Untamed Hearts

by Colleen O'Connell

  By the bounty hunter’s question alone, he knew Ramirez wasn’t certain whether he found his man. He would have to think quickly if he wanted to board the train before its departure. Scowling, he pierced the man with his stare. “Who are you to demand such information?” Ramirez took a step back under the verbal attack. It left the bounty hunter momentarily speechless.

  Miguel’s hackles rose. “I’m a bounty hunter in search of an escaped man. If necessary, I can bring the local sheriff into this.”

  Jared growled in exasperation. “A bounty hunter!” His attention diverted to the child now crying in a high-pitched voice in his plea for his mother to pick him up. The mother already held the smaller of the two children. Unconsciously, he reached for the squalling boy then turned to Ramirez. “A bounty hunter,” he repeated in irritation. “I wish I were the man you seek.” His gaze swept over the woman and two children. “I’d like to escape. I’ve been traveling for the past five days,” he informed Ramirez in a voice so filled with aggravation it stunned the child in his arms into silence. “I have one more train trip to suffer through. The last thing I need is some huntsman asking me questions which are none of his business. “If we miss this train due to your intolerable questions, I’ll come searching for you.”

  The bounty hunter glanced at the now quiet child in the traveler’s arms. The child seemed perfectly content. Miguel backed away from the livid traveler. “I beg your pardon. I’ve obviously made a mistake.”

  “You most certainly have.” Jared adjusted the child in his arms and with a hand on the mother’s elbow, continued toward the train.

  In frustration, the bounty hunter retreated to question another man he noticed.

  At the entrance to one of the boxcars, the woman turned toward him. “I can’t thank you enough. My husband and I anticipated traveling together, but his business necessitated him going ahead of us. I don’t know how I would have managed alone with the children and the extra baggage without your help.”

  He set the child on the landing of the train, and then pulled the luggage up for the woman. “My pleasure, madam, I assure you.”

  “Odd of him to ask those questions,” the woman commented, settling her children in their seats.

  “Yes, odd,” he agreed, stowing the woman’s luggage.

  “Well, thank you again, I’ll be fine now.”

  He allowed himself a sigh of relief and walked into the next boxcar.

  Having taken her place aboard one of the train’s boxcars, Taryn chose a seat halfway down the narrow aisle. The wooden seats were not the most comfortable, and the actual seat planks were not roomy, but she would have to make do. Removing her treasured bonnet, she gingerly placed it on top of her small satchel by her feet. She observed as others walked into the boxcar and chose their seats. A woman sat two seats in front of her attempting to entertain her two young children, and already looking weary from it; a man busy writing notes across the aisle; and sitting toward the back of the boxcar, a man dressed in dusty riding clothes. He returned her curious glance with a lopsided grin accompanied by a leer in his eyes. With a shudder of distaste, she turned and decided to stare out the window as the train chugged out of the station.

  Thoughts of what lay ahead occupied her mind giving her pleasant comfort through the following hours. By week’s end, she would be in Sacramento. Of course, life on a ranch would not be like life in Chicago. Yet it surely couldn’t be as wild and primitive as some depicted, or as her mother believed.

  The manner in which her parents would learn of her departure weighed on her mind, but she needed to do what she felt was right. She recognized she grew up in a sheltered environment. Her parents believed her desire to venture west merely a young girl’s daydream and like most daydreams, believed it would pass as quickly as the taking of a breath. Her parents, especially her mother, found her suggestion of traveling alone scandalous. Taryn could still envision the look of disbelief on her mother’s face when she broached the subject. A young girl traveling for such a distance alone? Without a chaperon? Unheard of! Impossible! She wouldn’t allow it, nor would her father. So ended the conversation, and presumably the end of such thoughts. Willful to a fault, Taryn supported other ideas. It was simple to her way of thinking. They would have to understand. She’d certainly left them no alternative.

