by Faye Byrd
I flinch as the knife digs into my flesh. “All men ain’t like that. I know some real faithful ones, they love their family more than anythin’.”
Her green eyes slide to mine and they sear me with their inquisitiveness. They big and fringed with long, dark lashes and look to hold a lotta secrets and dreams. “Are you like that, Nathan? Are you a faithful man or you have a wife and kids somewhere while ya sit here and make eyes with me?”
Feeling this is a life or death question with the blade buried in my flesh, I go with the truth. “I ain’t the marryin’ type. I never was. I can see some appeal to it now, though.” I try to offer what I hope’s a charming smile, but I can hardly feel my face for the pain in my side and the whiskey in my blood.
She finally pulls the knife from my skin and presses some rags to stanch the blood flowing from the newly reopened wound. “That was a right good answer, Nathan, but ya don’t got to make up stuff ‘cause ya think I might end ya.”
I chuckle then go to clutch my side, but her hands push mine away. “You can’t touch it. When the bleedin’ slows, I’ll have to find that bullet.”
My eyes fall closed for a second until I remember I never responded. “I wasn’t lyin’ to save myself, Josie. A beautiful woman like you is every man’s dream. Unless he can only bring bad into her life, then he’s best just thankin’ her and movin’ on.” My eyes slide closed again, and I’m having a hard time staying in the present.
“Looks to me like this woman don’t mind trouble too much.” Her soft words fill my senses and I’m not sure if she’s speaking ‘em or I’m imagining ‘em. Then with a firmer voice, she says, “Now you’re gone have to suck it up, I got to dig out this bullet.”
Tensing, I fight the pain as she plunges the pliers down into my side and searches for the slug. When I can’t take it any longer, I succumb and allow myself to float to a place where I feel nothing.
Chapter Eight
The Outlaw
JOSIE
As I stare down at the man passed out ‘fore me, I can’t help but wonder at his beauty. Even covered in dust with his hair flat from wearing his cowboy hat, he’s still a striking man. His eyes remind me of deep blue saphires, and his hair is curly, the color of pine straw, with blond streaks where the sun done touched. His jaw is sharp, strong and covered with a few days’ scruff.
In sleep, he looks so young and innocent, but just hearing him speak lets me know there’s way more to this gunshot wound than just a simple skirmish. He has an edge to him, his youthfulness chased away by something I can’t quite put my finger on. I slowly reach over and let my fingertips roam through his hair, it’s a juxtaposition to how it looks; the strands are soft and silky as they slide through my hands.
When I first laid eyes on him, it caused my hackles to rise. How dare any man trespass on my property? But after our initial tussle, I started to see something familiar staring back at me. At some point in his life he’s made a decision that he ain’t proud of but has no intentions of regretting.
I can’t help but ponder what that may be, but then I ask myself if it even matters. Somehow, as he lays here depending on me to save him, he’s already earned my trust. This cowboy needs me, and I intend to do everything in my power to make sure he heals.
The heat from his forehead burns my fingers, so I leave him and make my way back to my cabin, readying myself for a trip into town. Saddling up Star, I spare one last look at my wounded cowboy before linking my foot through the stirrup and lifting myself atop her. We make tracks. I push her hard ‘cause I know the fever can kill as quick as the wound itself.
When I make it to town, the first place I seek is the Trading Post. As soon as I enter, Mr. Doyle tilts his head. “Mighty fine seein’ you in today, Miss Josephine. What can I do ya for?” He’s an old man in his sixties, and his wife, Della, recently passed.
I offer him a broad smile. “I’m a needin’ something for fever and maybe some salve. Ya got anythin’ like that ‘round here?”
His brows furrow. “Everythin’ okay? Ya might wanna see the doc if ya got a wound.”
I giggle and place my hand on my chest. “Oh, no, Mr. Doyle, this ain’t for me. One of my neighbors got a ranch hand that ain’t fairin’ too well, and since I was comin’ to town, I offered to pick up somethin’.”
