Connie started stripping the gear from her horse, partly to help her ignore Brett’s gaze. Something about it put an ache inside her. He didn’t comment on her statement, but she couldn’t help it. What she’d said was true. She didn’t have no mother or no father neither. Didn’t figure she needed ’em anyhow.
Brett dropped his saddle on the ground beside hers. He held out his hand. “Give me the rifle, and I’ll go get us a rabbit or something.”
They sure had changed places. Looked like getting married shifted the bossin’ from her shoulders to his. She’d liked lettin’ Davis be in charge. Brett wasn’t so bad, either. She studied his face for a couple of heartbeats before handing him the rifle. “It’s loaded.”
He gave her a short bow. “Thank you, ma’am. I appreciate your trust.”
She lifted one of her pearl-handled pistols. “I still got these.”
Brett grinned, leaned the rifle against his leg, and dug into his shirt pocket. When he took her hand in his and held it palm up, she stood still. When he dropped a handful of bullets in her open hand, the air rushed from her lungs.
“Where’d you get those?”
His grin widened. “Took ’em when you weren’t lookin’ so I could stay alive. I figured those pretty guns of yours aren’t much use without bullets.”
Chapter 8
Connie looked up from the bullets in her hand to watch Brett swagger away. Of all the underhanded, low-down, dirty tricks. A grin started at the corners of her mouth and spread into a full-blown laugh.
Brett turned at the sound.
Connie called after him. “Reckon we’re even now since you took your gun chambers back when you ran off and left me at that farm house.”
He grinned. “Yep.”
He turned again and walked off whistling. When he disappeared into the trees, she loaded her guns and began gathering brush for a fire. She should be mad at him, but she wasn’t. Didn’t look like he trusted her any more than she trusted him. But that wasn’t true. Not now.
She dropped a stick as the realization hit her. She trusted Brett. She knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Brett Norris would never cause her harm. Fact of the matter, there was a powerful lot to admire about her new husband. He kept himself clean, took care of his horse, and treated her with respect. Yep, Davis would’ve liked him fine.
She went back to gathering brush. They’d been on the run for three days with no sign of the sheriff. Maybe he wouldn’t catch up to them after all. She gave a short scorn-filled laugh. Maybe her and Brett could ride off and live happily ever after, too. Neither was likely to happen.
By the time she had the fire burned down and ready, she heard Brett’s whistle. The man shore looked good walkin’ toward her. He plopped down near the fire to skin and clean the two rabbits he’d shot. When he finished, he held them out to her with a grin. “Here you go. The rest is up to you.”
“Reckon I can handle that part.” Connie took the rabbits and washed them in water from the lake. She ran a sharp stick lengthwise through the carcasses, then positioned them on two forked sticks she’d set into the ground on either side of the fire.
While the meat cooked, Brett stretched out and took a nap. He just closed his eyes and dropped off to sleep. At least he appeared to be with his soft snoring.
Davis had been like that, too. He said a man needed to get his rest when he could. Maybe that’s what she liked about Brett. In lots of ways, he reminded her of Davis. Not so much in the way he looked. Davis had light hair and blue eyes. Brett’s hair was a reddish brown and his eyes were green. But his height and his slender, broad-shouldered build was like Davis. Davis was clean, too. He always said just because you were on the run didn’t mean you had to live like a hog. She smiled. She could sit back and admire her husband for a long time. Even the fact he hadn’t shaved for three days didn’t bother her none.
Brett stirred and sat up. “Lunch ready yet?”
“Yeah, it’s ready.” Connie took the meat off the fire. “But it’s powerful hot.”
Brett helped her pull the meat from the stick and put it across a tin plate. He held the plate up and grinned. “You had this get-away planned pretty good, didn’t you?”
She nodded. “Been plannin’ on gettin’ away from Burns for three years. Even more so these past two months. Just hope he don’t mess things up by catchin’ up with us.”
