Millie’s Outlaw

by Hart, Jillian

  "Hand me that whiskey bottle." He inserted the newly sharpened knife beneath the blood-soaked bandages.

  She gasped over the sound of the muslin tearing. Her eyes were wide with pain. Her face turned ashen. Hell, he didn't want her toppling over.

  But there she went. Passing out on him again.

  What the hell? At least she landed on the pillow and didn't hit her head. Should have known.

  At least she wouldn't tear open her bullet wound any more now. He'd get this taken care of, tug her trousers back on and cover her up.

  Make sure she slept sound for the rest of the night.

  Hell, he had no idea what he was going to do with her. It wasn't safe to let her go anywhere on her own.

  It was not safe for her to stay here.

  Best to deal that in the morning.

  * * *

  Millie opened her eyes to the soft bright glow of dawn. Morning was here. She levered herself up on both elbows and looked around the mostly barren and rather grimy cabin.

  The door stood wide open, and a man stood there glaring in at her. Leo. His dark gaze met hers.

  "I've been shot before. Nothing feels worse, even a minor one. It's a shock to your system. Here, I brought you some water."

  Millie opened her mouth, speechless, unable to protest. She could get a drink by herself, thank you very much.

  "Your hand isn't steady. Let me hold this for you." He knelt at her side and lifted the tin cup to her mouth. "Go ahead and take a sip."

  Water rushed over her bottom lip. Cool, refreshing. She squeezed her eyes shut, cutting off the sight of the concern in his gaze.

  He had an inexplicable hold on her, as if her body had decided to thrum in ways she did not wish to acknowledge. As if she had no control over it.

  Goodness, that was not what she wanted at all.

  "Is that enough?" he asked. "I can get more water if you wish."

  His nearness made her dizzy.

  "Careful." He caught her hand with one his larger ones. "You haven't gone and developed a fever, have you?"

  "No." Of that, she was certain. That was not the reason why she felt so hot.

  Not at all.

  If only she did not feel so weak. She was dependent on no man, or did not wish to be.

  Especially one who made her body tingle in ways that spelled trouble.

  Certain doom.

  Why, she had to get up, hitch up Beauregard and leave Leo Ryder behind.

  Well, there was only one solution, and it involved putting her feet on the floor and standing up. She pushed back the covers. "Excuse me, out of my way, buster."

  "Where do you think you're going?"

  "Away from you. Just like you wanted."

  And she wanted it, too. She was looking forward to getting her first glimpse of Willow Glen. Would it be neat and tidy, like her hometown back in Iowa, with its clean, tree-lined streets and neat shops?

  Oh, she couldn't wait to set eyes on the little street-front shop she'd inherited from her uncle.

  The plans she had, and she couldn't wait to get started.

  "Get back in that bed." He used his greater strength to push her back in bed.

  The humor in his voice was warm and as intimate as a shared secret.

  It lured her as mightily as his touch.

  "You need rest, Millie. I'll fix you breakfast. Then we'll see."

  "How do you know my name?"

  "I went through your things."

  "What?"

  "It was on the bill of sale. You know, you left the paperwork for your new wagon on the floor beneath the driver's seat. I was making sure there was nothing of value left in the wagon when I parked it out back, that's all. Your handbag is in the corner with your satchel."

  "Oh."

  That wasn't what she'd expected. She sank onto the mattress and relaxed into the pillows.

  He strode away and knelt before the potbellied stove in the kitchen area of the one-room cabin. He struck a match and lit the kindling.

  Fire crackled to life, and he added a small stick of dried wood. That was enough conversing for him. He wasn't much of a talkative sort to begin with, but he worried how much he didn't mind talking with Millie Conway.

  That was one big problem right there. He was determined to fix it.

  Leo went about his usual chores. But there was nothing usual about this morning. Not at all.

  He could feel the weight of her gaze as he stirred up the pancake batter. Her silent presence was enough to distract him as he worked.

  If only he didn't want to glance over his shoulder and check on her. He couldn’t stop the unexplained urge to look at her.

  Just to see her pretty face.

  Yep, he was in trouble now. Best to figure out a way to get rid of her and get on with his mission.

  He had his innocence to prove and a killer to find. But how?

  If only he could hide in plain sight. An impossibility, that was for sure.

  Or perhaps not.

  He glanced over his shoulder. Yes, she was watching him with those sweet blue-green eyes taking in his every movement.

  And examining him as if she could see the quality of his character.

  He sighed heavily, unsure what to do. He didn't want to use a woman, much less a young and pretty nice woman at that, but he had a job to do.

  And a supposed murderer to fool into feeling safe enough to come out of the woodwork. Out of hiding.

  To relax and think, whew, guess that Leo Ryder got put away after all for the crime I committed, and it's safe to come out and pretend I'm as nice as pie.

  Just like every other goddamn piece of shit human being in this world. In that little town where I have vowed to take out that old sheriff and run things the way I want to finally.

  Leo rolled his eyes. Oh, he knew that for sure because he'd heard it with his own ears.

  And seen the face of the man, the one who had literally, and I mean literally, stabbed his father, the good man that he was, in the back.