He eyes me for another minute but finally nods. “Alrighty, well let’s see what we got here.” He walks down the herbal aisle, and I follow closely behind. Perusing the shelves, he finally reaches out for something. “Ah. Here we go. Now this here was imported from the Northwest, but it’s ‘posed to be real good for wounds.”
I reach up and cover my nose. “Well, it sure smells like it might do somethin’ all right.”
He chuckles and holds it out for me to take. “That there’s skunk cabbage.” He’s still chuckling as he walks further down the aisle. “Just make a salve from it and rub it on.”
“And the fever?” I question, holding the cabbage as far away from me as I can.
He looks back to the shelf and reaches up one more time. “Here we go,” he says turning back toward me. “This here’s willow bark. Just use it to make a tea and it’s ‘posed to work for fever.”
I take it and smile at old Mr. Doyle. “Thank you so much.” I tilt my head. “How ya been doin’?” I decide to be nice and hope to sidetrack him from why I’m even here in the first place. I don’t want it getting out that I was a shopping for medicinal stuff.
“Good, I been doin’ good. I know my Della’s bein’ taken care of up there in heaven.” His eyes get glassy at just the thought of her.
I reach out and rub his arm. “She sure is,” I agree. “And one day you’ll be together again.”
“By the grace of the good Lord,” he says nodding along. “Ya want me to add those to ya account?”
“Oh, um, no I think I’ll pay for ‘em this time,” I say and start for the counter up front.
“Up to you,” he murmurs, following behind.
I pay for my purchases and watch as he stuffs them in a burlap sack. When I go to move out the door, a man bumps into me, causing the sack to drop to the ground and my purchases to spill on the dirt.
I give him a glare then reach down to pick up everything. When he offers to assist, I brush him off and hurriedly throw my things back into the bag. Stomping across the dirt, I make my way to Star.
One more stop and I can get back to the safety of my cabin and my wounded cowboy. Ambling up the street, I make my way to the saloon. Before entering, though, something nailed to the outside post brings me up short.
I stare, mouth gaping.
His handsome face is staring back at me from a wanted poster, and not just any wanted poster, but a wanted, dead or alive, poster. I’m in shock. I knew there was something bad going on with him, but never did I expect it to be this.
“Some seem to think he’s ‘round these parts somewhere,” a voice behind me says.
I jump and clasp my chest, spinning ‘round. “Ya scared the livin’ daylights out of me!” I admonish the man who knocked my bag out of my hands at the Trading Post.
He tips his hat. “Sorry, ma’am. Didn’t mean to frighten ya.” He tilts his head back in the direction of the poster. “Word is he’s wounded.” He stares at me curiously, and I can already tell he’s a slimy rat.
“Serves him right then,” I reply, lifting my chin in defiance. This man here thinks he’s onto something, but ain’t no way he gone get anything from me.
“Well, ya just watch yourself, ma’am. Hate to see someone as pretty as you get hurt by a man like him,” he warns with a hint of knowing in his voice.
“Not a problem, sir. Thank you.” I tilt my head and make my way into the saloon.
In an attempt to restock my liquor supply, I make several purchases and quickly head back to my horse. As I mount her, I shift my eyes ‘round, making sure that man ain’t nowhere to be seen.
I ride out of town and back to my … outlaw?
When I’m s
afely back at my cabin, I check on Nathan and replenish his whiskey and bread. I then take both horses out to the pasture for a bit. When I return ‘em to their stalls, I feel Nathan’s head, my fingers lingering in his too-soft hair a minute too long.
Knowing what he needs, I return to my cabin and start on his tea and salve. That cabbage stinks up my whole house, but it’s worth it, I know it is. Nathan may be an outlaw in the eyes of the law, but he ain’t been nothing but decent to me and that’s all that matters.
Chester Hess was good in the eyes of the law and look how he turned out. A whore-hopping husband. I scoff just thinking of his sorry ass. Ain’t no way I’m gone put up with a man like that.
When the tea is ready and I’m just finishing the salve, a sound breaks me from my task. I stop and listen. Hoofbeats. Quickly hiding the medicines from sight, I grab my double barrel and move to the front door.
