Someone had shot his wife. In the chest. Women screamed. Babies bawled in terror. Men ran and to and fro and Richard stood there, torn between carrying Lessie inside the nearest cabin, making her as comfortable as possible— fighting to save her life… … and hunting down the mangy dog who’d murdered his wife. He kicked in the nearest door, shouldered his way inside. A woman shrieked and backed into the corner, protecting her young ones behind her skirt. Lessie drooped in Richard’s arms, blood staining the black cape, spreading in a circle now as large as a dinner plate. Heaven help them all. His brave, determined wife had only wanted to help She’d done a fine job of it. She’d stood beside him then spoken with such fervency, hope, brilliant optimism for people— And one of them had shot her. The bed. In the corner. Richard stumbled that direction, set his bride on the rumpled covers as gently as a newborn. The cape had to come off. His numb fingers fumbled with the clasp. Finally realizing he could access her wound by tossing the lined velvet back, his gorge rose at the odor of fresh blood.
What do You think about Lessie: Bride Of Utah (American Mail-Order Bride 45)?
