Lawless jh-3

by Nora Roberts

  Carlson’s mouth thinned. “It pains me to say that Jim brought that incident on himself. He’s young and a bit wild yet. Redman’s a different matter. He lives by his gun and his reputation with it.”

  “That sounds like no life at all.”

  “Now I’ve stirred your sympathies. That certainly wasn’t my intention.” He touched a hand lightly to hers. “You’re a beautiful, sensitive woman. I wouldn’t want to see you hurt.”

  She hadn’t been called beautiful in what felt like a very long time. Since a waltz, she remembered, at a ball at Lucilla’s big house. “Thank you, but I assure you I’m learning very quickly to take care of myself.” As they drove into the yard, the puppy bounded up, racing around the wagon and barking. “He’s grown some,” Carlson commented as Lafitte snapped at his ankles.

  “Hush, now.” Lafitte snarled when Carlson lifted Sarah from the wagon. “He has the makings of an excellent guard dog, I think. And, thank heaven, he gets along well with Lucius. May I offer you some coffee?”

  “I’d like that.” Once inside, Carlson took a long look. “I’ve had some difficulty picturing you here. A drawing room with flowered wallpaper and blue draperies would suit you.”

  She laughed a little as she put the coffee on. “I think it will be some time yet before I put up wallpaper and draperies. I’d like a real floor first. Please sit down.”

  From the tin on the shelf she took a few of the sugar cookies she’d baked earlier in the week. It pleased her to be able to offer him a napkin she’d sewed out of scrap material.

  “It must be a lonely life for you.”

  “I haven’t had time to be lonely, though I admit it’s not what I’d hoped for.”

  “It’s a pity your father never made the mine pay.” “It gave him hope.” She thought of the journal she was reading. “He was a man who needed hope more than food.”

  “You’re right about that.” Carlson sipped at the coffee she served him. “You know, I offered to buy this place from him some time back.”

  “You did?” Sarah took the seat across from him.

  “Whatever for?”

  “Sentiment.” Carlson sent her an embarrassed smile. “Foolish, really. My grandfather once owned this land. He lost it in a poker game when I was a boy. It always infuriated him.” He smiled again and sampled a cookie. “Of course, he had the ranch. Twelve hundred acres, with the best water that can be had in these parts. But he grumbled about losing that old mine until the day he died.”

  “There must be something about it that holds a man. It certainly held my father.”

  “Matt bought it from the gambler and dived right in. He always believed he’d find the mother lode, though I don’t think there is one. After the old man died and I took over, I.thought it might be fitting somehow for me to bring it back into the family. A tribute. But Matt, he wouldn’t part with it.”

  “He had a dream,” Sarah murmured. “It killed him, eventually.”

  “I’m sorry. I’ve upset you. I didn’t mean to.”

  “It’s nothing. I still miss him. I suppose I always will.”

  “It might not be healthy for you to stay here, so close to where he died.”

  “It’s all I have.”

  Carlson reached over to pat her hand. “As I said, you’re a sensitive woman. I was willing to buy this place from Matt. I’d be willing to buy it from you if you feel you’d like to sell.”

  “Sell?” Surprised, she looked over. The sun was streaming through the yellow curtains at the window. It made a stream of gold on the floor. Before long, the strength of it would fade the material. “That’s very generous of you, Mr. Carlson.”

  “I’d be flattered if.you’d call me Samuel.”

  “It’s very generous, and very kind, Samuel.” Rising, she walked to the window. Yes, the sun would bleach it out, the same way it bleached the land. She touched a hand to the wall. The adobe stayed cool. It was a kind of miracle, she thought. Like the endurance that kept men in this place. “I don’t think I’m ready to give up here.”

  “You don’t have to decide what you want now.”

  He rose, as well, and moved over to lay a gentle hand on her shoulder. She smiled at the gesture. It was comforting to have friends who cared.

  “It’s been difficult, adjusting here. Yet I feel as though I can’t leave, that in leaving I’d be deserting my father.”

  “I know what it is to lose family. It takes time to think straight again.” He turned her to face him. “I can say that I feel I knew Matt enough to be sure he’d want the best for you. If you decide you want to let it go, all you have to do is tell me. We’ll leave it an open offer.”

