by Linda Broday
“Yeah.” He removed his finger from the hole and drank his fill. The minute the fresh, creamy taste hit his mouth, he was in heaven.
He drank his fill, then glanced at Nora, considering their teamwork. This, and the last few, were the best days he’d had in a long time. He felt foolish to have doubted her. What had he been thinking? She didn’t have an ulterior motive. She was still the woman he’d met on the stagecoach.
With their combined sharpness and skill, they might just possibly come out of this in one piece.
“I hate to leave the cow behind.” Nora moved to the animal, now calmly eating in a patch of wild rye and patted the cow’s side. “Can we take her?”
“No. When that posse and the man hunting you turn around, and it’s only a matter of time before they backtrack, the bellowing will give us away. Besides, her owner will be looking for her.”
Nora let out a long sigh. “You’re right of course. Though it would be nice to have the milk.”
Jack laid a hand on her shoulder. “I can get us a little more.” As he started toward the mama, a mud-covered calf walked from the thicket, crying, and took its place at the cow’s swollen udders. “Looks like we’d be robbing that little fellow.”
“Where do you think he’s been?”
“Must’ve bogged down in mud. When the rain comes, every hole fills up. He probably fell into one and had trouble getting out. We’d best go.”
Nora gave the mama and calf a longing glance and fell into step with Jack, her long coat swishing against his leg.
“The next bit of water I find I’m washing some of this mud off my clothes and cleaning my hat. I feel naked without something on my head and my gun at my side.”
“What about me? I’m wearing practically nothing underneath my dress now.”
Heat flooded his senses at the thought of all that silky skin bare. He only had to lift her skirt to touch that softness.
He shook his head to clear it. “I’ll buy you a dozen petticoats when we reach town.”
“I’ll hold you to that.”
Staying well off the trail to avoid the men looking for them, they walked for about an hour. The day was pleasant with occasional clouds. Nora didn’t say much, which suited Jack. He didn’t talk unless he had something to say, and at the moment, he didn’t know what to say to the woman at his side. At times she scowled, and he wondered what she was thinking. Probably how much she’d like to leave his sorry rear behind.
He’d done it again—he’d ordered instead of asking her to donate another petticoat to make the rope, and then did the same when he’d needed to position her on the backside of the cow.
Hell! He wouldn’t blame her for giving him an earful.
The silence grew, and when he wasn’t watching her, he was constantly scanning the landscape for trouble. And water. His hat had begun to stink to high heaven. They stopped to rest in the shade of a shrubby juniper.
Nora plopped down and wiped her forehead. “I’d give anything for a drink of water.”
“Wait here and rest while I scout around. The rain might’ve collected in a few ravines. I won’t be gone long.” He handed her the knife. “Keep this close. Don’t be afraid to use it.”
“I won’t.” Their hands brushed as she took it. “But what if you need it?”
“I’ll be okay. It’s you I’m worried about.” He brushed the softness of her cheek with a finger, and her ashen expression pierced his heart. “It’s all right. I’ll be near. If you hear riders, move back into the protection of this juniper and don’t make a sound.”
At her nod, he set out and found water in a little gully not far from where he’d left her. He drank from the small pool and washed the mud from his face and milk from his hat. He rose, planning to go back and bring Nora.
The sudden sound of hooves striking the ground froze his blood. He peeked over the rim of the ravine and saw a single horseman.
Hide, Nora, and keep quiet.
But the rider had heard something. He turned toward the scraggly juniper shrub.
Eight
Hoofbeats struck the ground, coming closer and closer. Nora’s heart pounded, and she wished for Jack’s strong arms. Gripping the knife tightly, she shrank back into the juniper like he’d told her. The tall bush poked into her like thousands of needles, but she never uttered a sound. Through the odd, lacy leaves, she recognized the tracker who’d been following her before.
He rode slowly into view, scanning every inch of the landscape. Alarm raced up Nora’s spine. Why had he left the road and come so far into the brush?
