Once an Outlaw

by Raine Cantrell

  “Let’s go taste these beans you cooked.”

  Logan turned to follow her, but at a slower pace. He eyed the loose-fitting faded blue shirt she wore and his gaze traveled over the sway of her rounded hips.

  “Why, Jessie?”

  She stopped but didn’t turn around. “Does it matter? I made a decision. Until you give me reason to change my mind, you can stay.”

  When she started into the cabin, Logan saw the rip near the hem of her tobacco-colored skirt. While the shirt was worn and thin looking, the skirt was of a heavier fabric. Where had Jessie been that she’d ripped the cloth?

  Once more Jessie paused. She felt his heated gaze on her and fought the need to turn around. “Are you coming?”

  “I really want to know why you’re letting me stay despite whatever suspicions are churning in your mind. And how did you rip your skirt?”

  “Caught it on the brush fence. I wasn’t meeting anyone, Logan. Not that you have the right to ask.”

  “No, I don’t have any rights, Jessie. But I still want an answer.”

  “I spent a lot of time worrying about your wound. Be foolish to throw it all away by chasing you off now.” You’ll go soon enough. Jessie folded her gloves into her hat and put it up on its peg. Smoothing back her hair, she turned.

  “You set the table!”

  “Usual when you’re gonna eat.”

  “Of course.” But it meant more to her. And he’d found flowers. She reached out to touch the petals of a wild buttercup. How could she have suspected him of trying to steal her cattle?

  “I don’t want you to think—” Logan began.

  “No one ever—I’m sorry. Please, finish what you were about to say.”

  Logan kept his distance; not that he wanted to. The slanting sun from the window caught in Jessie’s hair, shading the coil at the back of her neck with gold. She appeared fragile, leaning over the taller spikes of pale blue flowers. He had been tempted by the thought of kissing her, but now temptation turned to desire.

  She glanced at him, slowly straightening. “Logan?”

  “Yeah. I just saw them and thought you’d like some. I didn’t mean anything by it. Woman like you should have pretty things around her.”

  Her smile was radiant. “Thank you,” she whispered. “No one ever picked flowers for me before. These are larkspurs?” she asked, once more touching the taller spikes in the canning jar.

  “Mouse tails,” he corrected, then grinned. Logan heaved an inner sigh of relief that Jessie had put aside her quest for answers that he couldn’t give her.

  “Mouse tails, Logan?”

  “Why not? Names are no more than what a body sees. A man finds water, he looks around to find a way to mark the place. A jagged rock that’s sprinkled with mica sparkles in the sunlight. Next thing you know, he’s passing along word that there’s water at Sparkling Rock or Silver Rock, or some such name.”

  “I never thought of it that way. But mouse tails,” she said, then laughed when he shook his head.

  “I truly don’t know why they’re called that. Santo—”

  “Santo?”

  “Someone I know. He taught me how to find wild greens that are safe to eat.” Frowning, he tugged his earlobe. “Don’t you know? Didn’t anyone teach you—”

  “I was born and raised in New York, Logan. After my aunt died I came out here to live with my brother, then married Harry. Livia had just given birth, so there wasn’t time for her to show me much. There were three other children to take care of.”

  “And Harry? Didn’t he show you—”

  “Harry, I’m afraid, was more interested in what the rocks held than in what grew near them.”

  “I’m sorry, Jessie. Look over on the cupboard. You’ve got a whole garden on the other side of the well. Hog onions, Indian lettuce and red maids. The maids are a mite salty, but taste good. If I have time…Lord,” he said with a rough shake of his head, “that’s all I do have. I’ll scout around and see if I can find some seeds to make you desert tea.”

  “I’m not sure I like the sound of that. But you be careful. The area behind the well is rocky. Until that shoulder heals you shouldn’t climb over there, you could hurt yourself. And no food is worth that.”

  Her concern touched him. True, he’d rather have Jessie physically do a little touching, but a man took what he could get. Rubbing the back of his neck, Logan decided he would tell her the truth.