What I see there makes my hackles rise. The man from town sits atop his horse, eyes scanning my property. “State ya business,” I demand, shotgun aimed.
He holds his hands up and slides off his horse. “Whoa there, little missy. I don’t mean ya no harm, I was just worried that’s all. Making sure ya made it home all right.”
“And how you know where my home is?” I ask not backing down one bit.
He shakes his head. “Wasn’t hard.” He sniffs the air and his nose crinkles. “What’s that smell comin’ from ya house?”
“That’d be none ya business, mister. Now as ya can see, I done made it home just fine so ya just mosey on out of here.”
“Now wait a minute, ma’am. How I know you ain’t bein’ held prisoner here? That outlaw could be making ya say that stuff,” he replies, moving a little closer.
I stop and consider what he’s saying and can see some logic in his thinking. Making a decision, I lower my shotgun. “All right. Why don’t ya just come in and look around. See what ya see then ya can get the hell off my property. Ain’t no man gone hold me prisoner, but I guess ya don’t know that.”
He nods and starts making his way to my door, eyeing my shotgun. “Ya gone put that thing down?”
I snort. “I don’t see why I should. You got a gun strapped to ya side.”
He holds his hands up again. “Okay, got it.” He passes me, and when he steps across my threshold, he covers his nose. “That’s some stank ya got goin’ on in here.”
I ignore him and stand by the door, watching as he takes a peek around my small abode. When he’s done looked in all the rooms and found nothing, I prop my hand on my hip. “Satisfied?”
“Well, at least the house is clear.” He walks past me and out the door, looking ‘round. “What ‘bout that barn over there?”
“What about it?” I snark.
“Plenty room to keep an outlaw in,” he replies frankly.
And that’s when I know, he’s gone have to go. I tried to be patient and I tried to send him on his way, but now he’s encroaching on things that ain’t his business. Nathan ain’t well enough to defend himself, and no man runs me anyway.
He starts walking in the direction of the barn. I point my shotgun. “Stop right there,” I demand.
He freezes and turns to me with an exaggerated chuckle, til he sees the double barrel trained right at his chest. “One more chance. Leave,” I say evenly.
His brows widen but then a huge smirk forms on his lips. “Bingo,” he says and immediately turns, heading back toward my barn.
Some men are such fools.
Does he really think I won’t split him in two?
I hesitate a couple more seconds, giving him one more chance to stop his progress. And when he don’t, I squeeze the trigger. He dives, face first in the dirt from the force of the blow and never moves again.
Shit.
Now I got to dig a hole.
Once that’s done and the man who refused to leave is in the ground, I return to Nathan’s side. He’s a burning hot and sweat’s a beading on his brow. With the salve and tea at the ready, I begin doing my best to get him conscious again.
Rubbing his brow, I start speaking. “How does the outlaw, Nathan King, end up in my barn with a gunshot wound and convince me …
Chapter Nine
The Truth of the Matter
NATHAN
The next thing I know; I wake up alone. Both horses are missing from their stalls, but there’s bread and more whiskey on a tray beside me. Lifting my arm causes me to wince, but it’s a manageable pain.
I scarf down what she left and lie back, allowing the whiskey to take over and numb my mind.
Over the next while, I sleep more than I’m awake. Sometimes Josie’s here, holding my hand or wiping my brow, and sometimes I’m alone. There’s always some kind a nourishment laid out for me. Sometimes it’s bread and water, sometimes it’s broth, but every time that tin cup’s full of whiskey.
Soft hands wipe my brow and I fight hard to make my eyes open, but they refuse. I’m left to imagine that Josie’s with me and in my mind I can even hear her voice.
“How does the outlaw, Nathan King, end up in my barn with a gunshot wound and convince me to help him? Guess it wasn’t too hard. With them deep blue eyes and that rakish grin, how could I resist?”
Dread races through me even in my restful state. Am I dreaming, or does Josie know who I am? This must be a nightmare, ‘cause surely as the day is long, she’d turn me in if she thought for one second I was a threat.