  This business with chaperons was such nonsense. She was a grown woman, independent and sure of her mind. Stubborn was what most considered her. Yet, she was not content to meekly stand by, remain quietly in the shadows, acting the refined lady. She could still be a lady and speak her mind at the same time. While her mother shocked easily as a result of her daughter’s unconventionality, her father secretly applauded her fiery spirit.

  Then, of course, there was Brad Thompson. What would he think of her sudden departure? Engaged to be married within a matter of months, the planning aspects of their forthcoming wedding overwhelmed her. Brad was a respectable looking man. She always thought of him as such. With his neatly combed blond hair and calming hazel eyes, Brad was the picture of a perfect businessman. Her parents approved of their engagement. Her mother adored Brad and considered him to be everything her daughter needed. She was probably being foolish about it all. Brad was a wonderful man, treated her well, and forever told her how much he loved her. He was reliable and held a good job with prospects for advancement. Highly ambitious, he knew exactly what he wanted from his future. How could she ask for more? Yet somehow, she felt something missing. Since she didn’t know precisely what she found lacking, she finally accepted Brad’s proposal of marriage. Her acceptance made her parents happy, especially her mother. Taryn was glad she would not be present to see her mother’s reaction upon realizing her daughter disobeyed, yet again. She still planned on marrying Brad, but she needed time to herself first.

  The afternoon wore on with boredom setting in. She glanced around the boxcar once more. The man across the aisle was still busy with his writing, intently scribbling at a rapid pace. She observed him for a few moments. His light brown hair fell forward as he leaned over his writing paper. He inched his spectacles back onto the bridge of his nose in an unconscious movement with his hand. She could only assume he was somewhere in his twenties. She attempted to place his business by his clothing. He wore a meticulously pressed dark navy suit and white shirt. Perhaps he was a tailor. The man appeared serious in nature. He focused on his writing. His hand moved the fountain pen quickly across the page as if he would lose the thought if he slowed his pace. He adjusted his glasses and peered her way. Smiling, he put his fountain pen down.

  “I’m sorry for staring. You seemed so intent.”

  “Don’t apologize. I’m surprised I even noticed you looking. I tend to block out everything around me when I’m writing. He extended his hand in a friendly gesture. “My name is Robert Michaels.”

  Robert Michaels’ friendly smile changed his countenance completely. The seriousness disappeared. The man’s blue eyes filled with interest. His warm smile and manner gave her the impression he was genuinely eager to hear whatever she might have to say. Taking his hand, she introduced herself in return. “What is it you’re writing?”

  “I’m writing about this journey. You see, I’ve acquired a position with the local newspaper in Sacramento. I’m moving out there. This undertaking,” he said, gesturing to his notes on his lap, “will be a compilation of stories about traveling to the West for those people who cannot experience it for themselves.”

  She would never have considered the man would be in the literary profession. “I’m very impressed.”

  “Don’t be impressed too quickly,” Robert said in a self-effacing manner. “I only have a pile of notes right now. I wouldn’t even print it myself in its present form.”

  She shook her head. “Well, there’s no help for it. I’m still impressed.”

  Robert leaned his elbow on the armrest. “Then we must talk more often. I’m always impressed by people impressed by me.”

  She laughed at
his wit. She liked Robert Michaels’ unassuming nature. She continued talking with him at some length, listening to the anecdotes he already accumulated. Evening descended, neither having noticed the passage of time.

  “Have you made arrangements with the conductor for the evenings?”

  “Arrangements?”

  “In an effort to make the emigrants sleeping arrangements moderately bearable, these seats we’re sitting on can be pivoted to face one another,” Robert explained. “For two dollars and fifty cents, the conductor will sell boards and pillows to every two people. The boards are laid across the seats, and two can sleep side by side. You don’t have to sleep in a sitting position. I’ve already made arrangements myself, and so should you, Miss Ashford.”

  Eager to do so, she stopped the conductor as he passed through the boxcar. The conductor informed her most in her car previously made arrangements, but he would see if there was someone from another car whom she could join. She assured the conductor she was not particular. “As long as you can find someone for me, I don’t care who it is.”

