Amelia and the Outlaw

by Lorraine Heath

  He’d no doubt been afraid that her father would send him back to prison if she kept her promise. Standing here now, she could only hope that he didn’t.

  “I want you to stay away from him,” her father said.

  “Did you notice how different he looked today?” she asked. “With his hair cut shorter and his new clothes?”

  Her father nodded. “I noticed. I hardly recognized him when I first saw him.”

  “Imagine how much he might change if we stopped treating him like an outlaw.”

  “A tiger can’t change its stripes,” David said.

  Amelia wanted to shriek. “David, I’m talking to Papa.”

  “I’m just offering my thoughts on the matter.”

  “Papa—”

  He held up his hand. “Jesse has only been here two days. Let’s take it slow. See how it goes. You were right about him needing some new clothes. You’ve done your good deed. Now obey my rules.”

  Sometimes it was simpler to just give in. “Fine. I’m going to see if supper is ready.”

  She pivoted on her heel and strode from the room, working hard to hold her anger in check. She marched down the hallway and shoved open the door to the kitchen.

  “When will supper be ready?” she demanded.

  Colleen turned from the oven and planted her hands on her narrow hips. “When it’s good and cooked, lass. Who put a bee in your bonnet?”

  Amelia slumped into a nearby chair and crossed her arms. “Papa treats me as though I’m a child.”

  “Because you’re his child,” Colleen said, relaxing her challenging stance.

  “But it’s not fair!”

  “Little in life is. Your da is a good man, doing the best he can with what he’s got.”

  “But Colleen, you’re only four years older than me. You left your family and crossed an ocean for a new life. I get a tongue-lashing for crossing the corral.”

  Although that wasn’t exactly true. She’d gotten into trouble for approaching Jesse—and more, for giving him a kiss.

  “I think there’s more to it than that,” Colleen said as she moved to the stove. “Why would you be crossing the corral?”

  Colleen pinned Amelia to the spot with her stare.

  “I had to give Jesse…something.”

  Colleen began stirring the thick soup in the pot. Robert was partial to soup.

  “So it’s that outlaw who’d be causing the trouble then?” Colleen asked.

  “Not exactly.” Amelia sat up a little straighter. “I don’t know why everyone acts as though he’s so dangerous. All he did was rob a bank.”

  Colleen laughed. “Well, now, aren’t you sounding like you’ve lost your good sense? You wouldn’t think it was such a little thing if it was your hard-earned money he took.”

  “I know it’s not a little thing.” Her frustration with the situation growing, Amelia got up and crossed the kitchen so she was standing beside Colleen. “He just looks as if he doesn’t expect much from the world. Looking at him, I could tell he didn’t think I’d keep my promise and kiss him, and knowing he felt that way made me want to. And so I did.”

  Colleen’s blue eyes widened. “You kissed him, lass? No wonder your da is upset.”

  “It was just a peck on the cheek.”

  Colleen waved her hand in the air. “Well, then, it doesn’t hardly count, does it?”

  “Doesn’t count at all,” Amelia assured her. Although even as she said it, a part of her knew she was lying.

  For some reason she was left with the distinct impression that it did count. It counted a great deal.

  Five hours later, stretched out on his bed, his hands behind his head, his gaze on the ceiling, Jesse could still feel the brush of Amelia’s lips across his cheek. Her touch had been soft, like a butterfly landing lightly upon a petal.

  He’d breathed in her sweet honeysuckle scent, carried it deeply into his lungs, as though holding on to it could erase all else. A crazy notion.

  He’d been holding his breath because he’d expected at any moment for Judge Harper to order that he be returned to prison. He’d told her not to do it for so many reasons that he could barely sort them out in his mind.

  He was afraid she’d get in trouble, worried that he’d be sent back to prison, terrified that one touch wouldn’t be enough. He’d gone so long without kindness that he’d decided the only way he could survive was to avoid it completely.

