Give My Love to Rose(1st in Outlaw Series)

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Eight

It was dark when Marston slipped from Buck's back seven days later. He was somewhere in the middle of nowhere in northeastern Texas and the night sky was clear and dotted with stars.

A lantern was glowing in the window of the shack in the distance and two horses were hitched outside. Marston knew Gilliam was here tonight and he had one of his collection of whores no doubt laying with whoever owned that second horse.

All Marston could think of—all he'd thought of for days—was Rose and the hell that this man had put her through. His blood had long since turned to ice in his veins and there was no room left in his mind for doubts. Was this cold blooded murder? Yes. Was it justified? Damn straight.

Marston left his rifle in the saddle and slipped through the shadows. He wouldn't be needing a long range weapon. Marston wanted to be up close and personal when he took Gilliam's life. He wanted to cause the man as much pain as he could before he let his heart stop beating.

Approaching the cabin, Marston crouched beside the open window and listened. Two men were arguing inside and he could hear a girl sobbing.

Girl—not woman.

Damnation! Gilliam had another girl. Marston glanced through the window and recognized Gilliam instantly and the man he was arguing with was Vincent Sharp. Vincent was bare from the waist up and he wore a bloody handprint on his chest.

Marston's eyes went past them to the tiny bed in the corner and the young girl who was curled up there naked and bleeding. She couldn't be any more than ten or twelve and she was pale skin pulled tightly over bones as she trembled violently.

Suddenly Marston felt a bone deep shame fill him. A shame that the life he had led for so long had had him traveling roads with men like these. These men were monsters and Marston sent up a prayer that God would forgive him for every wrong thing he had ever done and every innocent person he had ever harmed. He didn't ask forgiveness for what he was about to do because as far as he was concerned there was no wrong in it.

Marston pulled his revolver, took a deep steadying breath and then kicked the door with all his might. With a splintering of wood the door flew open and Marston fired a shot directly into Vincent's chest. Without sparing the man another glance, Marston leapt toward Gilliam and brought his revolver down hard on his head. Gilliam crumpled to the floor in an unconscious heap.

Marston smiled as he hogtied the man and tossed him in the corner. The smile faded when he turned his attention to the girl on the bed. He realized just how much had changed in that moment. The Marston he'd been before Rose and Langley would have barely spared the girl a second glance. The Marston he'd been before would have shrugged her way, chalked it up to bad luck in life and walked away.

But he wasn't that man any longer.

Marston walked toward her slowly, approaching her with his hands up just as he would a wild animal. The low lamplight revealed that her physical state was poor. Her blond hair was knotted, dirty and limp around her gaunt face. Each and every bone in her bare body jutted out roughly against her pale skin—skin that was covered in wounds and scars just like Rose.

The girl whimpered and wrapped her arms around herself tightly as she shied away from him. "It's okay," he whispered. "I'm not going to hurt you." She didn't look the least bit convinced by his promises.

"Where are your clothes, girl?" Marston asked, glancing around.

The girl's green eyes were wary but Marston could see hope beginning to light them. She held out one thin arm and pointed toward a chest in the corner.