by Jenna Kernan
He was studying their surroundings now. She watched him as he turned in a slow circle. The walls looked impossibly high, a prison, she realized. The sun rays crept down the rim of the canyon, sending light across the opposite bank of rock and painting it orange.
Boon motioned to her horse. “Up you go.”
He bent and offered his clasped hands to boost her into the saddle, then recalled his last attempt and straightened, lifting a hand toward the horse. Laurie grabbed the horn in two hands and swung up.
Boon gathered her reins and offered them to her. She collected them neatly in one hand, shortening the length to bring her horse’s head up.
“Seems you’ve ridden a fair piece.”
“My father taught me,” she said.
Boon lifted the lead rope from the ground and began coiling it, replacing the looped line to his saddle. His actions said he trusted her not to run. Their eyes met and she gave him a smile of gratitude.
“How did you meet my father?”
He glanced back the way they had come again and then to her. “Caught us robbing a string of horses. Bad timing on Hammer’s part. One of your father’s men shot my horse out from under me at two hundred yards. Hell of a shot.”
“That’d be my father’s partner.”
“Coats? Might be. My horse pinned my leg. Hammer and his men left me to hang, maybe hoping finding me would slow the Rangers down, which it did. But your father surprised me. He didn’t string me up, as expected. He listened to my story and gave me a second chance.”
That didn’t sound like her father. She wondered what he had seen in Boon to make him take such an unexpected step. Surely he was not captivated by his features or mesmerized by his startling blue eyes. Boon’s eyebrows tented as he puzzled over her long steady stare.
“Why were you riding with outlaws?”
Boon’s eyes slid away as if he could no longer meet her gaze. His eyes narrowed on her as if blaming her for asking such a question.
“’Cause I am an outlaw.”
Laurie’s stomach dropped. Just what kind of a man had her father sent for her? She’d seen Boon kill Larson over her. She knew he was a brutally effective fighter and completely without mercy. But she had held out hope that he was not like those others.
“But…”
He cut her off. “I’m a killer, Laurie. Don’t forget it.”
Why had she allowed herself the delusion of believing he was different? And why had she held hope? Because he had such handsome features. He did not look like a desperado. But that was not all. It was also because of what she felt when he touched her. How could an outlaw make her feel like that?
He broke her silent appraisal by motioning his head toward the horses.
“You ready?” he asked.
He looked up at her, his eyes now hard and angry, his lips pressed together and his chin lifted as if waiting for her condemnation.
She wanted to ask him what had happened to cause him to fall in with such men. Had it been an accident or was there a billet in each sheriff’s office with his name upon it? Did her father have his wanted poster even now?
But she did not ask and she realized that it was because she did not want to know, did not want her pretty illusion of him to have to be bothered with the truth.
Boon was a thief and a murderer. She tried to reconcile his handsome face, engaging eyes and earnest expression with what she now knew. She wanted to tell him that he just didn’t look like a killer. But her own experience proved the fallacy of that train of thinking. His youth and good looks did not preclude him being a dangerous man. She immediately thought of the baby-faced William McCarty, or Billy the Kid as he was now known.
Couldn’t Boon’s killing have been an accident? She longed to ask, feared the answer and said nothing.
Boon broke eye contact and checked his horse’s saddle. When he spoke it was over his shoulder, not looking at her.
“Gonna be riding fast now. So will they, looking for sign. Keep hold of the saddle horn on these steep grades. All right?”
In answer she lifted the reins confidently in one hand, eyeing him coolly as he quirked a brow.
“How far back to you suppose they are?”
“Not sure. Might have lost them. But Hammer wants you real bad, so he won’t quit.”
He spun away, gracefully sweeping up into the saddle with a jump and roll that did not require use of the stirrup. Laurie blinked in astonishment at the athleticism of the man.
