Free Shotgun Bride by Karen Lopp

game. She’d agreed but the kiss she’d given him this morning held no hint of passion. Just the briefest brush of lips. Hell . He should suck it up and apologize.
    A loud rush of hail pounded the hillside and the driver hauled on the reins and bailed off. Mike followed. Together they tugged the horses under the branches of a pine. Icy pellets stung Mike’s hands and cheeks.
    Lightning reached down with searching fingers and split the top of a nearby tree. The horses whinnied in fright and tried to rear in preparation for a mad dash. Mike grabbed the bit in one horse’s mouth and yanked down. He would not be responsible for any more danger to Kathleen.
    When the thunderstorm ceased its violent assault on the mountain, the air filled with a sharp odor of damp earth and the refreshing smell of clean air. A cool breeze danced across the treetops, shaking droplets of water from the pine needles in a gleeful display of mischief. Little rivulets raced each other down the ruts in the road, each in a desperate attempt to win. Hail covered the ground, leaving the appearance of snow.
    “Why don’t you climb in with the lady and make sure she’s not frightened while I get us over the hill.”
    Mike shook water and pea-sized hail from his hat, took off his slicker, and opened the door.
    Kathleen glanced his way, huffed, and turned her back to him. He shook his head. Maybe it was safer up top. “I’m sorry, all right?”
    She sniffled. Damn . He hated tears. They made him feel helpless. “Aw, don’t cry. I shouldn’t have got mad and snapped at you.”
    “I’m not crying.”
    The hitch in her voice said otherwise. So did the stiff posture and refusal to face him.
    “Did the storm scare you?”
    Kathleen whirled around and Mike braced for a slap. Which never came. The sparks flashing in her eyes would ignite wet wood. “I’m not a child.”
    Mike pinched the bridge of his nose. The temperature inside dropped several degrees. “What do you want from me?”
    “Nothing.”
    “Can’t we call a truce?”
    “You should have told me you were engaged.”
    “You’re right.” Mike drummed his fingers on the seat. For some strange reason Kathleen’s good opinion mattered. He needed her to understand this wasn’t his typical action.
    “You really think all this being shot at and chased is over?”
    Mike fought with the smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Yes. I still don’t know who’s behind this but soon as I get home, I’m breaking it off with Sally. That should put an end to it.”
    “Why?”
    He furrowed his brow. Because he didn’t love Sally? Mike fiddled with his boot. Or because he wanted Kathleen more than he realized? A thin sheen of sweat broke out on his upper lip. What plausible reason could he give that wouldn’t make him sound like a callous bastard?
    “Sally didn’t have much of a chance to say ‘no.’ Her father pushed for the marriage. Pushed real hard.”
    “And you?”
    Mike shrugged. “I didn’t really give it much thought until—” He stopped.
    “Until what?”
    Mike ground his teeth. “I’ve had a long time to think about it, that’s all.”
    He studied Kathleen’s reaction. The tight lines around her eyes softened and her white-knuckled grip on the windowsill eased. Good. Maybe now he could coax a smile from her.

Chapter 8
    The rest of the trip had gone smoothly with no more interruptions as Mike had managed to wipe away Kathleen’s fears, convincing her he wasn’t some hard-hearted soul and he’d even made her laugh.
    As the sun dipped low in the sky, a low growl from Kathleen’s stomach suggested suppertime when the stagecoach lurched to a stop in Raton. The streets were empty except for two rough-looking characters with shotguns loitering about.
    “Aunt May’s serves delicious food and the hotel is a nice place to stay.”
    Heat stung her cheeks. He must have heard her stomach rumble. “Food sounds wonderful, but I’m rather skeptical about