The Outlaw's Heart

by Amy Sandas

  He caught her with a soft sound of displeasure.

  “You don’t have to carry me,” she protested, hating that this was the second time she’d been unable to find her feet after riding. She hated the physical weakness and the vulnerability that required she rely so heavily upon his strength and greater fortitude.

  His response was a short sound that managed to be both an acknowledgment and a signal of disagreement. Adjusting her into a more secure position, he turned and carried her toward the building.

  Eve kept her chin down as he carried her past the horses. If she’d had any strength left, she would have declared she could make it on her own, but it would have been nearly impossible to walk when she couldn’t feel anything below her knees. Upon entering the building, she felt an immediate blast of warmth that contradictorily triggered a fresh bout of uncontrollable shivers.

  Gabriel kicked the door shut behind him and strode down a short hall into a large room where an impressive stone fireplace roared with glorious flames. Spread before the hearth in a rather haphazard fashion were various chairs and sofas and end tables.

  Beyond the chaotic seating area, Eve caught a glimpse of a long dinner table surrounded by mismatched chairs set in front of a row of windows. And farther past that was a large, open kitchen area with a heavy black stove and broad cupboards lining the wall. The last things she noticed were the two hallways that extended in opposite directions from the great room.

  Gabriel strode toward one of the sofas nearest to the fireplace and carefully set her down. She felt terrible that her wet clothes would soon soak through the furniture, but he didn’t seem to care.

  “Whoa-ho! What’s this?”

  Gabriel straightened and turned at the question. Eve looked past him to see a lanky young man entering the great room from one of the long hallways. Wearing a thick coat, baggy trousers, and a wide-brimmed hat, the very young man cast a swift and curious glance in her direction.

  Gabriel ignored his question. “She needs to get warm. Can you get a blanket?”

  “Sure thing.” Booted steps sounded on the wooden floor as the newcomer retreated down the hall.

  Gabriel crossed to the fireplace and grasped a couple of logs from the stack beside it to toss onto the already healthy flames. A moment later, the slim outlaw returned and handed a blanket to Gabriel. “Here ya go. Have your horses been seen to?”

  “Not yet.”

  “I’ll take care of it.”

  Gabriel didn’t offer a response as he stirred the fire to greater life. But the lanky young man didn’t seem to expect much more as he tossed another curious look toward Eve, then crossed the room and headed outside.

  She sat in a tight ball in the corner of the sofa—teeth still chattering, hair dripping, and hands numb. Gabriel came forward and draped the blanket over her. “Stay here.”

  She nodded. She wasn’t planning on moving an inch away from the fire. He crossed the room to a door near the dining table. As he stepped outside, a blast of rain and wind disturbed the growing warmth of the room before he closed the door securely behind him.

  Then she was alone.

  But only for a moment.

  Someone was coming down the hall behind her. The steps were unhurried, but she noted a slight unevenness in their cadence. A limp. It was subtle but there nonetheless, and in her exhausted and mind-numbed state, Eve couldn’t help but focus on that subtly uneven rhythm as the steps came closer. Her body tensed with a frisson of dread, and she wished Gabriel would return quickly.

  As a man came into view around the end of the sofa, she lifted her chin with as much dignity as she could manage in her trembling, exhausted state.

  The man before her was somewhere in his late twenties with medium-brown hair that fell in haphazard waves over his forehead. His slim but well-muscled form was dressed in woolen trousers held up by a pair of red suspenders and a loose-fitted cotton shirt that had been rolled up to his elbows. He didn’t necessarily look much like an outlaw until Eve met his gaze.

  His eyes were an odd mix of light and dark—but mostly dark—and sparked with unpredictability. He assessed her with a sharp and fleeting glance, taking in everything he could see in a brief instant. As his gaze narrowed on her face, something odd flickered in his eyes.

  Her heart gave a tiny stutter.

  For a second, there appeared to be a fleeting hint of recognition in his eyes.

