Читать книгу The Reluctant Outlaw - Karen Kirst - Страница 9

Evan was having trouble focusing on the conversation. He couldn’t shake Miss O’Malley’s stricken expression. He could only hope that with his challenge fresh in their minds, the men would think twice before approaching her. His ears strained for any sound of distress, but he could hear only the steady hum of voices and the occasional bark of laughter.

“What’s the story with this girl? Why did you bring her here?” Roberts propped an arm on the windowsill.

“Things got out of hand. She was making a scene right there in plain view, and then a gentleman friend of hers approached us. I had to think fast. Defuse the situation.”

“You like her,” he accused.

Evan gave a noncommittal shrug. “I’ve always been partial to redheads.”

Where was Roberts going with this line of questioning?

The older man’s gray eyes narrowed slightly. “She’s a witness. You know what that means.”

Ah. Roberts was probing his motives and trying to decide if he had the stomach to do away with her. With a deep breath, Evan set out to convince his leader that he didn’t have a conscience.

“I’ve been alone too long,” he said, forcing a lusty sigh. “A man needs female companionship every now and then, if you know what I mean. A few nights with her are all I need.”

“Like ‘em unspoiled, I see.” The other man straightened. “Just don’t get attached, Harrison. You understand what you’ll have to do before you head back?”

Swallowing back the bile rising in his throat, he spoke without emotion. “I remember. Dead witnesses can’t testify.”

A malicious grin split Roberts’s bearded face. “Exactly.”

A high-pitched scream pierced the air. Evan’s heart plummeted to his knees. He jerked open the bedroom door in time to see Fitzgerald’s fist connect with Miss O’Malley’s cheek, the force of the blow knocking her to the floor.

White-hot fury shot through Evan, and he unsheathed his weapon. “Outside now,” he growled. “Just you and me.”

“Gladly.” Fitz took a step toward the door.

“No.” Roberts stepped between them. He threw Evan an exasperated glance. “Remember your job, Harrison. Or do I need to leave it to someone else?”

“No.” Evan fought for control over his emotions. So much was riding on the next few moments. “I’ll do it,” he ground out.

Deciding that it was high time to get out of there, he strode to the corner and hauled her up, ignoring her whimpers when all he wanted to do was comfort her. When he spoke, he made sure everyone heard him.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he forced himself to say in as lewd a tone he could manage, “Let’s go have some fun.”

She shivered at his words. Evan felt nauseated, but he kept his expression blank. He looked at Roberts. “Give me a few days. I plan on takin’ my time.”

“Remember, Harrison, don’t come back until the matter’s taken care of.”

Evan tugged the brim of his hat in response, half dragging her out the door and down the steps. Sweat dotted his brow. Adrenaline surged through his body. He had to get her out of there before Fitz talked Roberts out of letting her go.

Her breaths were coming in pitiful gasps. Walking with her body tucked against his side, he kept one hand on each of her arms as he propelled her through the darkness. Her steps were halting, as if trying to slow their progress. He hoped she wouldn’t try to bolt again.

When he heard the cabin door slam open, he urged her to go faster. He didn’t waste a second glancing back. He would not fail her as he’d failed his brother, James. He would get her to safety or die trying.

Reaching his horse, he pushed her up into the saddle and swung up behind her, digging his heels into Lucky’s sides to jolt the big black into action. One hand holding the reins, he wrapped his free arm around her middle and held her snugly against him. They rode out in the opposite direction of the way they’d come. He wasn’t sure of their exact destination at this point. All he wanted was to put as many miles as possible between them and that cabin.

He felt her trembling. In response, he tightened his hold.

He despised what he’d had to do back there. He’d given his word that he wouldn’t hurt her, and look what he’d done. No doubt she believed what he’d said to the others and was scared out of her mind.

As soon as he felt confident that no one was following them, he’d stop and explain everything.

Juliana couldn’t stop shaking. The stark terror flowing through her body rendered her weak and limp. She had no power to fight her fate.

