“But who is he?” Lark asked. “Why is he looking for Slater?”
Tom inhaled a deep breath, slowly exhaling it.
“Slater managed to make hisself a few enemies some years back,” Tom answered. “Samson Kane’s the worst of ’em.” Tom chuckled, though it was a chuckle of sudden understanding, not amusement. “That’s how Slater knew it was ol’ Samson askin’ for him in town,” he mumbled. “You seen him yourself.”
“But why is Slater going into town?” Lark asked. She clutched Tom’s arms as terror washed over her. “You asked him if he meant to send a telegram. What would a telegram do? Or does he think Samson Kane will go there…to town? Does he intend to look for him?”
“No,” Tom answered. “Kane’s as yeller as they come. And he’s scared of Slater…no matter what he mighta wanted you to think.” He paused. “No, he’ll curl up somewhere like a rattler…hide in the rocks or the grass until he thinks Slater ain’t watchin’.”
“I’ve heard of him,” Johnny said. Lark glanced to see Charlie and Lizzy seated at the table eating bread that had been rather sloppily slathered with jam. But Johnny was walking toward them. “I heard of Samson Kane. Daddy told me a story about him once. He used to rob banks and such. And after he’d kill a feller…he’d gut ’em like a fish.”
“Johnny!” Katherine exclaimed, tears escaping her eyes to trickle over her cheeks. “Don’t say such things!”
“But it’s true, Mama,” Johnny said. “Samson Kane is a murderin’ outlaw. Daddy told me the whole country rested easy once he was captured and locked up. Daddy was sure someone would bury a knife in his belly out in Yuma. That’s where Daddy said they had him.”
“Well, it looks like they don’t have him no more,” Tom grumbled.
“But…but why would he come looking for Slater?” Lark asked. She was utterly frustrated, sensing there was still something she didn’t know—something important. “And why would Slater want to send a telegram?”
Tom shrugged. “Slater’s gonna want to know why Samson Kane ain’t at Yuma prison…and the sheriff in town oughta know an outlaw’s driftin’ close by.” Tom paused, and a slight grin of mischief mingled with concern curved his lips. “As far as why Samson Kane’s pickin’ on Slater…well, darlin’, let’s just say Slater has a way of prickin’ at a feller’s temper.”
Tom had said all he was going to. Lark tried not to be hurt that Katherine and Tom wouldn’t tell her more. Yet she was hurt—wounded. She’d been with Slater and Tom for eight months—eight months! She’d been Katherine’s friend for more than four. Didn’t they care any more for her than this? Didn’t they trust her? Or was it truly because they were afraid of Slater’s reaction? He’d told them not to say a word, but why?
Lark’s eyes widened, trepidation washing over her anew. Only a short time before, Slater had begun to tell Lark something—something about his past. She thought of the way he was forever going on about being old—being weathered. Slater never talked about his life after cowboying—never. He’d started to tell her something. Before Tom and Katherine had arrived home with the children, Slater had started to tell her something. He’d said there was a lot she didn’t know about his thirty years. Lark felt a surge of fear tear through her. Samson Kane was an outlaw. Slater was a man who didn’t want to talk about his past—didn’t want his brother or Katherine talking about it. Could it be that Slater Evans had once run with Samson Kane? Could the reason that Slater never wanted to talk about or even think about his past—could it be because his past was that of an outlaw?
She thought of the fact that Slater rarely left the house without his gun and gun belt. She’d even seen him strap it on to visit the outhouse. On several occasions, she’d seen him from her bedroom window at night, carrying a lantern on his way to the outhouse, dressed in nothing but his boots, his underwear, and his gun belt. She thought of the aging Hereford bull in the south pasture—the bull named Outlaw. She understood then—everything. She understood why Slater was so secretive about his past—understood why he’d danced around his desire for her. Lark understood what he’d begun to tell her in the kitchen, after he’d removed the cactus needles from her arm—after they’d been lost in impassioned kissing. Slater had begun to tell her he’d once been an outlaw!
