Читать книгу The Reluctant Outlaw - Karen Kirst - Страница 11

Juliana was thirsty. And hot. Her throat was so dry it hurt to swallow. In her haste, she hadn’t thought about the need for water or protection from the sun’s rays. Her bonnet was probably where she’d left it—tossed on top of her blanket. Her fair skin felt tight and was sensitive to the touch, especially her cheeks and forehead.

Gauging the sun’s position, she guessed it to be near eleven o’clock. She’d left the forest behind about two hours into the journey and had been traveling through open fields ever since. In the distance, she saw another forest and hoped it wouldn’t take long to get there.

Her stomach was empty and urgently protesting that fact. If she didn’t find a place to fish, she would stop and search for berries and nuts. An apple tree would go a long way toward filling her stomach. Lucky’s, too.

In all likelihood, Evan would laugh at her situation. After what she’d done, there’d be no room in his heart for compassion. It was an unwritten rule of their society—a man simply didn’t mess with another man’s horse. She supposed that rule applied to women, too.

While Juliana was thankful that she’d been able to escape her kidnapper, she couldn’t deny that men came in handy sometimes. Especially out on the open trail.

At long last, when Juliana was near to the point of falling off the horse, she reached the trees. She heard the sound of rushing water and sagged with relief. Past the point of all care, she ran to the water, flopped down on her stomach and submerged her face. Her unbound auburn hair floated on the surface like an intricate spiderweb.

Rolling over on her back, she lay there half-in, half-out of the water, arms spread wide. Lucky was there nearby, noisily drinking his fill.

“What a sight we must be.” She chuckled, reveling in the cold wetness and blessed relief from the relentless sun. Thank You, Lord. I was about to suffer a sunstroke, I do believe.

Reluctantly she sat up to survey her surroundings. Water sluiced down her back, but she didn’t mind. It felt divine. Nothing about her surroundings triggered a memory. Of course she’d slept in the saddle last night, so it stood to reason that she wouldn’t recognize the landmarks.

Butterflies filled her stomach at the memory of being held in Evan’s strong embrace. She’d fought to keep her eyes open, but between Lucky’s loping gait and Evan’s warmth enveloping her it had been an impossible battle. The fact that he’d carried and settled her in for the night made her face flame with embarrassment. Disgusted at herself for letting the outlaw affect her, she addressed his horse.

“Are you hungry, Lucky?”

The black had already searched out a patch of green grass and was chomping away.

Juliana scanned the brook, disappointed to find only minnows in the shallow depths. There weren’t any frogs, either. Not even a turtle. A flash of white caught her eye, and she glanced up to see a cottontail hopping past. “You sure are a cute little guy. I hate to say this within your earshot, but if I had a gun I’d be having you for lunch.”

Squeezing the excess moisture out of her hair, she used Evan’s comb to smooth the long locks.

Lucky didn’t protest when she led him deeper into the woods. He was such a sweet horse. A prize, really. Evan must be heartsick at having lost him.

Well, if he hadn’t kidnapped her in the first place, she reasoned, he would still have the horse in his possession.

They came upon a blueberry patch, but someone or something had beaten them to it. Few berries remained, which only seemed to amplify her hunger. It also brought to mind her mother’s birthday cake, piled high with blueberries and strawberries. She’d never gotten a taste of that magnificent dessert.

When I get home, she promised herself, I’m gonna ask the twins to make another one just for me.

Daydreaming about her homecoming, Juliana thought her mind was playing tricks on her when she caught the scent of meat roasting over an open flame. Her mouth watered. Someone was nearby—with food.

As much as she longed to go crashing through the underbrush and demand to be fed, she decided not to announce her presence before getting a look at whomever was out there. A woman alone had to be cautious or risk serious harm.

With Lucky following close behind, she ventured closer to where she believed the scent was coming from. Unexpectedly, a raucous male voice broke the silence. She halted midstep and goose bumps skimmed along her skin. He was singing a ditty unfit for a lady’s ears.

Juliana continued her approach, however, determined to see for herself what he looked like. Dense weeds and bushes provided cover so that she could get close without him spotting her. Looping the reins around a tree limb and issuing a command for Lucky to stay, she crawled into the bushes.

The pop and sizzle of meat made her mouth water. A fat brown spider landed on her hand and, gasping aloud, she flung it away. She detested spiders. Once, when she was a little girl, she had been playing in the hayloft when she disturbed a whole nest of them. Tiny spiders—hundreds of them—scurried in all directions and, of course, some of them crawled over her shoes. Screaming at the top of her lungs, she ran to climb down the ladder and, in her haste, fell to the hard dirt floor below. She suffered a broken arm and spent half the summer confined to the house.