For the rest of the morning, Laurie held her seat as her teeth knocked together and her bottom bounced upon the unforgiving leather seat. She realized she was no longer that spry little girl in a saddle the size of a rocking chair, riding along on flat and familiar territory. However did her father spend so much of his life in the saddle?
When the sun was directly above them, Laurie suffered from a great thirst, but each time she thought to ask him for water, she recalled that he had taken none and somehow managed to keep her mouth closed.
He was risking his life to save hers. The least she could do was not hinder his efforts.
Likely it was the jarring gait that kept her from noticing the increasing greenery about them. It was not until the appearance of stringy cottonwood that she became cognizant of what was happening.
It was only a short time later that the trickle of water became evident beside the trail. Boon forged on, resisting his horses’ attempt to move to water until they were well up the creek and the water was flowing fast. Only then did he pause to allow the animals to drink their fill.
The horses slurped and blew, pawing at the water. Laurie felt sorry for the horses; their sides were soapy with frothing sweat and their saddle blankets soaked through.
Laurie looked longingly at the muddy water.
“It’s not safe to drink,” he said. “I’d feel happier if it were running faster.”
She nodded her understanding, but still eyed the enticing stream.
He offered her the canteen.
Laurie lifted a hand in refusal. “You first.”
Boon shook his head pressing the canteen into her hands. “Nobody in this world cares if I come back. It’s you everybody is after.”
“Then I won’t drink, either.” Laurie held out the canteen.
Boon scowled. He twisted off the top and took a long swallow before handing it back.
“You’re stubborn,” he said.
She didn’t deny it. It was what had kept her from realizing her mother was right all along. Little girls need to follow rules or there are consequences—terrible consequences.
“Likely that kept you alive back there.”
Laurie drank, being careful not to drain the last, though she wanted to. The water was hot now, but it satisfied her thirst.
“I knew my father was coming for me. I just needed to stay alive until he did. I wasn’t afraid of dying so much as…” Her words fell off. How could she say aloud what she most feared?
“How did they find you?”
“Hammer said they intercepted my letter. They were waiting for me. Knew I was coming. At the time I was disheartened that my father did not respond to my communiqué but still resolute. I walked right into the lion’s den.”
“Likely it went by overland stage.” He sounded resigned.
“Yes, Hammer said that one of his men robbed a mail stage.”
He released a weary breath. “My stage. I was riding shotgun on C. Bain & Company when Hammer’s men robbed it. That was about a month ago. They stole the lot. Your letter with the rest.”
Laurie’s breath caught as she calculated the days. The timing would have been right.
She recalled her arrival again, seeing it now from a new perspective and recognizing her mistakes. “I knew something was wrong the moment I first set eyes on Mr. Katz.” Her internal alarm system had sounded but she had been too distracted by her father’s absence to pay heed. “But he showed me his Texas star and I climbed into the dilapidated buckboard I thought my f
ather had sent for me. I was so stupid. I just climbed up and sat right next to him. I was more concerned about staining my new lilac overskirts and wondering why my father hadn’t come in person to listen to my own doubts.”
Boon didn’t judge. He didn’t roll his eyes at her stupidity or look away in disgust. He just listened with an intent, open expression that she appreciated.
“I thought the urgency of my letter would affect him and was peeved at his absence.” She was boggled by her own naiveté.
“Urgency?”
“Yes, you see, my father and mother have been…” She hesitated to speak of family business.
“Laurie, I ain’t a gossip. And besides, who am I going to tell? My horse?”
She looked about at the horse in question wondering what secrets the animal knew about Boon and finding herself much more curious than was proper.
“My mother left my father when I was fourteen. I don’t know why exactly. They had words. I do know it had something to do with me. My mother didn’t like my wearing britches and riding out alone.”
“That riding kept us ahead of Hammer.”
“My mother also didn’t think it proper that I rope and shoot and brand cattle. I’ve even helped birth calves. When she discovered that she was livid.”
