Shadow's Stand

by Sarah McCarty

  The woman jumped at the sound. Fei, they’d called her. She eyed the shackles and licked her lips before releasing a slight sigh of relief and turning back to the road. Shadow didn’t echo her sigh of relief. It took a whole lot of trouble to send a woman to the hangman’s noose looking for a husband. And he wasn’t feeling charitable.

  “You know leaving isn’t going to be the end of it?”

  She nodded and snapped the reins against the old workhorse’s back. It irked him that she didn’t even look at him.

  “You don’t seem overly concerned.”

  “I have you.”

  He did like the sound of her voice, so soft and melodic. It made him think of a delicate flower swaying in the breeze, likely to be crushed by the most careless of steps. It was an interesting image, considering this was a woman who had climbed up his body as he was strangling for breath to cut the rope and free him. Those were not the actions of a delicate flower. Those were the actions of a fighter. And damn it! The contrast intrigued him.

  “What makes you so sure? As soon as I get the shackles off I could be planning on robbing you blind and then heading out.”

  “You won’t.”

  He cocked an eyebrow at her. He’d done a lot of things in his life as Hell’s Eight. Hell’s Eight weren’t too picky about how they got the job done, but once they’d become Texas Rangers they’d usually stayed on the right side of the law. Keeping the women of Hell’s Eight safe had cost him his badge and put him squarely in outlaw territory, but he hadn’t found the adjustment too strenuous. Hell’s Eight or outlaw, he was still only going to do what he decided needed doing. It just wasn’t dressed up fancy now.

  “You sound awfully sure.”

  She nodded again. “You are too arrogant to be a petty thief.”

  That might have been a shot right along with being a justification. The corner of his mouth twitched in the first glimmer of a smile. It had been a long time since he’d smiled. “Arrogant people don’t steal?”

  “Not those that carry your arrogance.”

  Interesting theory. People generally formed quick opinions of him when they met him, usually something dark. She apparently saw in him some sort of honor. “Well, arrogant or not, those men back there are likely going to head to the saloon to keep drinking. And the more they drink the more they’re going to start thinking about the one that got away.” He gave her a pointed look. “That would be you.”

  This time, she did look at him. A sidelong glance. “And you.”

  “I’m used to it.”

  “And you think I am not?”

  He’d seen more than his fair share of women used to men coming after them when he’d been searching for Ari. Shattered shells of whatever they’d been before. He had no doubt that this woman was not accustomed to being any stranger’s plaything. There was an innocence about her that had yet to be broken. “No.”

  “Oh.”

  That “Oh” was very small. It annoyed him that she kept the fighter in her hidden. “Are you deferring to me as your husband, or do you really not have an opinion?”

  “I do not consider you my husband.”

  That was said with a scathing calm. He cocked an eyebrow at her. “What if I consider you my wife, and tonight my wedding night? What are you going to do, then?”

  There wasn’t a heartbeat between his question and her response. “Evade your advances until such time as I can rectify the situation.”

  Shadow didn’t think she was talking about a trip to an attorney. He shifted on the seat. The rough wood picked at his clothing. The woman picked at his curiosity. She was small, with delicate bones and the slender build common to Asian women. But it was clear that she wasn’t pure Chinese. Her skin was too fair. And her features were more those of a white woman with a touch of exotic in the slant to her eyes and the height of her cheekbones. Her eyes were beautiful, though. Large and dark green with amber flecks that reflected the brilliance of the setting sun. There was nothing about her that would imply a threat, but the hairs on the back of his neck rose.

  “Interesting plan. Too bad you don’t have the muscle to back it.”

  Was that the slightest bit of tension in her hands? She gave the reins another flick. The horse continued to plod on at its slow, even pace.

  “Muscle is not required.”

  “Why not?”

  She clearly didn’t want to tell him. “Because there are other ways than force.”

  He wasn’t in the mood to humor her. “Such as?”

  She blew out a breath and shot him a glare. “I saved your life.”

  “What makes you think that makes a pig’s snort of difference as to how I’m going to treat you?”

  She shook her head. “You have arrogance.”

  “So you said before.”

  “Arrogance needs a sense of honor to keep it happy.”

  “You think I’m honorable?”

  Her fingers tightened on the reins. It was the only indication that his skepticism gave birth to any uncertainty in her.

  “Yes.”

  He rattled the chains on his shackles, just to rattle her nerves. He had the satisfaction of seeing her jump. “So, you’re banking your life and virtue on my arrogance and some illusion of honor?”

  She shook her head and set her jaw. “You talk too much.”

  And she didn’t want to answer his question. “Never been accused of that before.”