  “I wasn’t exactly looking for food, Jessie. We had a visitor while you were gone.”

  “A visitor? Here?”

  “That’s what I said. I—”

  “But who?” Truly puzzled, Jessie frowned. No one ever came to visit her…unless it was…“David? David was here?”

  “David? Who the devil is he?”

  Chapter Six

  “David Trainor is a widower who has been calling on me. Usually he confines his visits to Sunday afternoons.” One of the hardest things for Jessie was to turn around and face Logan. She lifted her chin and leveled a direct look at him. “David is the only one in Apache Junction who doesn’t believe that I killed my husband.”

  She gripped the overhanging edge of the cupboard, refusing to look away from him. It was somewhat startling to find Logan’s expression incredulous.

  “No way you killed him or anyone, Jessie.”

  “What? How can you say that? You don’t know what happened or why anyone would make the accusation.”

  “Are you trying to convince me that you did kill him? It won’t work. You haven’t got that killer instinct.”

  “How would you know, Logan?” Jessie fairly bristled. Her tone had been resentful, which she realized was ridiculous. But she didn’t like his assumption that he knew her so well.

  “I just know. Jessie, I’ve got your back up saying that, but now I don’t know why. If you could kill, why the hell did you—”

  “Don’t curse.”

  “Like I was saying, why did you take me in? Why do you shoot in the air when someone or some animal steals your eggs? If you did kill anyone, it would be sheer accident. Even then I wouldn’t believe you did—”

  “That’s enough. You’ve made your point. Logan, I do thank you. You can’t know the gift you’ve given me with your belief.”

  Logan eyed the distance between them. As a measure of space it wasn’t all that much. But if he gave in to the desire to go to her and take her into his arms, it would be a step from which there’d be no retreat. If he kept his distance from her until he left, there would be few regrets. If he…Cutting off his thoughts, Logan moved.

  Jessie watched him skirt the table and come toward her. In some dim corner of her mind she knew if he touched her, he would kiss her. She wanted him to kiss her. She had been dreaming of it, tempted and taunted by turns. And at this moment she needed to be held. He stood before her, his dark hair tumbling over his forehead, and she fought the urge to reach up and touch it. Needs swept through her, combining with a desire that allowed no pretense. She felt compelled to lift her face to his.

  “Jessie.” Logan touched her cheek with a gentle stroke that she turned to follow. His thumb brushed across her bottom lip. That poor abused lip she constantly bit. “You should let someone have care of this,” he murmured, brushing her lips again, “who won’t hurt it so.”

  “I don’t—”

  “Hush. You do.” His lips touched lightly on her hair, skimmed across her temple, then Logan covered her mouth with his. He expected to taste sweet softness, not the sharp tang of passion.

  He knew he shouldn’t give in to the desire to taste her lips once more, but his resolve faltered. Jessie felt perfect in his arms, those wide eyes gazing up at him, watching, and filling with unnamed needs. But learning the shape and temper of her kiss forced him to hold back a hunger that flared to life.

  Jessie liked kissing. She had been kissed by three men and all left her wanting something more. But none had brought their whole body into play. She gave herself easily into Logan’s c
are, enjoying the tease of his mouth brushing against hers. She liked the gentle touch of his callused hand cupping her cheek and the way the warmth of his body sheltered hers.

  And then she lost herself in his kiss, her own lips as feverish as his, discovering that she could follow his seductive, coaxing moves as the shifting pressure of his mouth set her on a path of longing.

  There was untold pleasure for her in the caressing ply of his hand sliding down from her shoulder to the curve of her waist. Their lips parted for a moment so that they could draw breath, then he slid his hand around to the small of her back, urging her closer to his aroused body.

  Jessie’s arm was caged by the embrace, but she raised the other to hold the back of his head as she fed dreamily on the rich taste of the passion building between them.

  A faint warning attempted to make itself heard, but she refused to listen. All her curiosity was being slaked, and, at the same time, newer temptations beckoned her to explore the desire that encompassed her.

