It was in Jonathan’s best interest to cross the street. His way would take him past the saloon, and if he walked right by the door with Addison in there, the soused rebel would be sure to spot him. It wasn’t that he was afraid of the man, but nobody needed trouble, Jonathan had a wife and a son to think about now. Not to mention Addison had numerous children to care for from that wan-faced long-suffering wife, with her eyes that spoke of drunken rages and terror.
Every footstep that took him within line of sight of the place seemed like thunder in his ears. Jonathan felt sweat starting to roll rivulets through the dust that coated his face. He had to resist the urge to run, he hadn’t done a damned thing wrong, and a less patient man would have shot the boy dead for going for the g*n on to
