Читать книгу The Reluctant Outlaw - Karen Kirst - Страница 8

“I’ve never understood why some people choose to live on the wrong side of the law,” Juliana said. “Doesn’t it bother you that you’re harming innocent people?”

Harrison didn’t acknowledge the question. No surprise there. Her attempts at conversation had been met with stubborn silence all along.

They were moving deeper into the Smoky Mountains, in the opposite direction of Gatlinburg and the larger towns of Pigeon Forge and Sevierville. The foursome had traveled through lush forests and meadows, beauty she would’ve appreciated in other circumstances. The air here beneath the soaring canopy of tree branches was cooler than in the open countryside, and for that Juliana was thankful. Midsummer temperatures in East Tennessee could quickly become unbearable.

It was late now, though, and the sun’s heat had lost its bite. A soft breeze teased her hair and cooled her skin, rustling leaves whispering secrets above her. The forest was darkening, the shadows lengthening as they trudged on.

Juliana was having a hard time keeping up with Harrison. The trail had long since disappeared, and they were dodging trees and gnarled roots poking out of the ground. Twice she’d stumbled but managed to catch herself before hitting the dirt face-first.

“Poor Mr. Moore,” she said. “I can’t imagine how he reacted to being robbed at gunpoint. I hope he doesn’t have a heart attack.”

“Has he had one before?”

“No, but he isn’t well. Don’t tell me you’re actually concerned?” When he didn’t respond, she continued, “You did steal all his money, you know. What if he’s forced to close the mercantile? I know for a fact he doesn’t have any living relatives, so there’s nowhere for him to go. He’s such a kind, generous man, too. I don’t want to even think about what he would do if he lost the store.”

“If he’s such a fine human being, then I’m sure someone would be willing to take him in.”

“That’s it?” she demanded, her breath coming in puffs. “That’s your solution? You take away a man’s livelihood and the best you can come up with is to let someone else take care of it? What about all the other people you’ve hurt? Do you ever stop and think about the damage you’ve caused?”

The skinny outlaw, whom she now knew was called Art, slowed to match their pace. “I think about it all the time. Even see some of the folks’ faces I’ve robbed in my dreams.”

Harrison’s lips turned down at this, but he remained silent. Juliana studied Art’s features. “Aren’t you a bit young to be keeping company with ruthless criminals?”

“I’m seventeen,” he said matter-of-factly. “Old enough to make my own choices.”

The same age as her sister, Nicole. “Don’t you have a family? Brothers? Sisters?”

“Yes, ma’am, I do,” he responded softly, resignedly. “But my momma ain’t got no idea where I am. Better if she thinks I’m dead than knows the truth. She’d never forgive me …”

Her heart ached for him. “Oh, Art, I’m sure you don’t mean that. Were you and your mother close?”

His chest puffed out. “Yeah. I’m her oldest boy. She always said how proud she was to have me for a son.”

“You know what I think? Your mother won’t care what you’ve done as long as you’re home, living an honest life.”

Art was silent a moment, his brown eyes troubled. “You really think she’d take me back? And forgive me for up and leaving and joining this gang?”

“Yes, I do. But more than your mother’s forgiveness, you need God’s.”

“My momma believes in Jesus. She read aloud from her Bible every morning and prayed with me before bed. But I—” He shook his head in shame. “I didn’t always listen. I daydreamed a lot. Thought I was too young for religious stuff.”

“And what about now?”

His earnest expression startled her. Here was a young man searching for the truth.

“More than anything, I want peace. I haven’t had that in a long time.” He lowered his voice. “I hang with a dangerous crowd. Ain’t no tellin’ when a bullet might find me. I’ve been thinkin’ a lot lately about death. Trouble is, I don’t know where I’m headed when I die.”

“Art, I—”

“Enough yakking.” Fitzgerald scowled over his shoulder. “Harrison, if you don’t shut her up, I will.”

With a shrug, Art moved away. Beside her, Harrison shot her a warning glance.

Frustrated with the interruption, she prayed for another opportunity to speak with Art about Christ. She couldn’t help thinking perhaps he was the reason she’d been placed in this situation.

“How much farther?” she whispered.

Harrison wiped his brow with a handkerchief. “A quarter of a mile. Maybe more.”

Ugh. While her new boots were great for defense, their stiffness tortured her feet. Blisters were already forming. She sighed.

“Take a drink.” He paused to lift a canteen from the saddle. “I don’t want you passing out from dehydration.”

He made it sound as if he was more worried about her possibly holding him back than her health. Scoundrel. Her thirst overrode her distaste at sharing a canteen with a stranger. She took a long swallow of the cool liquid and handed it back to him.