  As long as he didn’t actually experience what he’d been missing, he could pretend that his chest didn’t ache with the wanting of it.

  In the darkness he heard a bed creak, followed by footsteps so quiet that he had to strain his ears to hear them. They were coming closer. He tensed, prepared to fight if need be.

  The bed below him moaned as though someone had stepped on it, and then suddenly he was face-to-face with a darkened silhouette as someone hovered over him.

  “Stay away from Amelia,” the shadow whispered harshly. “She belongs to me.”

  He recognized the voice. Mitch Monroe.

  “Does she know that?” Jesse asked calmly. After spending five years with men who’d just as soon kill him as look at him, he wasn’t threatened by the cowhand—even if he was a little bigger than Jesse.

  “All that matters is that you know that.”

  The shadow retreated, and Jesse slowly uncoiled his body. His heart was pounding so hard he could actually hear it.

  He wasn’t looking for trouble, but it had obviously found him. It always did.

  Most of the cowhands ate their breakfast inside the cookhouse, sitting at one of several long, planked tables.

  But Jesse took advantage of having the freedom to eat anywhere he wanted. He took his tin plate with its eggs, biscuits, and gravy outside. He sat beneath the windmill, with his back against the barrel at its base, listening to the steady clacking as the wind did its job. The barrel held the water that was pumped into the nearby buildings.

  He had to admit that the ranch cooking was considerably better than prison fare. As a matter of fact, everything about the ranch was better than prison. He washed up with warm water instead of cold. He had soap so he could lather his face when he shaved. If he couldn’t sleep, he could walk outside.

  Which he’d done again last night after Mitch had spoken to him. He tried not to think about Amelia giving her attention to Mitch. He tried not to think about Amelia at all.

  He glanced up as Frank Garrison walked toward him. The young cowhand’s legs curved out so it appeared as though he still sat on his horse. With his plate in his hand, Frank crouched before Jesse, balancing himself on the balls of his feet.

  “I bet Mitch two bits that you wouldn’t tell Tanner we left you alone at the fence yesterday,” he said.

  Jesse simply met his gaze. Frank and Mitch had been given the task of helping him with the fence. Instead they’d decided to go swimming in a nearby river.

  “So now I’m two bits richer.” Frank grinned. “So how come you didn’t report us to Tanner?”

  “He didn’t ask.”

  Frank started shoveling his eggs into his mouth. His earnest face looked as though he’d never known a day of hardship.

  “Well, I figure one good turn deserves another. I overheard your visitor last night.” He didn’t stop eating even though he was talking. “Reckon you ought to know how things stand around here. Judge Harper has forbidden anyone to court Amelia until she turns seventeen, and Mitch has kinda let it be known that he intends to court her proper as soon as she’s old enough.”

  “So why tell me?”

  Frank stopped chewing and blinked. “Well, so you don’t get on his bad side. I mean, don’t get me wrong, Mitch is my friend and all, but he’s got a bit of a temper.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  “That’s good, ’cuz we all know if you do one thing wrong, the judge is sending you back to prison,” he said around the biscuit in his mouth.

  “Why do you care?”

  Frank looked
surprised. “I don’t. Well, not really…I mean…” He swallowed before meeting Jesse’s gaze. “Heck fire! We’ve been trying to break that mare for more than six weeks. How did you do it?”

  Jesse shrugged. “I wasn’t trying to break her; I was just trying to gentle her.”

  No need to reveal that he’d whispered to the horse that she’d be mighty fortunate to have Amelia riding her. Or that the horse recognized his scent and trusted him. That the horse hadn’t been terrified of him, just wary.

  Frank nodded. “Well, you gentled her, all right. I already took her out for a ride this morning. She’s a fine animal when she’s not bucking. Anyway, since I respect what you did yesterday—both with the horse and not telling on us—I just wanted to explain why Mitch paid you a midnight visit. So there’s no misunderstanding in the future.”

  “Frank!”

