Breaking the Rules (1st in Breaking Series)

Chapter Twenty-five

Chapter Twenty-Five

Brody's entire body hurt. The November air was cold and put an ache deep in his bones. His shoulder throbbed, his ribs burned when he took a deep breath and his limp was worse today as he walked across the frozen mud. Kansas in November was a cold place. The flat land offered no protection against the icy winter wind.

Brody tugged on his leather gloves and lifted the collar of his duster coat to protect his neck. His hair had grown back nearly to his shoulders in the four months since he'd cut it.

Five and a half months since Elizabeth had been killed and instead of lessening the pain, every single day that went by simply increased it tenfold. Every day just made the gnawing ache of loneliness grow larger inside of him. It was like a large, burning sore, that was slowly eating him alive from the inside out.

Brody had been riding from town to town, from Texas to Kansas over the last few months, searching for Vincent Hale. Now here he was in this tiny farm town with only one saloon and no lawmen. Seemed like the kind of place a hired gun might like to hang out.

Brody welcomed the warmth that the lanterns, fireplace and bodies provided when he stepped into the saloon. He had his face covered once again to ensure he wouldn't be recognized until he was good and ready to be. He let the swinging doors slam on their hinges and the entire saloon quieted instantly as all the men and the saloon women turned to look at him.

Now that he had everyone's attention he pulled the bandana from his face, "I'm looking for Vincent Hale!" he called loudly.

Most of the men shrugged but a few cast quick glances at a tall skinny man standing in the corner, "Hello, Vincent," Brody said to the man.

"Who the hell are you?" Vincent demanded as he swiped his hand across his large, cold reddened nose.

"I'm asking the questions here," Brody replied calmly. "I've been looking for you a long time."

Vincent shifted his feet as the men around him quickly moved back out of the way of any bullets that might start flying, "Well why don't you just ride on out of here and find someone else to look for," Vincent snarled as he lowered his hand so it was resting mere inches from the handle of his revolver.

Brody shifted his weight to his good leg, "You were involved in the abduction of Elizabeth McCready. You left her and I to rot in the back of a wagon in the summer Texas heat. Is this ringing any bells?"

Vincent's blood shot eyes nearly bulged from his head, "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh I think you do," Brody knew this was Vincent Hale and he also knew that this was the fourth man from the wagon. He recognized his voice. "I just realized something else about you too. You're the son of a bitch that shot my arm." Vincent began stuttering and sputtering and Brody knew he'd spoken the truth. He hadn't really known before. He had just wanted to see the mans reaction to his accusation.

"I suggest you pull that gun and we settle this like men you yellow bellied coward." Brody said with ice in his voice.

"I ain't a coward!" Vincent bellowed nervously. "I never killed nobody, I rode away."

Brody's face contorted with rage as he fought to keep from drawing his revolver, "My wife is dead!" he yelled, losing the careful control he'd been holding onto. "And if you hadn't helped take her from that ranch it probably wouldn't have happened. Now pull your gun you fucking coward or I'll just blow your brains out while you stand there looking addled!" Vincent couldn't allow this man to sit here and call him a coward in front of all these men. He knew he was fast enough to probably take this man without much trouble. He sneered at the man and went for his gun but before he had time to even clear leather, the sound of a gunshot filled the air, sending a shockwave that swirled the dust motes floating in the lantern light.