Juliana searched the branches above her head and the grass below for more of the wretched things. Satisfied that she was safe, she crept deeper into the bushes. A dark form was visible through the leaves, and as she neared she saw that his back was to her. Unfortunately, he was still singing in a loud, off-key voice, sitting cross-legged before the fire and guzzling whiskey from a half-empty bottle. His clothes were wrinkled and stained and the edges ragged.

He looked harmless enough. Probably a down-on-his-luck drifter. And the demands of her empty stomach were starting to override her hesitation. What could she offer him in exchange for a share of the meal? All she had was the comb in her pocket, and from the looks of him, he wouldn’t be interested. Did she dare hope he would help her out of the goodness of his heart?

All he could do is say no, she supposed.

Her mind made up, she retraced her steps and approached the campsite.

Rounding the bushes, she collided with a tall, thin body. She jumped back with a startled gasp.

“Miss O’Malley!”

Juliana glanced up into Art’s shocked face. “Art! What are you doing here?”

“The boss sent us. Didn’t trust Harrison—” His gaze skittered away for a brief second before returning to her face. “I’m mighty glad you’re okay, miss. ‘Course, I never believed any of that stuff Harrison said. Where is he anyhow?” He glanced over her shoulder at Evan’s horse.

“He, um …” She stalled, racking her brain for a plausible story.

“Oh, miss.” Art groaned, brown eyes going wide, “You didn’t give him the slip, did ya?”

“Well, I—”

He slapped his head. “This ain’t good at all! He’ll be hoppin’ mad! And there’s no telling what Fitzgerald will do.”

Juliana took an automatic step back. “Fitzgerald? He’s here? With you?”

“Yep, that’s him singin’ like a drunk bullfrog.”

Oh, no. What now? Harrison was right!

Her pulse skyrocketing, she pivoted on her heel and strode toward Lucky. “I have to find Evan!”

She had one foot in the stirrup when she heard the click of a gun hammer.

“Stop right there.”

Juliana froze. Dread settled like a leaden weight on her shoulders.

“Step away from the horse,” Fitzgerald ordered with a wave of his pistol.

She was in big trouble, and Evan was miles away. Too far to rescue her this time. Not that he would after what she’d done to him. Silently, she did as she was told.

“Where’s Harrison?” he demanded, all joviality of a few moments ago gone.

“He’s not here.” She looked him straight in the eye, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing her fear.

“I can see that,” he snapped. “Where is he?”

“A few miles back at camp.”

Juliana jerked when he barked a harsh laugh.

“Harrison underestimated you, I see. I’m beginning to understand his preference for spirited women. Maybe I’ll keep you around for a while.” His full lips curled into an insolent sneer. “See for myself what all the fuss is about.”

Art spoke up. “What are you planning, Fitz?”

Juliana squelched the urge to squirm beneath the outlaw’s lewd stare. She clasped her hands together to stop them from shaking.

“Give me time.” He looked over at the young man. “I’ll come up with something. For now, nature calls. Make sure she doesn’t escape. Or else.”

Art gulped. He watched Fitzgerald disappear into the woods. Then he approached with eager strides.

“You have to go now!” He urged her in Lucky’s direction.

Staring up at his boyish face, years away from manhood, Juliana felt like weeping. Here was her chance at escape, and she couldn’t take it.

She placed a restraining hand on his arm. “I can’t,” she whispered. “Who knows what he’ll do to you?”

Art shook his head, his fine blond hair sliding into his eyes. “Don’t you worry about me. Go back to Harrison. He’ll help you—I just know it.”

Evan’s handsome face swam before her eyes, and she wished with all her being that she’d trusted him.

“I’m not so sure about that,” she choked out. “In any case, I can’t leave on your watch.”

Straightening to his full height, Art gave her a stubborn glare. “And I say you can. And you will.”

Unaccustomed to seeing the awkward teen so sure of himself, Juliana’s jaw dropped. He was maturing before her very eyes. Too bad it was a wasted effort. She could not in good conscience leave him to the mercy of Fitzgerald’s wrath.

“I appreciate what you’re trying to do, Art. But I just can’t do it.”

“Do you know what Harrison will do when he finds out Fitz has you?” he demanded. “I’d almost rather face Fitz. Please. Go.”

A loud whistle threaded through the trees, and they jumped apart as Fitz strolled back into the clearing. He looked from one to the other.