His horse snorted and skittered sideways. The tracker pulled up to calm the spotted gray gelding. He removed his hat to wipe his forehead and glanced around. It was the first time Nora had gotten a good look at him, and she sucked in a breath, careful not to make a sound.
The long-haired man struck terror in her heart. Cocky self-confidence filled every movement. That and knowledge of the landscape made him a foe that would be hard to beat. It took such a man as this to make a living tracking those who didn’t want to be found. His sunken cheeks, the small eyes of a predator in constant motion, and hard mouth told her that he must have the stone heart of a killer—exactly the kind of person Flynn O’Brien would hire. And this much she knew—neither Flynn nor this man would give up until they found her.
She strangled an anguished cry before it left her mouth and remained frozen in place, afraid even to blink.
A minute passed, and she kept so still that a rabbit hopped right into the tall bush with her. Once the little animal saw her and realized its mistake, he leaped out, and the flurried movement had alerted the rider.
He dismounted and strode toward her hiding place. Nora’s heart hammered against her ribs.
Ever closer he came. If he peered hard enough, he’d see her through the lacy foliage.
Where was Jack? She needed his strength. But she had the knife and her wits—she wasn’t helpless. As quietly as she could, she eased from the backside of the juniper.
Run!
The order sprang into her head, and she realized that it was the only choice left.
When he leaned farther into the shield of green, she lifted her skirts and bolted toward a gully. Halfway into the jump, a hand caught her dress and pulled her back.
“I’ve got you now,” the tracker spat. “You’ve given me a lot of trouble, and you’ll pay for that. O’Brien didn’t specify what shape you’d need to be in. So I figure as long as you’re breathing, that’s good enough.”
Nora tried to shrink away from the bold gaze that raked over her, but his grip was like a steel band. He jerked her coat open and squeezed her breast. His mouth went slack, and lust glittered in his round crow eyes.
“You an’ me are gonna have a good time. O’Brien didn’t tell me how pretty you were.” He crushed his mouth to hers, a demonstration of how cruel he intended to be.
Gripping the knife, she sliced his arm, drawing blood.
“Hell! You’ll pay for that, whore!” The tracker yanked the knife from her and tossed it aside. “I see you like to fight. It’ll just make taming you more fun.” His lips parted in a cruel grin.
“You’ll need an army to get me back to O’Brien.” She bent her elbow and rammed it into his stomach, then stomped down on his foot. Nora twisted and wrenched herself free from his grip. Her breath coming in harsh gasps, she raced toward the cover of a stand of mesquite. Maybe she could get lost in there. It didn’t matter to her that they had thorns. Anything was better than what was behind her.
She’d taken about three strides when she saw movement from the corner of her eye and heard Jack’s familiar bark.
“Take another step and I’ll blow a hole clear through you.”
She turned to see Jack planted in front of the tracker, blocking his path. Her focus was on the empty gun he jammed to the man�
�s neck.
One second she sagged with relief; the next she clenched her hands, worrying that the tracker would notice the gun was empty. Then something Jack once said came back to her—that he was very good at making men think they were about to die. Looking at him now, even though she knew he couldn’t fire the Colt in his hand, she could easily believe he was about to kill the tracker. Jack wore his hat low so she couldn’t see his eyes, but she watched a muscle work in his jaw. He showed no nervousness in his grip or wide stance.
“Ahhh, you’re the outlaw.” The tracker gave Jack a thin smile, but his sunken cheek twitched. “This matter doesn’t concern you. It’s between me and the lady.”
“Everything concerns me—especially her. She’s mine and I’m keeping her.” Jack kept the Colt pressed to the man’s neck and reached for the gun hanging at the tracker’s side. He pitched it toward Nora.
