Читать книгу Gabriel's Heart - Madeline George - Страница 8

August 1881

Gabriel Hart spied the cabin when he crested the hill. No sign of Hannah anywhere. He frowned. She usually heard him coming and hurried to meet him.

He grinned. Napping. Had to be it. Now that they were expecting a baby in a few months, she had to rest more often.

When he passed the well and saw the bucket spilled, the dipper in the dust, Gabriel’s gut tightened and his blood raced. Something wasn’t right The house and yard were too quiet. Too empty.

He stepped down from his horse, let the reins drop and reached for the Colt on his hip—but he’d waited too long.

A flash. Thunder in the still afternoon.

The first bullet tore a ragged hole in his right wrist Pain jolted through his gun hand.

Another flash. More thunder.

The second bullet gouged into his side and lodged beneath his left lung. Fire spread through his chest like a bolt of lightning, taking his breath away.

Gabriel dropped to his knees and glared at the man who’d just shot him. Otis Blackburn. The bastard was holding Hannah the same way he’d hold a rag doll.

“Gabriel…”

Her bruised face, and her clothes, torn and bloody, told him what had happened.

“Hannah!”

A knife. Sunlight flashed off the blade as it ripped her throat. Her scream slashed through Gabriel like a dagger. Blood soaked into her dress, draining her life away.

Hatred gave Gabriel the strength to stand. If only he’d gotten home a little sooner. Five minutes earlier, and this snake of a man, this waste of skin he thought he’d put away forever, would be bleeding out his life in place of the woman who made Gabriel’s life complete. The woman who carried his child.

Hannah’s brown eyes glazed over and her bruised, bleeding lips mouthed Gabriel’s name as she sank to the ground at his feet.

Otis Blackburn laughed while Hannah died.

The hammer clicked back. “I won’t kill you, Hart. I want you to live at least ten more years. I want you to know what it’s like to be in prison all those days and nights. In prison in your own body.” He took aim at Gabriel’s right knee.

With his last strength Gabriel lunged at the filthy murderer and drove his head into Blackburn’s gut. The gun fired into thin air. Gabriel pounded his good fist into Blackburn’s face and gouged at his eyes until he felt blood trickle between his fingers.

Blackburn smashed the butt of his gun into Gabriel’s temple.

Gabriel sank into the dust, pain burning through him.

“Adiós, lawman.” Blackburn mounted and rode off toward the ridge.

Gabriel dragged himself forward until he could touch Hannah’s limp hand. Already cold. He balled his left hand into a fist and raised it to the vanishing image of the killer.

“Someday, Blackburn, I’ll find you. You’ll die. So help me, God. You’ll beg to die.”