  Another sidelong glance out of those pretty eyes. “This I find hard to believe.”

  “You calling me a liar?”

  The pitch of his voice turned her head around. She swallowed, once, twice. At least she had the sense to know when to be cautious. In the fading light, he noticed the dark stain on her dress. In the next second, he saw the tear above it. A slit similar to many he’d put in men’s clothing over the years. All inclination to tease left. Leaning forward, he grabbed the reins and pulled the horse up. As Fei snatched them back, he grabbed her arm, turning her toward him. “How badly are you hurt?”

  She looked down, her dark lashes fanning her cheek, not meeting his gaze. “It is nothing.”

  The hell it wasn’t. “That’s a knife wound.”

  “The blade slipped as I freed you.”

  He remembered the jerk as she’d sawed at the rope around his neck. He reached for the buttons on her dress. She slapped his hands. He persisted.

  “Don’t get your feathers ruffled. I’m just going to check your wound.”

  “This is not necessary.”

  The dress tore as she twisted away. “Stop.”

  “Unless you want to end up naked, I suggest you sit still.”

  She continued slapping at his hands. He continued ignoring her protests, keeping her in place with his grip on her dress. She glared at him as the fifth button came undone and he could see the blood on her camisole.

  “This isn’t fair.”

  Life rarely was. “Next time, I’d suggest making sure your husband’s hands are tied behind his back, not in front.”

  Her mouth worked. He waited for the inevitable retort. It died under a facade of calm. He shook his head. Damn, a man had to admire a woman with that much control, even as he had to wonder how she’d developed it.

  “You keep swallowing bile like that,” he said as he continued to unfasten buttons, “and you’re going to find an early grave.”

  She looked back down the road they’d traveled. “I do not think bile will be what sends me there.”

  His promise to himself to not give a shit about anything that didn’t concern him faded under that worried glance. He told himself it was because the woman had saved his life. “You’re in bigger trouble than you let those yahoos think, aren’t you?”

  She tugged at his hands. “At the moment, yes.”

  There was an edge of panic in that calm statement. He looked into her eyes. As calm as her expression was her eyes flared with the emotions she was trying to hide. He paused. He’d never terrified a woman before. That he wa
s doing it now didn’t sit well with him. He might be going to hell for a lot of things, but he wasn’t his father. He wasn’t going for preying on those weaker.

  “You can relax, Fei. I’m not a man for hurting the weak.”

  She jerked upright. “I am not weak!”

  That’s what got her dander up? “Compared to me you are. And that’s a truth you’d best be accepting before that pride of yours gets you in trouble.”

  Her fingers tightened on his wrist, her short nails dug into his skin. Fear? Anger? “You will let me go after you look?”

  “Providing it’s not bad, yes.”

  “Then look and be done with it.”

  Anger. And pretty close to the surface. The woman had a temper. “Thank you. I thought I would.” As Shadow hooked his finger under the camisole, Fei subsided against the seat, spine straight, chin up, her dignity drawn around her like a shield. Shadow didn’t care. She could trot out as much dignity as she wanted. He was checking that wound. The fabric was stiff around the edges and stuck to the wound with drying blood. She stiffened as he gently pulled.

  He paused, glancing up in time to catch her expression in a moment of vulnerability. “I’ll be careful.”

  Her fingers tightened on his wrist. “You do not need to be anything.”

  Further investigation revealed a two-inch cut on her breastbone. A couple inches lower, a little deeper and the wound could have been fatal. He touched his finger to the softness of her skin. So creamy and pale. So perfect except for the mark of his entry into her life. A reminder that for him nothing changed.

  “You’re going to need a stitch or two.”

  She leaned away. Shadow let her. “We do not have time for this. As you said, they will come.”

  Shadow eased the camisole back up, over the wound. There was an awful lot of fear in her voice. He might bring hell to those he loved, but he could also bring it to anyone who threatened those under his protection. And as his wife.

  “Let them.”

  “They’ll kill you.”

  “Unlikely.” He caught her chin between his fingers and examined her face. There was a faint discoloration on her cheekbone. At least he had a way to repay her for the sacrifice. “But in the meantime, you’re my wife, under my protection and your care comes first.”

  “You speak like a fool.”

  “And here I thought I was speaking like a husband.” She jerked away. “It was a mistake to choose you.”

  He touched the faded bruise on her cheek. Someone would pay for that. He smiled into her defiance. “No, honey. I think this time you finally chose right.”

  FEI’S HOUSE WAS SET OFF the road a fair piece. At some point, someone had tried to give it a bit of boundary with a white picket fence, but that was now falling down. Faded red curtains graced the windows. The place was a nice size, unusual for a railroad worker’s compensation. Usually the best a worker could hope for was a crowded, tattered tent. Fei’s father must have some worth, after all.

