Kidnapped By An Outlaw (Emerald Falls Book 1)

by Ivy McAdams

  “Not yet.”

  “Better get you some.” He stepped over the hay bale and into the fire circle, then offered her a hand. “It really might disappear before the night’s out.”

  “Thank you.” She put her hand in his and let him help her over the hay. On the other side, he eased her down to sit on the hay. She did.

  “He’s right,” Clara said, handing a bowl off to Clay. “Food goes fast around here.”

  He gave the stew to Sadie, who nodded her thanks. When he had another, he sat next to her. At first, it was hard to concentrate on her dinner with his hip brushing against hers, but he was quite preoccupied with eating, and it smelled so good. She dug in.

  Mason and Bridget struck up a conversation with Clara. She sat next to them while the rest of the gang finished off their food.

  After a moment of quiet eating, a heavyset fellow nearby placed his bowl aside and drew out a handgun. Sadie’s muscles clenched, and she sat a little taller, ready to run if need be. Clay shifted next to her and rested a hand on her knee. Despite the adrenaline coursing through her veins, her body relaxed.

  “I ain’t been able to clear this thing out since I dropped it in that mud hole,” the gun wielder said. “What am I gone do with it?”

  Clay nodded his chin in his direction. “I can take a look at that in the morning, Otis. I’ve cleaned mud out of one of mine before.”

  “My thanks,” the man said, stretching across the circle to hand his revolver over.

  Clay reached across Sadie to take the gun. His arm brushed her shoulder, but it wasn’t as weird and unwelcome as she expected. She watched silently as he checked that the revolving cylinder was empty and slid the gun into the pocket on his opposite hip.

  Otis laughed aloud. “That girl look like she’s never seen a gun before. Don’t worry, sweetie. It ain’t loaded.”

  Sadie narrowed her eyes a fraction, a sassy perk in the corner of her mouth. “A gun is only dangerous in the wrong hands.”

  “That’s right. So don’t be touching―”

  “She shot that deer in your dinner,” Clay offered simply, nodding his head at Otis’s empty bowl.

  The men exchanged a look, then Otis returned his utensils to the center of the circle and moved off into the encroaching darkness beyond the fire.

  A deep chuckle rumbled in Clay’s chest, and he bumped her lightly in the shoulder.

  Sadie looked up at him with a soft sigh. “Thank you. I know I’m just a―what was it you called me? A city girl?―but I can hold my own.”

  “I believe you can, but that’s good. Can’t say I expected you to be shooting guns. Or to be dressed in trousers when I came back.” His eyes roamed down her legs, and Sadie’s cheeks burned. “Survivors learn to make do with their situations, and I believe that’s what you are. A survivor.”

  Her chest swelled, and she smiled. She’d never been called a survivor before, but she liked the sound of it. If she’d survived that long in a band of murdering thieves, she could survive anything it seemed like.

  Except the longer she stayed, the more she realized the Van den Berg gang wasn’t just made up of killers and train robbers. They were people, some of them more civilized than some townspeople she knew.

  Clay set his bowl aside and leaned back, resting his hands on the back of their hay bale. As he did so, his shoulder brushed hers again, but this time it didn’t move away. It pressed into her, solid and warm. Despite any stray feelings of fear or animosity circling inside her, she liked the way it felt. She leaned into his shoulder as well, staring into the fire in front of them.

  Many of the others dropped their bowls off and wandered away. Ginny and Jack started up a duet, guitar and vocals, of a song Sadie had known since she was a child. She hummed along. They made it through two songs before Jack started fumbling through his chords and laughing. He wasn’t quite as drunk as the night before, but he was well on his way. Sadie grinned as the two musicians cackled at one another in their attempt to play.

  Then her eyes crossed the fire and found Clara staring at her. The woman’s head gave a curious tilt as she looked between Sadie and Clay. Sadie peeked up at Clay, who also wore a grin as he stared at Jack making a fool of himself. Then she lowered her eyes to his shoulder. Big, safe, and not who she should be leaning on.