Her captor held her in a steel grip, as if afraid she’d jump from the horse’s back.

She resolutely focused on the movement of the horse’s muscles beneath her, the heavy night air rushing past her face, the sense of light and darkness as they moved between shadows and moonlight. She refused to let herself wonder where he was taking her.

He’d promised not to hurt her. Why had she thought for an instant that she could trust him to keep his word? He was a criminal, for goodness’ sake. How naïve could she be?

He’d seemed to want to keep her out of harm’s way, though. He’d hinted at the cruelty of the men he associated with and had warned her not to try and escape. Had that just been a sly ploy to get her to trust him? Maybe he’d wanted to keep her all to himself, so that after they dropped off the money he could sneak off and do whatever he wanted with her.

Her stomach clenched into a hard, tight ball. She wondered how she would survive the coming hours.

The entire right side of her face ached where Fitzgerald had hit her. The blow had been unexpected—she’d had no time to brace herself or move away. The pain was excruciating.

When he slowed the horse to a walk, she stiffened her back and tried to hold herself away from him. He didn’t seem to notice. Pulling his arm away, he slid off the horse and tied the reins to a low-slung tree branch. Then he was standing there with one hand on the saddle horn, waiting for her to dismount.

“Please,” she pleaded, unable to look at him, “don’t do this.” She was not above begging.

“Come here,” he said in a voice as smooth as velvet.

“I can’t.” She stared straight ahead, refusing to go willingly.

He moved closer, his chest pressing against her thigh. “Look at me.”

Angling her head down, she obeyed, fearing that if she didn’t he’d yank her out of the saddle. Standing in a patch of moonlight, his face was clearly visible except his eyes.

“I’m not going to hurt you. I’ve never in my life laid a hand on a female, and I don’t aim to start with you.” He spoke each word slowly and distinctly, as if addressing a small child. “Please get down. We need to talk.”

Juliana hesitated. She’d always thought of herself as a good judge of character. Now she wasn’t so sure. His manner was straightforward enough. But he’d handled her roughly and had insinuated vulgar things in front of the other men.

“I know I scared you back there.” He grimaced, his white teeth glinting in the pale light. “Please believe me—it was all for show. I had to convince them that I meant business. I didn’t want to take the chance of one of them challenging my claim on you.”

“Your claim?”

“I’m the new guy. They don’t know me, and they don’t trust me. They have seniority. If any one of those men had decided he wanted you, Roberts would’ve sided against me. I would’ve had no say in the matter.” He watched her for a moment, then dropped his hand and stepped back. He held his palms up in front of his chest. “If I promise not to touch you and not to come within three feet of you, will you come down?”

He certainly seemed to be telling the truth. If not, he was an accomplished actor. There was the other matter of his weapon. He didn’t have to waste his breath being polite. He could’ve pulled his gun on her and ordered her down.

Juliana dismounted. When her feet hit the ground, her knees buckled. He moved to steady her, only to freeze midstep when he remembered his promise. She sagged against the horse’s side for support. To his credit, the large animal didn’t sidestep or flinch, just swished his tail at her.

Harrison passed a weary hand down his face, drawing in a deep breath. “Can I at least help you sit down?”

She shook her head. “No.”

Straightening, she managed to walk, albeit unsteadily, to what looked like a good spot before sinking to her knees. She didn’t take her eyes off him as he kneeled in the grass opposite her, his forearm resting across one bent knee.

She clasped her hands and remained silent, her eyes lowered to her lap. Her heartbeat was beginning to settle into a more natural rhythm. Surely if he intended to hurt her, he would’ve done so by now.

“This is going to sound dumb, but how is your face? I can’t see it—that’s why I’m asking.”

Her first instinct was to examine the area with her fingers, but she was afraid to touch it. “I don’t think my jaw is dislocated, though it hurts when I talk.”

“And the pain? Is it bearable? Unfortunately, I don’t travel with whiskey, but I can make a poultice in the morning that will draw out some of the sting.”

