by Jillian Hart
The sheriff's footsteps closed in. "And you, they call you Outlaw around here. You look familiar to me. Why is that?"
"Don't know." That was the pure truth. He held Blue by the bridle while Kit mounted up. "I'm new to town."
"Curious. I never forget a face, although the old memory ain't what it used to be." The sheriff scratched his head, shrugged it off, like it was no matter.
Dakota would believe that if he could stop the skittle of foreboding on the back of his neck. He stuck his foot in Jack's stirrup and swung into the saddle.
"I had problems with Tannen the last time I was in town," Kit said from her saddle as she wheeled Blue toward the street. "He scared my horse, dragged me from my saddle and held me to the ground. He would have robbed me, maybe worse, until Outlaw here stopped him."
"Are you saying you want to press charges?" Surprised, the lawman tipped his hat to study Kit more closely, and the gesture sparked something.
Dakota saw in memory a flash from cannon fire backlighting the meadow and illuminating a lieutenant colonel with the same hook nose, same profile, same stance.
No, it couldn't be. Dakota sucked in air, reeling, and gripped the pommel to steady himself.
"There aren't many who'd go up against the Sinclairs," the sheriff cautioned. "This isn't St. Louis. You think it over, and if you still want to press charges, come to my office."
"Thanks, Sheriff." Kit tipped her hat in a manly fashion and reined Blue down the street.
Jack hurried to catch up with them. Good thing, too, because Dakota couldn't seem to make his hands function.
"Vince is a lawyer," Kit was saying, her voice distant and tinny.
He swallowed, struggling to listen through the thudding in his ears.
"I'm going to have him take a look at the contract, likely after tomorrow's trip to the lumber yard. And thanks for helping with Tannen, standing between him and me like you did." Kit leaned forward to stroke Blue's neck soothingly. "This time around, he might not have been fooled by my disguise, since he'd seen the real me up close. Not that I was thinking of that. Only getting between him and Blue."
"Anyone who's seen the real you won't forget, believe me." He lifted his face, let the wind wash over him, wishing the bad feeling in his stomach would go away.
What were the chances? Montana Territory was a big place. Why did he run into someone from his past here?
"Hey, another compliment." She relaxed into her saddle as they cantered through town. Piano music and noise spilled into the street, fading as they headed out into the black prairie. "I like it. It's good to be the boss." The stars illuminated her in silver, and she could have been a pure beam of light, precious beyond imagining.
No woman had ever affected him like this. Normally he was forged steel. Immoveable. Unyielding. But she melted him like butter, leaving him wanting more than just simple sexual desire. What he felt for her went far deeper than that.
Now that they were on the open road, she took off her hat and unpinned her coiled hair. A long braid tumbled down her back. "That's more like it. My head gets hot with all that hair up there."
That's how she charmed him, he thought. How she'd roped him more surely than any lasso could. Her dimpled grin, a tilt of her head, that alluring cheerfulness in her voice.
"Why did the sheriff think you looked familiar?" She hooked her hat over her saddle horn. "Do you know him from somewhere?"
"I'm not saying." There it was, the past nosing its way in. He'd learned long ago you couldn't hide from your past, you could never escape who you were. No matter how far you traveled or how fast you ran. Why had he hoped this time he could? "My history is not up for discussion."
"Is it too painful?" The note in her voice had changed from cheer to curiosity to compassion.
Compassion. He locked his jaw, fighting against the truth he could not escape. One day she'd likely look at him and regret the compassion she'd shown him. That was a day he hoped never came. But the longer he stayed, the greater the chance it would.
"I like being a mystery," he said, trying to be light, although he knew the gruff tone gave him away.
She reached across the few feet separating them, her saddle creaking, and laid her gloved hand on his. A river of sensation rose within him with the speed of a flash flood, threatening to drown him completely. He desired her with a power and a tenderness he'd never felt before.
In the star shine, her beauty shone iridescent, as if ethereal, something out of his reach. But the warmth of her touch penetrated the leather, making it seem as if they were skin to skin.
