Mad, Bad, and Dangerous To Know

A Western Christmas Novella

He was going to be hanged on Tuesday

English-born Andrew Kane had enjoyed the adventurous life of a gambler in the Wild West, but after winning a ranch in Colorado, he was ready to settle down. Then his attempt to protect a young tavern girl led to a shoot-out and a wrongful conviction for murder.

On his journey to the gallows, he meets despairing young widow Eliza Holden who intervenes when he's being beaten by his guards. Together, they find comfort and a stunning sense of connection. Can Eliza create a Christmas miracle for them both?

Praise from Amazon Reviewers:

"This was a really unique and memorable romance and much different than anything I've read from MJP before."

"Mary Jo Putney always delivers wonderful stories that hold my interest and leave me feeling wonderful!"

"I am a fan of all of Mary Jo's books. She creates very likeable characters. I have read all of her books."

"(T)he main characters have personal struggles which they approach with grit and honor. Of course the love and peace of the Christmas season helps them resolve and love. I really liked the story set in the West especially because there are so few good stories set there."

Thinking that she'd read a bit before going to bed, Liza donned her other black dress, which was wrinkled but clean. She began brushing out her wheat blond hair. It was still light outside, so she drifted to the window and gazed absently down into the street. A half dozen people were in sight, none of them in any great hurry.

Her gaze was caught by the wreckage of a recently burned building. Thinking back, she recalled that there had been a combined town office and jail on the site before.

She was about to turn away from the window when three dusty riders appeared. One of the horses was on a lead, and the black-clad rider on its back was slumped forward as if barely able to stay upright.

When the newcomers were opposite the hotel, the heavyset man in the lead saw the charred ruins of the jail. Scowling ferociously, he halted the group right under Liza's window, so close that she could see his small, piggy eyes. After asking a question of an idler sitting in front of the hotel, Pig-Eyes dismounted and tethered his horse to the hitching rail. Then he went to the led horse, whose rider wore the characteristic black suit, ruffled shirt, and brocade waistcoat of a gambler.

Pig-Eyes grabbed the gambler's arm and jerked him from his saddle. The man in black pitched heavily from his mount, barely managing to catch his saddle horn in time to prevent himself from crashing head first into the ground. As he regained his balance, Liza saw that his hands were cuffed together. A prisoner. She wondered what he'd done.

The third rider, a thin, weasely fellow, dismounted and laid a rough hand on the gambler's arm. In spite of his physical condition, there was defiance in the prisoner's posture as he raised his head and answered back.

The results were explosive. With a snarl of fury, Weasel drew back his fist and slugged the other man in the stomach. As the gambler folded over, he lashed out with one foot at his tormentor, his boot connecting just below the knee.

Weasel howled and almost collapsed. When he recovered, he and Pig-Eyes began beating and kicking the prisoner. Even when he fell to the ground, the kicks and blows continued, right under Liza's horrified gaze.

Fury blazed through her, burning away her fatigue and depression. Without waiting to see more, she raced from her room, taking the stairs two at a time, her loose hair flying behind her. When she reached the street, she saw that a half dozen townspeople were watching the beating. Though most wore uncomfortable expressions, no one intervened. It wasn't healthy to come between angry, armed men and their victim.

Liza was too incensed to feel such compunction. "Stop that this instant, you brutes!" she ordered.

From sheer surprise, Pig-Eyes and Weasel obeyed, both of them turning to stare at her. Liza took advantage of the pause to say fiercely, "You should be ashamed of yourselves, beating a man who is bound and helpless."

Weasel shifted uncomfortably, his bravado vanishing in the presence of a lady. "Beggin' your pardon, ma'am, but Andrew Kane ain't helpless. He's quicker'n a snake and twice as mean."

"That doesn't give you the right to beat him to death," Liza retorted. "What kind of men are you, to attack someone who can't defend himself?"

She looked down at the gambler, who lay still in the dusty street, blood flowing from numerous cuts. Under the dirt and bruises he looked young and vulnerable, not mean at all. Not that Liza was much of a judge of character, When she'd met Billie Holden, she thought he was kind and honest.

A lean man with drooping mustaches and a tin badge on his vest pushed through the small crowd of onlookers. "I'm Sheriff Taylor," he barked. "What's going on here?"

Pig-Eyes said, "My name's Biff Burns. Me and my partner Whittles are temporary deputies who are taking this murderer to Prairie City for hanging." He prodded his prisoner with one booted toe. "We was gonna put him in the jail for the night, but I see it's burnt down.'"

The sheriff scowled. "It was fired by some folks from Rapid City. They want to see their town made county seat, so they burned down our public building."

Uninterested in local politics, Burns said, "Where can we put this son of a bitch tonight?" The weasel hissed something and Burns flushed, then glanced askance at Liza., "Beggin' your pardon, ma'am."

After giving him an icy glance, she knelt by Kane.

Burns exclaimed, "Don't get so close, ma'am. He's dangerous. "

Ignoring the warning, Liza took her handkerchief and began blotting blood from a slash on the man's forehead. Long, dark lashes flickered open to reveal eyes of piercing blue--gambler's eyes, that saw everything and gave away nothing.

For a long moment their gazes held. She saw intelligence, shrewdness, anger, and determination in the blue depths--the qualities of a man used to living on the edge of danger. It was suddenly easy to believe that he was a murderer. Disconcerted, Liza sat back on her heels.

Yet when he spoke, Kane was polite enough. "A pleasure to make your acquaintance, darlin'." He had a crisp accent that she couldn't identify because his voice was a barely audible rasp.

Seeing his cracked lips, Liza asked, "Do you need water?"

Desperate longing flared in his eyes, though he tried to keep his voice steady. "I'd be much obliged."

She glanced up at Burns. "Give me your canteen."

Biff started to protest, then subsided, unwilling, to argue with a lady in front of a steadily growing audience. He untied the canteen and handed it to Liza. She opened it and dribbled a few drops into Kane's mouth. His tanned throat moved convulsively as he swallowed. Slowly she poured more, careful not to give him more than he could manage. From the way he drank, she guessed that it had been too long since he had been given water. Her anger rose again. He might be a murderer, but even a mad dog didn't deserve such treatment.