“Maybe he won’t.” Brett sat back and looked at her. “While we wait for that to cool down, we can thank the Lord for giving us some food.”
“What?” Connie stared at him.
“We need to pray, Connie.” His voice was soft. “Thank the Lord for the food He has provided.”
“Don’t see no good in that. You shot them rabbits. They wasn’t dropped in our laps from heaven.”
“If you don’t mind, I’d like to thank God for providing for us this far, and to ask Him for His protection on the remainder of our trip.”
Connie heard the edge to his voice and shrugged. “I s’pose if it makes you feel better. But I’m tellin’ you right off, I think it’s a plumb foolish waste of time.”
“I don’t.” Brett closed his eyes and bowed his head while Connie watched. He sure was different from any other man she’d ever known. Even Davis didn’t pray.
“Father, we thank You for keeping us safe thus far, and we ask for Your protection on the remainder of our journey. Thank You for . . .” He hesitated before continuing. “Thank You for Connie and the part she played in my release and saving my life. If not for her intervention, I would be with You now. I’m real glad You’ve given me this second chance to see my family. I ask Your blessing on this food You have given us. In Jesus’ name. Amen.”
He lifted his head and met her gaze.
She reached for the nearest rabbit. “Well, now we got that out of the way, why don’t we eat?”
When they finished, Brett stood and looked toward the lake. “I don’t know about you, but I feel sticky and dirty. Smell a little horsey, too. I’ve been noticing the horses move their noses away when I get near their heads. Think maybe they’re trying to tell me something?”
Connie laughed. “Could be.” She glanced up at him. “I ain’t never heard you call your horse by name.”
“That’s because he doesn’t have a name.”
“Well, he oughtta.”
Brett shrugged. “Guess you’ll have to name him, then, because right now I’m headin’ into the lake.”
He unbuttoned his shirt and hung it on the branch of a tree as he went past. Connie couldn’t help noticing the muscles play across his broad back, as he walked away from her.
He turned and grinned when he caught her watching him. He jerked his head toward the lake. “Come on. You’ll feel better after you’ve had a bath, too.”
Her chest tightened at the thought. “I don’t think we oughtta take a bath together.”
“We’re married, aren’t we?” Brett smiled at her widening eyes. “It’s a big lake, Connie. I won’t come near you.”
“Okay, then I reckon I will.” Connie lifted her chin. “But you’d better leave your undergarments on.”
“I planned to all along.” Brett’s laughter floated back to her, as he turned and ran to the lake’s edge. She watched him stick a toe in the water and loosen his belt. Her face warmed as she turned away to get her soap, not wanting to see any more. Within moments she heard a splash.
She hid behind a large bush near the edge of the lake to strip from her jeans and shirt, leaving on her union suit.
“The water’s cold.” Brett called out.
Connie gritted her teeth and flung herself into the lake, clutching the bar of soap in her hand. After the first shock of cold, the water felt good. She waded in chest high, then swam toward Brett, making a neat jack knife turn and swimming back until her feet touched bottom again. She stood and soaped herself, then dunked to rinse the soap away.
She glanced at Brett. He dog-paddled in a small circle on his side of the lake. She tur
ned away, gathered her unbound hair, and lathered it. Then, pulling her feet from under her and holding her breath, she dropped beneath the surface.
~*~
Brett swam in lazy circles, doing his best to keep his sight and mind from straying to the other side of the lake. He fought a losing battle. From the first, Connie had drawn him like a magnet. Even when he’d thought she was twelve years old, he’d been attracted to her. When he found out she was only four years younger than him, he’d had a hard time keeping his mind and his hands off her. Now they were married. Husband and wife.
The thought mocked him. Connie was by far the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. While rough around the edges, she had a good heart. She’d been mistreated, he knew that much. But the short life she’d lived hovered beyond his imagination still hidden somewhere in her mind in a place she had yet to open to him.