He wanted to draw her into his arms and kiss her until she clung to him, begging for more. He wanted to hold her forever.
"Fine, no more discussing the past," she said. "We'll leave the past behind us. The here and now is all that matters. It's all we ever really have."
Her fingers tightened around his own. "Agreed?"
"Agreed," he choked out.
"Oh, look." The starlight seemed to follow her as she withdrew her hand, standing up in her stirrups. "The mustangs."
He stood too, straining to see across the ghostly prairie where distant horses thundered. Bathed in silver and platinum, they chased the night. "It's the same herd."
"There's the black stallion." The night breeze rippled through the loose tendrils escaped from her braid. "They are stunning."
"Yes, they are." He'd only seen one thing more exquisite.
Her.
"Do you think I'm wrong for wanting to capture them?" she asked.
"No. They are fighting to survive. One day soon these prairies will all be settled and farmed." He sidled Jack up next to her, took a thoughtful moment, and spoke again. "I've been without a home for a long time. If I had a chance at one, I'd do what it took and hold on with both hands."
"Good, 'cause that's what I'm doing." She eased back into her saddle, watching the mustangs move like poetry across the far reaches of her land. "I'll be kind to them. I won't let any mountain lions hurt them."
"I know you will." His arm came around her, rock-hard and hot. "If their lives have to change, then they'll be lucky to have you."
"You sound like you mean that."
"I do."
Being this near to him made her yearn to be closer. She turned to him, instinct guiding her and the whisper of an unrealized dream. She laid her palm flat in the center of his chest and let her gaze sink into his and simply be. To feel the man within.
It was his wounds she saw first. The scars he tried to hide and the old loneliness burrowed into his soul. Something had hurt him, but it wasn't what drove him, it wasn't what made up his heart. He could no longer hide from her, because she could feel him right here, lodged in her heart. When he leaned closer and gently tugged off her mustache, her breath caught. When his pulse skipped a beat, hers did, too.
The world silenced around them, fading away as if they were the only living things on earth. His pupils dilated, and his lips hovered above hers for a whole minute as if waiting for her to stop him.
How could she? She waited, held enchanted until his mouth slanted and covered hers, like magic, soft as a feather's brush.
She surrendered on a sigh, overwhelmed by the heated satin of his kiss. She fisted his shirt in her hands, forgetting everything except for the heat and caress of his kiss. He kissed her as if she were the last woman on earth, as if he could not bear for it to end.
When he pulled away, longing glazed his eyes and he folded her against his chest as if she were precious above all things. His heartbeat thudded wildly beneath her ear and she closed her eyes, realizing she was trembling. She did not want to let go.
As if he understood, he held her. Her entire life, she'd never experienced anything like this. The closeness, the passion, the safety of his protective arms. It was too late to deny her feelings for the man, even to herself.
Chapter Twelve
"Okay, boys!" Deter, his boss, the man he trusted, the man he looked up to, gave the order. "Stri
ng him up."
"No. Please." He focused on those hatred-filled eyes, remembering the man who'd given a kid a chance, who'd hired Dakota without a single reference. He'd worked his way from stall mucker to top wrangler, and he'd done it with integrity and hard work. "I didn't do this. You know me, Deter, you—"
"No, I don't." Brutal, those words. More cutting than any knife. The older man spat his fury and kicked dirt in Dakota's face. "Hang, you bastard."
The noose snapped tight around his neck, cutting off air. The rope hauled him up by the neck along the ground. First his head lifted up, then his shoulders, his body. His boot heels skidded in the dirt, dragging. The rope serrated his skin, pressing against his windpipe, his lungs already bursting with the need to breathe. His neck bones screamed against the strain.
"What are you boys doin'?" Steeled horse shoes drummed, echoing against the side of the barn. "You'll kill him."
"That's the idea." Deter's words faded into nothing as the entire world drained of light and color, became shadows and darkness. Agony rocked his body as his feet left the ground and he was swinging. Swinging.
