was gorgeous. He caught a glimpse of sadness in her gaze before she spun away from him, swishing toward Mariel’s front door with her graceful, feminine walk, her skirts rustling and swirling, her slender shoulders straight, golden curls tumbling down her back.
    Wanting to pull her back, he balled his hands into fists, forcing himself to stay right where he was. He couldn’t follow her, would not haul her into his arms and kiss her the way she deserved to be kissed. With everything he was, everything he had.
    It wasn’t enough. He wasn’t enough. She deserved a man with a whole heart to give her. He waited until she’d hopped onto the front porch of Mariel’s house before turning away, heading down the street, leaving her behind. The part of him she’d brought back to life withered away, going dark like the shadows at his feet.

    “That marshal sure likes her.” Lew Folsom lowered his binoculars. Now that the lawman was between buildings, impossible to see him. Lew spit, sending a stream of tobacco juice flying into the bunch grass at the edge of the slope north of town. “This is interesting.”
    “Ain’t that the girl you and Lyle got off the train?” Old Sam asked from behind his binoculars. Gray-haired and grizzled, Sam was past his prime, but Lew kept him around for a lot of reasons. The old fart’s experience had helped them out of trouble more than once. “Did you mean to find her?”
    “Nah, just a coincidence. I was watching that marshal.” Sometimes a man got lucky, Lew thought. Yesterday he’d been looking forward to sampling the young pretty thing after his brother was done with her, but that marshal got in the way. That ain’t all that marshal had done.
    “That’s the one who killed Lyle, ain’t it?” Old Sam asked.
    “Yep.” Lew gritted his teeth, fury raging through him. Yeah, he’d seen the marshal cart Lyle’s body away. Lew had been hiding in the dark, watching. Renewed wrath charged through him, a tornado of vengeance building. That marshal was gonna pay. He’d destroy that man if it was the last thing he did.
    “We’re gonna need supplies if we’re gonna storm that jail.” Jeb crawled up the rise of the hill, belly down, to take the binoculars from Old Sam. “We had to leave behind half our guns and ammunition. Do you think I could stroll into one of them stores and buy what we need?”
    “Can’t risk anyone recognizing us, idiot.” Lew pulled his tobacco pouch out of his denim pocket and unrolled it. The cash from the train robbery was burning a hole in his pocket, but he couldn’t spend it. Not here. “Do you got anything to say, Old Sam?”
    “A gang member of mine spent time in that jail.” The old man sat up, rubbing his stubbly chin, concentrating. “Was a long time ago.”
    “A century?” Jeb guffawed.
    “Nine years,” Old Sam said with dignity. “Pulled a bank job in this town. Was smaller then, but that jail was new. Double stone walls, top-grade iron. We could bust ‘em out, but look at the patrols. Looks to me like the marshals are coordinating with the town sheriff. We’d have to kill a lotta lawmen before we could get close with the dynamite.
If
we have enough to blast through, that is.”
    “I don’t mind killing a lotta lawman,” Jeb quipped, laughing at the prospect. “That always makes my day.”
    “Well, there’s ten of us, about fifteen of them on patrol. Four more up on rooftops, so they have the high ground.” Old Sam shook his head, gesturing toward the main street. “My guess is they’ll keep