  She reached her arms out in front of her in an exaggerated stretch, rolling her shoulders, and, as casually as she could manage, leaning off of Clay.

  Her arm was cold, and she couldn’t deny the disappointment settling in her stomach. Her wedding date was in a few months. She was growing less and less sure how Robert would receive her when she returned, but getting cozy around the fire with Clay certainly wouldn’t improve her situation.

  Sadie cut her eyes across the fire again, fighting the frustration building in her muscles, but Clara was laughing with Ginny. With an irritated breath, Sadie stood and excused herself. Suddenly being alone on her pallet on the hard ground seemed better than around the warm fire with friendly company.

  Chapter 10

  Sadie felt better that morning than she had the last. Her father’s death was heavy on her soul still, but she was much more at peace knowing he’d been given a burial rather than left on the plains for the bears. Then her thoughts had wandered to Clay.

  He’d ridden back to take care of Papa, even after Tom’s dirty refusal. Clara had made Clay sound like such a pawn. That he only followed orders.

  But he’d broken them. To help her.

  A small smile crossed Sadie’s face as she plucked a small orange fruit from a basket next to the fire pit. The early morning sun was still dim, and the camp was empty. The coyote yips had died down not long before, and the songbirds were just starting to rouse themselves.

  Sadie wanted to talk to Clara about what had happened the night before. Something about the look the blonde had given her made her feel like a scolded child, caught with her fingers in the sweet stash. She’d just been eating with Clay. It was the least she could do after what he’d done for her. She may have bumped his shoulder a few times, but it had been nothing as well.

  Hadn’t it?

  Sadie poked at the orange peel lightly as she recalled the evening. It wasn’t as if she’d never brushed shoulders with a man before. It happened in crowded spaces. But it wasn’t normally so warm and inviting as Clay’s. She may have leaned into it a little too much, for a little too long. He hadn’t objected.

  Her lips twitched in the smallest of smiles.

  Approaching footsteps drew her attention, and she straightened.

  “You’re up early.” Clay’s deep drawl reached her even before she saw the top of his hat over the nearest tent.

  When he came around the edge of it, the sun lit up the sly grin on his face. Sadie’s insides did a somersault.

  “I suppose I had a better night’s sleep,” she murmured, eyes transfixed on his mouth.

  The upper half of his face was hidden in the shadow of his hat, but as he got closer, she found his handsome eyes fixed on her.

  “I’m glad to hear it. I hope it’s not too cold in there for you.”

  “Your fire helps.” She swallowed a lump in her throat. “The one you’ve kept going outside my tent, I mean.”

  He stopped outside the circle of seats around the fire pit, regarding her with a curious tilt of his hat. “How do you know it’s been me keeping that fire up? I’m a busy man.”

  She bit into the inside of her lip, swayed by the soft growl in his voice. She’d seen him tend to the fire a few times, once in the middle of the night. Instead of calling him out, she just lifted a shoulder. “Just an assumption, I suppose.”

  His lips pursed slightly as the last fraction of his mouth quirked up. They stared at one another in silence, and his eyes moved down her form and back up slowly. Heat blossomed in her cheeks as she recalled her outfit. She probably looked like a ragged boy dressed in trousers and an oversized shirt. She had tucked the shirt in and pinned it to a better size, but it was far
from anything she wanted to be seen in. It wasn’t as if she were in the woods working with Papa.

  Then his eyes were on hers again, both clouded and sharp in a manner she couldn’t describe. She was on the verge of asking if anything was the matter when he spoke.

  “I was just going to take Georgene down to the river for an early drink. It’s pretty down there in the morning. Would you like to accompany me?”

  It hadn’t been at all what she expected. She stared at him, trying to keep her eyes from widening too much.

  He wanted her to go off alone with him.

  They’d done the same the day before on their hunt, but it’d been different. She’d been his prisoner, and she’d been thankful she wasn’t left alone at camp with all the strange men. This proposal felt different. She had a choice.

