“So you love me now the way you loved Mitchell last year?”
Sarah didn’t see his point. “I suppose. You’re not going to start telling me where to bury you, are you?”
Sam returned to his back. “No, I’m not.” He took a long breath and added, “I don’t want you to bury me, and I sure don’t want you to love me like you did Mitchell, Sarah.”
“But that’s the only way I know how to love a man.”
“Then, I’d rather you didn’t love me at all.” He sounded tired. “Go to sleep. We’ve got a long way to travel tomorrow.”
They lay in silence for a while. She tried to figure out what he meant by her not loving him. Finally she rose up and put her elbow on his chest. “Sam, are you asleep?”
“No,” he answered.
“Would you tell me something?”
“What?”
“Does a couple have to be in love to do the kind of kissing you were doing to me?”
She felt his chest rumble. “No,” he answered.
“Then, would you mind kissing me again? I want to see what it feels like when I know you are just doing it ‘cause I asked.”
He waited so long to answer she was sure he planned to deny her request.
“Lean down,” he finally said without making any move to touch her.
“Closer,” he ordered when she was an inch away.
Her lips touched his. There was freedom this time. He wasn’t pulling her to him. He wasn’t demanding. She could pull away any time she liked.
“Relax.” His request brushed her mouth.
She melted against him, and his arm cradled her at his side as the kiss continued. At first she only wanted to see how he kissed, but slowly she found herself returning each movement. His tongue brushed across the top of her lip, her body tingled all the way to her toes. He parted her lips ever so gently, tasting her mouth with tender kisses.
Warmth spread through her and all her worries drifted away as he kissed her. She moved closer. The most wonderful part of the kiss lay in his nearness. Something about this strong man made her feel good whenever she touched him. Like all was safe with the world. She knew it didn’t make sense, violence and danger rode shotgun with him, but that didn’t change the way he made her feel. She cuddled nearer.
Suddenly Sam broke the kiss and turned his back to her. “Good night, Sarah.” His voice sounded harsh.
She touched her fingertips to her lips. They felt newborn, soft.
“Sam?”
“What?”
“Would it be all right if I asked you to kiss me again sometime?”
“I’ll think about it,” he answered.
She didn’t have to see his face to know he was smiling.
THIRTEEN
SAM MADE COFFEE ON A SMALL CAMPFIRE WHILE Sarah and the children still slept. Dawn melted across the prairie, carrying a cool breeze rich with sage, but he hardly noticed. Worry wrinkled his forehead in freshly plowed rows, for the day promised nothing but trouble.
If he’d been the one who’d made camp last night, he would have driven another hundred yards to a place where rocks and shrub trees blocked the wind and there was enough wood for a warming fire. And enough shelter for protection from a storm of bullets, he thought as he watched Sarah roll over in her sleep and reach for him. She’d have shivered all night if he hadn’t held her close. He reminded himself that the cold was the only reason they’d slept wrapped up in each other.
She sat up and stretched, totally unaware of how beautiful she looked. “Morning.”
“Morning,” he poured her a cup of the steaming brew.
She still wore her old dress that, by now, was dusty and wrinkled. Most of her hair had fought its way free of the thick braid she’d made yesterday morning. But she fascinated him with her beauty. Sam could not believe such a woman had asked him to kiss her.
The request had been so simple, almost innocent. But there was nothing innocent about the way he’d felt or about where his thoughts had wandered after he’d said good night. If he’d kissed her a moment longer he wasn’t sure he could have turned away.
“There’s a spring over by those rocks if you want to wash up.” He tried to get his mind off the way she felt pressed close against him. The feel of her body along his lingered like a dream long after daylight.
Without a word she gathered up her bundle and went the direction he pointed. It seemed like half an hour before she returned. Her hair was wet and tied into a fresh braid. She smelled of spring water and honeysuckle.
“Thank you for the soap,” she said as she accepted the coffee he offered. “I’ve never had so much.”
He lifted the carpetbag Mr. Moon had added to their supplies and pitched it in her direction. “I thought you knew I bought you this as well to put your things in. If you think you have to go around with so many belongings, they might as well be in a bag.”
She looked at the piece of luggage as though she’d never seen anything like it. “Thank you.” She carefully pulled each of her treasures from her shawl bundle and placed them inside the bag. Then she folded the borrowed shawl and added it on top.
“You planning to wear that new dress we bought?” he asked.
Sarah shook her head. “Not on the road. I’m saving it.”
Sam woke the children as Sarah started breakfast. When they were all fed and in the wagon, he tied the stallion to the back and climbed up beside his wife.
“You haven’t said more than two words all morning.” The thought crossed his mind that she might have regretted last night. “I’m starting to think the kids are rubbing off on you. I’ve never seen such silent children in my life.”
“I’ve got a lot on my mind.” She stared ahead. “And the children are just waiting, K.C. said, but she wouldn’t tell me for what.”
He glanced to see if they listened. They were sitting at the back of the wagon dangling sticks, as if fishing. Even in their game they whispered and used a kind of sign language, as though they’d been taught never to draw attention to themselves.
