by Ivy McAdams
“She can help you as soon as we return,” Clay said. “I don’t think letting her hang around camp is the safest thing for her.” When his eyes caught hers, the deep blue was back. No longer the sharp gaze that made her wince, but the dark pools that drew her in. And a deep voice that tickled her insides in odd ways. “I can protect her.”
Chapter 6
Sadie had spent most of her life not feeling protected. Between her father insisting they live in the forest beyond town, full of bears, cougars, and wolves, and her fiancé Robert cowering at the sight of the wolf on the edge of town that day, she’d had to carry the responsibility of keeping herself alive and unharmed all on her own.
Of course, she’d let herself get captured by the Van den Berg gang, but at least she was still surviving.
When Clay’d declared he had to protect her, she’d been quite intrigued. She’d spent the majority of their trek into the woods staring at his back, broad shoulders cloaked in a faded brown leather jacket. The gray mare beneath her plodded along after Clay’s buckskin without a care in the world, leaving Sadie to stare and replay his words in her head.
She wasn’t sure why he felt the need to protect her, but the outing with just the two of them was exactly what she needed to get away. She had a much better chance of giving just one man the slip.
“I know a good hill for deer this time of day,” Clay said. His voice was low and calm. They must be close.
He steered his horse off the game path, and Sadie’s horse followed. The sparsely grown trees thickened. The canopy above became so dense that the sun struggled to break through, and the world below was cloaked in a warm shadow. Even early in the autumn season, some of the leaves had already begun to turn to ocher. Stiff brown leaves sprinkled the ground and crackled under the horses’ hooves.
She watched Clay’s body move back and forth with ease in the saddle. He’d certainly be difficult to outrun if she was caught. A rifle in a leather sheath protruded from the saddle in front of his knee, and a pair of revolvers were strapped to his hips.
Her lips pinched together as she looked him over. Running from Clay could be more dangerous than she’d considered. He was probably an ace with all those guns, and it wouldn’t be anything to kill off a random girl like her.
The thought brought more curiosity than she cared to admit, and she broke the silence with a quiet question.
“Have you killed a lot of people?”
Clay’s shoulders flexed, and he turned to glance over his shoulder at her.
“What?”
“You know, being an outlaw and all. How many men have you killed?”
The hard edge of his jaw sharpened as he looked forward again. “Only the ones that shoot at me first.”
She blinked, tilting her head. “I’ve heard a lot of stories of gun-happy outlaws.”
He grunted, what could have been a dark laugh. “Me too. That’s not really us. We stir up some chaos sometimes, but it’s not what we’re after. We’re just in a rut right now.”
“Excuse me?”
“This thieving stuff was never meant to be a full-time gig. We’re just trying to make enough to survive. As soon as we have what we need, we’ll be gone.”
“It sounds like you’ve been causing a lot of trouble. When can we expect you gone?”
He fell silent with another flex of his jaw.
After a moment, he spoke. “All the deals we make may not be the most honest ones, but we don’t set out to hurt people. We have a family to protect too. Once they all have what they need to survive proper, we’ll be done.”
When she cleared her throat to speak again, he held a palm up at her. Then he pressed a finger to his lips. She closed her mouth with an irritated huff.
Clay stopped next to a row of bushes at the foot of an incline and dismounted.
“I’m going to go farther up this hill and get a couple shots off,” he whispered. “You stay back here with Georgene and keep quiet.”
Sadie frowned down at him from atop her saddle. “Georgene?”
She nearly missed the small grin that played across Clay's face as he lowered his head, disappearing beneath his hat. His hand slid up the thickly muscled neck of the buckskin mare, and he gave her an affectionate pat.
“Sure. Georgene. She’s the best horse in all of Wyoming. She’ll keep you safe down here.”
Sadie’s brow perked, as much at his odd shift into a proud cowboy as the notion that his horse could somehow protect her. “That’s good to know. What of this one?” She leaned over to run her fingers through the coarse white mane of the gray horse beneath her. “No super strengths or fancy names?”