  Frank jerked back and landed on his backside. Jesse lifted his gaze to see Mitch storming toward them.

  “What are you doing talking to the criminal?” Mitch demanded.

  Frank picked up his plate and stood. “Nothing.”

  Mitch glared at Jesse. “You’re asking for trouble.”

  Frank released an uncomfortable laugh. “No, he’s not. Come on, we need to report to Tanner.”

  Mitch pointed his finger at Jesse. “I’m not afraid of you.”

  “You should be,” Jesse said evenly, adding a gravelly pitch to his voice. It was his prison voice. The way he’d talked in prison—with no emotion. It was the only way to survive. To make it sound as though he cared about nothing. A man who cared about nothing had nothing to lose, and that attitude made him all the more dangerous.

  “Come on,” Frank said, tugging on Mitch’s arm. “We need to get to work.”

  “You keep asking for trouble and you’re gonna find it,” Mitch warned before he turned to go.

  Jesse could have argued that he hadn’t asked for it. Frank had approached him. He would have been content to eat his meal alone.

  Instead he kept his mouth closed and simply watched them walk away.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Amelia brought Duchess to a halt near the corral. David had insisted on riding with her in case the horse decided to rebel.

  But she’d been remarkably docile. Oh, a time or two, she’d tried to break free, but a gentle tug on the reins had brought her back under control. With each passing moment, Amelia’s love for the horse grew.

  “Guess you’re gonna brush her down now,” David said.

  She smiled at him. “Yep. Thanks for riding with me.”

  “My pleasure.”

  “You’re only saying that because it gave you an excuse not to check on the herd first thing this morning.”

  He looked wounded. “Ah, Amelia. How could you think such a thing?”

  “Because I know you,” she said with a laugh.

  “Reckon you do at that. I’d better get to work.” He turned his horse about. “Hey, listen, will you ask Colleen to bake me a blackberry cobbler for dessert?”

  “Sure.” Since blackberry cobbler was also a favorite of Robert’s, she figured Colleen would comply with the request.

  David tipped his hat at her before urging his horse into a full gallop. When her brothers weren’t being unreasonably protective, she enjoyed their company.

  She dismounted, grabbed the reins, and led Duchess into the barn. Dust motes danced through the sunlight filtering through the wide-open doors and the open windows in the loft. She was both surprised and pleased to see Jesse mucking out one of the stalls. It was a task that no one welcomed, but that someone had to do. Tanner rotated the chore among the men.

  She came to a halt outside the stall where Jesse was working. He had to have been aware of her presence, but he ignored her. She wondered if he’d thought about the kiss she’d given him yesterday evening. She’d drifted off to sleep thinking about it.

  “Morning,” she said softly.

  He stilled, and she saw his fingers tighten around the broom handle. He slowly looked over his shoulder. “Morning.”

  With a hesitant smile, she pointed at the horse behind her. “I took Duchess for a ride this morning.”

  He straightened and faced her. “How’d she do?”

  She broadened her smile. “She did wonderfully.”

  “Glad to hear it.”

  She took a step closer. “I was impressed with the way that you gentled her. You made it look so easy.”

  “Nothing easy about it. Just a matter of not making her more frightened than she already was.”

  “Have you ever captured a wild horse?” she asked.

  “Sure. A fella doesn’t have much choice if he needs one and can’t afford to buy one.”

  “Are you as skilled at capturing a horse as you are at breaking one?”

  He furrowed his brow. “I had a fair amount of luck at it from time to time, years back.”

  Her excitement mounted as she considered her options. She wrapped her hands around the post to keep herself tethered. “A few weeks ago I spotted a wild mustang on the far side of the ranch. He’s the complete opposite of Duchess, white as snow. I call him Midnight Star. I want to capture him.”

  “What’s stopping you?”

  “I don’t have the skill, and I’m not sure anyone else does either. At least you’re gentle with the animals. I don’t want any harm coming to him.”

  The crease in his brow deepened until it looked almost painful. “What are you hinting at?”

