by West, Everly
“Hannah?”
* * *
“Lawman,” Hannah barely whispered passed the hot knot of tears burning down her throat. Her heart twisted into an agonizing ball of pure pain. How had this happened?
How could she explain she was stealing for a good cause?
She couldn’t. Not to Nathan. Not to a Sheriff who only saw the law as black or white. Someone either broke the law or they didn’t. Nothing in between.
No shades of gray.
She didn’t see a way out of this mess. And there was no one who would come to her rescue. Especially Nathan.
“You played me,” Nathan growled between his clenched teeth. His furious face inches from hers. His eyes spit steely daggers of fury.
“No, never.” Hannah shook her head. “Let me explain.”
Nathan grabbed under her armpits and lifted her out of the chair. “Tell it to the judge.”
* * *
All the way back to Laramie, Nathan fumed. How could Hannah have done this to him—to them?
And how in blazes had he miss it?
How could he have been so wrong about Hannah? By day she was the most beautiful, most compassionate woman he’d ever met. By night, she was…the Shadow.
The whole town loved her smile, her wit, her kindness—her. Him most of all.
He wanted—no, needed—answers.
It was the middle of the night when they rode into town. The streets were empty. No one to witness her disgrace. He hoped he could keep it that way.
Yes, he was angrier than he’d ever been in his life, but he couldn’t stand the thought the townspeople thinking less of her.
Nathan stopped in front of the jail, dismounted and tied his horse to the hitching post. Then without letting himself look at Hannah, he untied her horse’s lead rope from around his saddle-horn and retied it to the hitching post.
Taking a deep breath, he braced himself for the feel of her in his arms as he lowered her from her horse. Just as he when he’d lifted into her saddle earlier, his hands burned where he touched her. From anger or desire? Or both?
When he lowered her until she was at his eye level, she pleaded, “Nathan, please me explain.”
He gritted his teeth and hissed, “Inside, now.”
She nodded then marched up the two steps between the street and the board sidewalk in front of the Sheriff’s office. When she reached the door, she turned and asked, “You coming?”
He hadn’t realized he’d been staring at the sway of her hips encased in black pants. Now even angrier than he was, he stomped up the steps and unlocked his office.
He didn’t stop until he’d unlocked the jail cell, swung open the door and bowed to her with a flourished wave. “Welcome to your new life.”
Hannah gave him an evil eye, but stepped into the cell. Once she was securely locked behind bars, he leaned against the wall behind him. He folded his arms across his chest and waited.
But not for long.
“I know you’re disappointed, but I didn’t steal anything for myself.”
Nathan cocked a questioning eyebrow.
“All right, maybe before I came to Laramie I may have borrowed funds from some people to put food on my table.”
Even with the severity of the situation, he had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from grinning. “Maybe? May have? Borrowed?”
Hannah planted her fists on her hips. “You except me to confess something like that to a lawman?”
Suddenly, his anger spiked to just below furious. She had broken the law for years not just during her time in Laramie. But he already knew that.
“But, Nathan, I promise, I’ve put that life behind me.”
He lunged forward. “I caught you red-handed!”
Hannah stepped deeper into the cell, her eyes round. “The money wasn’t for me. It was for the orphans.”
The word ‘orphans’ froze him place. Was she telling the truth or just knew which of his heart-strings to pull?
“That’s why I only targeted Leachman,” she continued. “I overheard his mine was directly or indirectly to blame for the majority of the children there being orphans.”
He shook his head. “So, you’re Laramie’s version of Robin Hood?”
She nodded.
He studied her a moment then shook his head and moved to the door between the jail cells and the front office.
“Don’t leave me in here,” Hannah cried. “I don’t like being confined.”
Nathan glanced back at her as he stepped into the office. “Get used to it.”
And then he closed the door between them.
Chapter 11
Hannah screamed her lungs out of the next thirty minutes. Sometimes pleading for Nathan to come talk to her, sometimes cursing a blue streak. Still, Nathan didn’t come.
Finally, she gave up. Her head ached. Her throat felt she’d swallowed a porcupine. But, mainly, her heart hurt. Hurt with a pain so sharp she thought she’d die.
How could Nathan have left her like this? What if there was a fire? She could burn to death.
Well, actually, she wouldn’t. She had a lockpick hidden in the heel of her boot. She could have left any time she got ready. She just wasn’t ready yet.
Maybe she should get that way. She should run. She couldn’t spend the rest of her life in prison.
But she’d have to leave Nathan. Leave and never see him again. She couldn’t imagine never seeing Nathan again. Never hearing his laughter again. Never being held in his arms again. Never feeling his lips against hers.
Oh, God. She loved him. Loved him with every fiber of her being.
She was so roasted.
She couldn’t leave. It would be leaving her heart—her soul behind. She couldn’t run. She couldn’t bring that kind of shame to him. Everyone, especially other law-enforcement, would think he’d let her escape because of their relationship. He’d never live that down. He’d never be trusted again.
That would devastate him. She wouldn’t allow anyone to insult his character—starting with herself.
She couldn’t—wouldn’t do that to him.
