Free Wild Is the Night by Colleen Quinn Page A

across the room. Aesop squawked and rustled in his cage as Luke kicked the door, rewarded by a glimmer of the night sky outside.
    Amanda peeked out from beneath a pair of trousers. “Do you always go shooting your gun off like that? No doubt that will bring the sheriff, if nothing else.” She brushed the soiled clothing off with an injured expression.
    Luke shrugged. Used to responding with action, he hadn’t given the consequences a thought. It was annoying sometimes, the way this woman was always right. “It got us out, didn’t it?” he said defensively. “Get the damned owl and let’s go. We’ve got to make time now, before the fight’s over.”
    Amanda stepped through the clothes, and out into the star-studded night. Grimly, she stared at the open fields where the sky seemed to meet the land in one continuous line of crushed black velvet.
    “Wichita is about eighty miles from here, isn’t it?” Amanda asked.
    Luke nodded.
    “How are we going to get there?” She dreaded his response.
    This time, he didn’t even smile. “We walk.”
    Howard Fisher froze as he felt the sharp, keen edge of a razor pressed against his soft, round throat. It was long past business hours when he had come down from his comfortable home on top of his barber shop to clean up for the next day. He was proud of his establishment, with its sparkling clean windows, soft accomodating chairs, and rows of lime-scented lotion and cologne lining the counter. He had been in the process of sweeping the dark wads of hair from the floor when he’d heard the door softly close behind him.
    “Shop’s closed.” Before he could even turn and acknowledge the stranger, his arm was wrenched behind his back and the cool metal blade touched his neck.
    “Closed, is it?” the man chuckled, his sour breath hot against the barber’s face. “I guess I’m in luck, then. I ain’t looking for a shave or a haircut. I’m looking for you.”
    “Who…” The barber sputtered in fear as the man released him abruptly, then took a seat in one of the chairs.
    “Remember me, hairdresser?” Damien grinned as the barber stared at him, recognition slowly dawning. “That’s right, we were here last summer. My friend hasn’t forgotten your haircut. His ear still bleeds every once in a while.”
    “What do you want?” Dread filled the barber’s eyes as the blade twitched in the lamplight. He watched it in horrified fascination as Damien tested the sharp edge, drawing a bright bead of blood.
    “Just thought since you did my friend such a disservice, you might be eager to help us out now. We’re looking for someone.”
    Howard relaxed. So he hadn’t come to kill him after all. A wavery smile came to his face and he nodded. “Who?”
    “A man and a woman. He’s a gun—Luke somebody, I hear. Good looking, big…a gun. Southern, they say.” Damien shrugged, wiping the blood on his pants. “You wouldn’t forget the woman. Looks like a spinster, or a school marm. Back’s as straight as if a ramrod’s been stuck down it. Carries a carpetbag and a caged bird.”
    “I’ve seen them.” Howard spoke quickly as Damien fingered the razor. “They came into town this morning. The shooting started right after they arrived—seems someone’s gunning for the lady.” The barber’s eyes widened as he realized what he’d just said. “You?”
    “Where they headed?”
    “I don’t know. I heard they tried to hook up with a wagon train, but no one wanted to take them on. You riding with Haskwell now?”
    “You don’t know where I can find them?” Damien ignored his question and continued ruthlessly.
    “Try the hotel.” The barber wet his mouth nervously. “Maybe they plan to take the stage in the morning. There’s a ruckus at the saloon, so I don’t think they’d be there. They’re in enough trouble without barroom fights. Going?” The barber couldn’t hide his relief as the outlaw started for the door.
    The outlaw turned slowly. “Sure. Say,