Lark’s mind was blazing with possibilities. Perhaps Slater had helped Samson Kane rob a bank, helped him hide the money. Slater did seem to have a great deal of money. He bought cattle and horses as if it were no kind of burden where cost was concerned. She thought of the coats he’d purchased for her last fall—of the books he’d given her for Christmas. Perhaps Slater had helped Samson Kane rob banks and then given up his outlaw ways. Perhaps Samson Kane had been caught and sent to prison; perhaps he’d spent his time there thinking about Slater and all the money he’d had. Perhaps that was why he was after Slater: he wanted a larger share of their stolen money.
Still, Slater Evans an outlaw? It was inconceivable. Wiping the tears from her cheeks, she thought of Slater’s kindness toward the children—toward Katherine and herself. She thought of his good standing with the other ranchers in the county. Surely such a man could never have been an outlaw. Yet Lark knew that outlaws were often the most charming men on earth. Outlaws were often brothers, friends, even husbands and fathers. She knew that certain small towns allowed outlaws to drift through, or even take up residence nearby without ever considering turning them in to the authorities. Some towns—some sheriffs even—considered it a means of protection. If an outlaw was welcome in a town, he was more likely to protect it if trouble came. Lark knew the charm and influence of certain outlaws—and she knew from experience.
Suddenly, her thoughts, her emotions, were too overwhelming! She loved Slater Evans! She loved him. He couldn’t be an outlaw! He couldn’t! He was too good, too kind, too wonderful. She had never seen a hint of dishonesty in him, any malice—never! The room began to whirl, to spin, as Lark thought of her mother—of her beautiful mother and the unhappy end she’d met. Lark thought of her mother—thought of her own resemblance to her—wondered if that resemblance were deeper than merely flesh. Yet she’d sworn to herself long ago that she would never fall into tragedy the way her mother had—that she would never fall in love with an outlaw.
“Lark!” Katherine cried as Lark collapsed to the floor.
Everything went dark. For a moment, Lark could hear Katherine speaking to her—could feel Tom’s arms about her as he lifted her in them. Yet Lark’s faint deepened. Soon there was only dark and silence.
“You told her too much, Tom,” Slater was saying. “She’ll bolt and run now.”
As she drifted into wakefulness, Lark kept her eyes closed. Slater and Tom were speaking in lowered voices. She knew they thought she was still unconscious from the faint that had overtaken her. She had no idea how long she’d slept, yet it must’ve been a fair piece of time, for Slater had obviously returned from town.
“Well, you shoulda told her a long time ago,” Tom growled.
2
“Probably,” Slater mumbled. “But what’s done is done now, little brother.” He sounded discouraged—somehow hardened—as if his life had entirely disappointed him.
“Was it easy as that?” Tom asked.
“Yep.”
“Now what?”
“We wait. That’s all,” Slater answered. “Samson Kane will show his hand eventually. Might take some time though.
“How long do ya think?” Tom asked.
Slater exhaled a heavy sigh. “Could be days…even a couple of weeks. You know how he works…like an ornery ol’ rattler. He waits until he thinks you ain’t payin’ a lick of attention. Then he strikes.”
There was a pause. Then Tom stated, “You’ll have to tell Lark. You oughta tell the children too…though I think young Johnny has his suspicions. Seems his daddy told him a few tales here and there…about Samson Kane at least.”
“What good will it do for them to know everything?” Slater asked.
“Well, yer the one always accusin’ folks of hidin’ secrets…sayin’ no good comes from it. Yet you’re worse than anybody I know. A danged hypocrite…that’s what you are.”
“I won’t deny it,” Slater said. “But they don’t need more’n they can chew on…just what they need to know to stay safe.”
“But you gotta tell Lark, Slater,” Tom said. “Who knows what she’s thinkin’? She deserves to hear it all.”
“I know,” Slater mumbled. “I almost told her, you know. In fact, it was right on the tip of my tongue…right there in the kitchen. The words were comin’ out, but then…then I remembered she told me she saw a man. And when I figured who it was…” He paused. “It don’t matter anyway. I figure the way yer trap flaps at the slightest breeze, you already told her enough.”
Tom chuckled. “I did tell her some…but you need to tell the whole tale, boy. She’s a tough little gal. She ain’t gonna bolt on ya, and she sure ain’t gonna run.”
“She would if she knew what was good for her.”
