Free Deadly by Sylvia McDaniel

nor Ruby would ever have to ride after a bad man again.
    Meg closed the door, her chest aching, her stomach rolling, knowing in her heart she was hurting her sisters, yet unable to stop herself. The bounty was hers to bring in, even if that meant leaving Ruby and Annabelle.
    *
    Two days later, Meg walked into the saloon where she and Ruby had first confronted Simon. She pulled her hat down low and tried to appear nonchalant and small, as she sat down at a table. Keeping her head down and her eyes lowered, she glanced around the room.
    The same men were sitting at the bar. The same saloon girl strolled amongst the men, touching them, offering her pleasures. The bartender was tossing out beer and whiskey, the piano player was banging on the keyboard, and the poker players were slinging cards. It was Saturday afternoon, and Meg did her best to blend into the wall.
    Her auburn hair was swept up into her hat, and her clothes were even more masculine than normal. Papa had always told them he tried to appear as if he belonged in whatever situation he found himself. Meg hardly felt as if a saloon was where she fit in best, but she’d been here before.
    “Can I get you something to drink?” a young woman in a dress that had her bosom swelling over the top asked.
    “Whiskey,” Meg replied, lowering the tone of her voice. She kept her eyes downcast, barely looking at the men.
    The swinging doors slammed against the wall, and Frank Jones, the meanest hombre this side of the Rio Grande, stepped into the saloon followed by Simon. The two men were laughing, as they settled in at the bar to drink.
    Meg took a deep breath, her lungs squeezing tighter than a corset. He was here. How did she arrest him and get him out the door? How did she get him away from Frank without taking a bullet?
    Suddenly, she was filled with doubts, wishing Annabelle or Ruby was here to help her. They hunted as a team. She was only one mean-ass woman against two of the worst outlaws in the state. She could get the local sheriff, but it was doubtful he’d do anything. She was by herself, just like she’d wanted, but now she wasn’t quite so certain.
    Or she could simply walk out the door and wait until the timing was better. Wait until Simon came out of the bar, unaccompanied and drunk. All the bravado she’d felt back in Zenith had disappeared.
    For the next hour, she watched as Simon and Frank talked over a couple of drinks. Finally, just when she was beginning to think they were going to drink until the sun set and the moon rose high in the night sky, they stood and headed for the door.
    She threw her money down on the table. Once they stepped out of the saloon, she rose and followed. Quickly, she walked through the swinging doors and out onto the wooden sidewalk. She glanced around looking to see which direction they’d gone, when she heard the click of a gun.
    Her heart slammed into her throat and began beating like a galloping horse. Of all the greenhorn mistakes, she’d forgotten the first rule of safety—to check the sidewalk before walking into the open.
    “Why, look who’s here,” Simon said.
    Meg whirled around and stared into the barrel of Simon’s ugly six-shooter, dangling from his fingers, pointed at her midsection.
    “Bounty hunter, Meg McKenzie,” he said with a laugh. “Where’s the good sheriff? Usually wherever you are, he’s not far behind. He’s been chasing your tail harder than most criminals.”
    Meg shrugged, fear riding her hell-bent to nowhere. “The sheriff who let you get away? I left him back at the hotel. He’ll be along shortly.” It was a lie, but she needed him to believe Zach would be making an appearance any moment. That he was lurking around the corner just waiting on Simon to step out.
    The outlaw took her by the elbow and started leading her down the street, past the saloon. Meg knew once they left the populated area she’d be at their mercy. She dug her heels in. “Whoa, boys, I’m not going anywhere