  Logan eased his mouth from hers. He tasted longings in her lips that he couldn’t give her, wouldn’t. He’d tell her no lies and Jessie kissed like a woman looking for promises.

  Logan pulled back a little to gaze down at her face. Her light-tipped lashes, fluttering like skittish butterflies afraid to settle, made shadowed crescents on her cheeks. Reaching up, he used one finger to trace the slightly reddened shape of her generous mouth, more aroused than he could say when she parted her lips and kissed his finger.

  A tremor passed over her body, one that he felt as if it were his own. Caution whispered a warning to him that he should move away from her, now, while he still could. But need was stronger. He angled his head to take her mouth once more.

  Jessie understood how dangerous Logan could be to her. He touched a depth of passion inside her that made her feel threatened by its powerful force. But she had been alone for so long that she couldn’t find the needed strength to pull away.

  But when she felt the heated tip of his tongue seek to part her lips, she twisted her head away. “No. Don’t kiss me…like that.” She tucked her cheek against his chest, wondering why all the gentle things had to end so quickly for a man.

  “Jessie? Jessie, tell me what I did wrong?”

  Tell him? She wished she could burrow right through him and escape. How could she tell him? How could any woman discuss such a thing with a man?

  “This was a mistake, Logan.” But when she tried to slip by him, he blocked her way.

  “Maybe it was, but it sure answered a lot of questions.” Logan braced one hand on the edge of the cupboard and, although it hurt him to put pressure on his wounded shoulder, he did the same on the other side to cage her in front of him.

  She wouldn’t look up at him, and he didn’t push her to. “How long were you married, Jessie?”

  “A year.” She didn’t hesitate to answer him. At least he wasn’t trying to kiss her again.

  “And you said Harry’s been dead nearly as long?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “And there hasn’t been anyone else, has there, Jessie? David hasn’t…I mean—”

  Her head snapped up and slammed into his jaw.

  “Ouch! Damn it, Jessie! I only asked you a damn—”

  “Don’t curse, Logan. I keep telling you that, but you don’t listen very well.”

  “Answer my question, sunshine. I promise I’ll listen very well to your answer. There hasn’t been—”

  “I heard you the first time. No,” she stated, feeling heat rise in her cheeks, “there hasn’t been anyone else. Not that I see what business it is of yours.”

  He kissed the tip of her nose. “Thank you for telling me, Jessie. I just wanted to be sure—”

  “Of what?”

  “Woman, you have the damn—” The militant gleam in her eyes made him heave a sigh. “All right, you have the darnedest habit of interrupting me when I’m trying to talk to you. Please let me finish?”

  She almost blurted out no, afraid of what he was going to tell her. She’d guessed Logan’s age to be close to thirty, and from the first sensed that he’d had more than one woman losing her heart over him. He was no stranger to sharing a home with a woman, either. And she didn’t think she wanted to be told that she lacked whatever it was that men looked for in a woman.

  But Logan watched her with those dark eyes still shimmering with need. And she’d have to be carved from wood, like Miss Millicent’s fashion doll, not to feel that he was still aroused.

  “All I want to tell you, Jessie, is that when it comes to experience I’m probably your grandfather. I didn’t mean to let things go so far.”

  Was he sorry that he’d kissed her? Remember you are an independent woman, a little imp’s voice whispered. Are you going to let him imply that you don’t know how to kiss? She searched his features, wishing the little nagging voice was wrong, hoping to find some sign that he didn’t find her lacking.

  Logan turned away before she had an answer. Lifting her hand to her lips, Jessie knew it was for the best. No sense in starting something with a man who had traveling on his mind. But the taste of him lingered on her mouth and she wondered if it was already too late.

  He stood by the doorway, his good arm braced above him, staring outside. She gazed at the lean, hard body, feeling again its press against her own, and she was tempted to call him. Jessie bit her lip. It was just as she had told him—a mistake. One worth forgetting.

  Looking away from him, her gaze lit on the stove and the pot of beans that he had cooked. Bacon and biscuits would have been nice to add, but the flour was gone and she didn’t remember when she’d used the last of the bacon.