  “Thank you.” She turned and found herself flustered when he lifted both her hands to his lips.

  “I want to help you, Sarah. I hope you’ll let me.”

  “Miss Conway.”

  She jolted, then sighed when she saw Lucius in the doorway. “Yes?”

  He eyed Carlson, then turned his head to spit. “You want me to put this team away?”

  “Please.”

  Lucius stayed where he was. “How about the extra horse?”

  “I’ll be riding out. Thank you for the company, Sarah.”

  “It was a pleasure.”

  As they stepped outside, Carlson replaced his hat. “I hope you’ll let me call again.”

  “Of course.” Sarah was forced to snatch up the dog when he came toward her guest, snarling and snapping. “Goodbye, Samuel.”

  She waited until he’d started out before she put the puppy down and walked over to Lucius.

  “Lucius.” She leaned over, to speak to him as he unhitched the horses. “You were quite rude just now.”

  “If you say so, miss.”

  “Well, I do.” Frustrated, she ducked under the horses to join him. “Mr. Carlson was considerate enough to drive me back from town. You looked at him as though you wanted to shoot him in the head.” “Maybe.”

  “For heaven’s sake. Why?”

  “Some snakes don’t rattle.”

  Casting her eyes to the sky, she gave up. Instead, she snatched the bottle of whiskey from the wagon and watched his eyes light up. “If you want this, take off your shirt.”

  His mouth dropped as if she’d hit him with a board.

  “Beg pardon, ma’am?”

  “The pants, too. I want you to strip right down to the skin.”

  He groped at his neckcloth. “Mind if I ask why you’d be wanting me to do that, Miss Conway?”

  “I’m going to wash your clothes. I’ve tolerated the smell of them-and you-quite long enough. While I’m washing them, you can take that extra cake of soap I bought and do the same with yourself.”

  “Now, miss, I-”

  “If, and only if, you’re clean, I’ll give you this bottle. You get a pail of water and the soap and go into that shed. Toss your clothes out.”

  Not sure he cared for the arrangement, Lucius shifted his feet. “And if I don’t?”

  “Then I’ll pour every drop of this into the dirt.”

  Lucius laid a hand on his heart as she stamped off. He was mortally afraid she’d do it.

  Chapter Seven

  Sarah rolled up the sleeves of her oldest shirtwaist, hitched up her serviceable black skirt and went to work.

  They’d be better off burned, she thought as she dunked Lucius’s stiff denim pants into the stream. The water turned a mud brown instantly. With a sound of disgust, she dunked them again. It would take some doing to make them even marginally acceptable, but she was determined.

  Cleanliness was next to godliness.

  That had been one of the proverbs cross-stitched on Mother Superior’s office wall. Well, she was going to get Lucius as close to God as was humanly possible. Whether he liked it or not.

  Leaving the pants to soak, she picked up his faded blue shirt by the tips of her fingers. Deplorable, she decided as she dampened and scrubbed and soaked. Absolutely deplorable. She doubted the clothes had seen
clean water in a year. Which meant Lucius’s skin had been just as much in need of washing. She’d soon fix that.

  She began to smile as she worked. The expression on his face when she’d threatened to empty out the whiskey had been something to see. Poor Lucius. He might look tough and crusty, but underneath he was just a sweet, misguided man who needed a woman to show him the way.

  Most men did. At least that was what Lucilla had always said. As she beat Lucius’s weathered shirt against the rocks, Sarah wondered what her friend would think of Jake Redman. There was certainly nothing sweet about him, no matter how deep down a woman might dig. Though he could be kind. It baffled her that time and time again he had shown her that streak of good-heartedness. Always briefly, she added, her lips thinning. Always right before he did something inexcusable.

  Like kissing the breath out of her. Kissing her until her blood was hot and her mind was empty and she wanted something she didn’t even understand. He’d had no right to do it, and still less to walk away afterward, leaving her trembling and confused.

  She should have slapped him. With that thought in mind, Sarah slapped the shirt on the water and gave a satisfied nod at the sound. She should have knocked the arrogance right out of him, and then it should have been she who walked away.

