Read Beyond Betrayal for Free Online Page B

No parental interference. No clinging dependency. And, best of all, no more celibacy. Hell, it'd be blamed near perfect. He studied the object of his consideration intently.
    Mrs. Stern's small, rapid-fire steps echoed on the boardwalk. Her gown, dusty with travel from the tip of its high-necked collar to its hem, was in the process of picking up an extra layer of red-brown dust from the street. Still, despite her travel-worn state, his initial assessment stood. This lady was beautiful. Too damned beautiful. Getting near her could be about as smart as trying to stare down a grizzly. Maybe he should reconsider.
    Yet he found himself fascinated by her obvious gentility. A man didn't get the opportunity to see very many ladies of her quality out here.
    Carrying a black parasol to protect her delicate complexion from the brutal sunlight, she walked with her backbone as straight as a poker and her head held high. A small bonnet sat securely fastened atop her thickly coiled hair, but its purpose was obviously ornamental. Samson watched as she lifted her skirts, ever so slightly with the fingers of the same hand in which she carried her carpetbag, in order to skirt a small pile of horse manure as she crossed the street. He didn't even catch a glimpse of ankle. In fact, every move she made was as schooled and as graceful as though she was out for a Sunday stroll in a city park. The only thing that was even remotely unladylike about her was the carpetbag in which she carried that silly looking dog of hers. It made the bag look as though it had sprouted an animal head. Carpetbag aside, however, this lady was all class.
    “Breeding will always tell,” his mama had often said.
    For the first time in a very long time, Samson knew he was looking at the evidence of that breeding. He tipped the brim of his hat as she drew abreast, "Afternoon, ma'am," he murmured.
    Her big brilliant blue eyes lit on him for an instant as she acknowledged his greeting with the barest dip of her haughty little chin, "Sheriff Chambers," she said, and then she moved on. Her brisk steps carried her directly into the Lucky Strike Saloon.
    Whoa! Back up them thar horses! The saloon ?! Sam inhaled in perplexity, forgetting entirely about the hard candy he'd been sucking, and ended up inhaling the blasted thing. As a paroxysm of coughing gripped him, he continued to stare at the spot where the lady had disappeared into the Lucky Strike. Finally, old man Potter stood up and gave him a good whack between the shoulder blades, displacing both the candy and Sheriff Chambers' uncharacteristic fascination with one of the female persuasion.
    Able to breathe again, Sam turned to speak to Potter. "Well, I better be getting back . . . ” He trailed off as he realized the old man was grinning from ear to ear in toothless mirth.
    Potter resumed his chair and slapped his thighs in jocular rhythm. "You better stay away from that filly, sonny. She don't jest affect yer hearin', but yer breathin' too. And that's downright dang'rous."
    "Shut up, Jeb," Samson muttered, giving the old man a warning look.
    "Sure thing, Sheriff. Just makin' an observation is all.” Jeb's eyes glinted with unrepentant laughter.
    He frowned. There were some definite advantages to keeping people afraid of you. There weren't many people in town who would have dared to enjoy a laugh at his expense. Perhaps that was exactly why Samson tended to seek out Jeb when he was in the mood for some honest conversation.
    Ignoring Jeb's impertinence, Samson decided that on the way back to his office, he'd just stop at the Lucky Strike to wet his whistle and have a peek to see exactly what that lady might be up to. Maybe she was one of those hellfire and brimstone preacher's widows come to Red Rock to reform the whores. If so, she had one heck of a job ahead of her, and it could prove downright interesting to watch. Besides, when Miss Cora threw her out of the saloon, she might just need someone to see her to the