Millie’s Outlaw

by Hart, Jillian

  Millie had never felt this on display. As they progressed down the street, she felt like a spectacle.

  Nor did she exactly feel safe. What she'd thought were tidy, well-cared for buildings showed a lot of peeling paint on closer look.

  Leo laid one hand on the walnut grips of his holstered revolver.

  "Here's the general store," he said in a low voice. "I'll tie up your horse at the hitching post. Thanks for the ride in, and good luck."

  "You're leaving me, just like that." Her hand shook, but she was determined to still it.

  She wasn't exactly afraid, but some of the men were stalking her way. Their spurs jingled on the boardwalk, drawing her attention.

  "Hey, don't I recognize ya?" One of the strangers lifted the corner of his lip in a leer. "Didn't I write away for a mail-order bride just like you? I got an image of the gal on her way."

  "Sorry, I'm no mail-order bride." Honestly. She relaxed. The fellow might look scary with that scar over his right eye and that very sharp knife tucked into his belt.

  But maybe he wasn't so bad.

  "I hope she gets here soon for your sake," she said pleasantly. After all, perhaps he might be a potential customer.

  She pulled a business card out of her trouser pocket. "If you need to buy a gift for your new bride, please think of my store. I'll give you a newly married discount on your choice of bonnets."

  "I sure appreciate that." The man with the scar took the card and squinted at it. He shrugged, perhaps unable to read and slipped it into his pocket, the one right next to the deadly looking knife. "Is that your husband? Or a driver."

  "Oh, that's no one."

  Leo lifted one brow, silently laughing. "That's cruel. And no way to treat the love of your life."

  "What?" She nearly fell off the wagon seat. "I did not just hear you say that, did I?"

  "Sure you did, honey bun." Humor glittered in those dark hazel eyes.

  Not to mention a warning.

  "Don't try and disown me now, got it? You could do better in a husband, I'm sure, but you're stuck with me. Howdy there, stranger."

  Leo ducked his head, tugging his battered Stetson's brim downward to hide most of his face.

  "Howdy." A rail-thin, rawboned man stepped forward. "Say, don't I know you?

  Well, this was not gonna work. Not at all. Leo cleared his voice, talking lower to disguise his voice. "No. Never been here before."

  Millie turned to him. "But I thought you said—"

  "Go ahead and get inside, sweetheart." Leo hopped down, glad the boardwalk was on the other side of the wagon, which meant he was far enough away from curious eyes that no one would put two and two together.

  Riding into town as bold as could be took balls. He wasn't afraid of getting caught and hanged for a murder he didn't commit.

  But he wasn't ready to do it now.

  He held out his hand, caught Millie by the forearm and practically hauled her down to the ground.

  "I'll tie up your horse. Good luck, lady." He stepped away from her, lowering his hat another notch. "I've got work to do. Men to find."

  "Good luck with that." She sounded confused, lost. "Why on earth are you being so nice to me?"

  "Someone has to." He ignored the glimmer of warmth in his chest and the emotion he tried his best to hide.

  He turned his back on the attorney and crossed the street. Of all the men who had to walk up and notice who had driven into town with the pretty new woman, it had to be Bethany.

  The only other man in town who could recognize him.

  Leo resisted the urge to glance over his shoulder and check on Millie. She'd be all right, at least that's what he told himself as he headed down a shadowed alley.

  A pretty lady like her always wound up on her feet, always lucky, with everything always going her way.

  And good, that's what he wanted for her.

  Ignoring the prickle of warning on the back on his neck, he kept on going. He'd lay low in the back of his shop until dark.

  Then he'd go hunting for a murderer.

  Chapter 6

  Well, that was odd. But there was no explaining men. Just no way to understand the way their minds worked.

  Or why rough, tough Leo would call her honey bun and sweetheart.

  Millie startled when the second man climbed down the boardwalk steps and grabbed ahold of Beauregard's reins. "Who exactly are you?"