  But then his expression shadowed over with a fierce scowl, and she figured it was a trick of her exhausted mind.

  “What’re you doing here?” the man asked in a hard tone.

  “I was taken from the train.” With her jaw still stiff from cold, the words came out in a tone that was slightly sharp and accusing.

  The man’s scowl deepened. “You’re not Sarah Cummings.”

  He said it with such strong conviction, Eve wondered if he had known the woman. But then, he would have recognized in an instant she wasn’t Sarah since they didn’t resemble each other much. More likely he was going off the same description of the woman the others had had. He’d just come to the correct conclusion much quicker.

  A moment later, the slim young man who had gone out to see to their horses came inside. He shook the rain off his shoulders and hat much like a dog as he came into the main room.

  “Do you know anything about this, Johnny?” the scowler asked.

  The young man shrugged and tossed a casual glance toward Eve. “Nope. She came in with Gabe.”

  That brief explanation seemed to satisfy the newcomer a bit.

  With a last glance over at Eve where she still huddled in the corner of the couch, he crossed behind the sofa and headed toward the stove. At the same time, Johnny came forward to stand just off to the left of the fireplace. Crossing his arms over a narrow chest, he lowered his chin and settled a steady gaze on Eve.

  She glanced away, resting her head on the back of the sofa.

  These men could stare and intimidate all they wanted. She was too weary to care.

  She might have drifted off for a bit, because the next thing she knew she was jolting to awareness as the front door opened again and Gabriel swept back inside.

  Eve turned to see him striding across the room to reach her side, ignoring the others while rain dripped from his hair and clothes. He parted the edges of his coat to produce a neatly folded stack of clothing.

  “Dry clothes,” he explained simply, not bothering to say where they came from.

  Eve shifted to withdraw her arms from the blanket and took the stack of clothes.

  “Can you walk?” he asked.

  Eve nodded and proved it by setting the now-damp blanket aside and carefully rising to her feet.

  Gabriel stood nearby, not moving until he seemed assured she wouldn’t collapse to the floor. Then he turned and led her toward the hallway Johnny had initially emerged from. Eve sent a quick glance behind her before following him down the hall and saw the other two outlaws, Johnny and the scowler, staring after them with the oddest of expressions.

  She didn’t have time to wonder what had them so perplexed as she continued after Gabriel’s large form to the door of a darkened room. She waited in the doorway while he lit a small lamp on a corner table. In addition to the table, the room held a single narrow bed, a short wooden bench, and a small chest of drawers.

  When he turned to face her in the confining space, he looked larger than ever. His stance spanned the space between the bed and the dresser, while his wide, solid shoulders completely blocked the window behind him. He filled the room entirely with his presence. The lighting was dim and soft, yet she could see him quite clearly, his taciturn expression defined by a hard-angled jaw, broad nose, and wide forehead. His generous mouth was held in a firm line, and his eyes stared back at her with silent depth.

  Eve couldn’t breathe. Her chest felt as though it were being con
stricted by a too-tight corset, and her throat thickened with an odd urge to cry. It was as though everything inside her tightened up in a fierce spiral of emotion that came out of nowhere. It was sadness and fear and uncertainty and pride and a pure sort of fatigue that left her feeling defenseless.

  Though she knew she had done nothing to alter her expression or manner, Gabriel seemed to sense her disturbance. His expression tensed and his brows lowered in obvious concern as he stepped forward, his hand lifting to reach for her.

  Though she felt a strong desire to accept the comfort she suspected he wished to offer, she feared what it might do to her in her present state. An instinct for self-protection had her taking a step back.

  Noting her retreat, he stopped immediately. His body stiffened as his gaze went flat and unreadable. “There is a lock on the door. You should sleep,” he said.

  Eve, ashamed of revealing her weakened state, retreated farther into the hall to allow him space to leave the room. He did not pause as he passed her but continued toward the well-lit front room.