She thought he must’ve lost every bit of sense he had to keep the empty weapon and give her the loaded one, but she hurried to pick it up. Her hand shook so much she nearly dropped it as she pointed it at the tracker. For insurance. Both the unexpected weight of the heavy steel and her jangling nerves made it necessary to use two hands. This was the first time she’d ever touched a firearm. How could Jack make holding one and facing off against an enemy look so easy? His calm demeanor made it appear as though he were taking a Sunday stroll down Main Street.
His last sentence rolled around in her head and warmth washed over her. She concerned him. That had to mean he cared for her. Didn’t it?
Why couldn’t he say the words to her instead of a stranger?
“Lay that gun down and we’ll see what you have, outlaw.” The tracker released a wad of spit on Jack’s boot. “You won’t stand a chance in hell.”
“You know, you’ve got a big lesson to learn. I’m awfully tempted to cut you down a notch, but I don’t need to prove a damn thing to a snot-nosed kid. Got a name?”
“Darius. Guthrie.”
“Darius Guthrie, remove your gun belt, drop your trousers, and get on your knees.” Jack never looked at Nora, but she was sure he knew exactly where she was, down to the inch. “Twitch and you’ll never bother anyone again.”
“I don’t think so, old man.”
“Then you and me have a big problem.”
Darius glared, his mouth set in a tight line. “Better kill me, or I’ll hunt you down. I will take Nora Kane back to New York. Boss wants her and the book she stole, and I’m going to take both back to him.” The cocky man gave Jack a chilling smile that sent tremors through Nora. Jack was right. Guthrie was young—too young to be in the killing business. She guessed early twenties, but just barely. Maybe even nineteen.
“I’ve run up against men like you all my life.” Jack’s voice was silky smooth as he rattled the set of manacles he’d slung around his neck. “Do you know the one mistake they all made?”
“Why don’t you tell me, old man?”
“They never take experience into account. Drop the gun belt.” Jack pressed the gun so hard into Darius his neck moved sideways. “I will not tell you again.”
What was Jack going to do with him?
Tense moments stretched as neither man moved. Hands shaking, Nora cocked the gun, the single click sounding loud in the silence.
Her nerves frayed as time ticked by. She was ready to act in case she needed to, but Jack appeared unfazed. He’d likely faced many such moments during his life.
A bead of sweat rolled down Darius’s cheek.
Neither man blinked.
“Turn your head, Nora, you shouldn’t see this,” Jack said softly.
A second drop of sweat made a painstaking march to Darius’s chin. The young tracker shifted, finally unbuckling the belt and letting it fall. Staring an angry, defiant hole into Jack, he let his trousers drop to his ankles.
Uncomfortable, Nora glanced away. She didn’t want to see. Didn’t want to feel sorry for the piece of cow dung. Guthrie deserved everything he was going to get.
The man had intended to inflict great pain on her, and something in his eyes said he’d have enjoyed every second.
Steeling herself, she turned back, out of defiance more than anything, and saw the man wore ankle-length drawers. She would watch Darius get what was coming to him. That seemed fair to her, but she just wished Jack would end this quick instead of dragging it out.
The set of manacles clinked together as Jack removed them from around his neck. “Lie on your belly, Guthrie, hands behind your back.”
Darius shot a nervous glance to Nora, as though pleading for her to intervene. For the first time, he appeared to face the seriousness of his situation.
Instead of lying down, he lunged, knocking the cuffs from Jack’s hand. Trousers bunched around his ankles, Darius could only ram into Jack with his head and grab him. They rolled under the gray gelding. The animal reared up, then took off in a gallop, hooves narrowly missing the fighting men.
Nora made a diving leap for the horse’s bridle but missed.
Jack yanked Darius up and slammed a fist into his nose. Blood spurted over the rocks where they stood as well as their clothes. Nora gripped the gun, unsure where to shoot. They hit the ground and rolled. First Jack was on top, then on bottom. Darius Guthrie was bleeding heavily. Why didn’t he give up? He couldn’t hope to win with his legs all tangled. Yet he kept desperately pounding on Jack whenever he could get a lick in.
If Darius Guthrie won this fight, she’d shoot him. He would never get her back to Buffalo alive, not in a million years.
