Free An Unlikely Lady by Rachelle Morgan Page B

heart.”
    â€œOh, Papa, what have you done?”
    â€œI canna tell ye now, but ye’ll know all there is to know soon enough. Should we be parted, run as far away as ye can and I’ll find ye. Go back the way we came and do no’ trust a soul, ye ken? Trust no one .”
    She wanted to demand he tell her what was going on, but the urgency in his tone compelled her only to nod.
    Then Robert appeared at the mouth of the alley, blocking their escape. “Thought you’d get away with it, didn’t you, McGuire? Thought you could sneak off, welch on our deal, and I’d just forget about it?”
    Honesty remembered staring at her father insurprise. Few knew his real name; it was safer that way. Why would he have told Robert?
    â€œI’m not sneakin’ off. I told ye inside, I don’t have it with me. I have to go get it.”
    â€œAnd you expect me to believe you’ll return?”
    â€œI told ye I would, didn’t I?”
    â€œYour word is worthless, McGuire. Honesty, come to me,” Robert coaxed in a silky tone that sent shudders down her spine.
    Her father’s grip on her arm turned bruising. “Ye’re not gettin’ the lass, Treat.”
    â€œYou think not?” Robert raised his arm, and moonlight glittered off the pearl-handled pistol gripped in his hand. “Send her to me and no one gets hurt.”
    â€œWhat’s this about, Robert?”
    â€œPerhaps you should ask your father.”
    â€œPapa?”
    â€œâ€˜Tis nothin’, lass.”
    â€œNothing?” Robert barked. “Your father and I had a gentlemen’s agreement and he is trying to break it. You are my insurance. When he holds up to his end of our bargain, I’ll release you.”
    Deuce instantly pushed Honesty behind him and withdrew his pistol. “You’ll take her over me dead body!”
    Robert smiled then. “That can also be arranged.”
    Her memory grew vague after that. The crack of bullets, the acrid stench of gunpowder, and the sight of Robert lying lifeless on the alley floor while Honesty and her father ran for the train station and jumped the first car leaving Durango . . . It wasn’t until they’d sunk against the car’s plank walls, and she caught sight of his blood-soaked shirt front, that she realized how prophetic his words would be.
    â€œPapa? Oh, God . . .” She scrambled to his side and gathered his bulky form in her arms.
    â€œMy sweet Honesty, there’s somethin’ you must know . . .”
    â€œDon’t talk, Papa.” Frantically she tried to stem the blood that gushed from his middle. “We’ve got to get you to a doctor.”
    He caught her hand in a frighteningly feeble grip and whispered, “Listen to me, lass, there isna much time.”
    Her breath caught on a sob.
    â€œI done ye wrong, and I pray ye can find it in yer heart to forgive me.”
    â€œPapa, please . . .”
    â€œThat’s what I must tell ye.” His head lolled to the side, and the light in his blue eyes dimmed. “The truth is . . .”
    â€œWhat?” she asked, unable to catch his fading words.
    â€œ. . . Hidden in the flowin’ stones . . .”
    And he was gone.
    Honesty swiped at her damp eyes. God, how she missed him. His gruff voice, that gravelly brogue. His thick arms and long flame-red hair with the balding spot at the crown . . .
    Oh, curse Jesse for playing that song! Curse him for coming to Last Hope in the first place. She’d kept a low profile since that fateful night, making her way north, town to town, mine to mine, saloon to saloon, searching for the secret he’d taken to his grave. She hadn’t sung since.
    Until this morning.
    And because of it, because of Jesse and his resurrection of days best forgotten, she was once again committed to putting herself on public display.
    She should have left town the