  The next time… There would be no next time, she assured herself. If Jake Redman ever touched her again, she’d…she’d…melt like butter, she admitted. Oh, she hated him for making her wish he would touch her again.

  When he looked at her, something happened, something frantic, something she’d never experienced before. Her heart beat just a little too fast, and dampness sprang out on the palms of her hands. A look was all that was necessary. His eyes were so dark, so penetrating. When he looked at her it was as if he could see everything she was, or could be, or wanted to be. It was absurd. He was a man who lived by the gun, who took what he wanted without regret or compunction. All her life she’d been taught that the line between right and wrong was clear and wide and wasn’t to be crossed.

  To kill was the greatest sin, the most unforgivable. Yet he had killed, and would surely kill again. Knowing it, she couldn’t care for him. But care she did. And want she did. And need.

  Her hands were wrist-deep in water when she brought herself back. She had no business even thinking this way. Thinking about him. If she had to think of a man, she’d do better to think of Samuel Carlson. He was well-mannered, polished. He would know the proper way to treat a lady. There would be no wild, groping kisses from a man like him. A woman would be safe, cherished, cared for.

  But she wished Jake had offered to drive her home. This was nonsense. Sarah wrung out the shirt and rubbed her nose with the back of her damp hand. She’d had enough nonsense for the time being. She would wash thoughts of Jake away just as she washed the grime and grit and the good Lord knew what from Lucius’s shirt.

  She wanted her life to be tidy. Perhaps it wouldn’t be as grand as she’d once imagined, but it would be tidy. Even here. Sitting back on her heels, she looked around. The sun was heading toward the buttes in the west. Slowly, like a big golden ball in a sky the color of Indian paintbrush. The rocks towered, their odd, somewhat mystical shapes rising up and up, some slender as needles, others rough and thick.

  There was a light smell of juniper here, and the occasional rustle that didn’t alarm her as it once would have. She watched an eagle soar, its wings spread wide. King of the sky. Below, the stream gurgled, making its lazy way over the rocks.

  Why, it was beautiful. She lifted a hand to her throat, surprised to discover that it was aching. She hadn’t seen it before, or hadn’t wanted to. There was a wild, desolate, marvelous beauty here that man hadn’t been able to touch. Or hadn’t dared. If the land was lawless, perhaps it deserved to be.

  For the first time since she had arrived, she felt a sense of kinship, of belonging. Of peace. She’d been right to stay, because this was home. Hers. At long last, hers.

  When she rose to spread the shirt over a rock, she was smiling. Then she saw the shadow, and she looked up quickly.

  There were five of them. Their black hair was loose past their bare shoulders. All but one sat on a horse. It was he who stepped toward her, silent in knee-length moccasins. There was a scar, white and puckered, that ran from his temple, catching the corner of his eye, then curving like a sickle down his cheek. She saw that, and the blade of the knife he carried. Then she began to scream.

  Lucius heard the rider coming and strapped his gun-belt on over his long underwear. With soap still lathered all over his face, he stepped out of the shed. Jake pulled up his mount and took a long, lazy look. “Don’t tell me it’s spring already.”

  “Damn women.” Lucius spit expertly.

  “Ain’t that the truth?” After easing off his horse, Jake tossed the reins over the rail. Lafitte immediately leaped up to rest his paws on his thigh. In the way dogs have, he grinned and his tongue lolled. “Going to a dance or something?”

  “No, I ain’t going any where.” Lucius cast a vicious look toward the house. “She threatened me. Yes, sir, there’s no two ways about it, it was a threat. Said less’n I took myself a bath and let her wash my clothes she’d pour out every last drop of whiskey in the bottle she brought.”

  With a grin of his own, Jake leaned against the rail and rolled a cigarette. “Maybe she’s not as stupid as she looks.”

  “She looks okay,” Lucius muttered. “Got a streak of stubborn in her, though.” He wiped a soapy hand on the thigh of his long underwear. “What are you doing out here?” “Came out to talk to you.”

  “Like hell. I got eyes. She ain’t in there,” he said when Jake continued to stare at the house.