  Over a bill the murderer did not wish to pay and refused to.

  Arguing the horse shoe that fell off was a result of shoddy workmanship, and not the hard and ruthless way he had mercilessly driven his horse that day. And no, the poor animal did not survive either.

  He spooned the batter into the fry pan. Now that he'd already decided what to do about Millie, he had to figure out a way to protect her from Richard Lee. He was a monster of the worst sort.

  Leo gave a heavy sigh. Somehow, he would need to find a way. He was a deputy marshal, after all. It was in his nature to serve and protect.

  The coffee was done boiling, so he searched the crooked shelf for a cup, wiped it out with the tail of his shirt, and poured the coffee. He gripped the handle carefully.

  She shrank as he stepped nearer, her blue-green eyes widening. He hoped not with revulsion.

  How on earth was she ever going to help him drive straight down Main Street of Willow Glen if she didn't cooperate by sitting right by his side on the wagon seat?

  Pondering over this wrinkle in his very problematic plan, Leo set the cup on the shelf by the bed. He leaned close enough to her that he could smell the lilac scent of her hair.

  "I'll give you the cup first," he said quietly, stepping away. "I only have the one."

  "Thank you, Leo."

  "Breakfast will be along shortly." He turned back to the stove. "It's time to get on the road. We can take the pancakes with us and eat in your wagon."

  "My wagon? Why? Are you going to be hitching a ride with me? I never give complete and totally strange men a ride in my vehicle."

  "I never said I was totally strange. Just a little odd. Then again, that's what you get when you're a wanted felon on the run. It doesn't always mean you're just an average, run of the mill, good type of man, does it?"

  "I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that. You are not a wanted felon on the run, are you?"

  "Not that I'll ever admit."

  Her lush mouth purs
ed into a rigid line. "That had better be a joke."

  "I didn't wink, did I?" Then he winked, just to make her relax. She was a vital part of his plan, and he couldn't do this without her.

  Who knew that having a woman to pretend to accompany on her drive to the lawless town of Willow Glen would work out to be the one thing that would work out best of all? His plan was back in motion again.

  Thanks to Miss Millie Conway.

  "I need to use the, ah, privy." She blushed.

  He grabbed a bucket from underneath the table and dropped it at her feet. "Here, try this."

  "What? No." Her chin hitched up defiantly. "I'll find myself a patch of grass behind the blackberry bushes."

  "Be careful of the thorns. You never know when they might jump up and stab you in the back." He discovered that he was grinning and offered his outstretched hands.

  She wrapped her warm fingers around his. He helped her to her feet, watching carefully for the moment her injured leg might buckle.

  The minute it did, he was right there, keeping her from falling. She lost her balance and leaned forward against his chest.

  His blood heated at the feel of her smaller, soft body pressed full-length against him. His held her close, and for some reason he could not let go.

  Her breasts were soft against his chest, just like the slight curve of her belly against his groin. A gentle warmth spread through him.

  Not just desire. Not just want. But also a pleasing sensation that reminded him of a cheerful fire on a cold night, the way home felt after a long journey.

  "Thanks for the warning about the blackberry bushes." She pushed off his chest. "But I'd do better keeping my eye on you."

  "Too true." He couldn't deny it. He offered her his arm. "Lean on me. I'll help you outside."

  "You'd better keep an eye on those pancakes. I can do this on my own."

  With great determination, she hobbled toward the open door and took in the beauty of the morning. Her jeans hugged the curves of her hip and fanny, drawing his eye.

  Leo couldn't seem to look at anything but her. It was nothing but weakness to feel that ache within, to feel the need in his heart for something more than the lonely existence he was destined to have.

  Until Richard Lee was caught, that is. Then all bets were off.

  The real trick in all of this was not letting himself care too much for Millie Conway. With that twinkle of mischief in her blue-green eyes and that dazzling smile, that was gonna be a real challenge.

  But a challenge he could handle. No doubt. He'd keep his heart as hard as stone, that was all.

  Nothing but business. He was all about the mission, don't you see. There were things in life worth fighting for.

  At any cost.

  He turned to his stove and flipped the pancakes, thinking of the woman outside. Was she safe? Did he go out and keep an eye on the yard just to make sure?

  He had that tight feeling in his gut, the one that meant trouble was up ahead. He'd better remember to keep his guns handy and extra bullets within easy reach.

  Nothing was more complicating than letting a woman into your life. Leo rolled his eyes. And man, was it about to get a lot more than complicated.

  It was going to be epic.

  Chapter 5

  It's hard to be patient when you have a dream waiting for you.

  Millie lifted her face to catch the fan of the already hot morning breeze. They were almost to the supposedly rough and lawless mining town of Willow Glen, but so far she hadn't seen a single outlaw, renegade or suspicious person.

  Other than the man at her side, of course.

  Leo Ryder manhandled the reins as if he owned the horse. Poor Beauregard, he'd seemed confused at first wondering why she wasn't the one driving him.

  But now he walked along at a good clip, looking quite proud of the fact that he had such a rough, tough man at the helm. She sure hoped Beau wasn't getting used to Leo.

  The man would likely part ways with them the minute they arrived in town. He'd muttered something about needing to find a man there.