“How’s she doin’?” Lark heard Katherine ask.
“She’s breathin’,” Slater said.
“Well, that cactus didn’t do her any good,” Katherine said. “And heaven knows you runnin’ off to town didn’t help either.”
Lark felt Katherine’s hand on her forehead and used the opportunity to feign sudden awareness.
“What happened?” she asked in a whisper. She turned her head—slowly opened her eyes in pretending to have just come out of the stupor.
“You fainted, darlin’,” Katherine said, smiling at her. Katherine stood over her. Slater and Tom sat in the two chairs opposite the sofa in the parlor.
“I told Tom you’d be more comfortable in your bed,” Katherine explained, “but he said he wanted you here on the sofa where we could keep an eye on ya.” She smiled. “How’s your arm feelin’?”
Lark forced a halfhearted smile in return. “Terrible,” she said. Katherine winced and giggled at the same time.
“Those walkin’ stick cactus are meaner than the devil,” she said.
“We’re headin’ back to the bunkhouse, boss.”
Lark glanced up to see Eldon, Grady, and Ralston striding toward the front door. Eldon nodded to Lark as she looked to him and then looked back to Slater.
“You holler if ya need anything, boss,” he said.
“Bolt the door once you boys are in for the night, Eldon,” Slater said. “He ain’t gonna do nothin’ tonight…but you keep one eye open anyhow.”
“We will,” Eldon said.
“Thank you, boys,” Slater added. He stood, strode to the cowboys, and offered them each his hand in thanks. “I know you didn’t saddle up for this. I appreciate it…and I’m sorry.”
“We ride for the brand, boss…come hell or high water,” Eldon said. Ralston and Grady nodded their own affirmations.
“Thanks for supper, Mrs. Thornquist,” Eldon said then, touching the brim of his hat as he looked to Katherine.
“Supper?” Lark exclaimed. She’d been unconscious so long Katherine had had to fix supper—and for the cowboys too.
Guilt and worry must’ve been obvious on Lark’s face, for Katherine whispered, “It’s all right, Lark,” and patted her hand with reassurance. “You’re welcome, Mr. Pickering,” Katherine said, smiling at Eldon then.
The cowboys left, and Lark watched as Tom strode to the front door, drawing the bolt.
Lark looked to Slater. He sat in a chair across the room from her, staring at her. His eyes were dark, and she sensed a combination of dark emotions boiled in him.
“I put a warm towel on your arm off and on,” Katherine said. “But I haven’t had a chance to look at it.”
“It’ll be fine,” Lark said, pulling herself to a sitting position. “Are the children in bed already?” she asked.
“Yes,” Katherine answered. “They were so tired! I guess the trip to town wore them out today…thankfully.” Katherine smiled, but it was forced.
“And what of Samson Kane?” Lark asked. She looked to Slater, yet his expression was unchanged.
“Well…well…I…I…” Katherine stammered. She glanced to Slater, who only glared back at her and frowned.
“I’ll take care of it,” Slater grumbled.
“Well, then I’m headin’ to bed,” Tom said. “You can keep first watch,” he added, nodding to Slater.
“Yep,” Slater agreed.
Tom took Lark’s hand, squeezing it with reassurance. “You about give me a fit of apoplexy, honey,” he said, warmly smiling at her. “You sure you’re all right?”
“Yes,” Lark told him. “I promise.”
“All right then. I’ll see you in the mornin’.” Tom turned to Katherine. “Good night, Katie. Try to get some sleep. Ain’t nothin’ gonna get by ol’ Slater.”
“I know,” she said, kissing Tom on one cheek.
“And you,” he said to Slater then. “You do what ya need to.”
“Yep,” Slater said, nodding. “Just what I need to.”
Tom sighed and shook his head. Lark sensed there was more meaning in their exchange of words than she understood.
Tom left the parlor and climbed the stairs as Katherine said, “I’ll be turnin’ in too.” She kissed Lark on one cheek. “Good night, sweetie. You wake me if you need anything.”
“Good night,” Lark responded. “Thank you.”
Katherine turned to Slater. “Good night, Slater.”
“Good night,” Slater mumbled.
Katherine left the parlor as well.
