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  The sheriff looked at Cole in amusement. They had known each other for years, had ridden together many times, until the sheriff decided that he’d had enough of bedrolls and beans. He’d married a plump widow and produced two little boys who were everything to him. “Nina turn you down?”

  “No, Nina didn’t turn me down,” Cole lied. “What is wrong with the people in the town that a man can’t do something a little different now and then?”

  “Somebody got to you today. Who was it? Any of Dalton’s boys around that I don’t know about?”

  Cole didn’t answer him because at that moment boring little Miss Latham stepped out of the hotel and started walking down the street toward the bank.

  The sheriff was watching his longtime friend, trying to figure out what was wrong with him, when Cole’s eyes suddenly changed. It was the look he usually reserved for cardsharps who might have an ace up their sleeves and for notorious gunmen who might draw at any second so they could say they’d killed Cole Hunter. The sheriff, to his disbelief, saw that Cole had fastened his gaze on a small, plain woman in a modest brown dress. Cole usually went for flashy women in red satin and black lace. He said he fought men for a living, so he didn’t want to fight women; he wanted them to be easy.

  “Who is she?” Cole asked belligerently, pointing his knife blade toward her.

  Abilene was a good-sized town, but the sheriff prided himself on knowing who came and went. “Money.” He bit off a chew of tobacco. “Her father was from the East, came out here and bought a few hundred acres of very pretty land up north, built the biggest house ever seen by most people, then sat down and waited. Most people thought he was crazy. Four years later the railroad came through and he sold them land for five times what he’d paid for it. He built a town, called it Latham after himself, then rented the buildings to people who wanted to work. A hard man. They say he throws out tenants if they’re twenty-four hours late with the rent.”

  “Did,” Cole said. “He died nearly a year ago.”

  “Oh? I hadn’t heard,” the sheriff said, letting Cole know that he’d like to hear more. But Cole had always accused him of being an old gossip and wasn’t about to give him any information.

  “What about his wife?” Cole asked.

  “I heard he bought her too. He went back east for a few months and returned with her.” The sheriff paused to smile. “I hear she was the most beautiful woman most men had ever seen. I talked to a cowboy that used to work for them, and he said there wasn’t one man that could say a word when she was around. All of ’em just stood and stared at her.”

  “And she had a daughter who looked just like her,” Cole said softly.

  The sheriff chuckled. “Yeah, a real beauty, and then she had one that looked just like him. Must’ve been a real disappointment to them.”

  Cole wasn’t sure whether he should defend the brat or not. Part of him thought he should, but then he thought of “aging gunslinger” and he didn’t defend her. Next time some whippersnapper challenged him to a duel, he ought to sic Miss Latham on him. Her words could make him bleed more than Cole’s bullets.

  It was when he was whittling the fourth stick away to nothing that the commotion started. Right under the sleepy nose of the sheriff and the unwatchful eye of Cole, four men had ridden up to the bank, pulled bandannas up over their faces, and proceeded to rob the bank. The first the sheriff knew of it was a gunshot, then a man staggering out, holding a bloody hand over his stomach.

  Cole had never thought that a bank robbery was any of his business. First of all, he might find himself shooting at people he considered his friends, men he had shared campfires with, so he left do-gooding to men stupid enough to pin a badge on. Yesterday he would have sat where he was on the porch and watched while the sheriff jumped up and started running, his young deputy coming from inside the sheriff’s office to run behind him.

  But today something was different. Today the words She’s in there echoed in his head. That didn’t make sense, of course, because he had no interest in her. If it had been Nina or someone else he knew, that might have made sense; this did not.

  He didn’t take time to think. In spite of his imaginary paunch and his advancing age and his failing eyesight, he bolted over the hitching rail and took off running, a full twenty-five feet in front of the sheriff. He was like a snake, one minute lazy and still in the sun, and the next moment moving so quickly it was difficult to see him.

  The robbers hadn’t counted on a man with the reputation of Cole Hunter trying to prevent them from robbing the Abilene bank. They thought they’d have to deal with one fat sheriff and one green deputy and a lot of disinterested citizens. After all, it was a small bank, not of much interest to more than a dozen people. The thieves thought this heist would be easy, that they’d be in and out in a matter of minutes. But things had gone wrong from the first. One of the farmers had decided to play hero, and the youngest and most nervous of the robbers had been frightened into shooting him.

  “Let’s get out of here,” one of the gang shouted, grabbing the saddlebags full of money and heading for the door. It was the last thing he ever did. Cole Hunter smashed the door open with his foot, then stood back to get away from the barrage of gunfire. When it had calmed down he went in, two guns blazing, and when the smoke had cleared, there were three dead men on the floor.

  The fourth robber grabbed the nearest available person to use as a shield, and this happened to be Miss Latham.

  “Put the guns down or she gets it in the head,” the man said from behind his mask, holding his gun to the woman’s head.

  Cole was glad to see that she didn’t look terrified. He didn’t want to say anything to her to let the man know that he knew her; he didn’t want to give him any advantages. When the sheriff and his deputy arrived, he motioned them to stay outside. “They’re down,” Cole said quietly, stooping to drop his guns, all the while keeping his eyes on the man as he began to make his way toward the door. There was another gun, a one-shot derringer in his belt. He could get to it and shoot, but he had to move Miss Latham out of the way. He wished he could think of a way to tell Miss Latham to pull away from the gunman.

  “What are you doin’ in this, Hunter?” the robber said. “You’re usually on our side.”

  Yesterday Cole would have been pleased by that remark, would even have agreed with it, but today something was different. Maybe it was Miss Latham’s eyes looking at him with absolute trust. She’d said he was a hero.

  “Just happened by,” he said, “and I needed a little excitement. A man’s gotta roll with the punches, keep himself from getting bored.”

  The robber had smiling eyes over the mask. “I understand that,” he said, still easing toward the door, pushing Miss Latham ahead of him.

  Just when Cole was sure that his hint about “rolling” had not gotten through to Miss Latham, she bit the robber’s arm, and when, in surprise, he released his hold on her, she dropped to the floor and rolled away. Cole drew his derringer and fired—but not before the robber did the same. His bullet hit Cole in the right forearm a split second after Cole’s gun went off.

  Chapter Two

  Cole leaned back against the bed, his eyes shut against the glare of the darkened room. It was difficult to believe, but his mood was worse than the pain in his head and belly, not to mention the throbbing in his right forearm. Yesterday he’d drunk a prodigious amount of whiskey because the doctor had spent what seemed like hours taking out that bastard’s bullet. And when the doc was done, he’d informed Cole that the bullet had hit the bone, cracking it so severely that his arm would be out of commission for months, first in a cast and then more time as he regained the use of his shooting arm.

  It had taken all of Cole’s self-control not to rage in front of the doctor and the sheriff. Considering how drunk he was when he heard the news, he should have been given a medal for his restraint. All he’d been able to think of was the fact that he wouldn’t be able to take on his next two jobs. One was e