  Eve watched him go, the tightness inside her refusing to release.

  * * *

  Gabriel stepped into the great room to find Johnny lounging in one of the chairs, staring wide-eyed at him with a smirk barely concealed at the corners of his mouth. Gabriel ignored him. It was Luke he needed to talk to.

  The leader of their gang stood leaning back against the kitchen counter with a coffee in one hand. He didn’t smirk, but his stare was just as curious as Johnny’s.

  Gabriel crossed to the stove to pour himself some coffee before speaking. His clothes were still soaked through, but he’d see to his comfort later, once the business of Eve was taken care of.

  Luke was one of the few people who understood Gabriel’s way and never rushed him into conversation. He stood patiently sipping his coffee.

  Finally, Gabriel turned to him and met the other man’s direct stare. “George and Ramsey didn’t make it back yet?”

  “No.”

  Gabriel frowned. The two men should have returned to the valley well ahead of Gabriel and Eve.

  “Ramsey took the wrong woman.”

  Luke’s intent hazel eyes narrowed. “How?”

  “She said she was Sarah Cummings.”

  “She isn’t.”

  “The kid didn’t verify the description.”

  “Why is she here?” Luke asked pointedly.

  “Her original clothing suggested wealth. The others thought you might still want to ransom her.”

  There was a pause as Luke studied Gabriel in silence. Then he said, “You don’t agree.”

  Gabriel held his tongue. He might be Luke’s right-hand man, but it wasn’t his place to agree or disagree. It was his job to follow orders and make sure the others did the same.

  “We don’t kidnap random women,” Johnny offered from his chair, clearly listening in on the conversation. His tone was sharp. Johnny had been with the gang nearly as long as Gabriel and knew how Luke operated.

  Now that the matter was in Luke’s hands, there was nothing to keep Gabriel there. He should go to his place to dry off and warm up and finally get some solid sleep.

  But he waited.

  Noticing Gabriel’s hesitation, Luke tossed a quick, subtly questioning glance toward Johnny, who Gabriel imagined was staring in amused fascination. He understood why they were confused by his behavior, but he couldn’t bring himself to care what they thought of it.

  He met Luke’s hard gaze.

  The man was the closest thing to a friend Gabriel had had since he was a boy. He trusted Luke with his life as he did the others.

  “She’s running from something,” Gabriel finally stated.

  Luke’s expression darkened. “The law?”

  “Doubtful.”

  “Husband?”

  Gabriel gave a short shrug in response, ignoring the harsh twist behind his sternum.

  “A high-stepping lady like her must have a damn good reason to leave the comforts of home for the western wilderness,” Luke noted, his expression intense. “All on her own?”

  “Seems so.”

  “Any ideas?”

  Gabriel hesitated. Saying more felt like a betrayal to the woman he’d been tasked with protecting the last few days. But Luke would need to know all of it if he were to make a solid decision on the woman’s fate. “She’s been hurt.”

  A spark flickered in Luke’s hard gaze. “Hurt how? In some sort of accident?”

  “No.”

  Silence filled the room.

  Luke frowned, his hazel eyes narrowing as he became thoughtful. When Gabriel first met him more than seven years ago, Luke had been reckless and angry. He’d learned to rein in his temper since then, but a few things could still tip him into a state of fury.

  Mistreatment of women and children was one of them.

  Sarah Cummings’s kidnapping had been planned to ensure the woman’s comfort and safety until the ransom fee was paid by her intended and she was eventually turned over to him, none the worse.

  Luke gave a nod and lowered his chin. “I’ll talk to her.”

  Gabriel wanted to feel relieved at handing the issue of the woman’s well-being into Luke’s hands. Any other time, he would have walked away without another thought on the issue.

  But this time…

  He had to force himself to turn away. As he crossed to the front door and let himself back out into the pouring rain, he could feel Luke and Johnny’s gazes burning holes into his back.