  The house smelled of exotic spices—lemon and something Shadow couldn’t quite put his finger on. The interior was spotless. Everything in the house was neatly hung in its place. It appeared there were two separate bedrooms, a parlor and a kitchen. Fei led him to the kitchen and then waved him to a chair at the table.

  “Please sit. I will get water.”

  “Take off the shackles and I’ll fetch water for you.”

  Her gaze started at his feet and traveled up to his knees and then just kept on climbing until it reached his face.

  “Is Shadow your real name?”

  “The only part that’s pronounceable.”

  He hadn’t gone by that name for over a year. He wasn’t sure why he’d used it at the ceremony. There was a price on his head. A hell of a price. Things like that tended to happen when you killed a man under the protection of the U.S. Army right in front of them. It didn’t matter that the killing was necessary or that the man was a cold-blooded murderer gunning for women and children. The army had a reputation and Shadow had sullied it. His brother and Hell’s Eight were working to get him a pardon, but the governor wasn’t feeling real friendly. The man Shadow had killed had been wealthy and connected, so right now Shadow was wanted dead or alive. And from the way people were taking shots at him, he had a feeling someone was offering a second bounty if he was brought in dead. That being the case, it was pure foolishness to have declared himself Shadow Ochoa during the wedding ceremony. But when it had come to identifying himself, he’d wanted Fei Yen to know to whom she belonged. Which was more foolishness. The marriage wasn’t going to last. As soon as his wife got what she wanted out of him, she’d be gone. And he’d be ready to go. He’d stay because he owed her. A life for a life. But when it was over, it would be time for him to move on. Without Hell’s Eight as an anchor, he preferred to keep moving.

  With a brisk bow, Fei reclaimed his attention. Picking up a large bowl and a towel, she headed for the back door. “I will fetch water.”

  “Be easier if you took off the shackles and let me do the heavy lifting.”

  She glanced over her shoulder. “The shackles stay on.”

  The door slammed shut behind her as she left him in the kitchen with a nice selection of well-honed knives in the block at the end of the table. Shadow set his hat on the table and ran his fingers through his hair. Fei clearly thought, with his legs shackled, he didn’t pose much of a threat. Smiling, Shadow picked up a butcher knife and sawed at his bonds until his hands were free. Grabbing a small paring knife, he started working the locks on the shackles. The first was a breeze. The second was a bit more stubborn.

  The kitchen door creaked. Fei’s small, black-booted feet came into view. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her skirt swish abruptly as she stopped. Water sloshed over the side of the bowl and splashed on the floor.

  “What did you do?”

  Motioning to the heavy shackles as if they were nothing, he explained, “These things chafe.”

  No response. The mechanism gave. He eased the shackle open. He glanced up. She still stood there staring at him with something akin to horror.

  “I won’t hurt you, Fei.”

  She straightened and her chin lifted. “I am not afraid. I am annoyed. My knives—you have ruined them.”

  “I’ll sharpen them back up. Any more complaints?”

  He stood. She flinched. This close, it was hard to miss the why. Her head only came up to his breastbone. Her waist was so tiny he could probably span it with his hands. Hell, no wonder she was frozen. There wasn’t enough of her to stand up to a gnat, let alone a grown man. He jerked his chin toward the kitchen table. “Sit.”

  She touched the towel draped over her shoulder. “Your neck—”

  “Is only bruised,” he finished for her. “You’re the one who’s cut.”

  He took the bowl from her hands, ignoring the wariness of her expression. On his best days, he intimidated, but he hadn’t had a bath in two days, and being stretched by a rope probably hadn’t put any shine to his appearance. He motioned to the table again, albeit this time with a bit less force. It was as close to gentle as he was getting.

  “Sit down.”

  Fei stayed put. “I do not require your help.”

  “That wasn’t the impression I got.”

  She motioned to her injury. “With this.”

  He motioned to the chair. “I’m particular about things being done right.”

  “So am I, which is why I shall care for it myself.”

  The angle of that chin was just more proof that her sweet, submissive air was just a good fake.

  She looked at the shackles heaped on the floor by the table. It wasn’t hard to tell which way her mind was working. Shadow set the bowl on the table. “You weren’t any safer when I was wearing them, you know. You just thought you were.”

  She eyed them again. “I liked the thought.”

  She sounded as if she intended to hold a grudge about it. The thought made him smile. Shit. Twice
in one afternoon. That had to be a record. “That wound is going to need stitches.”

  “I have a…” She motioned with her hands, pantomiming smoothing something over her skin as she said a word in Chinese.