But then, if she stayed, Nathan would ship her off to the pokey. She’d still never see him, never feel his touch, but she’d know he was all right.
She deserved her fate. He didn’t deserve her betrayal.
* * *
The door to the Sheriff’s office burst open with enough force to dislodge the nails in the top hinges.
Nathan spun around from the coffee pot on the corner wood-burning stove in his office. Pulling his sidearm, he dropped to one knee as he cocked and aimed.
“Whoa,” Bart Leachman yelped. “I’m one of the good guys.”
“Blast it, Leachman, that’s a good way to get dead.” Nathan replaced his pistol into its holster. Adrenaline, lack of sleep and having his world turned upside down by a dark-haired she-devil, had his nerves frazzled and his trigger finger twitchy.
“Might as well be dead,” Leachman growled as he helped himself to Nathan’s whiskey stashed in the desk’s bottom drawer. “That sawed-off runt keeps stealing my money.”
“Bart—”
“He struck again.” Leachman downed a shot of whiskey. “He came into my house. Scared my Loretta so bad I had to wait for her to calm down before we came into town to report the theft.”
Nathan glanced toward the open door leading to the street.
“I dropped her over at the Café. She was still a little shaken. I’m hoping some girl-talk with your Hannah and a cup of coffee will soothe her.
Nathan gut twisted at the mention of Olsen’s Café. Gunner was short one cunning waitress.
But then, thanks to that same cunning waitress, he was short one heart.
He gritted his teeth against Hannah’s betrayal. Grabbing at anything that would take his mind off of the pain in his chest, he asked, “Broke into your home?”
“About two this morning. Loretta heard a noise downstairs. I went to investigate and found the Shadow
in my office. The little squirt had emptied my safe. Stacked half my money on my desk, nice and neat, and had filled his saddlebags with the other half. About ten thousand dollars.
Nathan’s breath hitched in his throat, shocked at both the amount of money kept in Leachman’s home safe and the fact Hannah had only taken half of such a big haul. He ran his hand around the back of his neck and mumbled, “Why only half?”
“I don’t know,” Leachman answered. He pulled a piece of paper from his shirt pocket and waved it under Nathan’s nose. “Only this time, he left a note and some nonsense agreement I’m supposed to sign.”
Nathan snatched the paper from Leachman’s fingers. He scanned the note.
Leachman Mines are deathtraps. They’re either directly or indirectly to blame for at least half of the children living in the Laramie Orphanage. Hence, my reason for reducing my bounty by half of what’s been available. That is changing as of tonight’s transaction. From this day forward, I will relieve you of all the valuables present at our future encounters.
You have another option, Mr. Leachman. Sign the agreement I’ve provided. As long as you follow your instructions, I will never again plunder your coffers. The choice is yours.
I’ll be in touch.
Nathan grunted, keeping his expression blank. Hadn’t Hannah said pretty much the same thing? But then again, the note could have been a plant. Just because she’d mentioned the orphanage, didn’t mean she was giving any of her ill-begotten gains to them. He’d go out and talk to Henrietta later today.
Suddenly, he wasn’t in such a hurry to tell Leachman he had the Shadow in custody.
“Is this correct?” Nathan glared at the mine-owner. “Have there been serious injuries? Deaths?”
Leachman shrugged. “A mine is a dangerous place. Of course, there’s been accidents. But the men know what they’re signing up for when they hire on.”
“Men take jobs to provide for their families. Not to be crippled or killed.
A cave-in at one of Leachman’s mines raced to the forefront of Nathan’s memory. Anger rolled over him like a thunderstorm over the mountain. “How many men were buried alive during last year’s cave-in?”
“Twenty, maybe twenty-five. But it was an unfortunate accident.” Leachman scrubbed his hand over his face. “The risk is worth the reward.”
“To you, but what of the lame and dead? Did you subside their families for their lose?”
“Of course not. What kind of idiot do you take me for? I don’t pay people not to work.”
“So, you let children starve.” Fury rolled over Nathan in hot waves. He barely controlled the need to pulverize the man’s face to an unrecognizable mask of broken bones and torn tissues. “You let widows work themselves into earlier graves trying to provide for their kids? And when they can’t, you let them rip a piece of their hearts out when they have to leave children on the orphanage doorstep?”
Nathan took a step closer to Leachman. “You’re a greedy excuse of a man with a heart of stone.”
“I’m a businessman,” Leachman countered. “A very successful businessman.”
A heated silence fell between the two men, both men snarling at the other.
“I-is it t-true?”
Leachman spun around, facing the open door. Nathan shifted his focus from the Leachman to the doorway.
Loretta Leachman stood in the office entrance, her face pale, her bottom lip quivering.
“How long have you been there?” her husband asked.
“Long enough.”
“We’ll talk about this when we get home.” Leachman flicked his hands as though he was shooing away a chicken in his path. “Go wait in the buggy, love. I’ll be right there.”
Nathan watched shock morph into stubborn determination as the woman gathered her composure.
“No.”
Everyone knew Bart Leachman’s Achilles heel was his love for his wife. Loretta didn’t abuse her power over her husband, but she knew when and how to use it when the time was right.
Things were about to get interesting.