Clay looked back up at her. The amused twinkle in his eye caught her further off guard.
“She may not measure up to Georgene, but that’s a good horse. She joined us just a couple months ago. I think they’ve been calling her Clover. Don’t worry, if anything happens, she’ll stick with Georgene. I’ll be back.”
With a wink, he pulled a rifle from his saddle and slipped up the gradual incline of the foothill. Sadie crossed her arms over her chest, watching him go. His love for his horse shocked her, and while she wanted to believe his bragging on the beast, she couldn’t help but think she’d be much safer in the forest with him around. Even if he was an outlaw. A gun offered much more protection than a horse.
She huffed out a sigh, only a moment before noticing the second gun strapped into the other side of his saddle. Another rifle.
Suddenly she remembered her true objective: to escape. She didn’t need an escort as much as she needed a weapon.
She slid down out of her saddle, moving as quietly as she could manage. Her fingers closed around the second rifle's wooden stock, and it slid free from its leather cuff. It was heavy, fully loaded, but nothing she hadn't held before. Usually, her job was to hang back at the house and help tan the hides after Papa brought them home, but she'd gone on plenty of hunting trips and brought in her fair share of skinnable carcasses.
Clay was nearing the top of the hill. He would go up there, maybe over, and be preoccupied with hunting deer. Hopefully, he would get a few good ones for Clara. Sadie liked her, and she wished the woman well, despite being stuck in a hang of lawbreakers.
Once Clay was busy, Sadie could slip off in the other direction. Taking the horse would be too loud, so she’d have to go on foot. It was risky, especially since he’d be on horseback once he noticed she was gone, but it was her only shot.
She stood between the horses and watched as he reached the hilltop and crept out into the sunlight beyond the tree line. He stood still, and his head moved only a fraction as he scanned the fields beyond the hill.
“So long,” she breathed before creeping away.
But a footstep not far off made her freeze.
Crunching brown leaves in the distance drew her eye. Thirty yards through the trees and brush she saw the long thin limbs of a deer. The large spread of antlers on his head caught and tugged at low hanging branches. He was large and magnificent, enough to feed the camp for a few days at least. It was too bad Clay’d gone in the other direction.
The stag continued on through the trees. It glanced at the horses a time or two but didn't seem bothered by them. Sadie hovered in between the beasts, hoping to conceal herself. As the months grew cooler, the stags got more aggressive. She didn't want to tousle with him in her escape and preferred it if he looked past her altogether.
It plodded along past the horses and further away. An empty ache clenched her stomach. She was both hungry and disappointed that Clay wasn’t going to be able to bring the monster back to Clara. If only she could alert him somehow without scaring the deer away. Or bringing Clay back down the hill and spoiling her escape attempt.
He’d just have to make do on his own.
A loud crack in the air made her jump. The stag jolted to a stop and lifted his head high, huge ears pointed straight up and pressed forward.
Clay cursed from up on the hill, and she win
ced silently. Whatever he’d been tracking down below, it sounded as if he’d missed.
Leaves and brush rustled from up high, and the stag’s muscles quivered. He was drawn up tighter than a longbow, big black eyes trained on the hilltop.
Sadie wasn’t sure if he could see Clay yet, but it wouldn’t be long. Then he’d be gone. A horrible missed opportunity.
Without a second thought, she pulled the rifle at her side up and fit it into her shoulder. She rested a hand and the barrel of the gun along the back of Georgene’s saddle and lined up the sights with the deer’s flexed torso muscles.
Next to her, Clover blew out a breath, and one of the deer’s ear popped around. His head shifted. If he saw her, he’d be gone.
She pulled the trigger.
The pop echoed in her ears. Both horses threw up their heads with shrill whinnies. She had to sidestep a couple stomping hooves.
“Miss Tanner?” Clay’s boots crashed through the brush further up the hill.
