Timeless «Zouis» [On Hold]

Timeless |Prologue|

PROLOGUE

Juneau, Alaska -1897

                                                                   WANTED 

                                                           WILLIAM LASSITER 

                                        FOR ARMED ROBBERY AND MURDER 

                                                            $5000 REWARD 

                                                            DEAD OR ALIVE

Leaning forward for a better view of the outlaw's roughly sketched face, the rider felt his great stallion prance beneath him as icy raindrops pelted his cheeks.

A soft chuckle passed the hard lips clamping a cheroot, red tip glowing in the moon's pale light. Cigar smoke blended with the white puffs of his breath. In a precise, cultured voice, the rider said,"So tell me, Bitter, do you think the picture does me justice?" At the word justice, the horse's snort coincided with the man's low snarl.

"Nor do I," he agreed, neatly ripping the paper from the post to which it was tacked then stuffing it beneath his fur-lined coat. "A memento, Bitter. After tonight, my days of disguise will soon be ended. Ah well, fond as I have become of playing Lucky Will, there will be no need for him once Louis Zhivago Tomlinson has back what is rightfully his."

Even as he said it Louis knew that unless the dead could be resurrected, he would never have back all the that was rightfully his. He felt his hatred surge high and bright, his thirst for vengeance begging to be quenched.

He threw down the cheerot, checked his pistol, then urged Bitter into a lazy saunter. Hat tipped down, Louis nodded to the few stragglers he passed on the main street. It seemed the remaining populace of Juneau had the good sense to favor a fire within over the brewing storm outside.

Such piteous creature comforts, he thought, while images of England played their seductively sweet refrain in his memory. How he misses the simple pleasure of taking tea in an elegant drawing room. And ah, but to bow over the gloved hand of a gentle-born lady,to spend an evening in the company of notorious actors after indulging his frivolous affection for high drama with a Shakespearean play. And a true court of law - now there was real drama, moving soliloquies to make, or to destroy savagely with an eloquent rebuttal.

Louis sighed deeply. If not for the grinding need to see justice done, he would still be living in his mother's beloved England and enjoying the life he'd taken refuge in for nearly two decades before returning to the place of his youth. Here, in Juneau, he had been driven for five years by his vengeful mission: retribution for his parents' deaths, the reclaiming of their land and the gold stripped from it.

Even among relatives in England, even with the comfort of leather-bound books and stately grounds, he had not forgotten that mission - one that had determined his current existence.

He lived, if he could call it living, in nearby Skyway, where he drew up legal claims for prospectors and defended this druken murderer or that claim-jumping bastard as best he could amid vigilante law.

Skyway was a deplorable little city, brimming with tents and gold dust and shattered dreams.

But it was perfect for his purposes. In Skyway he could live openly as a respectable citizen while seventy miles south his criminal charges mounted.