My mind conjures up more of her words and I swear I can feel the softness of her flesh as she pushes my hair off my forehead. “Your fever’s a breakin’ and you gone wake soon, but then what? You gone leave? You goin’ off to do more outlaw stuff? Wonder what that entails anyway?”
Madness, she’s talking madness. It’s as if she’s pondering all my evil acts and weighing ‘em, hoping to find some kind a life for herself. I can’t let that happen, I can’t allow Josie to even consider trading her comfortable life for one like mine. She’s beautiful; small, just right, with long auburn tresses, looking silky and smooth trailing down her back. And her hands … so soft.
Fighting as hard as I can, I rip my lids open only to be met with the most beautiful green I ever seen. I could get lost staring into those depths. Struck dumb, I search her, wanting to know if what I heard was real.
“H-how long you been here?” I ask, my voice scratchy from not being used. I take in my surroundings and realize it’s completely dark with only the glow of a lantern illuminating the space, creating a halo ‘round her angelic face. “How long I been out?”
“Three days,” she answers simply. “Your fever got real high so I went into town to fetch some supplies.” She gives me a knowing look.
So it’s true, she knows. I got to get out of here. Sitting up swiftly causes a searing pain to run through my side.
I groan and grasp my wound, hoping to quell the fire.
Strong but soft hands push me back into a laying position. “Now you listen here, Nathan King. You ain’t fixin’ to waste all my hard work just ‘cause I know who ya are now. Nothin’s changed. You’re my patient and ‘til I say you’re ready to go, you ain’t goin’ nowhere.”
The fierceness of her stare is unnerving, but it also brings about other feelings; ones she couldn’t possibly be ready to understand. “You ain’t intendin’ on turnin’ me in then?”
“If I was gone be turnin’ ya in, I’d done so while you were knocked out cold. Just so happens I hated Virgil West and would’ve killed him myself if he’d come back here one more time tryin’ to make me his bride.” She’s all sass and fire, and I love every second of it, but her words cause the bile to rise in my throat.
Virgil West’s been here? And he’s tried to marry my Josie, my fierce, strong Josie. I’d dig that rat bastard up and kill him again if I could. That no good for nothing scoundrel didn’t deserve someone as good as Josie.
“That makes me ten times happier that I killed him,” I grit between clenched teeth.
Her hands move down t
o probe the bandage covering my side, so far it seems clear of blood. “Ya know they lookin’ for ya, right?” she asks, not meeting my eyes.
I grab her hands and hold ‘em between mine. “I figured they would, which is why I need to get out of here.”
Her eyes snap to mine and the franticness I see there burns me inside. I reach up and cup her cheek. “You know I got to go, Josie. I can’t drag you into my lawless lifestyle.”
‘No,” she all but yells, leaning forward to push her lips against mine. It’s unexpected but not unwelcome. The feel of her this close drives my senses mad. No matter the cost, I put my all into showing this woman she’s everything I could want … if I was a different kind a man.
My hands automatically go to the swell of her hips. They wrap ‘round her curves and grip on tight. Even the pain in my side ain’t enough to keep me from falling completely, giving her every bit of myself that’s available to give.
When I make the attempt to undo the buttons of her shirt, she pulls back, gasping. I feel the loss of her lips immediately. “We can’t.”
Horrified at what I done gone and tried to do, I start apologizing. “I’m sorry, Josie. I … I wasn’t tryin’ to push you into nothin’. You just turn me on so much and when ya kissed me like that, well, I lost my senses is all. I never meant—” Her fingers cover my mouth to stop my blabbering.
“Nathan, I stopped ‘cause you’re not ready, not me,” she says adamantly, her pine green eyes boring into mine.
I just stare at her like the stupid idiot I am. Never in my life have I been so out of sorts. I’m a man who’s decisive and makes smart decisions on a dime. It’s saved my life more than once. But here I am, a blundering idiot in the presence of a woman.
But that’s when I realize, she ain’t just a woman, she’s the woman. The one who can make my blood boil with a simple touch; who can ignite my passion with her fierce attitude, the one who has me wanting to kill an already dead man—she’s my woman.