“Nothing would work. The simmering violence around that table had tied her in knots no amount of cold air would untie. Her wrist ached and she was sure Cole Smith was lying about more than just his name. Was there even such a thing as an oil prospector? The war had taught her to be distrustful and perhaps it was the fact that he did nothing to try and engage her trust that left her off-balance. His poor conversation and rusty flirtation had done nothing to hide his suspicion. Of Jimmy. O...f her. Of the lies they told. And suddenly she had the perception of that dark-eyed stranger, wearing his guns to the table, as being so much better than her. Lifted to heights simply by not trusting that part she'd played with such brittle and terrified force. An act she'd nearly dropped when Jimmy had said We don’t need no company in the cabin tonight. Most nights, in the year since her wedding night, she’d managed to ply her husband with enough liquor—and sometimes laudanum—that any thought of bedding her was drowned.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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