Read Hell's Belle for Free Online Page B

him into silence.
    "It's that new
Miss Bell, from the emporium. I heard about your horse tearing up the place.
Folks say you were there yourself. Same morning you left town for the sale, in
fact. You met her?"
    Del didn't
understand why simply affirming that basic fact made him squirm mentally, but
it did. Mighty peculiar, the vague unease creeping into the back of his mind.
Sure, he'd met her. If you could call exchanging two sentences with somebody
while your horse chewed their clothing a formal introduction. And that's all it
had been. Five minutes of—
    No, it wasn't , his mind argued. You thought
about her afterward. About the color of her hair, the look in her eyes. Not
just their rare golden color, but the silent look in them that spoke volumes to
you. She looked…confused, and yet interested.
    Hell of a thing,
when a man wanted to muzzle his own thought processes almost worse than he
wanted to muzzle Amos Stanislaus.
    "I met her
briefly," Del said. "Seemed a shy little thing. So what's all the big
commotion about?"
    Amos glanced around
before speaking, which only made Del more uncomfortable. The man had locked the
damned front door. He knew full well nobody else was around to hear them, yet
he kept checking. How bad could anything concerning that mouse of a Bell girl
possibly be? Unless her uncle had hurt her or had unnatural leanings…or there
was some other dark family secret Del had no business butting into.
    "Her uncle
didn't… do anything, did he?"
    Amos didn't seem to
hear the whispered question. "I've got to tell you, Mitchell, I'm being as
honest with you as I know how. You're one of the solid citizens of this town,
and it just isn't right. Sure, I make mention of improprieties and maybe think
folks could be a little more proper, for all that this is the frontier…but
they've taken things too far. It's not Salem, Massachusetts, for God's
sake!"
    What in the name of
green peas and horseradish sauce was this idiot blathering about?
    Here Del had
pictured…Well, he'd imagined her uncle with spittle on his chin and an unholy
gleam in his eye, going into the girl's room late at night with a switch.
Wanting to bare that little bottom for a good spanking—
    Whoa. Del wasn't
going to complete that nightmarish scene. But what did either of the Bells and
the people of Wadsworth or the frontier have to do with Massachusetts?
"You saying those folks came here from the Eastern seaboard? I never heard
where they hailed from. Don't really care, but—"
    "I'm saying
they're calling her a witch !" Amos blurted.
    If he hadn't had
his elbows propped on the wood counter, it was just possible Del Mitchell
might've fallen back on his ass. He wasn't sure he'd heard right. He tried to
repeat the word, got his lips almost in a pucker for the W, but only managed a
strangled whistle.
    Probably because
his brain still hadn't decided whether to whistle in amazement or hoot with
laughter.
    "You can't
mean…? Pointy hat, dances in the woods late at night? Are you serious?"
    "I'm not
joshing," Amos vowed, raising his right hand. "A broom-waving,
curse-casting, daughter of Satan, witch."
    Del couldn't
contain himself a second longer. He began shouting and shaking with laughter.
Glee so magnificent, tears rolled down his cheeks by the third good breath he
sucked in. He was barely able to wheeze between whoops. "Amos! If
anybody…if the Devil wanted a servant…He could find a whole lot… worse that that! She wouldn't hurt a fly."
    Amos, Del finally
noticed as he began sobering himself, didn't seem amused. In fact, if Del
didn't know better, he'd say the older man looked disconcerted. Wary. He'd
backed up a couple feet and was looking at Del strangely. "You're sure of
that? There's no credence to any of it?"
    Now Del ceased to
be amused himself. "Any of what? All you've told me is some nonsense about
people saying a certain female is one of Satan's minions. Didn't give me the
least clue why, or how folks could come to that bizarre