Free Bad Men Die by William W. Johnstone Page A

with him.” A little shudder went through Delia. “If I could just go into the cell block, so that I can speak to the man through the bars, that would be sufficient for me to follow my calling and do my sacred duty.”
    â€œWell, I don’t know . . .”
    â€œYou’d be right there with me, of course. To protect me.”
    Fred liked the sound of that. Something about the woman made him want to protect her. Still, he was a little leery about taking her into the cell block to preach to McCluskey. For one thing, he didn’t think it would do a blasted bit of good. He had never seen or heard of a truly repentant outlaw, unless maybe it was one who was walking up the thirteen steps to a gallows to keep an appointment with the hangman.
    â€œTell you what,” he suggested. “Marshal Hatfield will be stopping by here later when he makes his evening rounds. If you’d like to wait, you could ask him about it. If he says it’s all right for you to talk to the prisoner, then it’s fine with me.”
    â€œWell, how long will that be?”
    Fred scratched his head. “Hard to say for sure. An hour or so, I reckon.”
    â€œI’d really hate to wait that long, Deputy. None of us know for certain how long we have left in this world. No one knows the day and the hour of the last trumpet. Why, if the Lord were to return in the next hour, poor Mr. McCluskey would be lost in a state of sin, when salvation awaits him right here.” She patted one hand against the Bible’s black leather binding and gave Fred a soulful look.
    He felt himself weakening. He was pretty sure that Bob would be fine with what Sister Delia wanted. It wouldn’t hurt anything to let her talk to McCluskey for a few minutes. Anyway, Consuela would be there soon with the prisoner’s supper, and he could use that as an excuse to shoo the pretty little missionary gal out.
    â€œAll right,” Fred said reluctantly. He was acting against his own better judgment and hoped it wouldn’t come back to cause him trouble. “But I warn you, you may be able to stay for only a few minutes.”
    â€œThat’s all right,” Delia said, warming the room with her smile. “A few minutes is all I need.”
    Fred took the ring of keys down, unlocked the cell block door, and swung it open. As Delia started forward eagerly, he held up a hand to stop her. “Better let me go first. Just to make sure McCluskey’s not doin’ anything that might, uh, be improper for a young lady to see.”
    â€œWhy, you’re so kind and thoughtful to look out for me like that, Deputy Ordway.”
    â€œYou might as well call me Fred.”
    â€œI’d be delighted to . . . Fred.”
    Feeling better about his decision, the deputy put his hand on the butt of his gun and stepped into the cell block. A lantern hung at the end of the short corridor between the cells, and its glow revealed McCluskey still stretched out on the bunk. He wasn’t doing anything except lying there.
    â€œGet up, McCluskey, you’ve got a vis—”
    The unexpected feeling of a ring of cold metal pressed to the back of his neck made him stop short in what he was saying. He started to turn, but the object prodded him harder and a voice he barely recognized as belonging to Sister Delia said, “That’s a gun muzzle. Stand still, you damn fool, or I’ll kill you.”
    While Fred stood there frozen and shocked beyond belief, McCluskey swung his legs off the bunk and stood up quickly. He practically lunged at the cell door and wrapped his hands around the bars. “Delia!” he exclaimed. “Is that you?”
    â€œOf course it is, Frank. You didn’t really think I’d let you rot in jail, did you?”
    McCluskey threw back his head and laughed. “Gal, you’re just full of surprises. Get me out of here!”
    â€œIn a minute. I want to make sure this fat boy doesn’t