At this point, the pain was so great that Juliana would’ve gladly accepted whiskey if he’d had any. Her cheek throbbed in time with her heartbeat, and each time she opened her mouth to speak, it felt as if she was being punched all over again.

He spoke before she had a chance to respond. “It’s that bad, huh?” He dropped his head. “This wasn’t supposed to happen.” Then he looked at her. “I’m sorry. If I’d known—” He broke off midsentence, standing to his feet in one fluid motion. He began to pace.

“What happened with Fitzgerald? Why did he hit you?”

“You mean, what did I do to provoke him? You think I deserved this, don’t you?”

Juliana gasped when he dropped to his knees before her. “Never.” He raised his hand as if to touch her. Instead, he let it drop back to his lap. “You are not to blame for what happened.”

Staring at the man before her, she struggled to reconcile his gentle concern with the harsh intensity he’d displayed earlier in the day. Her mind flashed back to the moments before the other outlaws tumbled out of the cabin, and she remembered his reassuring words, his tender touch. Who was he, really?

“Art and I were talking,” she said softly. “Fitzgerald didn’t like it.”

His jaw hardened, his hand curling into a tight fist. “He tends to lose his temper on a whim.”

“Actually, I lost my temper first.”

“What?” Harrison’s gaze sharpened. “Why?”

“He was bullying Art. I couldn’t sit by and watch him do it when Art had done nothing wrong except befriend me.”

He said nothing. Just stared at her as if she had suddenly sprouted an extra head.

“Aren’t you going to say anything?” she queried at last.

“Frankly, I’m at a loss for words. I don’t know whether to compliment you or give you a good scolding. Standing up for Art was a sweet gesture, Miss O’Malley.” He cocked his head to one side. “On the other hand, it was an extremely foolish thing to do, given your situation.”

Juliana couldn’t argue with that. Still, she wasn’t sure she’d do anything differently given the chance to do it all over again. Art struck her as an impressionable young man who’d been caught up with the wrong crowd.

“He’s awfully young. How did he come to be with a gang of outlaws?”

“He’s been with them longer than I have. Nearly a year, I believe. He was a good friend of Roberts’s son, Randy.”

“Was?”

“Yeah. About a month after I arrived, Randy and his father had an argument. A very loud, very contentious argument. Rumor has it Randy wanted Fitzgerald gone, but the old man wouldn’t go for it. So Randy left.”

“Why didn’t Art go with him?”

“I can’t answer that.”

“Answer me this, then. Why are you with them?”

“Ah, that’s a story for another time,” he stood abruptly. “We need to get going.”

Her heart lurched. “Where?”

He glanced away. “Home.”

Home. How she longed to see her family, to feel their comforting arms about her. She knew instinctively it would be a long time before she felt safe again.

“How do I know you’re telling me the truth?”

His expression was unreadable. “I guess you’ll just have to trust me.”

Juliana realized she didn’t have a choice. She didn’t like it one bit that he was in total control of her fate.

No. That wasn’t true. God was in control.

Evan appeared uncertain as he stood next to the horse, waiting for her to approach. He was obviously debating whether or not he should help her up. His behavior led her to believe he’d been taught to treat women with respect and that, despite his descent into criminal activity, he adhered to some ingrained habits.

Juliana made the decision to accept his help. Holding out her hand, she didn’t miss the way his black brows shot up as he boosted her into the saddle. After untying the reins, he swung up behind her and spoke to Lucky in encouraging tones.

At first, Juliana sat ramrod straight in the saddle. Then her shoulders began to ache. And the horse’s gait over the uneven terrain kept knocking her into Harrison. When her head bumped his chin, he curled an arm around her waist and tugged her back against him.

“Relax, Miss O’Malley.”

His low, mellow voice washed over her, and very slowly the tension left her body.

Her lids grew heavier with each swaying step, until they fluttered closed and she surrendered herself to sleep.