  If Logan was well enough to go walking around, she could leave him and make her trip to town. It was time to sell her ring. If she knew more about the right time to sell cattle…She cast a speculative look over her shoulder at Logan. He might know. But how to find out without revealing her dire straits? She knew he didn’t have any money. When she’d found him, she had searched his pockets for clues about him and hadn’t found any.

  Searching…Rubbing her forehead, Jessie tried to remember what he had said about searching for someone. The visitor!

  “Logan?”

  “Yeah?” He didn’t turn around to her. He didn’t like making mistakes, and kissing Jessie had been a major one.

  “You said someone came to visit?”

  “That’s right.”

  “But I don’t have any neighbors. I told you what people think about me. So, who came to call?”

  “Wasn’t exactly a social call, Jessie.”

  She ignored how distracted he sounded. Setting aside the wooden spoon she’d been stirring the beans with, Jessie turned around.

  “Who was it?”

  “I think I found your egg thief.”

  “My egg thief,” she repeated. Oh, dear, my silent protector likely came around to check on him.

  “You’re real sure,” he said, making an abrupt turn and coming back into the cabin, “that you have no one living close by?”

  “I told you so. I’ve had time this past year to ride Adorabelle over the land within a few hours’ ride. The only thing I found was a deserted shack back in the mountains.”

  “No signs that someone was living in the shack?”

  Jessie planted her hands on her ample hips and blew heavenward. “Logan, it was months ago that I was up there. For all I know there’s a renegade band of Apache camped up there now. What’s more, I don’t care who’s up there. I’ve had no reason to go back. I don’t even think the shack is on my land.”

  “I just wanted to make sure—”

  “The heck with making sure! You talk about me having a habit of interrupting—take a look at your own annoying habit of secrets and dragging things out till a body’s ready to give up the ghost awaitin’ on you.”

  “Now, Jessie, there’s no need to get all fired—”

  “Just tell me! Now,” she demanded, rounding the table and goi
ng toward him.

  “I’m not trying to keep it secret. I’m really puzzled about this. The thief’s a boy, Jessie. No more than chest high.” He had the satisfaction of watching her stop short, surprise bright in her eyes.

  “A boy? But that can’t be.”

  “Hard to figure how old he is. Never had much truck with young’uns.”

  Shaking her head, Jessie backed up and pulled out the bench. She sat down abruptly. “A boy,” she repeated, unable to believe it. “How could a child survive alone?”

  “Who said he’s alone?”

  She looked up at him. “What are you saying? That someone taught a child to steal? Well,” she quickly amended, “not exactly steal, more of an unasked-for trading arrangement. I’ve always found fresh-caught fish or a skinned rabbit, even a haunch of venison when one of the hens or eggs go missing.”

  “Didn’t you ever think to find out who was doing it?”

  “Don’t take that tone with me like I did something stupid. Of course I wondered. No real harm was done. If you are asking if I set a trap, obviously not. If I had, I wouldn’t be sitting here, with you ready to strip my hide over this.”

  “Jeez, Jessie, that’s a hell of a thing to say! Take my word for it, I don’t need you putting images in my mind.”

  For a few moments she stared blankly at him, then color tinted her cheeks. She squeezed her eyes shut, lowered her head and released a moaning sound.

  “Leave it to a man,” she mumbled, “to twist an innocent remark.”

  “You’re right. It would be innocent if minutes ago you weren’t running like hot honey all over me.”

  “Running like hot honey…” Jessie raised her head. “Why, you overblown tommy noddy!”

  “My name’s Logan!”

  “Is it?” She eyed him with every ounce of suspicion that she harbored about him.

  “Sure as hell is. Has been from the day I was born.”

  “Stop cursing in my home.” Since she felt at a decided disadvantage sitting, Jessie rose, but she didn’t trust herself to go near him. Grabbing hold of her skirt with both hands, she squeezed tight, wishing it was his thick head she held.