Rough Country Bundle
Copyright © 2012 Lacy Fairview
All Rights Reserved
The temperature was downright miserable in the town of Deadman's Burden. This particular July day, the jailhouse felt like a tiny chunk of hell spat out in the middle of the desert.
Silas, the weasel-eyed, right-hand man for the local saloon proprietor, held himself up with the iron bars of his cell. He closed an eye to focus on his captor.
"C'mon Eli. It just ain't right you pullin' me off her like that. I was just givin' her a good learnin'. You don't go bitin' a man's pecker and not get a good shiner, woman or no."
Sheriff Eli Whitaker sat in a rickety chair, reclined against the wall. He was a man of few words, arms the size of redwoods and lightning fast reflexes. The only thing quicker than his pistol was his temper.
"I don't take kindly to you hittin' Miss Nettie."
"Aw, Sheriff, a whore ain't no lady."