  An hour later, the conductor approached her. “There is only one choice, completely unsuitable.” He apologized without going into detail, mumbling something about the shortage of persons available who didn’t already make prior preparations.

  She couldn’t let the man dismiss the matter. “I assure you I’ll have no objections to any choice you might make on my behalf.”

  “But you don’t understand, miss. There is only one person and—”

  “Fine.”

  The conductor opened his mouth to protest further but stopped himself. “If you insist.”

  Taryn gathered up her small satchel and bonnet, bid Robert Michaels goodnight, and followed the conductor into the next boxcar. She eagerly followed the conductor to make the acquaintance of the woman he found to pair her with for the journey. She envisioned finding things in common to form a friendship to continue once settled in the West. Those thoughts were still going through her mind when the conductor stopped in the aisle gesturing for her to go around him toward the seat.

  She squeezed past the conductor with a friendly smile on her face. She automatically held out her hand to introduce herself to the woman she expected to see. The smile and her hand dropped instantly upon sight of the gunman. In shocked disbelief, she turned to the conductor. “You can’t be serious?!”

  The conductor returned her gaze, not even a hint of embarrassment crossing his face. “I attempted to tell you, but you were insistent. If you allowed me to finish…”

  She didn’t appreciate the conductor’s smug attempt to put her in her place. “On second thought, this will be fine. Thank you.” She drew herself up to her full height, gracing the conductor with an impervious stare.

  Aghast, the conductor spluttered his reply. “Miss, I cannot allow—”

  “I believe the lady said the arrangement is acceptable.”

  The conductor halted his disapproving speech hearing the commanding voice from the man seated. He nodded with a stiff jerk of his head and went off to retrieve their boards and pillows.

  She sat down across from the gunman, the seats already facing one another in readiness for the boards. His smile unnerved her, but she refused to let it get the better of her. She placed her bonnet beside her, and her satchel in the aisle. “As long as we’re going to be in this situation, I’d appreciate knowing your name.”

  “Jared King. And yours is…” He paused in an attempt to recall it.

  Her eyes grew wide, her mouth slack. Only that morning, he held her in his arms and kissed her with such fierceness leaving her breathless, and he could not remember her name? How insulting! Why she should even feel insulted by a man she didn’t care for in the least escaped her.

  “Taryn Ashford, isn’t it?”

  She gave him a curt nod, not trusting to speak, his snub angering her.

  “You can always tell the conductor you’ve changed your mind.”

  “I wouldn’t think of giving him the satisfaction.” Her response pleased him. She would have pondered more on his smile, but the conductor returned. Again, she felt a strain of insult when the gunman made no offer to purchase her board and pillows. A gentleman would have made the gesture. The boards were placed in position, and the gunman…Jared King, lay down next to the window, propping his head comfortably on the straw-filled pillow. His legs were too long for the space, and he improvised by propping them on the back of the seat opposite him. He turned his gaze toward her. His gaze held a decided look of anticipation.

  She swallowed nervously, excusing herself to go to the convenience room at the end of the boxcar. His gaze mocked her, telling her he was aware she sought to avoid retiring. Upon her return, she sat on the edge of the board, her feet in the aisle. She unbraided the length of her hair, purposely slow in her ministrations in order to prolong the necessity of lying down.

  Brushing out the loose strands, Taryn paused, threading her fingers through a tangled lock. She ran the brush through the strand one final time and tossed the now shimming tress over her shoulder to mingle with the remaining mass. Unable to think of any other reason to delay, she re-packed her brush, and drummed up the courage to lie down on her half of the bed. Her body felt as taut and immobile as the wooden board beneath her. Daring a glance in his direction, she found him studying her, which only caused her heart to beat even harder. “You’re staring at me.” She self-consciously adjusted her gown, finding the gaze of his deep blue eyes mesmerizing.

  “You look very pretty with your hair loose.”

