Free Bad Men Die by William W. Johnstone Page B

get even more stupid and try anything.”
    Fred felt her lifting his revolver from its holster. He felt sick to his stomach, not only because he knew how upset and disappointed Bob would be that he’d let a prisoner escape, but also because he was disgusted with himself for letting a pretty face and a honeyed voice fool him so easily. He knew that if he allowed Delia to take his gun, he’d have no chance at all of stopping this.
    He felt the gun at the back of his neck waver and realized it was probably the only opportunity he’d have. He jerked away, twisting around, and flung out his arm toward the phony missionary. He made a grab for his gun and tried to knock her aside at the same time.
    The little pistol in her hand cracked. Fred felt a line of fire rake across the side of his neck and knew the bullet had grazed him. He got hold of his Colt and tried to wrench it out of her grip, but he fumbled and the gun slipped away from both of them. It thudded to the floor at their feet.
    â€œFrank!” Delia cried as she kicked the revolver and it slid toward McCluskey. Panic bloomed inside Fred as he saw the outlaw bend over, reach through the bars, and scoop up the Colt.
    McCluskey came up shooting, flame spouting from the barrel of the gun.

CHAPTER 11
    The door of the hardware store was set back in a little alcove. Luke grabbed Consuela’s arm and pushed her into it. “Stay there,” he told her sharply as he reached for one of the Remingtons. “You ought to be out of the line of fire.”
    â€œBut what is happening?” she asked, her voice full of alarm.
    â€œA jailbreak, if I had to guess.” He couldn’t waste any more time talking to her. He had to hope she would stay where she was.
    Quite a few other people were on the street. All of them would be in danger if bullets started to fly around. As he broke into a run along the boardwalk toward the jail, he waved his left arm at them and shouted, “Get off the street! Off the street now!”
    Men yelled curses and questions, but thankfully most of them also began to scatter. Riders galloped away from the gunfire, and men on wagons turned their teams toward the nearest alleys and cross streets.
    On the far side of the street, the door to the jail stood partially open with lamplight spilling through it. Suddenly someone flung it wider. Two figures appeared, dark against the light behind them as they rushed out of the building. The man lunged into the street and leaped at a man trying to ride past.
    The rider let out a yell as he was grabbed and flung out of the saddle. He landed hard with his face in the street.
    As Luke ran closer, he got a better look at the two people who had rushed out of the marshal’s office. Frank McCluskey was the one who had just unhorsed the rider. As the woman grabbed the mount’s dangling reins, Luke realized he could think of only one female who’d try to bust the outlaw out of jail.
    â€œDelia!” Luke grated. Was that woman going to plague him forever?
    McCluskey grabbed the saddle horn, stuck his foot in a stirrup, and hauled himself up into the saddle. He took the reins from Delia and extended his other hand toward her. She grabbed it and swung up behind him, pulling her dress up brazenly to her thighs so she could throw a leg over the horse’s back. The hurried movement caused her sunbonnet to tumble backward off her blond curls and dangle behind her by the strings tied around her neck.
    That was Delia, all right, Luke thought as he raised the Remington in his hand and bellowed, “McCluskey!”
    The outlaw jerked the horse around and rammed his boot heels into its flanks. The animal leaped ahead and raced straight at Luke. McCluskey leaned forward over the horse’s neck to make himself a smaller target as he fired at the bounty hunter.
    The slugs kicked up dirt in the road not far from Luke’s feet, but McCluskey’s gun blasted only twice before the