Free Brazos Bride by Caroline Clemmons Page B

low on the headboard, not the ceiling. Second one came lower, hit the mattress."
    Micah turned to stare at the hotel's corner windows then gauged where the shot would have come from. He saw Ryan do the same.
    "Roof of the Mercantile," Ryan grumbled then strode off around the corner to a stairway that led to Bowman’s second floor living quarters. Micah followed fast on the sheriff's heels.
    Their booted steps clattered on the wooden treads and made enough noise for an army. "Surely Bowman would have heard someone on the roof? Doesn't he sleep upstairs?"
    Ryan said, "Old man would sleep through a dynamite blast. Unless his dyspepsia acts up, he won't wake until just 'fore sunup."
    When they reached the landing at the second floor entrance, the sheriff climbed on the railing and peered over the flat roof's edge. "No one's there now. Come morning I'll check every inch and out back, too."
    "Then you'll take this seriously, even though I'm involved?"
    “ Don't reckon it'll do any good but, yeah, I'll check into it.” Ryan jumped down to the landing. "Law’s the law. My personal opinion don't come into it."
    They descended the stairs and paused in the alleyway.
    “ Maybe someone saw the culprit.” Ryan studied both sides of the now deserted street. Rubbing his jaw, the sheriff looked at Micah. "You can go back to your bride, Stone. I'll take over from here."
    Micah hesitated and wondered if he could trust the lawman who despised him. If someone had launched an attack, this time Micah wanted the law on his side. It galled him, but he figured he’d better take this man into his confidence. He lowered his voice so only the sheriff could hear.
    "My wife has reason to think someone’s been poisoning her. That makes it even more likely someone wants her—maybe both of us—dead."
    Ryan grimaced, his gaze roaming to search corners and crevices. "Hell, man, why didn't she come tell me?" His narrowed eyes flicked to meet Micah's. "She have any proof?"
    Micah went over the ploys Hope had used to check out her suspicions. He added, "Look, Sheriff, I know you think I shot her father, but I swear I didn't. What if whoever killed the old man wanted to wipe out more than him? You know anyone who has a grudge against the whole family?
    Ryan shook his head. "Alfredo Montoya didn’t have any friends, though a lot of folks kowtowed to him. He was a powerful man hereabouts and wealthy as Solomon, but mean and tight-fisted. Either one of those causes enemies. No one in particular comes to mind, though--except you."
    Micah let the slur slide. He needed the lawman's help.
    Ryan's forehead crinkled in a frown, uncaring or unaware he'd insulted Micah again. "Jorge Montoya isn't as rich as his big brother, but reckon he has enough wealth to arouse plenty of envy."
    Micah said, “Word of our wedding seems to have spread through the town fast."
    "Yeah, Bowman told me when I went for my mail." Ryan stroked his chin and scrutinized Micah. "That’s too bad, Stone. Don’t know the lady well, but it’s a shame someone’s out to kill her.”
    "Damn right. I aim to see no one hurts my wife, but so far I'm not doing too well."
    When Micah reached the Presidential Suite, Herman Stevens patrolled outside the door like a sentry. When he spotted Micah, Stevens stopped and stood at attention. Micah expected a salute any second.
    "Your wife asked me to step out, but I been guarding her like you said."
    "Thanks, Stevens, but reckon whoever shot at us is long gone. Could we move to another room—one with less exposure?"
    Stevens nodded. "You go on in and I'll bring you the key to this here room back of yours."
    Micah thanked him and went inside. If he kept his gaze from the bed, the room looked deceptively peaceful. Hope wore a wrapper and had lit the lamp, but she sat away from view through the windows. If possible, she looked even paler than earlier today.
    "You okay?" he asked.
    She looked up at him, eyes wide with fright, and pointed to the mattress.