Free Blood & Dust (Lonesome Ridge Book 2) by Samantha Warren Page B

was abandoning them at a time when they needed him most. Whether he was running away or off on some other duty, Summer Rain did not care. He was gone, and therefore the town was weaker. She feared him and would not attack him directly, and she wouldn’t attack the town itself, but she could hurt them all. She would find a way. Even if she didn’t get inside the walls herself, she would find a way. The young man had to leave at some point. Whether on patrol or for supplies, for some reason he would leave the protection of the gates. And she would be waiting, waiting to inflict as much damage as she could.

 
     
    CHAPTER 12
     
     
     
    “Let’s stop here and double-check, make sure we didn’t miss anyone the last time.” Abby pulled her horse up to the fence in front of the big house surrounded by the other small ones. The body of the woman still lay on the porch and the others were piled just inside the doorway. Flies fed on their flesh in the uncommon heat of an early autumn afternoon.
    Connor draped his horse’s reins over a fence post. The beast had been trained well enough that it wouldn’t bolt unless it was in mortal danger, and if it came to that, Connor wanted him to be able to save himself. He realized how silly, and how lucky, he’d been before, tying the creature up so it couldn’t flee. The undead seemed to prefer human flesh, but he’d yet to see them turn down fresh meat, no matter the source.
    Abby slid off her own horse and pulled her shotgun from its spot on the saddle. They both double-checked their weapons and walked slowly up to the house.
    When they reached the steps, Connor pounded on the first one. They waited. And waited. Minutes dripped by like water from a leaky spigot. Connor pounded again. And again they waited. Finally Abby raised her gun higher and pointed at the door. The sheriff gave her a nod and inched sideways up the stairs. Nothing moved inside, not even the curtains from the open window.
    Abby followed Connor into the main room. They searched the whole house, bottom to top, but found nothing. All the undead that they had killed before remained exactly where they were. The old man’s chair no longer rocked as his dead eyes stared straight ahead.
    “Clear,” Connor declared after they checked the shallow root cellar. “Let’s grab some supplies, anything usable.” He reached for a jar filled with red vegetables and stuffed it into one of his pockets.
    Abby stared at him with her mouth cracked open and didn’t move.
    “They’re not coming back, Abs.” He didn’t turn around to look at her. Instead, he grabbed another jar. “Not ever.”
    He paused with his hand on a jar of pickled cucumbers and listened for movement behind him. It was another several seconds before Abby moved to a different shelf. They didn’t take much, just a few jars of preserves and some potatoes from last year’s harvest. But it was enough to get them by and keep them going. They had packed supplies, but the less they had to use of their own, the better. They had no idea how long they would be out here. A jar of whiskey sat on a shelf near the door and Connor paused as he walked by. His hand hovered over it. His fingers danced over the cool glass. He could almost feel the fire running through his veins and the taste of the burning liquor on his tongue, the sweet numbness flooding through him. He shuddered and jerked away.
    “Come on,” Connor said as he bobbed his head toward the stairs leading back up to the main house. “We gotta keep moving so we don’t lose the trail.”
    Abby swallowed and tucked a small satchel of herbs under her arm. They headed back out to the horses and loaded them down with their goodies. Abby used the fence to climb up onto her horse, refusing all help from Connor.
    As the sheriff watched the girl scale the fence and swing into the saddle, he couldn’t help but think about how well she was adapting to missing half an arm.
    “What?”
    Connor blinked and shook