"What are you doin', sheriff?" Deter's fury sounded distant, as if from a different world.
Dakota felt a yank on the rope and he hit the ground with bone-bruising force. Flat on his back, he gasped for breath. Desperate, he yanked the noose looser. Couldn't seem to draw in anything more than a trickle of air.
"He's gonna die for what he done to my girl." Deter's grief blended with blind rage, his voice joining with others. Men shouting with fists raised, and a gun fired toward the sky.
"We do this right." The lawman's rough grip hauled Dakota onto his feet. "The judge hasn't left with his regiment yet. I'll haul him to town, lock him up and the boy'll get his hanging come morning."
"That ain't right." Deter raged. "He doesn't deserve to live another minute. I want him to suffer before he dies."
"He will. Believe me." The sheriff dragged him up and gave him a shove. Dakota stumbled forward, hit the ground, felt the lawman's boot in his side. "I'll make sure he pays."
"Monster," a woman's voice, half insane with grief, shrieked from the front yard.
Monster. Dakota bolted awake with the heart of the nineteen-year-old boy he'd been beating in his chest. Only a memory remained of that young man. Soft, trusting, naive. He'd spent days in a dank block cell certain folks would calm down and realize they had the wrong man. He could never commit such a heinous act, he who could not raise his voice much less a hand to a horse. How could they think he had committed such an atrocity?
Yet the label had stuck. Monster, they'd whispered in the tiny county courtroom. Monster, they'd chanted when he'd been led in shackles from the jail. Monster, they'd screamed, throwing rocks and spitting at him. He'd been sentenced to prison instead of death, the judge had been merciful, while somewhere in that crowd lurked the man who really was a beast.
Some things scarred you, made a wound that never fully healed. Dakota rolled onto his side, punched the feather pillow Kit had lent him his first night here, and closed his eyes.
Instead of sleep, all he saw was the image of a sleepy Tennessee town where he'd settled after the war, and the disgust lining the faces of the family who'd given him a job in their dairy. When rumors of his past reached their ears, they felt betrayed. They'd shared meals with him with their youngest daughter, only thirteen, in the home. Monster, they'd raged at him. They'd fired him and he'd been chased from town, the sheriff in the lead.
The sheriff. Dakota opened his eyes. No use trying to sleep. He grabbed his belt and holster, strapped it on and slipped outside. Cool night air met him. He stared up at the stars, grateful for the wide open space, his freedom and the peace surrounding him. Somewhere an owl hooted. The wind sang through the grass. No sign of predators or trespassing humans near, but he ought to check. He rubbed his eyes, crossed the creek, scanned the landscape.
Quiet everywhere, the house was asleep. The canvas walls and roof puffed gently in and out with the night breeze—Mindy and Fred had nailed up the canvas after supper. He thought of Kit sleeping, her dark gold eyelashes curled against her cheek, tucked on her side, dreaming dreams of wild mustangs.
He'd kissed her. Big mistake. There was no other way to look at it. She hadn't looked at him since she'd left his arms.
And he couldn't blame her. He made his way along the shadows of the cottonwood grove, remembering how she'd broken the embrace. They'd ridden in silence the rest of the way home, stopping only to watch a small band of ragtag mustangs as they bounded across the road.
He rubbed the back of his neck. The nightmares were coming back, a sign he couldn’t ignore. If he wanted to escape his past one day, then he couldn’t stay here and risk Beauregard recognizing him.
After all this time being on his own, he didn't know if he could let anyone in. He'd been shutting everyone out for so long.
He made a circuit through the neighboring meadow, stopping to watch the rise with the tracks, but he found no one watching. He wasn't surprised. It was probably Tannen, and he'd likely already figured out what he needed to know. Dakota sat on the crest, taking in the view of the tent on one side of the yard and the new holding corral on the other. Pretty easy to guess what she was planning for the land.
Too bad he didn't have the two hundred she needed to pay off Tannen and be done with it. As long as there was a threat, Dakota had to stay. Considering he'd kissed her, he couldn't imagine staying would be easy.