  He dropped a hand from his belt and held it out in her direction. Her heart felt strangled in indecision as she stared at it. She knew better than to go off with men on her own. It wasn’t becoming of a lady. It was doubly damning while she was engaged. But with every hour she lived among the Van den Bergs, the more she doubted Robert would accept her back. He would cut her off and cast her out.

  It was such a horrible fate that she’d been constantly stuffing it down deep inside. It was better not to focus on it.

  So she didn’t. She did what she knew she would do from the moment Clay moved his hand toward her.

  She took it.

  He led her through the camp and underneath the first overhanging tree branches of the forest at the edge of the clearing. Two brown horses looked up as they eased their way into the animals' space. A small herd of horses was crowded around a single wooden trough there in the shadow of the trees. Most of them were dozing with their heads lowered. A few watched as the people approached.

  Georgene stood near the center of the group. She swished her tail, a unique blend of black and white strands, when Clay rested his free hand on her rump and gave her a pat.

  “Good morning, girl,” he said.

  The horse blew out a whuffling breath.

  Clay backed Georgene out of the herd and nodded his head to the gray mare Sadie’d ridden before.

  “Did you like that Clover horse?”

  “She was a smooth ride.”

  “Good. We’ll take her again.”

  The horses were saddled and ready to move. Clay led Sadie to Clover’s side and helped her up. Then he hopped into Georgene’s saddle, and they set off down a path through the woods.

  The cool morning air was warming, and a few short bursts of bird songs drifted down from the trees. Leaves rustled, and a rabbit sprang across their path. Clover snorted but continued on without a fuss.

  The silence was calming. Even though Sadie was curious what had prompted Clay to ask her to join him, she was enjoying the peace and quiet out of camp with him.

  It was a wonder to watch him riding along, moving as one with Georgene. He barely moved a hand or a foot, and she followed along. He held a soft rein and didn’t pull on her bit. He also scratched fingers along her neck and shoulder every so often.

  Watching him made Sadie smile.

  “Georgene must be a special horse,” she said.

  Clay gave the horse another soft pat. “She is that. Raised her up from a baby. Mason picked up her mama from an abandoned farm. He didn’t even realize she had a foal when he got there, but the horse was a good one, so he brought them both back. His girl wanted the baby, but she didn’t know a darn thing about animals. So I got it.”

  Sadie tilted her head as they moved down the gradual slope to the river’s edge. “He had another girl?”

  Clay’s brow creased. “Oh yeah. He was gonna marry that woman, he said. He was really torn up after she passed. For a long while. I thought he was going to leave us. But that Bridget.” Clay’s creases turned into a smile. “She fixed it up right.”

  The soft edges in Clay’s face drew a smile to Sadie’s mouth as well, and she lowered her head to keep from staring.

  “I’m glad he’s doing better,” she said. “He seems like a nice person.”

  “He is.”

  The horses’ hooves crunched into the pebbles and sand along the river bank. Georgene stepped into the first few inches of water and lowered her head to drink. Clay loosened her reins and let her relax. Sadie did the same as Clover followed suit.

  “I’ve never had a horse I trusted as much as this ol’ girl though,” he continued. “She’s been with me for years.”

  Sadie had heard a few cowboys speak of their horses in such a manner, but she’d never seen a pair together.

  “It’s sweet you care for her so much,” she said, then felt silly for saying so. She couldn’t quite comprehend the relationship.

  Despite staring so intently at the water, she could feel Clay’s eyes on her. After a moment she couldn’t help but look up. Those hypnotic eyes were locked on her.

  "I'm thankful she cares for me," he said, his voice low. "Even the best-trained horse can buck you off if he isn't up for doing what he's asked. Having a horse that will risk its neck for you and never blink an eye at braving danger to save your life. Now that's a jewel. I can't tell you how many times Georgene's saved my life."

  Sadie stared at him, moved by his words. She’d never known a horse did so much to keep its rider safe. The good ones at least. Clay was clearly grateful.

  As was she.

  She looked at the smooth buckskin with a renewed sense of awe. The mare’d brought Clay far enough to meet her at least.