  She was not feeling safe. And why had Leo Ryder gone off without even a goodbye?

  It wasn't as if she missed him already. It was more like, aren't we in this together?

  This place, this town of Willow Glen, did not feel like a good place for a lady.

  Which just might be her biggest obstacle to problem solve yet. What else did she not know about this town or the store building that she had inherited?

  She had that pit of the stomach feeling. The one that told her something was about to go wrong.

  Very wrong.

  "Couldn't help overhearing." His gray eyes were kind, as if to reassure her. "I've been keeping an eye out for you, Millie Conway. I'm your uncle's attorney."

  "Oh, why Mr. Bethany. I'm glad to meet you." What a relief. Finally, someone she could trust and rely on.

  She hobbled forward. "I was just going to look you up."

  "It's not hard to miss a lady driving through town. We don't get much of that here in Willow Glen. Mostly we get nefarious types. You know, outlaws. Murderers. Thieves. They'd cut your throat for the dime you have in your pocket. Or kill you for your house."

  "Really? Well, I don't stand much for that. I've got my own revolver with me right here in my handbag. I'm a crack shot, you see. I can put a bullet anyplace I want it."

  "Is that so? Well, then you'll do all right in this godforsaken town, that's the truth. It wasn't always this way you know. Come with me, Miss Conway." Mr. Bethany finished tying up Beauregard to the hitching post and offered her his arm in assistance.

  It was hard to say no to that. Some men knew how to be polite, proper gentlemen.

  Unlike a certain disreputable prospector she could think about, even if that wasn't his hut.

  Come to think of it, he was a hut stealer! Well, perhaps that meant that he was one of these lawless, reckless outlaw types the kind lawyer was talking about.

  Although she couldn’t help wondering what had happened that the town had fallen into such chaos.

  She squinted down the boardwalk and noticed several of the shops were empty.

  Vacant windows stared back at her, under awning that had begun to fray from the wind and fade from the harsh summer sun.

  Mr. Bethany held the door open for her.

  How kind. "Thank you very much, but I was hoping I could go right to my new property."

  "Oh, it's not too far from here, don't you worry your pretty head about it." He tipped his hat back, revealing his eyes. Something burned there, an emotion that was no longer kind.

  And somehow unsettling.

  Then it was gone in a blink, and the next instant there was that believable kindness again. She did not feel quite as safe as she had been as she followed him through his tobacco shop to his law office in the back.

  "I have papers for you to sign before you can claim your inheritance." Mr. Bethany smiled. "Take a seat and I'll get out the paperwork."

  "That's very kind of you. What can you tell me about my uncle's shop? I hate to sound self-interested, but I can't help but wonder, why me?"

  "That, I can't say." The attorney opened a file drawer and pulled out a stack of papers. "But I do know he left you in debt."

  "What?" One knee gave out, and she nearly toppled over. "Excuse me, what did you say?"

  "The property has a lien on it. I suppose I should have told you that in my letter."

  With my luck, it's massive debt. It's a gigantic lien. Millie didn't doubt it. What was she going to do now?

  * * *

  Leo rescued the key from behind the rain barrel outside the back door of Willow
Glen's Fine Drinks.

  The building wasn't much, but it was vacant and it had a bird's eye view of the whole damn place. Surely with a vantage like this, he'd be able to catch himself a killer.

  Richard Lee was not gonna get away this time.

  Not on my life, Leo vowed.

  He hurried up the staircase. The upstairs living space was proving to be a better refuge.

  Except for the fact that he couldn't seem to get his mind off Millie. He shouldn't have just walked away like that.

  He knew in the attorney's hands, she'd be safe as could be. Bethany wouldn't steer her wrong.

  He unlocked the door and pushed his way inside. It closed with a click. The scent of dust and an echoing silence met him. He crossed to the nearest window quietly, keeping away from the glass.

  Didn't look like many folks were out and about on the street yet.

  Then again, it was early. This town came alive well after dark.

  He kept back out of sight as best as he could and raised the window. A movement caught his eye.

