Loving an Outlaw

by Kristen Iten

  “You can do it right now,” she said. Abigail used the hem of her skirt to dry her tear stained cheeks.

  Jake lifted a heavy burlap sack into the air. “I just picked up a fresh load of supplies this morning, but a trip to Pennsylvania is going to take a little more preparation than this, don’t you think?” His rich laughter filled Abigail’s ears.

  “Pennsylvania? I’m never going back there.”

  Jake pulled a bandanna from his pants pocket and dried the sweat on the back of his neck. “That’s quite a different plan from last night,” he said. “What changed your mind?”

  “I realized this morning that Pennsylvania isn’t my home anymore.”

  “That’s …” His gaze fell to the ground. “That’s great news, Abby.”

  “Let’s go to the ranch,” said Abigail.

  Abigail settled into her familiar place in front of Jake. She had come to love the smell of horse and leather. She gazed into the blue expanse above her, but this time there wasn’t a buzzard in sight. Billowing white clouds slowly crawled across a clear sky. This feels right.

  They rode up to the cabin, and Abigail slid to the ground.

  “This is going to work,” she said.

  “You’ve got your spark back,” Jake said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Nothing. This place suits you, that’s all.” His sad smile had returned.

  Abigail searched his face, but Jake avoided eye contact. “I’ve been thinking,” she said. “I can’t finish building this place on my own, and my knowledge of ranching begins and ends at knowing how to spell the word ‘cow’. Jonathan was going to take care of running the ranch ...”

  Jake took the saddle off of Horse to give him some relief from the heat. He kept his back to Abigail while she continued.

  “I know you were looking forward to a change of pace in California, but …” Abigail knew what she wanted to say but wasn’t sure exactly how to say it. “I was wondering if you’d be interested in a job,” she blurted.

  Jake’s shoulders slumped.

  “I know you could help me get this place up and running. It wouldn’t take much to finish off the barn. We could turn it into a home for you. With your experience, we could have this ranch profitable in a year’s time. It would be a lot of hard work, but I know we could do it.”

  Abigail waited for an answer but none came. Jake continued rubbing down his horse. When he had finally finished, he slapped Horse’s rump and watched him trot off into the field to graze. He turned to face Abigail, but their eyes didn’t meet.

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he said.

  Abigail waited for further explanation, but Jake was done talking.

  “I see,” she said. Abigail walked to the far side of the towering oak tree. She sat with her back against the rough bark, watching a trail of ants march dutifully in single file to and from their mound a few feet away.

  Jake came and squatted down next to her. He pulled a tall stalk of grass out of the ground and began stripping the layers away. “I appreciate the offer—really, I do. I just can’t accept.” His normally robust baritone voice sounded thin.

  “I thought since you decided not to go west …” Abigail’s ears turned pink. She pulled a handkerchief out of her pocket and played with the hem with downcast eyes. She stood and walked onto the front porch of the cabin. “Well, it doesn’t matter what I thought.” She shrugged, forcing a smile. “I shouldn’t have assumed anything. You have plans of your own. The last thing you need is to get stuck living out someone else’s dream when you’d rather be off on your own adventure.”

  Jake walked over and stood on the ground next to the porch. They were eye to eye. “Abby, I would stay if I could. Truly, I would.”

  “I don’t understand,” she said. “Why didn’t you leave with the mining party if you can’t stay?”

  “I stayed behind, so I could take you back home to Pennsylvania. I …”

  The sadness Abigail saw in his eyes broke her heart. She wanted to comfort him but didn’t know how.

  “You don’t have to say anything else.” Abigail tried to turn away, but Jake gently took hold of her arms.

  “Abigail, I can’t stay in Texas. I’m a wanted man.”

  Abigail froze, looking into Jake’s eyes. Her mouth hung open as the shock of Jake’s revelation overtook her body. So many thoughts raced through her mind, she was unable to speak.