Darkness bled from the sky. Birds were waking, a deer and her twins froze and watched him fearfully until he turned away. An owl winged by on her last flight of the night with a field mouse gripped in her talons. When he looked up, Kit stood down below staring at him, hands on hips, her blond hair cascading over her shoulders, watching him with the same wary look the mama deer had given him.
He stared down at the ground between his feet and tried to brace himself. Sounded like she was headed his way.
"You're up early." Her light yellow calico skirt swirled into view. "Couldn't sleep?"
"No." If he met her gaze, then likely he would see something he couldn't bear to. "Have a lot on my mind."
"Me, too." She eased onto the grass beside him and pulled a hair ribbon from her pocket. "I've been having nightmares since the fire. I keep reliving it. The smoke, the fear. I'm afraid of losing everything again."
"Understandable." He wanted to put his arm around her, but didn't. He wanted to comfort her, but he'd done enough with that kiss.
"I have nightmares about Tannen, too." She blew out a sigh and tied back her hair in a single ponytail. "After last night, I have another reason why I'm not getting sleep."
"The mortgage payment?"
"No. You."
"Me?" He knew this was coming. He broke off a stem of grass and stripped the seeds from it, let them go in the wind. "How mad are you?"
"That's a difficult question to answer." She snapped off a blade of grass too, swirled it in her hands. "I've never been kissed before."
"It's not fair that I was your first." He swallowed hard, head bowed, cords standing out in his neck.
"Why did you do it?"
"Carried away by the moment." He shrugged, fell silent for a beat and brushed a daisy's petals with a knuckle. "Maybe I was carried away by feeling, too."
"Was it from seeing the horses?" she asked, afraid of his answer. The only men who'd ever been interested in her were poker buddies of her father's. Some much older, some close to her age, but none of them could ever interest her. She'd seen too much of her mother's life struggling to hold the family together, and doing the same herself for the last nine years. A man you couldn't count on, a man who lost grocery money on what he was certain was a sure bet, no, that wasn't the life she wanted. She'd seen so much of it, she'd forgotten that decent men existed. Strong men, responsible men.
But why would Dakota be interested in a girl like her? She picked off a few more grass seeds from the stem, aware of her hands callu
sed from wielding a hammer and saw.
"It wasn't from seeing the horses," he said quietly, barely audible.
The backs of her eyes stung. "Then I guess I'm not mad."
"I apologize for being carried away." He sounded choked, maybe embarrassed. "Your first kiss ought to be with someone important to you. Someone you're sweet on."
"That's the problem." She dropped the bare grass stem and watched it fall to the ground. Heart pounding, she didn't know if she had the courage to open up.
"I'm sorry, Kit." He sounded tortured. "I shouldn't have done it, especially since I feel for you, and I—"
"I am sweet on you," she interrupted. There. The truth was out.
"You are?" Shock made his voice gruff and his eyes as dark as night.
"Believe me, I'm as appalled as you are." She tried to shrug it away, making light of it was easier, and she hoped he could hear what she didn't say.
"That's what I am, appalled." His tone warmed, as tender as his kiss had been. "There are things you don't know about me, things I can't talk about."
"You're not alone. There are a lot of men like that around here." Maybe most men were running from something or another, trying to forget, trying to hide, trying to start fresh. "But you're a good man, Dakota, and I'm a hard judge."
"I know, but you don't have all the facts." He stared at the horizon. "That's why it can't happen again."
"Right, well, that's smart." Disappointing, but smart. "We have a working relationship."
"We have more than that." He turned to her, midnight eyes unguarded, all shields down. "I trust you, Kit. Really trust you. That's something I haven't done in a very long time."
"I know how that feels, because I trust you, too. I never thought I'd actually ever say that to a man."
"I saw that quiver of fear. You can put your trust in me. It's okay." He plucked the daisy bobbing in the grass in front of him and handed it to her. "I won't hurt you. Ever."
"I believe that." She took the flower from him, her faith in him shining in her gaze, unwavering. It meant so much, he had to look away.