He didn’t want to look at her and knew he shouldn’t. Still his head turned, and he allowed his gaze to rove across the lake in her direction. She wasn’t there. He searched the bank and couldn’t find her. Then his heart slammed to a stop before galloping painfully when he saw her long, golden hair floating on top of the water.
Gathering his strength, he swam as fast as he could to her, praying with each desperate stroke. “Father God, please let her be all right.”
He’d never reach her. Never get there in time. It was his fault. He shouldn’t have stayed away from her. After all, they were married. What would it have hurt for them to stay closer together?
After far too long, he touched a strand of her hair. As he reached for her, she broke the surface of the water, and he grabbed her. She blinked her eyes open and brushed her wet hair out of her face. His hands closed around her shoulders.
She glared at him. “What are you doin’ on my side of the lake?”
She had no clue to his fear, and that fact angered him. He gave her a quick shake, as his voice raised. “Don’t you ever do that again. I thought you were drowning.”
Her sudden sweet smile did nothing to calm him. “Does that mean you cared?”
“If you drowned? What do you think?” He knew he was yelling at her, but he couldn’t stop. “If you ever pull a stunt like that again, I’ll . . .”
His voice trailed off when her smile widened. He spoke with a whisper as he let her go. “Just don’t do it again, okay?”
She shrugged as he turned away, but her words followed him. “I like you too, Brett Norris the fourth.”
Her declaration screamed in his head. She liked him. Could she learn to love him? They were too different, weren’t they? She didn’t even believe in praying before she ate. No, their marriage wasn’t real. They’d have it annulled when they got to Springfield. There was no other way. Surely God would not sanction a marriage between people who were so different.
“Brett?”
He stopped but didn’t turn around. “What?”
“Do you want to use my soap?”
He wanted to say no, but he made the mistake of turning. When he saw the pleading in her dark eyes, he took the soap from her small callused hand. “Thank you.”
He waded several steps from her before lathering his chest and arms. He washed his hair, diving beneath the water to rinse it out. When he came up, Connie had already left the lake and was walking back to their camp. Now would be a good time to cut a pole and see if he could catch some of the fish he’d felt swimming around his legs. He waded to shore and found what he needed. The rest of his equipment waited in his pants pockets.
Brett moved around the lake to a likely spot and dangled his makeshift hook into the water. An hour later, he pulled his third fish out and headed back to camp. The first thing he noticed was the clothes they’d been wearing before their bath, freshly laundered and spread on bushes to dry.
Connie, wearing the old brown dress that hung from her frame, had twisted her hair into a loose bun on top of her head. She looked young, but the illusion of her age had been shattered for him. No more did she look like a twelve-year-old. A desirable young woman, his wife, knelt beside the campfire. He noticed something else. For the first time since they rode out of Purgatory, her gun-belt was not strapped around her slim hips.
Connie must have heard him approach, because she rose in a single graceful movement and smiled as she walked toward him. His heart pounded in his chest. She was so beautiful. If only she were really his.
“What’ve you got?” Her voice, rich and sweet, spread through him, drawing him closer.
He glanced down at the fish and realized he still wore his now dry underwear. He looked back up at her and grinned. “Breakfast, I reckon, since we’ve already had supper. Why don’t you see what you can do with them while I get dressed?”
A pretty shade of pink touched her cheeks as she turned away. “Just toss ’em down, and I’ll get ’em cleaned.”
Brett took a change of clothes from his saddlebags and stepped behind a tree to change. He could have changed in front of her, and she wouldn’t have looked, but he wasn’t going to cause any more complications in their relationship than he could help. The journey ahead of them already seemed to be stretching longer with each day.
When he stepped from behind the tree, Connie was again kneeling by the coals of their fire. “What are you doing? Fixing supper again?”
She looked up with a laugh. “It’s temptin’, sure enough. I thought I’d go ahead and cook your fish in the coals so they’d be ready for breakfast. Might not have a fire by mornin’.”
Brett nodded and knelt beside her. “That’s what I like about you. You’re practical and efficient.”