  “Abby—” A bullet whizzed through the air, cutting off Jake’s words and embedding itself in the post next to Abigail’s head.

  Chapter 12

  Jake and Abigail crashed through the front door of her new home, and landed hard on the wood floor inside. His hands shielded her head from splinters flying through the air with each crack of the gun.

  “Stay low,” said Jake.

  Abigail felt his hot breath on the back of her neck as he spoke the words. A moment later, he was on his feet, gun drawn. He crouched low and peered out of the door. Jake pulled his head back just as another bullet hit the door jamb. He glanced at Abigail, still lying on her stomach where they had fallen moments before.

  “I’ll be right back,” he said.

  “Wait! Where are you going?” Abigail’s heart hammered in her chest.

  Jake left without another word. Abigail scrambled to the other side of the room on her hands and knees where a rough-hewn table sat. Abigail recognized Jonathan’s handiwork. She tipped it on its side and crawled behind it. The thick tabletop was the only thing between her and the lead that tore through the thin walls of the home her brother had built.

  Jake ran for cover behind a large boulder. He took a quick look around the side hoping to see where the shots were coming from. His heart sank when he saw the metallic flash of a long barrel gun near the top of the ridge overlooking the property. No one could shoot a pistol with any great accuracy at that distance—not even Jake. The shooter had them pinned down.

  He stood with his back flat against the warm rock and clutched his revolver in his hand. Leaning his head back, he searched his mind for a way out of this death trap. Ten paces to his left lay his saddle with Milly still in her fringed scabbard. With no cover between him and his rifle, there may as well have been ten miles of open country between them.

  The gunman fired into the cabin window. Bullets tore holes into the curtain with an eerie silence, and thumped as they embedded themselves in the wood inside. The tattered fabric swaying in the wind triggered something in Jake. This had to stop, and he was the man to get the job done.

  He looked to the heavens and said a short prayer before breaking cover. He ran toward his rifle, firing his six gun wildly into the rocks above. The tables were turned on the gunman who was now unable to rise up and take a clear shot.

  Jake fired his last shot, throwing his pistol to the side. He made a diving roll for his saddle. His hands found Milly’s stock and slid her free from the smooth deerskin case. His momentum propelled him back onto his feet and he rose, working his rifle’s lever action at a furious pace.

  Abigail still huddled on the floor behind the overturned table when the gunfire ended. She heard the sound of quick steps coming toward the cabin. Someone’s coming, but who is it?

  She looked around for something to defend herself with. Her eyes landed on an iron skillet near her feet. She hadn’t noticed it earlier when she dumped the table over, but it was exactly what she needed. She snatched it up and hurried to a position next to the door.

  Memories of the morning she first met Jake flashed through her mind. How do I keep getting into these situations? It took all of the strength in both arms to raise the skillet over her shoulder.

  “Abby, are you all right?” Jake threw the door open, rushing into the room. He looked to his right and saw Abigail only a foot away, ready to bash his head in. “Whoa! It’s only me,” he said, taking a step back. “You are one dangerous lady.”

  Abigail lowered her weapon. Relief spread across her face momentarily before it w
as replaced by anger.

  “You’ve been lying to me from the very beginning.” Abigail bit her lower lip to keep it from quivering.

  “Abby—”

  “Don’t call me that. It’s Miss Dodd to you. You said you weren’t with the outlaws. I trusted you.” She choked out the last few words as her throat tightened. She lifted her chin and stared Jake squarely in the eyes.

  “Let me explain.” Jake took a step toward her with an outstretched hand.

  “Don’t come near me.” She lifted the skillet back into position and moved away. “When I think of that sweet old man your gang killed—”

  “I didn’t have any part in that. I wasn’t riding with those murderers.”

  “Oh, really?” Abigail raised a single eyebrow and cocked her head to the side, lips pressed into a hard, thin line. “Then why are they after you now? Did you lie to them, too?”

  “After me?” said Jake.