He didn’t ask what was on Sarah’s mind. Years ago Sam had given up losing sleep over who might be trying to hunt him down, but he could see Sarah’s fear shining in her blue eyes. Trying to get her mind off Zeb Whitaker, he said, “Remember when Denver Delany told you to take me to Satan’s Canyon?”
Sarah nodded.
“Well, the clearing you stopped at was only halfway there. Few know there’s a back way out of that river area. For most folks, Satan’s Canyon is just a place they talk about, but only a handful of folks know the way. I’ve even heard some say it’s only a made-up place. Once in a while someone disappears and rumors start. Maybe he’s gone to Satan’s Canyon, they’ll say, as if it were a magic place.” He paused. “Before nightfall you’re going to see it.”
“Are you leaving me there?” Sarah’s voice shook slightly. “Is that where you think I’d be safe?”
Sam laughed. “You’d be safe there, but no, I’m not leaving you. We’re leaving the children on a farm in the canyon.” Before Sarah could object, Sam added, “With their father.”
“But you’re their father.”
“When Malone brought them to the clearing, he probably thought they belonged to me or maybe that’s what their mother told him. She couldn’t tell Malone, or anyone else, who or where their father is.”
“I don’t understand.”
Sam shook his head. “It’s not my secret to tell, Sarah. Not even to you. All I can say is that their father, their real father, will be mighty glad to see them. I never met a man named Tennessee Malone and I’d like to know how he guessed that I would be able to deliver them to their papa. He must have been a friend of their mother‘s, but he was taking a chance leaving them in the clearing.”
Sam glanced back at the children. “What if I hadn’t come along? Obviously, their father didn’t even know to look for them there. He would have been risking his life to come so far away from Satan’s Canyon, but I figure he woul
d have made the trip if he even suspected they might have been in the clearing.”
She watched him closely. “You’re sure you are not their father?”
“Positive.” He laughed. “But I’m afraid I can’t tell you how I know who is. I’ve already said more than I should have. Anything else might put you in harm’s way.”
Sarah nodded. “You’re telling me this much because you trust me, don’t you, Sam?”
He stared out at the prairie. “I guess I trust you more than I have anyone in a long time.” He glanced at her. “Hell, if I know why.”
“You are supposed to trust your mate. That’s a rule, I think.”
“Only you’re not my mate, Sarah. Right now all you are is my wife.” He didn’t have to tell her where he drew the line between the two titles.
Sarah stared at her hands. “I know. I’ll be one, but not the other. Not until I’m good and ready. You promised me that. You promised you wouldn’t force me.”
“I’m not going back on my word, Sarah.” Sam frowned. “I told you that is not the way I want you. It will be with you willing or not at all.” He knew that, for him, a mate might only come along once in this lifetime. Even then, a real marriage wouldn’t be something that would last long if he stayed in his line of work. But if it came, he wanted the real thing. Not some duty she performed. Not a wife bought and bedded for the price of her fine.
Sam heard the children laughing and remembered what he’d heard it had been like between their parents. Their pa had been an outlaw traveling with the Bass gang, their ma a saloon girl moving from town to town, but when they came together there was no one else in the world but the two of them. He’d watched them one night from the shadows. The bar had been packed with cowhands and gamblers, yet all they saw was each other. Frank Jackson hadn’t done more than touch her hand or brush her cheek, but Sam had turned away at the intimacy between them.
Sam wanted that kind of loving, not the kind that could be bought for a few coins or for the price of a fine. Maybe he wanted the impossible. He wanted a woman who wanted him.
There was nothing else to say to Sarah. She stood on one side and he on the other. As long as she could even think that he’d take her by force, she didn’t know him well enough to care about him.
They fell into an uncomfortable silence. The day warmed and the hours passed without either of them thinking of anything more than that danger lay ahead. The ride was smoother than it had been because Sam knew the area well enough to know what parts to avoid. He stopped twice to allow them all to stretch their legs.
She followed him as he checked the horses. “The children are so quiet. I’ve never even heard the younger two say a word.”
Sam didn’t look at her. “They’ve been taught well. My guess is their lives depended on them remaining silent.”
She moved closer to him and whispered, “Sam, I’m afraid for them. We are probably the worst two people in the state to be close to right now. What if trouble comes before we reach their father, assuming what you say about there being a real father is true? I don’t even know how to fire a rifle. How can I protect them?”
“I understand. That’s why I’m getting them somewhere safe as fast as I can. In a few hours they will be with their father, and all I’ll have to worry about is you.”
She leaned against him as though needing his warmth. Sam didn’t bother to ask what was wrong, he just held her gently. The woman had no idea how she made him feel when she touched him so casually.
“I’m not brave,” she whispered against his chest. “I never have been.”
“Yes, you are.” His words brushed against her hair. “You married me, didn’t you?”
When she pulled away, he didn’t try to hold her. As she walked toward the wagon, she laughed. “I married you because you looked like you owned a razor, which was more than I could say for most of the men at the raffle.” She glanced back at him and lifted an eyebrow. “However, I haven’t seen much use of one since we married.”