“I’d imagine so.” Boon rubbed the back of his neck. “Never seen a female do those things.”
“It was all they ever fought about. My father telling her to let me be. My mother insisting I was too old for britches.” Her mother had been right about everything. Laurie had gotten herself into trouble, just as her mother had predicted, only not the kind that she’d expected. When Laurie had gone to her afterward her mother knew something was wrong, but she never asked. It was as if she didn’t want to know. But she started packing that very day. “In any case, I put away my boyish things and went with my mother to Fort Worth. She found a school for young ladies in Dallas.” She held her arms out to illustrate the changes then realized she wore britches again and looked very much like the little wild child she had once been. Her shoulders slumped. “Father never came to visit. At first he sent letters. But lately…”
The lump prevented her from saying more. Was that the real reason she came back? Was her mother’s announcement just the excuse she needed to see him again?
“Laurie?” Boon’s voice held a note of caution. The gentle touch of his hand on her shoulder radiated concern.
“They divorced.” She spoke the words at a whisper as the self-reproach clung to her like wet clay. It was her fault. She knew it, but did her father? “Now she is planning to remarry.”
His hand slipped away and she glanced up, meeting his quiet stare. “You thought he should know?”
“Exactly.” She lowered her chin. “When I told my mother that very thing she said, ‘Laurie, honey, that man hasn’t had a passing interest in anything I’ve done for over ten years. What makes you think this would be any different?’ But I did think this would be different. We had words and that’s why I was distracted. I was going to tell him that their divorce hurt my chances of marrying a respectable man and that they should reconcile for my sake.”
His face now turned stormy. “You’re ashamed of your mom because she’s divorced?”
Laurie nodded.
He snorted. “There’s worse things.”
“Well, if there are, I don’t know what. We aren’t invited to social occasions and I’ve seen more than one young man turned away from me.”
She secretly believed it was her inability to be alone with a man without breaking into a cold sweat that was more the issue. She glanced at Boon. She wasn’t sweating now. What was it about him that made her feel safe?
He was frowning. “That why you ain’t hitched? Because of your mom and dad? I’d think your looks would make a man forget anything else.”
His comment made her feel warm inside. Did he really think she was pretty? “In some circles a woman’s lineage is more important.”
He shook his head in confusion or possibly disgust. “World’s gone crazy.”
“Now Mother is going to marry the owner of a string of liveries in Austin. I don’t want to move to Austin and I don’t want another father. I want my father.” She reminded herself belatedly that a lady does not raise her voice.
“You’re grown, Laurie. I guess you can do as you like.”
She gasped at that. “Yes, what I like. Taking the train to San Antonio, for example. I thought that was a fine idea. I was going to sweep in and fix everything. As soon as my father heard his wife was planning to remarry, he’d jump on his horse and ride after her. Only instead I was waylaid by an outlaw.”
“Which one took you?”
She knew what he asked. Her captor had a sallow complexion a dirty neck and a twitchy manner.
“Katz,” she whispered, and could not repress the shiver.
“Did he touch you?” His voice went low and hard. It stopped her breathing for a moment. The look in his eyes gave no reassurance.
She knew what he meant and couldn’t keep from giving a mad shaking of her head that pulled loose another strand of hair from the disaster her coiffure had become.
“No. No, he didn’t. He showed me a Ranger’s star and told me he’d been sent by my father.” She glanced at the water, watching a yellow leaf swirl as it flowed downstream. “I remember thinking that Rangers used to have better manners. I knew something was wrong, but I kept thinking that maybe my father really would let my mother go if he didn’t even care enough to meet me at the station. That he wasn’t really, secretly, still madly in love with Mother. That he wasn’t keeping his distance only to protect us from his many enemies. And he had not been secretly checking on my progress through his connections in town. I was so self-absorbed I didn’t even notice Katz driving me out of town.
“When I did notice, really looked, I started asking questions. When had my father given up his rooms at the hotel? How much farther? And then I realized what had bothered me from the start.”