  Millie. There she was coming out of the attorney's storefront. With her bouncing blond hair and slender, graceful gait she was like a cheerful song.

  He didn't do cheerful.

  He didn't like songs.

  Now, time to begin his hunt for clues. What had happened to Fitz? And why would someone ever want him dead?

  He was the kindest man, always with a hand out to help a fellow human being, whether they were nice to him or not.

  Maybe that had been his downfall.

  Not that he'd been too trusting, but that he'd been a victim of a hate crime. Someone must have hated him pretty good for all that he had accomplished in his life.

  And wasn't that just a goddamn shame?

  Someone was coming. He could hear the footsteps tapping up the outside stairs. Coming closer.

  Whatever he was going to do to protect his identity, he was going to have to do it now.

  He reached for his holster and drew his Colt .45. He thumbed back the hammer and aimed it right at the center of the closed door.

  Minutes seemed like hours while he waited with his gun drawn and sweat beading on his forehead underneath the brim of his Stetson.

  Maybe this was the end of his investigation into the untimely death of his good friend, and a close buddy to his father.

  At least he hoped he was missing and not dead.

  A key turned in the lock and the door knobs turned.

  Leo's heart hammered against his ribs. Gun hand steady, he was ready to fire. The door swung open just a few inches, and stopped.

  "Can I help you?" A woman's voice asked, and her shoes tapped away from the entrance.

  "Miss Millie?" A man's voice sounded from the alley below. "I hear you are Fitzhugh's niece."

  "Yes, I am."

  "Sorry to hear about his passing." Homer Minks.

  Leo would recognize that voice anywhere. The tall rather homely man who was one of the local prospectors. Harmless enough fellow, although sometimes that could be deceiving.

  Millie. Leo frowned. What was she doing here?

  And then it hit him. She was Fitz's relative, and that explained exactly what she was doing with a key to the apartment above the store.

  She'd inherited the property.

  And didn't look like she had the funds to pay back the debt Fitz owed him.

  And what did she know about running the liquor store?

  Most off all, her being here would put him in the greatest of dangers. He was undercover.

  Hiding out.

  He did not want a woman nosing around, under foot, bringing attention his way.

  He also had the mystery about Fitz to solve.

  He lowered his gun and leaned toward the door to listen.

  "Thank you." Millie gave a soft sigh. "Did you know my uncle well?"

  "He was always nice to me. I've been wondering when the store might be open again."

  "I'm planning to have a big grand opening event as soon as I can get my things unpacked and set up."

  "I'll keep an eye out for that." Homer Minks's sure sounded happy. "And I'll look forward to it."

  "Why, me too. Have a good day."

  "Is there anything I can do for you? I'm a bachelor, you know. Always got time to help a pretty lady."

  "Why, how flattering. You certainly are thoughtful. But I'm a rather independent sort. It's why I'm still a full-fledged spinster. Dried up. Ugly. Past my prime."

  "As wrinkled as a prune."

  "And very hairy," she added with a light lilt of laughter.

  "I would be mighty proud and pleased to serve you by unloading that wagon of yours." Homer sounded besotted.

  Leo rolled his eyes.

  Poor Homer. He wouldn't know what kind of trouble would bang him in the head if he got involved with a woman.

  It always ended up bad, every time.

  Well, then again, maybe that was just his cynicism talking.

  "Well, you certainly have a way with words. I didn't catch your name." Millie sounded as if she were smiling.

  "You can just call me Homer. I'd be happy to get started. Want me to bring everything upstairs for you?"

  "Well, I can't say no to a little help, I suppose. Especially so kindly offered. I only need the trunk upstairs. The rest goes in the back of the shop."

  "Let me come down and unlock it for you."

  Honestly. Leo could not believe his luck. How many other men would show up, bachelors with stars in their eyes and dreams of landing themselves a very pretty wife.

  In fact, one of the most beautiful women he'd ever seen.