Sam followed and lifted her into the wagon. Before she pulled away, he moved his short beard against her cheek. “You will, soon as I find hot water.”
Sarah’s small hand glided along his jaw, playing with the short beard.
The action was small, no more than a touch, but Sam thought about it for an hour. He even wondered what she would do if he asked her to touch him like that again. This “in name only” marriage grew more difficult by the minute. The problem, to his way of thinking, was where to draw the line between the marriage and mating. She wanted to sleep next to him, seemed to need him near, even asked him to kiss her, but she had made it plain she would not participate in any lovemaking.
It occurred to him that to Sarah the bedding was an act, but to him it was far more than that. Or at least, he wanted it to be. He’d had the other, the act, and he guessed she had, also. He’d caught glimpses of loving between couples. So why couldn’t it be that way for him? Almost like a secret they sheltered from the world. A private language they spoke to each other that no one else understood. He wasn’t sure he could even explain it to Sarah. In his mind, he’d always thought the loving came with a marriage, but Sarah had been married and knew nothing of it.
By mid-afternoon the rolling land turned rocky, with rough roads that crisscrossed the prairie. Small farms and ranches were fenced off now and then, but no signposts or names marked the way.
“What is this place?” she finally asked. “I can’t say exactly what’s wrong, but something is.”
“Back before the war, a gambler won this valley during a horse race. He bet on a horse by the name of Satan, so he called this place Satan’s Canyon. From time to time the gambler sells off small farms to folks who want to live a quiet life. People who want to disappear. They change their names and move here. As a bounty hunter, it wouldn’t be wise for me to go into town, but there’s a place I can stop where someone will meet me.”
“How do you know all this?”
“I’ve helped a few men vanish. I even told them to shoot me if I was ever fool enough to come looking for them. I only hope they’ll ask questions before I get within range.”
Sarah caught the reflection of a rifle from the cliff above. “Someone’s watching us,” she whispered.
“I know. They have been for about an hour. They’re allowing us to make it to the trees without trouble. That’s as far as strangers can go.”
Sarah scooted a few inches closer and slipped her hand around his arm.
He didn’t lie and tell her not to be frightened.
A thin fog set in by the time they reached a huddling of trees. It whirled around them, chilling the air and making distance hard to judge. Sam made camp while she combed the children’s hair, then wrapped each one in a warm blanket. To her surprise, they asked no questions.
She tried to feed them, but no one seemed interested in eating. They waited as darkness settled around them, black and cold. As the hours passed, the children crawled into the back of the wagon and went to sleep.
Sarah could stand the silence no longer. She paced around the fire. When she circled Sam for the third time, she asked, “Are we going to wait all night? If there is someone out there, surely they’ve figured out who we are by now. If they thought we planned to do them any harm, they could have killed us ten times over by now.”
“Don’t leave the light of the campfire,” Sam said, as though he hadn’t heard her questions.
Sarah continued to circle. She wanted to scream that she couldn’t stand to do nothing, to simply wait. Whoever had been watching had more than enough time to show himself and meet with them. Maybe no one was coming. Did Sam plan to stay out in this clearing forever? She decided she’d talk to him again. They should journey on into town. As they’d discussed earlier, if someone wanted to kill them they could have done it long before now. He might be hesitant to go farther, but she grew tired of waiting. Patience was never her style. No one, even some retired outlaw, would see her and three children a
s a threat.
Just as Sarah realized she’d gone beyond the ring of firelight, an arm circled her shoulders and pulled her backward. She opened her mouth to scream a warning to Sam. Before sound could escape her throat, she tasted the cotton of a gag being shoved into her mouth.
Panic shot through her veins as she fought for her life in the blackness. She swung wide, encountering only air, than kicked into the fog. Firm hands pulled her arms behind her, tied her as if he were unaware that she objected. “I mean you no harm,” a low southern voice whispered as a rope bound her skirt at the knees.
For a moment she didn’t know if she was angrier at the attacker or at Sam for letting such a thing happen. He was supposed to be watching her, guarding her. Where was Sam now? Probably sitting by the fire, downing more coffee and wondering when she’d walk back into the light.
Her attacker lifted her over his shoulder and moved beneath the trees. He lay her down among the leaves and vanished.
Sarah struggled with her bonds, but made no progress. The more she wiggled, the more she sank into the leaves beneath her. If she kept moving she would be completely covered and no one, not even in daylight, would ever find her. She would die without a sound. And Sam would probably stay by the fire and mumble about how he told her not to go outside the firelight.
She forced herself to be still as voices sounded from the direction of the campsite.
“Gatlin? Is that you?” a southern drawl called out.
“It is,” Sam answered calmly. “Step into the light.”
“I can’t do that,” came the Reb’s answer. “Put your weapon down.”
“I can’t do that,” Sam echoed. “You’ve got my wife.” It was more a statement than a question. “You hurt her and you’re a dead man, Frank.”
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