Relaxed now against his chest, her head tucked against his shoulder, Miss O’Malley was a warm weight in his arms. The heady scent of lavender tickled his nose. Captivated, Evan lowered his face to her hair and inhaled her sweet fragrance. He sighed. How long had it been since he’d been in the company of a female? He’d certainly never courted one.

After his parents’ sudden deaths weeks after his nineteenth birthday, he’d funneled all his energy into running the farm. His brother, James, just seventeen at the time, had put in the same grueling hours as he had. Side by side, they’d worked long and hard, determined to make a go of their father’s homestead. Then the day came that changed everything. The news of James’s murder had driven all thoughts of the future from Evan’s mind. At twenty-five, he was long past the typical marrying age. Still, settling down and starting a family seemed about as likely as a fish sprouting legs.

Evan shifted in the saddle. His neck and shoulder muscles burned from overuse, and his lower back was stiff. Knowing it was past time to give his body a break, Evan decided to stop for the night. They’d spent most of the day in the saddle or walking, and tomorrow would be no different. They both needed rest.

Heading off the trail, he searched for shelter. He settled on a protected spot tucked in the midst of a stand of mature trees. The night air was comfortable enough that he wouldn’t need to build a fire. The blankets in his bedroll would provide ample warmth.

Careful to balance Miss O’Malley’s sleeping form, Evan slid off the stocky horse’s back. It wasn’t easy, but he managed to get her off Lucky and into his arms. Stepping carefully through the low grass, he lowered her to the ground. Then he returned for the bedroll.

Tucking the thickest quilt he owned around her body, he made certain every inch of her was cocooned in the material. Crouched beside her, he paused when she began to mumble words he couldn’t quite make out.

With unsure fingers, he smoothed the silky strands away from her forehead. The action caused her to smile in her sleep, and she turned into his touch. Evan sucked in a breath. Her cheek, soft and cool, rested against his open palm. What now?

He didn’t dare move a muscle. What if she woke and found him like this?

She’d panic, that’s what!

With the steadiness of a surgeon extracting a bullet, Evan slid his hand free.

Then he bolted.

Relief flooded him when, looking back over his shoulder, he saw that she remained oblivious to her surroundings. Great. He’d avoided an awful scene. If she’d awoken to find him hovering over her, well, she surely would’ve assumed the worst.

Evan crossed the meadow and sank down at the base of a tree. The nervous energy surging through his body made him restless, edgy. Jerking off his hat, he slapped it against his thigh.

His mission had hit a major snag. Ten months with the gang and he had nothing. No leads and no suspects. While his brother lay in a cold, lonely grave, his murderers were living full and fancy-free. Bitterness left a bad taste in his mouth.

A wave of loneliness washed over him. How he wished he could turn the clock back to that fatal night and force James to abandon the trip! Maybe if he’d been more convincing in his arguments or outright refused to let his brother leave, James would still be alive today.

Evan had made the decision last night to go through with the robbery and then head to Knoxville on his own. James had been killed near the Tennessee River, on the outskirts of downtown. He planned to visit each and every saloon and tavern until he found the information he sought. No matter how long it took, he would never stop searching.

He glanced at the beautiful lady asleep in his bedroll. For now, though, his plans would have to wait until she was back with her family.

He gripped the rifle lying across his lap. He’d get little sleep this night. If Fitz or any of the other outlaws intended on coming after them, he would be ready.

Juliana woke shortly after sunrise to the smell of frying salt pork and coffee. Disoriented, she stared up at the patchwork of green leaves and blue sky. Where was she? Her sisters’ animated chatter had been replaced by birdcalls and her comfortable bed by dewy grass and unyielding earth.

Then it all came rushing back. The mercantile. The kidnapping. The cabin.

Her stomach rebelled, and she thought she might retch. Holding very still and taking even, shallow breaths, she waited until the sensation passed.

Her cheek throbbed. She gingerly probed the area with her fingertips and winced at the pain. She didn’t need a mirror to tell her what it must look like.