“Go, Nora. Get out of here,” Jack yelled.
She took five long strides when a loud grunt stopped her. She had to see, and she turned. Jack had managed to get behind Darius. He placed one arm in front of the man’s throat and the other behind his head to anchor…and held him.
It didn’t take long for Darius to go limp in Jack’s arms, his eyes closing. Jack laid him on the ground.
Nora stood. “That was amazing. How did you put him out like that?”
“It’s called a choke hold. When you can get behind an opponent, it’s the best and safest way of ending the fight.” Jack removed Darius’s boots and yanked his trousers off.
“It certainly worked.” She relaxed her grip on the gun, unsure what to do with it. “I know he deserves his fate, but please don’t kill him. I can’t live with myself if he dies because of me.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
Breathing hard, Jack flipped Darius onto his stomach and handcuffed his right arm to his left leg. “I think that will hold him for a while. Some of the posse will ride by and release him eventually, but for now we can make tracks without worrying about him.” He straightened and glanced around. “Did you see where the gray went?”
“It galloped off in the direction we came from. I tried to catch him, but he ran by me too fast.”
“He seemed to spook easy.” Jack plucked his black hat from the ground and put it on, then buckled Darius’s gun belt around his hips. “He would’ve saved us some time though.”
“Can we look for him?”
“We can’t risk getting stuck here.”
“Here’s Guthrie’s gun.” Nora handed it to him, glad to be rid of the weapon. When he reached for it and stuck it in the holster, she noticed his bloody knuckles. “If you found water, you should wash first. I could use a drink something awful.”
“There’s water in a little gully nearby.” He picked up the empty gun that had belonged to the marshal, loaded it, and stuck it in his waist. She guessed he’d hang onto it no matter what.
“Hold up your foot,” Jack asked.
When she did, he placed Guthrie’s boot against Dollard’s. “I think Guthrie’s is smaller and would fit better.”
“I think so too.” She sat down and slid her foot into the young tracker’s boot
s.
Jack pulled Darius underneath a small tree out of the sun and stuffed his trousers and Dollard’s boots in a crevice between the rocks. Then he put an arm around Nora, and the gentleness after the explosive violence almost did her in.
“Are you all right?”
“I’m fine. I was terrified that Darius would hurt you.” Shaking, she glanced up at his bruised and bloody profile. “Even though I begged for his life, if he’d harmed you, I would’ve shot him then and there.”
Jack froze, his face darkening. “I hope you never have to take a life. It kills something inside here.” He placed his hand over her heart. “It scars you until you can’t recognize yourself. Then hardness sits in, pushing out everything good and kind. Never become like me.”
“Hold me, Jack. Hold me and don’t ever let me go.”
He pulled her against him, his heartbeat strong and steady beneath her ear. He held her beneath the pale-blue sky until she stopped trembling. It had to be nearing the noon hour and she was hungry, but she didn’t want to move out of Jack’s strong arms.
“We should get far away from here before trouble finds us.” His deep voice rumbled and filled her with longing.
“I know.” She pushed out of his embrace. “Maybe manna will drop from the sky and we can eat.”
He chuckled. “I’ll catch a fish for supper. Barring complications, we’ll reach a small river in three or four hours.”
“I don’t know how you plan to fish without a pole and a hook.”
“You’ll see.”
Yes, she would. She didn’t know what he had in mind, but she wouldn’t bet against him. This tall outlaw could do almost anything he set his mind to—even rope a cow with her petticoat.
After drinking her fill, Nora tenderly washed the cuts on Jack’s face with a strip she tore from the bottom of her dress. “With the added bruises and scrapes, folks will think you fought a grizzly.”
“I’ll heal. You worry too much about me.”
“Someone has to. Since we’re as good as married, I guess it falls to my lot.” She let out a chuckle. “I don’t know which of us looks the worst. I’m wearing a half a petticoat, and your shirt needs to be in a rag box.”