  She could feel her face blaze with the heat of a blush spreading across her cheeks. A tentative smile touched her mouth. “Thank you.” Others told her she was pretty, even Brad continually referenced her looks, but she always considered it as mere kindness. For some reason, his compliment made her feel beautiful. She could not decide what caused her reaction. The words he used or the way he said them? She would have to take care or she would make a fool of herself before the journey’s end.

  “Goodnight,” he finally said after a long pause between them.

  “Goodnight.” She rolled over onto her side. Surging warmth swept through her as she felt his gaze still on her. Suddenly a thought insinuated its way into her mind. What would her parents say if they could see her in her present situation? What would Brad say? She brought her hand up to the level of her face, glancing at Brad’s engagement ring. She fingered it, and then pulled it off. Quietly, she reached under the board she lay on, slipping the ring into her satchel. Taryn didn’t know why she did it. She wanted to safeguard her valuables. The man beside her was a gunman, and no doubt, possessed an unprincipled nature. Didn’t that make him a thief in the bargain? There was no connection to the way his words affected her or the way her heart still fluttered at the thought of his deep baritone voice as he spoke them. No connection at all.

  Chapter Two

  Sleep managed to overtake Taryn after restless hours of discomfort and the knowledge of the gunman lying only inches from her. Sometime during the following hours, something interrupted her peace. With heavy lids, she opened her eyes. Sleep clouding her vision, a moment passed before she realized a man was leaning over her. He was not Jared King. A face possessing a strange look—a lopsided grin and a lustful light in his eyes. Her heart lurched, and she opened her mouth to scream. Frantically, she reached out next to her only to have her hand fall upon an empty space.

  The dusty-clad cowboy from when she’d first boarded the train clamped his hand over her mouth. He sat on the edge of her board, and leaned down close, the stench of alcohol hanging in the air. “Shhh, you don’t want to wake everyone, do you? I saw you lookin’ at me this mornin’.”

  She couldn’t believe what she heard. Earlier in the day, she merely glanced toward him. The cowboy obviously took it as an open invitation! She struggled to get up off the board, but he pinned her down with his other hand.

  A clicking noise in the stillness of the car alerted the cowb
oy, and his back stiffened in recognition of the sound.

  “Even her screams won’t be enough to wake you if you don’t get your hands off her.”

  Jared stood behind the cowboy, one of his guns pointed at the back of the man’s head. The cowboy took his one hand from her mouth and his other from restraining her shoulder. He held them up in the air for Jared to see. The cowboy stood on command. Taryn scrambled to a sitting position, her legs curled up as she leaned back against the back of the seat.

  Wakened by the commotion, other passengers gasped upon viewing the scene unfolding before their eyes. Some crouched down low fearing a hold-up. Others viewed the scene in silent fascination, their expressions reflecting uncertainty as to what they should do.

  Jared spun the cowboy around to face him. Raising his gun in front of the cowboy’s frightened face, he conveyed a quiet warning. “You see this woman?”

  Unable to see anything but Jared’s weapon crowding his face, it took a moment for the cowboy to realize the instruction was for him to look at her. The cowboy, as well as every one of the passengers watching the scene, shifted their gazes from the cowhand to her. The now shaking unfortunate bobbed his head.

  “Take a good look.”

  The cowboy flinched at the tone of Jared’s voice. Again, all focus turned to her face. The cowboy’s look lingered as he studied her before turning his pleading gaze back to her protector.

  A muscle twitched in Jared’s cheek. “You so much as glance at or bother her in any way, and I’ll blow your damned head off the hinge it’s attached to, understand?”

  “I didn’t know how it was,” the cowboy attempted to explain; comprehending too late Jared had no interest in his views. “You’ll have no more problems with me,” he amended slowly, backing away. He turned, tripping over his own feet in his haste to reach the door leading to his own boxcar.

  Jared released the trigger, placing the gun back in his holster, detecting an audience. He smiled to reassure the other passengers. “Sorry for the disturbance. I’m certain it won’t happen again.”