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few lanterns burned behind the windows of the homes he passed, but most folks had already retired for the night. The clock on the Town Hall tower showed the hour to be just after eleven.
    He wondered if the beautiful, fascinating Kathryne O’Rourke remained in Crystal Springs or if she continued on her journey. It amazed him how often he’d thought about her. The simple act of bringing her features into his mind soothed him when nothing else had. The trusting gleam in her brandy-colored eyes and dazzling smile made his darkest moments a little less dark.
    He pushed the vision of her out of his head. Evan’s killers remained on the loose and he had little time for romance. Not helping matters was his undeserved reputation as a gunslinger. A self-respecting woman such as Katie wouldn’t give him the time of day, even if he had saved her life.
    A dog barked from someone’s yard as Chase passed by while a scrawny, flea-bitten cat pawed through a pile of trash someone had thrown in the street. The orange tabby snagged a bone and ran behind the saloon to feast upon his treasure.
    He glanced around and grinned when he spotted a couple embracing in the bandstand in the middle of the town square, their shadows darker between the slats of the lattice siding.
    For a moment, he imagined himself and the lovely Katie in a similar embrace then shook his head and forced the picture away. Several lights burned on the second floor of Mrs. Rawlins’s boarding house. He cut through the narrow alley beside the two-story house and the home next to it, coming to the small stable Mrs. Rawlins kept for her guests’ horses. Lights glowed here, too. He heard an excited shout, followed immediately by a drunken reminder to be quiet, then braying laughter.
    Chase dismounted and, leading Champion by the reins, peeked into the stable. Joe Rawlins and three of his ne’er-do-well companions sat in a circle. An empty bottle of whiskey lay on a bale of hay, another one rolled back and forth on the dirt floor. Oren Jessup Junior, the spitting image of his father, tipped a half-full third to his lips and drank deeply.
    Joe shook his hand at face level. Chase heard the telltale rattle of dice clicking together before the small cubes went tumbling into the middle of the circle.
    “Hoo-ha, boys, looksss like ah’m th’ big winner!” His words slurred. Dark, oily hair hung in his face as Joe scooped up the pile of gold coins next to the dice. He shot Oren a scowl then grabbed the bottle from his friend’s hand, tipped it to his mouth…and choked on the fiery liquid. Whiskey trickled down his chin and dripped to his shirt. His eyes widened as he slowly lowered the bottle and wiped his lips with his sleeve.
    “Your mother know what you’re doing out here?” Chase asked, unable to keep the disapproval out of his voice.
    Sometimes, fear worked to his advantage. He would have smiled if he weren’t so angry as three heads swiveled in his direction. Not one of them could focus on him and he wondered how long they’d been drinking.
    “I think it’s time for you boys to be going home. Joe has chores to do tomorrow morning. I’m sure you do as well.”
    Three young men scrambled to their feet. They swayed against each other, trying to remain upright. Chase caught Oren’s collar, pulled him closer. The boy expelled a puff of foul-smelling breath. Chase wrinkled his nose against the stench and fought the nausea twisting his stomach. “I’m certain your father doesn’t even know you’re out of the house, does he?”
    Oren squirmed and tried to push Chase away, but in his drunken state, coordination seemed beyond his capabilities. His movements were ineffectual.
    “What do you think he’d say if I told him?”
    Still holding Oren’s collar twisted in his fist, Chase turned to Pete Maitland, who sported an ugly black eye. He said not a word, but the boy blanched and took to his heels, followed quickly by Joe’s other companion, Con Riley. The parents