  “You heard me.” Abigail still held her skillet at the ready.

  “That hombre wasn’t shooting at me,” said Jake. “Not until I started shooting back.”

  “I’m not as gullible as you may think. No one has any reason to shoot at me,” Abigail fired back.

  “Once we split up, those bullets were flying in your direction—not mine.”

  Abigail looked at Jake through narrowed eyes but kept quiet.

  “I’ve never ridden with an outlaw gang.” Jake’s voice was clear and confident. “I stole a horse, plain and simple. That was my only crime.”

  Abigail saw the truth in Jake’s eyes but wasn’t ready to disarm just yet. Her blood had run hot, and she needed a moment to collect herself. As Jake ventured closer, the tension in Abigail’s body melted away a little more with each step he took. Finally, they stood toe to toe.

  “Miss Dodd?” said Jake. He reached out and took hold of the skillet, his warm, masculine hand enveloping both iron and Abigail’s slender fingers. He leaned in close. “Abby.” His voice was low and husky.

  Abigail’s skin tingled as Jake’s fingers trailed down her cheek and came to rest on her chin. He tilted her face up to meet his gaze, their lips only a breath away. Her chest rose and fell in quick succession as each new beat of her heart came quicker than the one that preceded it. In that moment, Abigail wanted nothing more than to be close to him forever but now wasn’t the time. She released the skillet and stepped back to clear her head.

  The corners of Jake’s mouth turned up. He knocked on the skillet with his knuckles. “I’ll just go set this on the table.” He righted the overturned table and paused before speaking again. “The question we need to ask is who would want you dead,” said Jake.

  “Dead?”

  “Those weren’t butterflies flying through the air. They were real life bullets,” he said.

  Abigail was quiet. The only sound in the room was the creaking of floor boards as she walked to the back window. She rested her hands on the rough sill.

  “Maybe the same person that wanted Jonathan dead.” She pointed to the unfinished barn in front of her. “Would you expect a man to die from a fall from that height?”

  Jake joined her at the window. “It would take a special kind of talent to die from such a short fall.”

  “Pastor Holtz found my brother lying on the ground with a head wound. He said it looked like Jonathan had fallen while working.”

  A refreshing breeze blew into the room. Abigail took the air deep into her lungs. “They did everything they could for him, but Jonathan never opened his eyes again.” Abigail slowly shook her head. “Something hasn’t set right with me since the first time I laid eyes on that little barn.”

  They stood in silence for a long while before Jake spoke again.

  “I’m no coward, but I think you should go back to Pennsylvania. Something is going on—”

  “I refuse to be run off my property by an outlaw,” said Abigail.

  “No property is worth your life.”

  “It’s not really about the land.” She turned to look Jake in the eyes. “If Jonathan was murdered, I can’t go home leaving him in the ground while his killer runs free.”

  “You can’t stay here either,” said Jake.

  “I’ll be fine. I’ll buy a gun or something.”

  Jake sat on a three-legged stool near the potbelly stove. He tossed his hat on the floor, running his fingers through his hair.

  “All right,” he said. “I’ll stay.”

  Abigail looked at him with a quizzical expression. “I thought you couldn’t stay.”

  “I shouldn’t but I will—on one condition. You have to keep living in town at Miss Rosie’s while I get this place in working order.”

  “Why?”

  “Do you really have to ask?” said Jake, rising from his seat. “It’s not safe here.”

  “What makes you think it will be any safer for me after you’ve gotten the place up and running?”

  “This isn’t going to be an overnight job. I’m counting on one of two things happening while I finish what your brother started. Either you’ll come to your senses and let me take you home, or I’ll catch the sidewinder that’s causing all of your problems.”

  “I still think I should move out here and prove to whoever it is that I can’t be scared off,” said Abigail.

  Jake didn’t miss a beat. “I won’t do the work if you don’t live in town.” He joined her at the window again and placed his hand next to hers on the sill. She felt his warmth along the full length of her arm as they stood side by side. His voice was soft and low. “I need you to be safe.”