  Leo holstered his gun and peered around the edge of the door. There she was, strikingly beautiful. Slender. Graceful.

  It was his strong opinion that she should have turned down Homer's request on the spot. No questions asked.

  At least until she looked less attractive.

  Maybe in one hundred years.

  She hopped off the last step and disappeared. Damn it, he couldn't see her at this angle.

  All he could hear was the mumble of her voice. Not a single word, just sweet and kind.

  Sweet and kind did not belong here in this godforsaken town. On the edge of lawlessness.

  And unless someone could get a handle on the brutal outlaw gang that ran rampant in this area, driving out every deputy within ten miles, it never would be.

  Millie tapped into sight below. "There you are, Homer. I sure appreciate your generous offer. I hope you will allow me to pay you."

  "Why, I'd be rightly honored if you could just give me store credit." Homer's voice sounded as bright as the sun overhead.

  Poor sap. He wasn't thinking with his brain. He'd been too overcome by Millie's beauty, that's what.

  Enchanted, that was the problem, and he didn't seem to know better.

  Leo scowled. He had had enough of this nonsense. Was this the start of men coming to the door, all smiles and charm just to impress Millie?

  How was he going to get his work done then?

  "Why, store credit would be more than fine. We do not have a deal, Homer, until you agree to be my first friend in Willow Glen."

  "I would be most honored."

  Millie's steps tapped closer, and her laugh was sweet.

  Sweet enough to make him lunge back away from the open door and hide in the shadows.

  Good God, next thing he'd know she would be inviting the harmless prospector and poker player in. Now where would he hide in a one room apartment?

  He was not about to hide beneath the bed. No way, no how. This was a complication of the worst sort.

  Millie was Fitz's heir and he was stuck with her.

  If only he had access to his savings account. He could just buy her out.

  Well hell, that was a problem to consider. Maybe it was the best solution he had. Pay her to go, and then she'd be on her way.

  If there was one thing that was predictable about a woman, was the gender's love of money. />
  Damn, there he went being cynical again. He'd have to work on that.

  Maybe in a million years.

  Right now, he had a problem to solve. He couldn't let anyone, and he meant anyone, know he was in town.

  What he'd learned playing poker the other night in the neighboring town had his instincts all riled up.

  He was on the killer's trail and he was getting closer.

  Much closer.

  Millie gave a small laugh to whatever Homer had said, and, hell, here it came. The door swung open and her shadow fell across the threshold.

  "Oh, it's you." Her hand flew to her throat. Her eyes went wide with astonishment as she closed the door. "Leo Ryder, what are you doing here in my new apartment? Get the hell out. I'm not putting up with the likes of you."

  Chapter 7

  "Too bad, Millie." He holstered his weapon. "Is the coast clear, or is that poor sap Homer gonna be coming up here to woo and court you?"

  "What do you mean? He nicely offered to unload my wagon for me. Which you clearly did not do. Not that I expected it at all."

  She eyed him up and down, clearly amused. "I can see now why you were using that rundown hut as a hideout. You're an outlaw, aren't you? Don't lie to me, buster. I'm turning you into the local law enforcement, whoever and wherever they happen to be."

  "I don't pay much attention to a pretty female who seems to want to work her way honestly through this life. So why don't you get out of my apartment and go find a fancy hotel room."

  He reached into his back pocket instead and hauled out his wallet. "Will five hundred bucks be enough? It's all I've got on me."

  "You've got five hundred dollars? Just carrying it around like that? It's a fortune."

  "I got lucky at cards. What can I say? It was a winning streak, which is even luckier now that I can use it to buy you out of your uncle's share of the store."

  "What? Buy me out? I ain't goin' nowhere, mister. Don't you get this by now? I'm no woman who could ever be for sale. I don't accept money from no one or for nothing unless I earned it."

  "What about this storefront, huh? What about this apartment?"

  "That's different. I inherited it. Uncle Fitzhugh had a will and everything, but I guess the territorial government decided to give it to me. I intend to earn a living by using it."