Boon lifted his chin a peg urging her to continue.
“Why had he tucked his star in his pocket? All the Texas Rangers I knew wore their star pinned to their hat or coat. They didn’t hide them in their clothing. Then I felt ill, dizzy, too, as if I were looking down from the crest of a mesa. If he wasn’t a Texas Ranger, who was I riding with? For he wasn’t who he purported himself to be.”
“So you started screaming?”
The horses had finished drinking and turned to the bright green grass upon the bank, but Boon kept his gaze riveted upon hers.
“It was too late. We were out in the middle of nowhere and the sun was setting. I realized that soon I would be alone in the dark with a man I did not know. I asked him if my father’s partner, Robbie Cox, would be there.”
“Your father’s partner is Sam Coats.”
Laurie smiled. “Yes. Robbie Cox was, and still is, the man who sells eggs to my mother in Fort Worth. Katz told me that Mr. Cox would be there.”
“Clever.”
“If I were then I certainly would not have gotten in that wagon in the first place. I thought to run but then realized that there was little in the way of cover and as you rightly pointed out my pastel overskirts and white lace trim seemed to glow in the dark while Katz’s clothing blended perfectly with his surroundings. There was a rifle on the floorboards between us. I dropped my reticule. Katz glanced at it but then returned his attention to the team. I made a grab for the rifle, but the barrel hit the seat on the way up, and Katz backhanded me.” She pointed at the welt on her left cheekbone. “The same place Hammer hit me.”
The muscle in Boon’s jaw bulged and his eyes went cold.
“He used the rifle butt to hit me here.” She pointed at her midsection. “I lost my wind, but I got one good kick in and retrieved the rifle, but riders appeared firing at close range. I thought for a moment that they were my father’s men. But it was George Hammer. He told me to drop it. I didn’t at first. I remember thinking
that if I lifted the barrel he’d shoot me and I wondered if that was my best choice. But I did as he ordered. The next thing he did was shoot Katz in the head. Then he hog-tied me and tossed me in the back of the buckboard. I was only in camp a few hours before you turned up. Long hours. Hard hours. I knew what they were planning and I kept regretting dropping that gun.”
“You a good shot?” he asked.
She didn’t mean to brag but she was as good as any cowpoke. “Not as good as my father’s men.”
He reached into his saddle bags, rummaged for a moment and withdrew a bit of oiled muslin wrapped about something that looked suspiciously like a gun. He unfolded the cloth and revealed a pistol.
“Derringer,” she said, accepting the weapon he handed to her butt-first. Laurie ran her fingers over the well-oiled barrel, taking in the nicks and scars.
He smiled. “Double-shot pocket model. Loaded. It was my mother’s.”
Chapter Six
Her gaze flashed to his but he said nothing more. A lady didn’t pry, but oh, how she wanted to ask. Somehow she held her tongue.
“You know how to switch from one barrel to the next?”
She nodded, gripping the weapon’s worn handle. It was an older model, the kind of weapon a gentleman concealed in a vest pocket or a lady in a reticule. She cracked open the breach to find the weapon loaded. Her gaze flashed to Boon. She could shoot him if she chose to. His eyes told her he knew it. Giving her a loaded weapon proved everything he told her was true or he was the craziest man she’d ever met.
“You keep it,” he said.
She nodded, her mouth still gaping as she blinked at him. He smiled.
“Might have that same choice again or maybe you can take someone with you.”
He hadn’t given her a gun. He’d given her a chance and the power to choose. She stared up at him, the gratitude welling in her throat. Laurie felt the urge to tell him why she’d really put away her britches. But she couldn’t trust him with that. It would change how he thought of her. Change everything between them. She clutched the derringer to her chest.
“Thank you. I was so afraid they’d ruin me, that my father would be too late and he wouldn’t want me back and that no decent man would ever want me.”