  “I want you to come with me and help me capture him.”

  To her immense disappointment, he shook his head. “It’s one thing to tame a horse that’s already lost its freedom. I’ve got no interest in being the one to take away its freedom. Besides, I don’t think this idea of yours would sit too well with either your father or Mitch.”

  She blinked in surprise. “Mitch? What does any of this have to do with him?”

  “He seems to think you care for him.”

  She scoffed. “Well, of course I care for him. I care about a lot of the men.”

  Jesse suddenly scowled. “I’ve got work to do.” He turned back to his chore.

  “No one would have to know,” she said quietly.

  He chuckled low, a harsh sound that carried no mirth, only derision. “Yeah, that’s what Sometimes-One-Eyed Pete said whenever he came up with a plan for robbing a bank.”

  Since her father was a judge, she knew more about the criminals of the state than did most girls her age. The law fascinated her almost as much as the man standing before her.

  “Sometimes-One-Eyed Pete shot the bank teller during the last robbery, didn’t he? The one where you were captured?” she asked.

  He stiffened and stopped sweeping. “Yeah.”

  “But he managed to get away?”

  “Yeah, he did.” He returned to sweeping.

  “Do you miss him?” she asked.

  He glared at her over his shoulder. “What kind of question is that?”

  She shrugged. “I just thought that maybe you were missing him.”

  “He wasn’t my friend,” he insisted. “He was my partner.”

  She found it interesting that he hadn’t considered the bank robber his friend.

  “What about the others in the gang?” she asked. “Were they your friends?”

  “No. We just rode together.”

  More than ever, she wanted to understand not only the criminal mind, but Jesse. He’d ridden with these men, committed crimes with these men, yet he hadn’t considered any of them to be friends.

  “Where did you live?” she asked.

  He stared at her as though he thought that if he looked at her long enough, hard enough, he could determine exactly what she was asking.

  Or maybe, it occurred to her, he didn’t know the answer to the question. “I mean, where was your home?”

  “Beside my horse.”

  Now it was her turn to stare. “I mean, where was your house located? What town did you live in?”


  “I lived wherever we built a fire for the night. When a posse was on our tail, I didn’t even have that.”

  “But when you were younger, where did you live?”

  Irritation clearly marking his face, he faced her squarely. His hand gripped the broom handle so tightly that his knuckles turned white.

  “Where did I live when I was young? You mean after my mother left me on somebody’s doorstep? Or after I ran away from the farmer who beat me if he didn’t think I worked hard enough? Or are you wanting to know where I lived after the gambler who paid me to polish his boots and fetch his whiskey got killed when someone caught him cheating?

  “Or maybe you’re talking about the widow who locked me in the dark closet because she was afraid I’d run away? So I did run away. And the sheriff would find me and take me back to her until I learned to run so fast and hide so well that no one could find me.”

  Amelia felt the tears stinging her eyes. She wasn’t sure what she’d meant or what she’d been expecting. It had never occurred to her that he’d been without someone to watch over him or without a real home. She’d known he was an outlaw, but she’d never envisioned a life such as he was describing.

  “Maybe you want to know about the small room where the mortician let me sleep? Wasn’t much bigger than a coffin—”

  “No,” she said quickly, shaking her head.

  “Or maybe you’re interested in hearing about the storeroom I slept in when the saloonkeeper wasn’t making me clean up the mess that the drunks made when they got sick?”

  “Stop it! Just stop it!” She spun away from him. “You’re making all this up, trying to upset me.”

  Trying to make her feel sorry for him. She faced him and planted her hands on her hips, shoring up her resolve not to believe any of his lies.

  “You went to prison when you were fourteen. No one lives with that many different people in that many years.”

  “They do if nobody wants them.” He held her gaze for all of a heartbeat before a cold, calculating smile spread across his face. “You’re right. I lied about it all. Now go back to your big house and leave me to finish my work so I can sleep in the bunkhouse tonight.”