  Did he know someone there? Did he own property there? Even he had mentioned having another property to worry about.

  That was the key right there. A second piece of property?

  That seemed unlikely. The man didn't even own his own horse. And the hut he had did not even have an indoor water pump.

  Then again, the thatch roof had looked like wild turkeys had roosted there too once.

  She was not impressed.

  Best not to think about Leo Ryder. Not when she was about to embark on achieving her very own dream.

  Thank you, Uncle Fitzhugh for gifting me your Main Street shop. I sure hope it's something that doesn't look like it might fall over in a good stiff wind.

  A girl could hope, right?

  That meant she would have a secure and respectable job. And be her own boss.

  Nothing could be better, right?

  "Tell me what you know about the town," she asked. "Does Willow Glen have many families in it?"

  "A few. I haven't paid much attention."

  "Don't you get to town much? I suppose it's rather, uh, peaceful at your hut?"

  Leo glared straight ahead, jaw clenched. "Are you making fun of my hut?"

  "No. It was very nice. I mean, since you did let me spend the night in your bed."

  "I just don't let any woman into my bed. I'm discriminating."

  "Here's a hint. Next time you let a woman between your sheets, wash the blanket first."

  "It wasn't my blanket."

  "What?"

  "I was sort of borrowing it."

  "Borrowing it?"

  "Without the owner's permission. Or even knowledge. Whoever the owner is."

  "I should have known. You are just a loser on the edge."

  "Yep, that's me. Too lazy to get a real job. And why should I? I've got business in Willow Glen."

  "You own a business in Willow Glen?"

  "I said I have business. I need to see a guy, that's all."

  "Tell me where you're supposed to meet this guy. At a hotel? At a nice diner? I'm trying to get information here. I need to know what to look forward to."

  "I suspect your expectation of Willow Glen is a tad too high."

  "Why do you say that? You don't know what my expectations are."

  "It's plain to see. You're the domestic type. Domestic tranquility. You're looking for a man to put the biggest sparkling diamond in the whole damn store on your ring finger and walk you down the aisle."

  "How do you know? Maybe I don't like big diamonds."

  "Here's a hint. There's no church in Willow Glen. Lots of saloons though and a brothel or two."

  "Brothels?" Millie blushed. "I am not even going to ask how you know about those."

  "Well, it's not as if I'm a patron. But a man notices these things, and you did ask."

  "Are you trying to tell me this isn't a family friendly town?"

  "This isn't a friendly town at all. When I used to have a job, a real paying job, I spent some time in this town. Not a lot. But some. I worked in the next town over."

  "You were employed? I can't picture it."

  "Why not?"

  "You're a prospector. That is not a respectable job."

  "Hell, I have my moments of respectability."

  She could not imagine it. He was too tough, too lawless looking.

  Unless he smiled. Just a hint of it touched the corners of his mouth. How many women had probably fallen at his feet when they got the full effect of that smile?

  Well, it would not be her, that's for gol darn sure.

  Even if he made her heart beat a little bit faster.

  "When you were a respectable man, I hope you didn't go around living in other people's huts."

  "No, I was financing a store front in town for a friend of mine. Someone who was a good friend of my father."

  "You look like you belong in jail."

  "You have no idea how close to being
right you are."

  His smile was wonderful, framed by dimples. It put a sparkle in his warm hazel eyes.

  It was wrong of her to notice.

  Completely wrong.

  They drove past a few ramshackle homestead claim shanties listing to one side or another. Then town rolled into sight.

  Not what she was expecting. Numerous tents cluttered together in a little tent city of sorts on Main Street.

  It did not seem like a prosperous place, did it?

  Then Beauregard pulled them around the corner and a thick grove of trees and she let out a gasp.

  Now, that's what I'm talking about, she thought, a real street.

  There were blocks after block of wooden shops in various states of construction. Some were not painted and in poor repair, others had striped awnings and freshly washed front windows.

  Which shop was hers?

  She jumped at the pop-pop of random gunfire, men's angry shouts from inside the bank and tinny piano music spilling out into the street from a saloon.

  She'd never seen a real Wild West saloon before. She sure hoped that wasn't the building that Uncle Fitzhugh left her.

  How ever would she get the patrons out so she could start her hat making business? She mused, giving a little laugh.

  This rough, dusty and very interesting town was much different than her hometown back in Iowa.

  A man came out of the bank with a bandana loose around his neck. Not that he could be mistaken for an outlaw or a bank robber, but he had more guns strapped to him than anyone she had ever seen.

  I am definitely out of my element here. Would she be able to make a good start with her business here?

  So far, she did not see anyone who looked like they might want to buy a woman's bonnet.

  Men. They were everywhere. Tall men, short men, men who smoked cigars. Fat men, skinny men, but mostly men who looked like they lived on the wrong side of the law.

  Not to mention stole horses, robbed banks and had never hired a laundry lady in their entire adult lives.

  They all stopped to stare at her as they drove by. The men riding down Main Street stopped their horses to gape.

  Men on the boardwalk turned, their conversation forgotten. Men poked their heads out of shop doors, bottles in hand.

  Or even a gun or two.