“Watch your step,” he advised. “The last thing we need is a twisted ankle or worse.”

Juliana noticed he slowed his pace after that. When full darkness enveloped them, he lit a lamp to light their path.

God, I don’t understand why You’ve allowed this to happen. I know You love me, but I’m having a hard time believing I’ll ever get home. Please keep me safe. And comfort poor Mr. Moore. Somehow give him his money back. And my family, Lord, give them peace.

In all likelihood, every person in Gatlinburg had heard the news of her abduction. No doubt many of the church members were even now gathered at the church to pray. The thought brought her a small measure of comfort.

Had Sheriff Timmons already organized a posse to pursue her kidnappers? Her uncle and cousins were surely taking a lead in the mission to rescue her. But how long had it taken for someone to discover Mr. Moore?

Since she had no way of knowing what was going on back home, she comforted herself with the fact that at some point her captors would let down their guard, and she would be ready to spring into action.

Time passed more slowly than a snail in a windstorm. Juliana tried not to dwell on her bruised toes or aching calves. Nor did she attempt to start another conversation. What was the point? She would only be rebuffed.

“We’re here.”

The sound of Harrison’s deep, no-nonsense voice in the darkness startled her. In the distance a tiny yellow light flickered. The cabin?

Juliana’s steps slowed as reality slammed into her. There would be more outlaws in that cabin. She was alone. A single, unprotected female at the mercy of a gang of hardened criminals. A relentless procession of unhappy scenarios flashed through her mind, churning up the acid in her stomach. Every cell in her body screamed at her to flee.

She glanced at the enigmatic man walking beside her, recalling his vow to get her to safety. Had he meant it? Or had he said that to keep her from running again?

Her face flamed as she remembered his comments about liking feisty women and being attracted to Irish beauties. What were his true intentions? She was having trouble deciding what to believe.

Harrison must’ve sensed her unease, because he curled his fingers around her wrist and held fast. She glared at him but didn’t try to free herself. Her muscles were weak from fear.

Fitzgerald and Art reached the cabin first. After securing their horses beneath a nearby tree, they waited for her and Harrison.

“Art.” Harrison stopped before the young man. “I want you to stay out here with the lady.”

Art’s eyes bulged, his mouth flopping open like a dead trout. “Me?” His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down. “I don’t know—”

“It’s simple,” Harrison interrupted, his tone meant to instill confidence. “Stand right here beside her and whatever you do, do not let her out of your sight.”

He released her wrist but didn’t move away. Tucking his thumb beneath her chin, he eased her face up. “I’ll be back in a few minutes,” he reassured her in a surprisingly gentle tone. “Don’t try anything foolish.”

Juliana stared mutely at his rugged face, wreathed in shadows. So immobilizing was her fear at this point that stringing two words together seemed like an impossible task.

The cabin door banged open then and half-a-dozen men spilled into the yard, their greetings tapering to a deafening silence when they caught sight of her.

Evan stepped in front of Miss O’Malley to shield her from the men’s predatory gazes. Young, innocent and beautiful, she was a lamb amid ravenous wolves. As they strained to get a glimpse of her, he could almost see them salivating in anticipation.

God, please help me get her out of here.

He stilled, stunned by the spontaneous prayer. He hadn’t prayed in months, not since the day his brother had been gunned down in cold blood.

“It’s about time you boys got back.” Cliff Roberts, the gang’s leader, separated from the rest of the group. The middle-aged man held up his kerosene lamp, casting a muted circle of light about him. “Got the loot?”

“Right here, boss.” Fitzgerald held up two bulging sacks.

“Good.” His steely gaze bore into Evan. “Who’s the girl?”

“There was a situation at the mercantile.” Evan held the man’s gaze.

Fitzgerald snorted. “Harrison wasn’t doin’ his job.”

Roberts arched a brow in silent question.

Evan clenched his teeth. “It was either get her inside or risk a scene on the front steps. I figured the mission was more important.”

He heard her sharp intake of breath and wished he hadn’t phrased it quite that way. She didn’t know it yet, but it was about to get worse.

“I’ll take care of her, boss,” Fitzgerald challenged, his leer making Evan’s skin crawl.

“No,” Evan’s tone brooked no argument. “She’s mine.”

“I’ll wager two dollars Harrison can best Fitz!” one of the men hollered.

Murmurs rumbled through the group. “Yeah, fight!”

“Winner gets the girl!”

Ignoring Miss O’Malley’s outraged sputter, Evan settled a heavy hand on his weapon. “No contest. If any of you wants her, you’ll have to kill me first.”