  Abigail leaned her head on his shoulder and lifted her gaze past the modest beginnings of her ranch. She took in the miles of wilderness that lay beyond the bounds of her little patch of the world. “I’ll stay in town,” she said.

  Chapter 13

  The smooth gait of Jake’s horse rocked Abigail gently as they rode toward town. She gripped the saddle horn and leaned forward to pat his neck.

  “I must say, you certainly picked a good horse to steal,” she teased. “He’s such a good boy.”

  “I didn’t steal him. I paid good money for this old boy.”

  Abigail shook her head and laughed.

  “What kind of professional horse thief pays for a horse?” Her bubbly laughter was infectious.

  “I’m not a professional horse thief.”

  “I’ll be the judge of that,” said Abigail. “How many horses have you stolen?”

  Jake was quiet for a moment. “Just the one.” The words sounded strained as they left his mouth. Abigail waited for him to continue, but he stayed quiet. They rode along in silence for a while before she spoke again, this time in a subdued tone.

  “You’re no criminal,” she said. “Why did you do it?”

  “I didn’t have any other choice.”

  Abigail reached back and took his hand. She placed it on her shoulder, resting her cheek on their interlaced fingers. “What happened?”

  “It still feels like a dream when I think about it.” Jake sighed. “More like a nightmare. It happened the night my brother got bit by that snake.”

  “Henry?” she asked.

  “Yep. We both lost any hope of a future that night.” His voice sounded far away as if he were dreaming of a life he could never have.

  “It’s wild how fast life can change on you,” he said. “One minute we were riding along without a care in the world, and the next minute the whole world had turned upside down. The horses lost their minds when we rounded a bend. Neither of us saw that rattler until it was too late. My horse came close to stepping on it. He reared up, spun around, and threw me. I smacked my head on a rock beside the trail.”

  Jake tilted his hat up and pointed at a raised scar just above his left eyebrow. “I still have the scar.”

  Abigail turned in the saddle to see. She had been so preoccupied with his crystal blue eyes she had never noticed the scar that sat right above one of them. She traced the remnants of the old wound wi
th her finger. Their closeness sent a shiver up her arm and into the hollow of her stomach.

  “Holding onto the reins was probably the farthest thing from Henry’s mind when he jumped down to shoot the snake. The horses spooked real bad when he fired. They were clean out of sight by the time I came back to my senses. It was just me and him lying in the dirt.”

  “How long had you been lying there?” asked Abigail.

  “Long enough that Henry was already in a bad way when I came to. He was sweating something fierce and wasn’t breathing right.” Jake took a deep breath. He sat tall in the saddle, his back rigid.

  “There was no time to track the horses down. That canyon was a maze. It would have been near impossible to find them in the dark. The Wagoner place wasn’t too far off, so I told Henry to stay put. I ran as fast as I could to get help.”

  The veins in Jake’s left forearm bulged as he clenched his hand into a tight fist.

  “Old man Wagoner,” Jake growled the words through gritted teeth. “He refused to lend me a horse to get Henry to town to see the doc.”

  “What?” Abigail’s mouth hung open in disbelief.

  “Wagoner owns the biggest spread in these parts, and he couldn’t be bothered to lend a helping hand to a dying man.” His voice was slow, measured, and thick with emotion. He spat on a cluster of prickly pear cacti as if to rid his mouth of the bitter taste of his words.

  “He wouldn’t lend you a horse, so you stole one.”

  “I called it borrowing without permission, but yes. I wasn’t about to let my brother die in the dirt without doing everything I possibly could to save him. I knew Wagoner would have the law on my tail, but Henry was the only thing that mattered to me.”

  Abigail understood. Jake was not a thief. He was a hero willing to risk it all to save his brother.

  “I’d do it over again, even knowing how it all turned out. You do for the people you love.”