Alone with Slater, Lark’s fear and curiosity instantly blended with her desire to be in his arms and caused her insides to quiver. He was still staring at her—simply sitting across the room and staring at her. She thought for a moment that she surely looked a fright. Windblown from her sprint back to the house after meeting Samson Kane, she’d then endured sobbing from the pain of the cactus needles. The blissful moments spent in Slater’s arms in the kitchen had no doubt left her further rumpled—and then she’d fainted. No doubt she looked like a tattered vagabond of sorts.
“What’re you thinkin’?” Slater asked.
“About…about today?” she ventured.
“Yep,” he said, still staring at her, unmoving.
“Which part of today?” she asked. “The part where I found myself alone beyond the east pasture with a stranger? The part where I came home and…and you were just about to tell me something when you remembered I’d mentioned him? Or the part where you rode off to town without a word of explanation?”
“Yep,” was all he said in response.
She was quiet a moment, considering everything. If Slater Evans were an outlaw—retired or not—did she truly want to know? She thought a moment longer. Yet she must know the truth.
“I think…I’ve been wondering…thinking,” she began, “about what you might have been going to say to me there…in the kitchen…before you remembered I’d told you I saw a man out beyond the pasture.”
Slater said nothing, though his eyes narrowed—his frown deepening.
“Samson Kane…I understand he’s an outlaw,” she said.
“Yep,” Slater said.
“And…and I’m surmising, from what I’ve been told, that he’s escaped from Yuma prison.”
“Yep.”
“And…and he’s come looking for you. Probably the first thing he did after escaping was come looking for you.”
“Yep.”
Lark bit her lip as tears began to well in her eyes. She loved him! Oh, how she loved Slater Evans! Still, in knowing what her mother had endured—how could she have let herself fall in love with an outlaw?
“Did you ride with him before?” she asked. “Has he come looking for you because you betrayed him in some way? The fact that he was imprisoned and you were not…did you somehow elude capture or…or…”
“You think I rode with him?” Slater growled. “You think I’m an outlaw?”
> “I-I don’t know,” Lark stammered as tears escaped her eyes. “I’ve tried to think of something else to explain it…anything else. But with what Johnny said…and the very little that Tom would tell me…I-I don’t know what else to think.”
She watched Slater—watched him inhale a deep breath and then exhale it slowly.
He shook his head. His eyebrows arched in thoughtful consideration of what she’d said to him.
“I don’t know whether to laugh or be insulted,” he said. A slight smile curved his lips, however, and he chuckled. “An outlaw. Well, I certainly didn’t think you thought I was that low.”
“Oh, but I don’t!” Lark exclaimed. “I don’t! I can’t even imagine it, in truth! But what other explanation could there be, Slater? I…I can’t think of anything else that might—”
“Samson Kane was in jail because of me,” he interrupted. “I saw him kill a man…and I testified against him in a court of law. I’m the man who put him in Yuma prison.”
All at once, inexplicable relief washed through Lark. Her heart soared with joy and love. Her joy in knowing her own past had tainted her assumptions where Slater’s behavior had been concerned—that he was no outlaw but rather a hero—only caused the love she secreted for him to surge to an overwhelming magnitude.
Lark smiled, brushing more tears from her cheeks—tears of happiness and relief. She couldn’t speak; she was too beset with joy.
Still, Slater asked, “You thought I was an outlaw?” He shook his head, and Lark did not miss the expression of hurt that crossed his features. Instantly, she was regretful. How could she have ever thought it? She knew Slater was a good man. Suddenly, she was as astonished that she’d ever considered the notion as Slater was. Furthermore, she was disgusted with herself. She’d known outlaws—been able to recognize them her entire life. In that moment, she realized it was even how she knew to lie to Samson Kane when she met him beyond the pasture. Her experience-sharpened instinct had instantly known Samson Kane was outlaw.
“I-I’m sorry,” she began. “I was so frightened…and nobody would tell me anything. Tom only said Samson Kane was a shadow from your past…that you’d angered him somehow. All I could think was that you’d betrayed him or something. Why didn’t Tom tell me you’d testified against him? Why didn’t he tell me that Samson Kane has come looking for you for the sake of revenge?”
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