Propping herself up on her elbows, her hair falling in waves about her shoulders, she surveyed her surroundings. Her gaze locked onto Harrison, so intent on his task of tending the fire, and apprehension skittered down her spine. Should she trust this enigmatic stranger to stand by his promise to see her safely home?

Watching him now, she had to admit that under ordinary circumstances she would be curious about him. He was one of those men who commanded attention based on his calm self-assurance, the unleashed power in his muscular form and his dark, forbidding good looks. He was like no other man she’d ever known.

He looked up then from the cast-iron skillet and caught her staring.

“Good morning,” he said matter-of-factly, as if they were old acquaintances.

He loaded up two trenchers with the pork and hoecakes. He rose in one fluid movement and approached her with long strides. Crouching beside her, he offered her one. “Can you eat something?”

His nearness intensified the queasiness in her stomach. Still, they’d skipped supper last night. “I’ll try.”

Juliana sat up, self-conscious about her disheveled appearance. When he didn’t move away, she lifted her head. She read the displeasure in his expression.

“What?”

“Your cheek,” he stated darkly. “It looks pretty bad. Is the pain worse this morning?”

Was that remorse in his voice? Surely he hadn’t developed a conscience overnight.

“Not very.” She wasn’t being exactly truthful, but she wasn’t about to admit to him the pain she was in. What was the point?

His eyes narrowed. “I don’t believe you.”

“Believe what you want.” She shrugged, lifting her trencher of untouched food. “Can we please eat now?”

“Be my guest.” He hesitated a moment before turning to his own breakfast.

Stubble darkened his jaw, and his eyes were bloodshot. Had he not slept? She quelled the urge to ask. What did she care whether he’d slept or not?

They ate in silence. Juliana nibbled at the slightly sweet hoecake, thankful that her stomach didn’t protest. One taste of the salty meat was one too many, however, and she tossed it back on the plate. Gulping down coffee to rid herself of the aftertaste, she grimaced. She didn’t like black coffee. Her mom had made sure to always have cream and sugar on the table for Juliana, the only one of her five daughters who drank coffee.

“Is something wrong?” he asked midchew.

“I’m not used to the strong stuff.”

He swallowed. “You’ll get used to it.”

“Considering I’ll be home in a few hours, I doubt it matters.”

He didn’t meet her eyes as he stood to his feet. “I’m going to rinse these off,” he said, gathering the dirty utensils. “If you’re done eating, you can come with me. You’ll have a chance to wash up if you’d like.”

What a difference a day makes, she thought. She supposed he felt guilty for what had happened and that was the reason he was acting kind. Rising to her feet, she tried in vain to smooth her wrinkled dress. “I don’t suppose you have a brush in those saddlebags, do you?”

“There’s a comb.” He rifled through the leather bags and produced a simple black comb. “Will this do?” he asked, his eyes raking her mass of auburn hair.

Her cheeks warmed at his inspection. “Yes.”

Falling into step beside him, she ventured a side glance. “How long have you been living like this? I mean … have you always been a thief?”

One black brow quirked up. “Yeah, it all started when I was three. I just had to have that lemon drop at the mercantile, so I swiped it.”

“Ah, a sense of humor. I’m surprised, Harrison.”

“Harrison is my last name. Call me Evan.”

“Oh. Okay … Evan.”

Her gaze drifted down to where the top two buttons of his cotton shirt were undone. His tanned neck shone with a fine film of perspiration, his steady pulse visible in the hollows above his collarbone.

Juliana wondered at her absence of fear in his presence. His close proximity made her feel unsettled, even nervous. But she didn’t believe he would harm her.

“And your name is …” he prompted. His blue eyes, so distinctive and intense, were fastened onto her face in open scrutiny. His dark hair and clothes only made his eyes seem brighter.

“I don’t believe I’ll tell you, Evan Harrison.”

“Why not?” his brow furrowed. “Miss O’Malley is a bit formal, don’t you think?”

“Why should I? You and I will never again clap eyes on each other after today.”