Free Lassiter Tough by Loren Zane Grey

happened after the old man’s wife died? Did he marry your mother?”
    â€œThings went on just as before. My father lived at the ranch, my mother and I here in Santos.”
    â€œHe never married your mother, then.”
    Millie gave a small laugh. “My mother was half Mexican. And the old man had lost three uncles in the fighting when General Santa Anna was driven out of Texas. Some memories are the longest.”
    â€œI know,” Lassiter said, thinking of Luis Herrera.
    â€œBut after my mother died, I guess Mr. Sanlee’s conscience got to bothering him. Until then, I didn’t know he had one. Anyway, he brought me into his house to raise as his daughter—despite my so-called mixed blood.” They were walking back when she suddenly halted and gripped his arm. “Stay on as foreman, won’t you?”
    â€œI don’t know about that. . . .”
    â€œAt least for a year.”
    â€œAnd what about you?” he asked her. “What about your life?”
    â€œI’ll be a good wife to Mr. Chandler. I’ll hold up my end of the bargain. But I’ll need help against my brother. Will you do it, Lassiter?” She gave him a sad smile, stood abruptly on her toes and pressed warm lips against his cheek.
    Then she started walking away, the fringe of the leather riding skirt whipping around booted ankles. There was a sadness to her beauty that touched him deeply. He liked her and felt sorry for her. But did he owe her a year out of his life? She had rejected his offer to help her run away and elected instead to submit to her half-brother’s wishes, and marry the man he had selected. But still she had asked for Lassiter’s protection. Maybe he’d stay until she was married and settled. Then it was up to Chandler to protect not only his wife but the ranch.
    Then the reason for him coming to Texas in the first place came crowding back. And he was remembering what she had told him about Vince Tevis’s death.
    He found her in front of the store, peering nervously down the twisting road in the direction that Rep Chandler would take from his Box C.
    He saw her look around at him. “Brad can see us from O’Leary’s. You shouldn’t be seen with me.”
    â€œNo matter what you said, I think he killed Vince Tevis.”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œYou’re trying to save your brother’s life,” he said coldly, “by claiming that Bolin . . .”
    â€œYou killed Bolin. So you said. So you already avenged poor Vince.”
    â€œYou’d stick up for Sanlee? After all he’s done to you and the way he humiliated you at roundup? Then forcing you into marrying a man twice your age or more?”
    â€œAfter all, we did have the same father, Brad and I. . . .”
    Lassiter gave a harsh laugh and shook his head. He started to speak, but she stepped close, her lovely face showing sudden strain.
    â€œI hoped you’d leave,” she said in a tight whisper, “so I kept talking. . . . Now I’ve got to tell you. Doug Krinkle is . . .”
    She broke off, a look of terror in her eyes.
    â€œKrinkle is . . .
what?
” he demanded, looking both ways along the nearly deserted street.
    â€œWhile we were talking, I saw him slip out the back door of the saddle shop next door.”
    Lassiter wheeled, one hand clamped to his gun. He stared at the adjoining building beyond the weed-grown lot. It was one story of weathered lumber with a parapet along the roof. A sign on the side in black letters said: SIMON’S SADDLE SHOP .
    And at that moment there was a rattle of wagon wheels, the hoofbeats of a hard-running team. Lassiter jerked his head around and saw Rep Chandlerdriving up in his hack wagon, a broad smile under his mustache as he saw Millie. Then it faded into a look of surprise as he spotted Lassiter standing beside her.
    From a corner of his eye, Lassiter finally spotted movement, possibly Krinkle. It came from the