She ignored his compliment although a flush stained her cheeks as she turned away. “Sure do wish I had some flour or cornmeal to roll these fish in.”
Brett sank back to the ground to sit with his legs crossed. He picked up a large knife lying by Connie, tested the blade, and gave a surprised whistle.
Connie swung around. “Be careful with that. It’s sharp as a razor.”
“What are you doing with such a sharp knife?”
She turned back to place the leaf-wrapped fish in the coals. “Mostly sleepin’ with it under my pillow the past two months, I’d reckon.”
Brett stared at her. “Didn’t it occur to you that sleeping with something this sharp might be dangerous? You could have cut yourself.”
She shrugged. “It wasn’t me that was gonna get cut. I figured sooner or later Burns was gonna be climbin’ them stairs to my bed. When he did, I aimed to rip him wide open with that there knife just like I done to the fish.”
Brett blinked at the honesty in Connie’s expression. She meant exactly what she said. She looked innocent, kneeling beside him. She appeared beautiful, untouched, like an angel. What was she really? “Did you ever think about what might happen to you if you killed the sheriff?”
“Yeah, I thought about it. The good people of Purgatory would’ve strung me up. That’s why I didn’t kill him when he first started pawin’ around on me.” Her voice was so matter-of-fact, yet her eyes were filled with pain.
“They probably wouldn’t have done anything to you if you told them the sheriff was trying to take advantage of you.”
Connie’s gaze searched his face. She shook her head. “How old are you, Brett Norris?”
“Twenty-three.”
“Yer a ‘have,’ ain’t ya?”
“A what?”
“A ‘have,’” she repeated. “Davis always said there was two classes of folks in this here ole world. The ‘haves’ and the ‘have-nots.’ You’re a ‘have’. I’d wager when you decided to see the world you left a big house.” She closed her eyes. “I can see it now. It’s two stories tall, and it’s sparklin’ white—the color of purity.” She opened her eyes and looked at him. “’Cause your family’s pure, ain’t they, Brett? Your mother plants flowers and sews pretty dresses for your little sisters. And I bet your little sisters goes to school wearin’ them pretty dresses and nobody never throws rocks at ’em a
nd won’t play with ’em.”
Her description of the home he’d left behind, and of his stepmother, Mary, were accurate enough to make Brett uncomfortable.
“Me and Davis, we was ‘have-nots.’ But we wasn’t always gonna be. We had plans. Then he went and got hisself killed, so now I’m gonna do all the things we talked about doin’ together by myself. That’s what he would want me to do. Davis always took care of me. He left me plenty—”
“Here,” He handed her the knife. “I’m going to shave while I have a chance.” Brett couldn’t bear to hear any more about the legendary Davis.
By the time he finished shaving, Connie had taken her hair down and was struggling to comb it. She glanced up at him as he approached. “I should-a done this when I first come out of the water,” she said. “But I wanted to wash our clothes while I could.”
“Thank you for doing my washing.” Brett said a bit more formal than he intended. “I could’ve done it myself.”
She sent a puzzled frown toward him. “You’re welcome. I wanted to do it for you.” She grimaced as she hit another snarl in her hair.
Brett held his hand out with a sigh. “Give me the comb. I’ll do that for you.”
“You don’t gotta comb my hair.”
“No, I don’t have to, but I want to.” As soon as the words left his mouth, he realized they were true. He’d longed more times than he wanted to count in the last three days to touch her long, golden hair.
She handed him the comb, and he stepped behind her. Taking a few strands, he began at the ends and combed up a bit at a time until he reached her head. As he had suspected, her hair felt soft and velvety to the touch. He wanted to bury his hands in it then lift the luscious locks to his lips.
“Maggie never done it like this.” Her voice brought him to reality.
“Never did what?” He started on another section.
“She wasn’t never gentle. She yanked my hair real hard. It made me cry at first, but all that got me was a slap, so I never cried no more.”
Connie and the Cowboy (Outlaw Gold) Page 9