  “I said I came to talk to you.” Annoyed, Jake flicked a match and lit his cigarette. “Have you done any checking in the mine?”

  “I’ve taken a look. She don’t give a body much free time.” He picked up a rock and tossed it so that the puppy would have something to chase. “Always wanting something built or fixed up. Cooks right good, though.” He patted his belly. “Can’t complain about that.”

  “See anything?”

  “I saw where Matt was working some, right enough. And the cave-in.” He spit again. “Can’t say I felt real good about digging my way past it. Now, maybe if you told me what it was I was supposed to be looking for.”

  “You’ll know if you find it.” He looked back at the house. She’d put curtains on the windows. “Does she ever go up there?”

  “Goes up, not in. Sits by his grave sometimes. Breaks your heart.”

  “Sounds like you’re going soft on her, old man.”

  He reached down to give Lafitte a scratch on the head. “Wouldn’t talk if I was you.” He only laughed when Jake looked at him. There weren’t many men who would have dared. “Don’t go icing up on me, boy. I’ve known you too long. Might interest you to know that Samuel Carlson paid a call.”

  Jake blew out smoke with a shrug. “I know.” He waited, took another drag, then swore under his breath. “Did he stay long?”

  “Long enough to make up to her. Kissing her hands, he was. Both of them.”

  “Is that so?” The fury burned low in his gut and spread rapidly. Eyes narrowed, he flicked the cigarette away, half finished, and watched it smolder. “Where is she?”

  “Down to the stream, I imagine.”

  Lucius smothered a laugh and bent down to pick up Lafitte before the puppy could scramble after Jake. “I wouldn’t, if I was you, young fella. There’s going to be fireworks fit for Independence Day.”

  Jake wasn’t sure what he was going to do, but he didn’t think Sarah was going to like it. He hoped she didn’t. She needed a short rein, he decided. And he was going to see to it himself. Letting Carlson paw all over her. Just the thought of it made small, jagged claws of jealousy slice through him.

  When he heard her scream, both guns were out of their holsters and in his hands in a heartbeat. He took the last quarter of a mile at a ru
n, her screams and the sound of running horses echoing in his head.

  When he reached the stream he saw the dust the ponies had kicked up. Even at a distance he recognized Little Bear’s profile. There was a different kind of fire in him now. It burned ice-cold as he bolstered his weapons. Lafitte came tearing down the path, snarling. “You’re too late again,” Jake told the dog as he sniffed the ground and whined. He turned as Lucius came running in nothing more than his gunbelt and long Johns.

  “What happened?” Jake said nothing. Hunkering down, Lucius studied the marks left by the struggle. ‘”Paches.” He saw his shirt, freshly washed and drying in the sun. “Damn it all to hell.” Still swearing, he raced down the path toward Jake. “Let me get on my spare shirt and my boots. They don’t have much of a lead.”

  “I’m going alone.”

  “There was four of them, maybe more.”

  “Five.” Jake strode back into the clearing. “I ride alone.”

  “Listen, boy, even if it was Little Bear, that don’t give you no guarantees. You weren’t no more than kids last time, and you chose different ways.”

  “It was Little Bear, and I’m not looking for guarantees.”

  He swung into the saddle. “I’m going to get her back.”

  Lucius put a hand on the saddle horn. “See that you do.”

  “If I’m not back tomorrow sundown, go get Barker. I’ll leave a trail even he can follow.” He kicked his horse into a gallop and headed north.

  She hadn’t fainted, but she wasn’t so sure that was a blessing. She’d been tossed roughly onto the back of a horse, and she was forced to grip its mane to keep from tumbling off. The Indian with the scar rode behind her, calling out to his companions occasionally and gesturing with a new government-issue Winchester. He’d dragged her by her hair to get her astride the horse, and he still seemed fascinated by it. When she felt him push his nose into it, she closed her eyes, shuddered and prayed.

  They rode fast, their ponies apparently tireless and obviously surefooted, as they left the flats for the rocks and the hills. The sun was merciless here. She felt it beating down on her head as she struggled not to weep. She didn’t want to die weeping. They would undoubtedly kill her. But what frightened her more than whatever death was in store for her was what they would do to her first.