“I’m starved. Let’s eat.”

Evan hated to admit he’d been outsmarted by a female. He’d gone over the morning’s events a couple of times, drawing the conclusion that he’d gone soft. Give her some privacy, he’d told himself. Be a gentleman!

The kicker was he’d left his horse in the care of a stranger. When was that ever a smart thing to do? He had let his guard down, and now he was minus one first-rate horse. It was a costly mistake in more ways than one.

Where was she?

He’d seen horse droppings and broken shrubs, even spotted some fresh tracks in the soft earth. He was confident he was on their trail, so why hadn’t he found them yet?

He’d been walking for hours. What he needed was a cup of coffee to perk him up. With the little sleep he had to go on, he was dragging. His feet hurt. There was a permanent dent in his shoulder from the saddlebag strap. He had every right to be irate. Somehow … he wasn’t. Not at her. If anything, he blamed himself for getting her into this situation in the first place.

If only she had waited a little longer to do her shopping yesterday.

If only he hadn’t been too ill to take his brother to Knoxville ten months ago.

There were too many twists and turns in life that could lead a man down the wrong path.

Especially when the man was doing the leading and not God.

Evan stopped walking, one hand on his hip and the other hanging on to the strap. Where had that thought come from? He’d been running from the Lord for a while now—since James’s death. Evan’s faith had shattered the moment he heard the news. Guilt was his constant companion these days, not the Lord.

Tilting his head back, he watched tiny robins hop from branch to branch, singing merrily to each other. Squirrels darted up the broad, grooved tree trunks, searching for acorns. Buttercups and dandelions dotted the forest floor.

God’s touch was evident in every insect, every petal, every leaf.

Oh, Father, I miss You so much sometimes it hurts.

Evan shook his head, wondering how much longer he could take living like this.

He scanned the forest, noting that the trees were beginning to thin and that it appeared brighter in the distance. He was headed for a clearing. Lifting his hat, he wiped his forehead with his sleeve, too lazy at this point to dig in his pocket for a hanky.

Where was she?

He took a long swallow from his canteen, screwed the lid back on, and started walking again.

Ignoring Art’s sidelong glances, Juliana stared into the fire. What now?

“Sit down.” Fitz motioned with his half-empty whiskey bottle.

Her appetite had fled at the sight of him. Now bile rose up in her throat at the thought of having to share a meal with the outlaw.

When she hesitated, he leaned over and seized her upper arm, forcing her to sit down hard. Ducking her head, Juliana swallowed an anguished groan. Surely any sign of weakness would only stir his anger.

Art was silent. Still, she sensed his frustration as he plopped down beside her.

Fitz sat opposite her. With his bare fingers, he snatched the meat from the still-sizzling skillet, tore off a big hunk and dropped it on a flat green leaf. “Enjoy it.” He leered viciously. “Might be your last.”

Juliana ignored him. She pulled off tiny bits and somehow managed to swallow without choking. Nauseous from the rush of adrenaline, her stomach protested but she managed to keep it down.

Lord Jesus, please help me think of a way out of this mess. Give me wisdom and courage. I need You desperately.

“Did you leave Harrison alive or dead?” Fitz grunted, wiping his sleeve across his greasy mouth.

She lifted her eyes to meet his and was shocked by the coldness and hatred there. This was a person with absolutely no morals, a person who wouldn’t think twice about hurting or even killing another human being.

How foolish she’d been to leave Evan Harrison’s protection! He was an outlaw, yes, but he hadn’t harmed her. He had even promised to escort her home!

With Lenny Fitzgerald calling the shots, her life could be over in the blink of an eye.

“Last I saw him, he was alive and well,” she said.

“How did you manage to steal his horse?”

“He let his guard down.”

“We won’t do that, will we, Art?” Fitzgerald shot Art a warning glare.

Juliana swallowed hard. This conversation was going nowhere fast. Her gaze darted around, looking for a weapon of some kind. If she could delay him just long enough for her to get a head start, she was sure Lucky could outrun his mount. Besides, the man was half-drunk. He’d be slower than normal.

Her gaze landed on the cast-iron skillet resting above the flames. Melted fatback popped and hissed. An idea seized her, and she acted on it before she could change her mind.

Leaning forward, she reached out a hand. “Mind if I help myself to some more meat?”

He eyed her a moment, then shrugged his beefy shoulders.

Inhaling deeply, she grabbed the handle and slung the skillet upwards, the burning hot liquid spilling out to splatter across his face and neck. He yelped in pain, his hands clawing at his face.