  Eighteen

  Granger was a small town located on the southwestern plains of Wyoming Territory. During its active history, the town had been used as an annual meeting spot for fur traders, a stopover for the Pony Express, a station on the Overland Stage route, and finally, an active stop on the Union Pacific rail line.

  The sheriff’s office was a neat and tidy little room located in the front of the jailhouse. The sheriff himself was as neat and tidy as his office. A small man with white hair and a squinty gaze, Sheriff Fawkes did not seem too pleased to have a stranger invading his space and reviewing his reports.

  But word sometimes spread quickly through the territory, especially when it dealt with the unlawful boarding of a train that resulted in a very strange abduction but not a single robbery.

  The stranger glanced up from the neat script to pin the sheriff with a steel-eyed stare. “This is the full report?”

  Sheriff Fawkes met his glare with one of his own. Though smaller by a foot or more, he wasn’t intimidated. “There wasn’t much to report. No one on the train knew the woman other than Miss Cummings, who stated only that her name was Miss Smith. She didn’t know where the woman was traveling to or where she’d come from. The case she left behind held only a few items of clothing and a large amount of cash.” The sheriff’s bushy white mustache twitched in agitation. “There was nothing else to report.”

  Accepting the sheriff’s explanation, the stranger lowered his gaze to reread the passage describing the abducted woman’s appearance.

  Early twenties in age, fair hair, blue eyes, quiet nature.

  That was it. But it was enough. Instinct honed over years spent hunting men back and forth across the wild and endless territories told him this was the woman he was looking for.

  “And the outlaws?” he asked.

  “They’re believed to be part of a gang that’s been operating in Wyoming and southern Montana for ten years or so. They’re known around here as the Green River Gang, but other places call them different things.”

  “How do you know it’s the same gang of outlaws?”

  The sheriff gave a snort. “They never take anything from individual citizens. The targets of their theft are always wealthy ranching operations or large companies with broad holdings.”

  “Thieves. Have they ever kidnappe
d anyone before?”

  “Never.”

  “Any idea where they’re holed up?”

  “The farthest anyone’s ever been able to track them is up near the Absaroka Range. We figure they’ve got a hideout somewhere in those mountains, but no one’s ever found it.”

  Shit.

  If the woman had been taken by these outlaws, she’d not be easy to find.

  He set the report on the sheriff’s desk and rose to his feet. “I appreciate your time.”

  “You gonna find that girl?” the sheriff asked with a sniff.

  The stranger didn’t bother answering as he strode from the office and crossed the boardwalk to his horse.

  He was familiar with how easy it was to disappear in the forbidding stretch of the Rockies. If Mrs. Preston had been taken by a group of outlaws—and he believed she had—the task of locating her had just gotten a great deal more difficult.

  But he wasn’t the type to give up when things got tough.

  He’d been tasked with finding the woman. And that’s what he’d do.

  Nineteen

  Eve was awakened by a sharp knock on her locked door and Johnny’s voice on the other side saying the boss wanted to talk to her. She blinked away her lingering sleep and sat up. Through the single narrow window beside her bed, she could see that although the sky was lightening to a pale gray-blue, the sun had not yet risen above the mountain range that surrounded the private little valley.

  Just over five minutes later, she opened the door. Still wearing the simple cotton dress she’d been given the night before, she knew she looked wrinkled and weary, though she’d rested well through the night. It was uncertainty that wore on her now.

  Johnny was leaning against the wall across from her door, one boot braced on the wall behind him and his arms crossed loosely over his chest. At her appearance, he pushed off from the wall and led her down the hallway, across the quiet and dusky great room, then down the opposite hall to the last room, where he left her without a word.

  She took a breath and straightened her spine as she crossed the threshold into a room no bigger than the one she’d slept in. Instead of a narrow bed and chest of drawers, this room had a scarred and battered desk holding a half-full bottle of spirits and nothing else.