The rifle dropped down to her side again, and she sighed. Her head start had vanished. There was no way she could run from him now and expect to get away.
She should have left the hunting to him. Surely he’d have found some meat eventually. She curled her lip at her impulse decision. Stupid deer.
“Miss Tanner?” Clay called again, much closer.
She peered out from beneath Clover’s neck as she rubbed a hand over the dingy fur.
Clay’s face was pale, skewed in concern, as he pushed through the last few low hanging branches that separated them. As he drew closer, his brow furrowed, eyes darting around the trees and horses.
“What happened?” he panted.
She held up the rifle with a guilty tilt to her lips. “I shot the deer.”
His frown deepened, and he stood silently for an instant, sheer confusion crossing his eyes.
“That was you that shot?” he sputtered.
She fit the rifle to her shoulder again, aiming the barrel into the trees, and racked a cartridge through the mechanism. An unused bullet ejected and hit the leaves at her feet.
“It was me,” she said.
“I didn’t know you―I mean, I wasn’t expecting you to handle guns.”
Obviously, since he’d left her with one. She could have just as easily crept up the hill after him and blown him away.
The same realization must have come to him too, because prickles of sweat dotted his hairline, and his eyes rarely left her hands on the gun.
“I’ve gone hunting a time or two,” she said, sliding the rifle back into its sheath on Clay’s saddle.
More like a hundred times.
“Wait, wait,” Clay said, holding up a hand. “You said you shot a deer?”
Sadie pointed over Georgene’s back, then tiptoed through the leaves in the direction she’d shot. “Over here.”
She hadn’t seen if she’d hit the deer or not, but she led the way to where she’d last seen it.
“My Lord,” Clay murmured. “That thing’s a beast.”
She stared at the stag, on the ground no further than where he’d last stood. Even if she’d ruined her chance to run, she’d be able to bring the meat back to Clara. The woman would be so happy.
A smile formed on Sadie’s lips.
“Well, I don’t think I easily surprise, Miss Tanner,” Clay said as he removed his hat and ran his hand through his hair. The soft-looking strands parted and slid through his fingers, and a strange sensation came over her. She wanted to move her fingers through the sandy locks and determine if they were indeed as soft as they appeared. He placed his hat back on his head and looked at her. She jerked her eyes back down to his face. “But that’s a damn good shot, and this will definitely help our low rations.”
A puff of pride swelled in her chest, and she nodded. “I’m glad I could help.”
Clay hooked his thumbs in his belt and regarded her with a lowered hat, his eyes hiding in the brim’s shadow. “I am too. Although you’re making me look bad.”
She wasn’t sure if he was angry or poking fun at her. When the edge of his lips twitched upward, however, the tension in her body loosened. He was playing with her. A strange tingle fluttered in her stomach, and she couldn’t deny the urge to play along.
She wrinkled her nose at him. “I doubt I could manage such a thing.”
His eyes danced as his grin grew. “Is that so?”
A warmth spread into her cheeks, and she rubbed at one absently, dropping her eyes from his. Was she blushing?
“I doubt there’s much that could make you look bad.” She motioned toward his face, the deep blue eyes and the dark shadow of hair along his chin that made it look so sharp and strong. It wanted to be touched too. To be compared to the softer hair up top. When she realized she was staring at him, she cleared her throat, nearly falling into a coughing fit. “I mean, not you, but…” She looked away, a flutter of panic making her palms damp. “I guess I did make you look bad on the hunt.”
There was a mischievous tilt to his eyebrow. A sly, almost shy smirk on his lips.
“I guess you did, Miss Tanner.”
Heat itched up her neck and into her ears. A thrilling but uncomfortable feeling as thoughts of Papa found their way into her mind. What would he think of her if he could see her now? Talking and blushing in front of an outlaw.
She was supposed to be at tea that morning with Robert even. Not saying such silly things to a man she didn’t know.
Robert’s family were highly respected and a proper part of the community. What would they think of her if they knew?