  “She does sound truly special.”

  His eye twinkled as he looked up at her. “She is. I’m thankful Mason had a good head on his shoulders when he made the decision who should take Georgene.”

  A lump of nerves formed in Sadie’s throat at the words. Maybe it was Clay’s devotion in his relationship with the horse, or the way the morning reflections on the river danced in his eyes, or the tantalizing tilt at the edge of his lips when he looked at her, but she found herself bubbling over with a rush of feelings. They started deep in her stomach, and words leapt from her mouth before she had a moment to stop them.

  “Good thing he has good judgment. Papa arranged my marriage without even consulting me.”

  As soon as the statement was out, she looked away, horrified that she'd spoken such a thing, but not before she'd seen his eyebrows pop, a silent engagement of intrigue.

  It was only part truth after all. She’d been eager to find a husband. It was the only way that girls like her moved up and out of living in a cabin in the woods. She hadn’t been a part of the process of securing Robert as her selection, but she hadn’t disagreed. She’d heard Papa discussing matters of her dowry with Mr. Murphy, but she’d never inquired into the details. They didn’t matter. She’d be leaving.

  Now that future was a tangled mess. Papa was gone. She knew nothing of her dowry. She had no idea what Robert would say when he found out where she’d been for the last few days, prisoner or not.

  And then there was Clay.

  She took a long breath and dared a glance back in his direction. He was looking away and down at the water, running his fingers lazily up and down Georgene’s neck. The angle accentuated the sharp edge of his jaw, brushed with dark stubble. The edges of his loose sandy hair peeked out from under his hat, playing along his ear, and begging her to tuck it into place. She wrapped her fingers in her reins to silence their neediness.

  When she thought the silence might destroy her, Clay cleared his throat, a soft but rough sound that perked her up.

  “There’s something I want you to see,” he said as he looked back at her. Crystal blue flecks in his eyes grabbed ahold of her like hooks. “You ever do more than a trot on one of these things?”

  It took a moment for her clouded brain to decode what he was saying. “A trot? Well, yes. Some.”

  A wicked grin met her. “Then let’s ride.”

  His hips and legs moved against Georgene, and she picked up her head, pulling to the l
eft as he coaxed her away from the water. They crunched along the river’s edge at a trot. Clover lifted her head with a curious whuffle as the pair moved away.

  At first, Sadie just watched them go, stiff hands tugging back on Clover’s reins as the mare tried to follow. Then the invitation settled in and registered in her thoughts. He wanted to show her something. Intrigue had her sitting higher in the saddle, coaxing Clover forward. She wasn’t sure where they were going, but she was ready to follow him.

  As soon as Sadie gave Clover permission to follow, the horse sprang forward. Sadie clung to her saddle as they broke into a quick trot. Ahead of them, Clay checked over his shoulder, and let Georgene move into a canter. Sand crunched and kicked up beneath her hooves. Then splashing water and crackling rocks as the horses crossed the river at a narrow, shallow section. Both horses hit the far bank and dug their hooves in, climbing the steeper embankment with heaving muscles.

  Sadie yelped as she clung tighter to her reins and saddle horn. She’d never ridden so recklessly. Thankfully Clover followed just behind Georgene.

  As they crested the top of the embankment, Clay peeked over his shoulder at her with a grin. He was having fun. Seeing his face lit up helped her push aside her nerves and let go. Just because she’d never raced around on horseback didn’t mean she couldn’t appreciate it.

  It was thrilling after all, the mountain of muscle beneath her, cool morning wind in her loose hair. She tightened her knees around the horse’s ribs and leaned into their run.

  Beyond the edge of the ridge, a wide field opened up, flanked on either side by the surrounding forests. The horses stretched into longer loping gaits. It was much smoother than a trot, and Sadie laughed aloud as she settled into the rhythm, falling in alongside Clay and Georgene. Beyond the thunder of hooves, she thought she heard him laugh as well.

  Then he bumped his knee into hers, and she jerked her head to look up at him. An amused grin still laced his face, then he pointed ahead.