Thick silence settled over the group. Crickets’ buzzes swelled to fill it, as did the odd horse snuffle. His senses on high alert, Evan waited for someone to challenge his claim. He’d meant every single word. She was there through no fault of her own. He would guard her with his life.

John Hooper held up his hands. “Whoa, Harrison. No use gettin’ touchy.”

“Yeah, we didn’t know ya done fell in love!” Another man snickered.

Roberts studied him. “Enough! Everyone inside. Now.”

Mumbling and laughing, the men filed back through the door. Evan’s breath left his lungs in a whoosh. He held back until he and Miss O’Malley were the only ones in the yard.

“You’re not taking me in there, are you?” she demanded in a strangled whisper, her fingers clutching his forearm.

“Not for long, I promise.”

“I’m supposed to believe you?” Her voice went shrill. “After all the foul—”

“Harrison!” someone inside called. “Let’s go.”

“Come on,” Evan said.

Placing his palm against her lower back, he pressed her forward into the small, musty cabin. The smell of unwashed bodies and cigar smoke assaulted his senses, but he quickly masked his distaste.

Most of the men were seated at the table, and at their entrance, their bold gazes locked onto the lady at his side. She hung back, no doubt frightened out of her mind. And for good reason.

Fitzgerald stood in the corner near the door, his lips curled in a menacing smirk and his dark eyes challenging.

“Harrison.” Roberts motioned him toward the cabin’s only bedroom. “We need to talk.”

Evan started forward with Miss O’Malley.

“No, she stays here.”

No way was he leaving her side. Evan opened his mouth to protest. “But—”

“Ten minutes. Gauging from your proclamation just now, I figure she’ll be safe enough.”

Evan changed direction and, leading her to an overturned carton in front of the fireplace, motioned for her to sit. Her wide green eyes begged him not to abandon her, and he almost caved. But he couldn’t defy the gang leader’s wishes without placing her in even greater danger. With a light squeeze to her ice-cold hands, he crossed the room with leaden steps.

Juliana watched him walk away, her heart frozen in fear. Her only ally, if he was truly that—and she had serious misgivings—was leaving her to face the enemy alone. Suddenly she understood a fraction of what Daniel must’ve felt as the guards sealed him in that lions’ den and he awaited the advance of roaring, ravenous lions.

She began to pray in earnest, and to her surprise, the men largely ignored her as they took up their poker game. She kept her eyes downcast, thinking to defer their attention by being as immobile as a statue.

When their conversation faltered a few minutes later, she lifted her head to find out why. All eyes were on Art as he approached and crouched down beside her.

“Oh, go on about your business.” He gestured toward the group. “I just wanna chat with the lady.”

One by one, they turned their attention back to the game.

Art spoke in low tones, and she had to incline her head to hear him clearly.

“You don’t have to be afraid of Harrison, ya know.” His brown eyes appealed to her. “He ain’t like the others.”

“Why are you telling me this?” she whispered. She half wished he’d go back to his corner and let her go back to being invisible.

“I know you must be terrible scared,” his voice dipped even lower, “but if I know Harrison, he’ll try to get you to safety.”

Interesting. Here was one outlaw urging her to trust another outlaw.

“Why would he do that?”

“Can’t rightly say. But I ain’t never seen him harm a living soul. Goes out of his way to avoid bloodshed.” He dipped his chin. “And he’s real respectful of the ladies. Harrison’s a gentleman through and through.”

Juliana smothered an unlady-like snort of disbelief. Gentleman? Hah. Her kidnapper resembled no gentleman she’d ever known.

Thinking perhaps this might be her last chance to broach the subject of faith, she leaned in close. “Remember what you said earlier about peace? And about not knowing where you’re headed when you die?”

His face grew solemn. “Yeah.”

“Jesus loves you, Art. He wants to free you from this life of sin. All you have to do is ask for forgiveness.”

“I ain’t never gonna be perfect.”

She placed a hand on his arm, willing him to understand. “He doesn’t expect us to be. We’re only human, after all.” She rushed to add, “But if we put our trust in God, He’ll help us when we’re weak and forgive us when we mess up.”

“What are you two whispering about?” a gruff voice interrupted. “Hatching an escape plan?”

Art clambered to his feet. “N-no, nothing like that.”

Catching Fitzgerald’s hot glare at the young man, Juliana’s temper took hold and she bolted to her feet.

“Leave him alone,” she cried, “he was just trying to be nice.”

With his bear paw of a hand, Fitzgerald seized her arm in a painful grip. “You watch how you speak to me, you good-for-nothing—”

“Don’t, Fitz,” Art protested. “Harrison won’t like it if you roughhouse his girl.”

Juliana could feel the bruises already starting to form where his fingers buried into her flesh. She winced in pain.

Where was Harrison?