A new icy fear crept into her.
What did they think of her now? Gone, disappeared. Bedding down in a camp full of men.
Good heavens. Her head reeled. Would Robert still want her when she got back to Emerald Falls?
Even though she was coming with a handsome dowry, would Robert still find her a suitable wife after sleeping in a tent outside surrounded by thieves and murderers?
The fact that Clay was a Van den Berg made her being alone with him so much worse.
The people of Emerald Falls would be horrified to know she was smiling and laughing with one of the gang members that had been terrorizing them.
She was sure the town cared little about what she did normally, but they would when she became Robert’s wife. She’d finally be a part of the community, and that’s what she wanted.
She stared up at Clay and found deep dark eyes staring back. A new wave of itchy warmth crept up her neck, and she looked away.
“You should get that thing back to Clara,” she murmured, dropping her gaze to count the colored leaves on the ground.
“You’re right.” His boots crunched as he moved, and she risked a glance in his direction. His back was to her, and he stooped to lift the deer. “Clara wants this one for dinner. She’ll need time to dress it. Let’s go.”
Sadie stood next to Clover, trying to avert her eyes as Clay hoisted the deer onto his shoulder. The stag had to be over a hundred pounds, and he slung the thing up onto the back of his horse like he did it every day.
No wonder he had such wide shoulders under that jacket. And a hard chest that peaked through the opening of his shirt beneath.
The blush in her face crept up to her ears, and she snapped her eyes away.
Clay Pearson was an outlaw. A thief. A murderer. He was no man to admire. She shouldn't even be talking civilly to him. He'd kidnapped her for Lord's sake!
She still couldn’t help but look up at him when he approached her.
“Need a hand?” he asked.
Before she could answer, his hands were on her waist, and she gasped. Her body stiffened as he lifted her in the air and plopped her sidesaddle onto the mare.
She grabbed the saddle horn to keep herself upright, nearly kicking a boot into Clay’s face to catch her balance. He blinked wide at her, resting a hand on the folded fabric of her knee.
“Are you okay?”
She grabbed at the dress ru
ffles and shook them, pressing them back into place on her leg and doing her best to ignore the crazy stirring within her at the touch of his hand. Then she adjusted her seat, picking up the reins.
“I’m fine. It’s cold out here. Can we get back to the fire?”
Not that she needed any more heat touching her face or neck, but the longer she was out there with him, the more confused she was becoming.
He regarded her for a moment before turning to his horse and mounting up.
“Sure. We’ll go confirm your letter went out last night. I’m sure you’re eager to hear from your aunt.”
He urged Georgene forward, and Sadie followed with less enthusiasm. If they received a letter back from Aunt Hilda at all, she’d be shocked. If it said anything but “Bite me” she’d do a chicken dance in the middle of main street.
Aunt Hilda wasn’t going to give the Van den Berg gang any money to get her back. She’d probably pay them to get rid of Sadie or change her name.
She clenched her jaw and cursed herself silently. She didn’t have room to flub her escape plans a second time. Once the gang found out she was broke and her aunt hated her, she’d be in real danger. She was going to need to get away before that.
Chapter 7
“That is exactly what we needed,” Clara said as Clay lowered the deer to the ground on the outskirts of camp. “I found some carrots and onions yesterday. We’ll have an excellent stew tonight. Did you get enough to eat earlier?”
Sadie hovered behind them, absently running a hand up and down her arm. It took a moment before she realized the woman was speaking to her.
“I’m fine, thank you.”
“There’s some more bread from breakfast in my tent if you want it. I wouldn’t mind taking a break before getting to work on this stag. Let’s go.”
Sadie glanced at Clay. She wasn’t sure how free she was to go about as she pleased in camp. She was a prisoner, after all, but it didn’t seem as if she was under lock and key. Clay’d left her and a horse alone in the woods while he hunted, for goodness’ sake.
A lot of good that did, though. She’d royally stomped all over that escape plan.