Loretta folded her hands in front of her, her voice strong and unyielding. “Is what Nathan saying true?”
“He’s being overly emotional.”
She cocked a questioning eyebrow at her husband.
“Not that I blame him, love, him being an orphan and all. But he’s making things sounds a lot worse than they are.”
Nathan huffed and crossed his arms over his chest, but didn’t defend himself or his opinions. Loretta was doing a fine job all by herself.
“Have you or have you not helped any of the victims’s families after their loved ones died in our mines?”
“Fine, no.” This time Leachman crossed his arms over his chest, a bull-headed expression stamped over his features. “Nor do I intend to start now.”
The Leachmans stared at each other for a long heartbeat then Loretta turned to Nathan and held out her hand, “May I see the agreement?”
“Of course.” He moved to the doorway where she still stood and handed her the crumpled letter and contract.
She read every word. When she finished, a tear gathered in the corner of her eye. “Those poor babies.”
Nathan cleared his throat and glanced away. Leachman stepped beside his wife and murmured, “Please don’t cry, sweetheart.”
She side-stepped him and waved the crinkled papers under his nose. “Bartholomew Edgar Leachman, you sign this agreement or I will!”
When Bart didn’t move as fast as she expected, she march to Nathan’s desk and snatched a pen from its holder.
“All right!” Bart bellowed. “You win, Loretta. I’ll sign the blasted paper.”
Chapter 12
Nathan waited a few minutes after the Leachmans left before going to check on his prisoner.
He stopped dead in his tracks when he spotted Hannah sitting on her cot, head bowed, her fingers twisting the material of her dove-gray day dress. She’d changed from the Shadow’s black pants and shirt into a dress she’d hidden in the Mackey cabin before going to relieve Bart Leachman of almost ten thousand dollars.
She’d unpinned her thick, dark hair and finger-combed it into some semblance of a side-braid. Now she looked all girlish and beautiful—like his Hannah.
Darn it, why hadn’t he searched the cabin again while he waited last night? Then he’d had time to wrap his head around the possibility the Shadow was a woman. Maybe even put some clues together as to the thief’s true identity.
He reached up and scratched the spot where his heart should’ve been. But it was gone, broken into a thousand pieces. No, make that ten thousand pieces. One of every dollar Hannah had stolen last night.
Taking a bracing breath, he slammed a stone wall around his wounded heart and stepped in front of Hannah’s cell.
At the sound of his bootsteps, she raised her gaze from her lap. “Thank you.”
“For what?” he grumbled, barely managing to speak passed the knot of raw emotion wedged in his throat.
“For not telling Leachman I was back here.”
Nathan shrugged a shoulder, faking indifference his was far from feeling. “I wasn’t keeping it from him. Just didn’t have a chance to tell him.”
“Still, thank you.” She rose and moved to the wall of bars between them. “I don’t think I can face people right now.”
He cocked a disbelieving eyebrow. “Suddenly grow a conscience?”
Hannah shook her head. “I’ve always known right from wrong. But I didn’t have a choice.”
“People always have choices.”
“I was four when my mother died, fourteen when my father died. For ten years, he raised me on his own. Just like a rancher teaches his sons how to ranch and a storekeeper teaches his sons how to run a store, my father taught me how to steal.”
Ah, finally he was getting the truth about her past. “Who was your father?”
“Gentlemen Jack Lightning.”
Nathan whistled low and long. Th
e outlaw was as hard to catch as a lightning bolt. And known to kiss a woman’s hand while he slipped the jewels off her fingers. Hence, his name. Come to think about it, it’d been several years since he’d heard of any sighting of Gentlemen Jack.
“At fourteen I was alone and had no skills other than those my father taught me,” she continued. “Yes, I knew I was doing wrong, but I had to eat. I had livestock to feed. But even then, the Shadow only ventured out when my larder was bare. I promise, I only took from those who could afford the loss. No one ever went hungry or cold because of my actions.”
“So, breaking the law is all right as long as no one gets hurt?” he growled.
“No, it’s not.” Hannah wrung her hands. “I’ve learned my lesson. Someone always gets hurt.”
“Not sure that will make Bart feel any better.” Nathan turned to leave.
“I’m not concerned with Leachman or his feelings. Yes, I wounded his bank account, but he came out with his heart unscathed.” Her bottom lip quivered. “I hurt people I love. I hurt you.”
Was she saying she loved him? More importantly, did she really love him or saying anything that might get him to let her go?
“I’m riding out to speak with Henrietta. My deputy left yesterday to escort a prisoner back from Cheyenne, so no one knows you’re here. And even if they did, there’s only one set of keys to the cells and I’m taking them with me. Still, if there’s an emergency, scream your lungs out someone will come running. Otherwise, keep your head down and your mouth shut.”
“Emergency?”
Nathan shrugged a shoulder. “I’ve found a snake or two back here in the past.”
Hannah lunged for the cot on the back wall. Sitting Indian-style on the thin-filled cotton mattress, she pulled her skirt up off the floor and tucked it under her legs. “Could you leave something to protect myself with? A gun or knife?”
He shot her a disbelieving glare.