A Worthy Pursuit by Karen Witemeyer Page A

However, something shifted in his heart the moment she placed her hand so trustingly in his. Something soft yet fiercely protective.
    He had the power to change this child’s life. For better or for worse. What if he made the wrong choice? The thought sent a shudder through him. The girl was obviously happy here with her teacher and friends, but would that happiness last? Hiding, living on the run, took its toll on a body. How many times had he cashed in on a bounty because a man got sloppy after turning to drink to deal with the stress of always looking over his shoulder? Charlotte might have created a warm little nest for her chicks here, but that nest could become a prison over time. Lily deserved better than that. But was a rich grandfather necessarily better? Would he love her, care for her? Or wouldshe simply be another pawn for him to control, a bauble to display until she grew old enough to be bartered in marriage to the highest bidder?
    God, I can’t decide this on my own. Show me the right path to take, and give me the courage to take it.
    “Mr. Hammond? You all right?” Lily’s bright blue eyes peeked up at him from where she sat on the sofa, her forehead crinkled in concern.
    Stone shook off the heaviness of his thoughts and grinned. “Sorry, squirt.” He plopped down beside her, noting that the illustrious Miss Atherton had retreated back into the kitchen while he’d been wool-gathering. “My mind got away from me for a minute there. Now, what’s so special about the way you read?”
    Her mouth quirked. “Nothing. I read just like anybody else.” She handed him the dime novel she’d been engrossed in earlier then turned her back and rested her spine against his arm. She pulled up her knees and leaned the side of her head against the sofa’s back cushions. “It’s what comes after the reading that makes me special, according to Miss Lottie.” She shrugged. “It doesn’t seem that special to me, but it is lots of fun. Especially with bounty hunter stories.” She twisted her head around and grinned at him, her enthusiasm contagious. “You start, then I’ll show you.”

11
    Unsure what he was supposed to do, Stone thumbed back the book cover that featured a man who reminded him a bit of Daniel Barrett, his old partner from the early days. The flaming red hair was brighter than the dark rusty color of his friend’s hair, but the title of the novel, Dead-Eye Dan and the Dastardly Duel , aroused his curiosity—and his suspicion.
    Stone turned to the first chapter and started reading. “‘Dead-Eye Dan hunkered behind a boulder at the top of Widow’s Canyon, his rifle at the ready. He’d been trailing the Gatling Gang for five days with nothing but a pouch of jerky, hardtack, and his faithful horse, Ranger, to keep him going.’”
    Ranger? Dead-Eye Dan was Daniel Barrett! Stone barely contained a snort. Did Barrett know he’d been immortalized in print? He couldn’t wait to rib his old friend. He’d have to find himself a copy of this book so he could wave it under Dan’s nose.
    Lily must have taken his pause as permission to take over, for she started reading, picking up where he’d left off. “‘The posse out of Rockdale had given up their pursuit two days ago,leaving Dan to track the gang on his own. But he didn’t mind. Dead-Eye Dan worked better alone, sniffing out trails like a bloodhound, and getting ahead of his quarry. That was how he came to be on the ridge overlooking Widow’s Canyon.’” Lily pitched her voice low, as if not wanting to give away the intrepid Dan’s hiding place.
    Stone turned to smile at her . . . and froze. Lily wasn’t reading. She wasn’t looking at the book at all. She still had her back pressed against his arm, her head facing the piano.
    “‘Hoofbeats echoed from the west. He’d been right! Billy Cavanaugh and his gang of outlaws had circled back.’”
    She read . . . no, quoted the book word-for-word. Not a single mistake. How many