The Innocent and the Outlaw (Outlaws of the Wild West)

by Harper St. George

  Reassurance. It was a tricky word and one she wouldn’t have thought to attribute to him, but once it crossed her mind it felt right. No one would harm her as long as he was there at her back. The truth of that was as unsettling as it was comforting, so she tried not to dwell on it and took another bite of her jerky.

  “Look...” he sighed and his voice sounded weary “...just because Campbell and I are enemies, doesn’t mean that you and me can’t be friends.”

  “I’m not usually friends with people who tie me up and hold me captive, but I can make an exception given there really is no other choice.”

  “Fine.” The word came out a bit clipped.

  His sudden anger made her unreasonably angry. “My apologies. Should I not have reminded you that until half an hour ago you had me bound from the rafters and even now my wrists—”

  “Enough.”

  She opened her mouth to reply but shut it just as quickly. What are you doing, Em? You’re supposed to make friends, make him trust you. All hope of escaping that night had long since drained away from her, fading with the echo of the first terrifying gunshot back at the shack. He was so large there was almost no chance that she could forcibly push him from the horse, and without a weapon she didn’t dare try it and get herself tied up again. Instead, she would bide her time until she could use her powders and in the meantime get information from him. If she put an end to their friendship he’d be less likely to tell her anything.

  Swallowing the bitter dredges of her pride, she said instead, “You’re right. I’d like it if we could be friends. I’m sorry, I’m just tired and irritable.”

  He grunted behind her, but didn’t say anything, and she knew their tentative peace was over for now. They rode throughout the rest of the night, keeping close to the trees when they could and only breaking into a gallop when the trees gave way to open grassland.

  * * *

  By the time the sun had made its way above the flatlands to the east, she was aware that someone must be following them. She never saw or heard anyone, but he kept looking backward and twisting back and forth across the creek so often that she was certain he was trying to cover their progress. When she asked, he gave another noncommittal grunt that she decided meant he didn’t want to talk about it.

  * * *

  Finally, about midmorning, when she had already nodded off more times than she could count, he turned them toward the mountains and they began to make an ascent into the foothills. Never comfortable around horses, and even less so on the steep climb, she wrapped her hands around the steely arm that held her tight. Sometime just after sunrise when they had stopped briefly, he’d shoved a handful of dried apples at her and ordered her to eat them. They churned in her belly now, threatening to make an unfortunate reappearance.

  “I’ve got you,” came his reassuring voice behind her.

  It probably wasn’t that steep. The horse never skidded or lost its footing at all, but every change in elevation seemed more dramatic from the back of a horse. They didn’t go very far, but the path was treacherous, forcing them to move slowly and making him tense behind her.

  “Where are we going?” she only managed to ask once she’d closed her eyes.

  “There’s a place just up here where we can take cover for a bit.”

  Her hopes of escape plummeted, because she had absolutely no idea how far they were from town at this point. She knew they had headed north, but had no idea when they had actually passed Whiskey Hollow and her home. The girls would be worried sick by now, but she knew that Jake would have gotten to them. He was a man of his word and he’d always looked out for her and the children. At least they were safe. “Is someone following us?”

  “Doubt it. I obscured our trail, but if someone is looking for us, they’ll find it eventually. We’ll stay hidden just to make sure.”

  When they came to a stop, she opened her eyes to see the tops of the chokecherries and spruces just below them. They went blurry for just a moment before she blinked the exhaustion away and made herself look forward, away from the drop off. The mountain rose up ever higher, one giant mound of rocks and dirt covered in grasses in every shade of green and brown. There was no path here and a near-vertical slope, but he sensed her question and raised his arm to point ahead. Just in the shadows along the side of the sheer slope was a gouge in the earth, really just a natural separation of the rocks that would give them a small roof over their heads and an opening at each end to crawl out of. With the mountain at their back, the side facing the world was partially obscured with rocks.

  “Don’t worry. We’ll have an excellent view if we were followed.” With those words of optimism, he dismounted and helped her down.

  Her knees immediately threatened to buckle and every muscle in her body protested the long ride. He grinned at her as he grabbed her hips to steady her, that flash of white that managed to transform his granite face from stone to something close to human. Her stomach flipped despite her discomfort as she bent over to rub her thighs.

  “Come on.” The smile was still in his voice as he put an arm around her waist and helped her to the makeshift cave. Waiting until she crawled her way under the overhang of rock, he walked back to grab the gear from the horse, making an extra trip for the saddle. “I’m taking the horse back down to the trees. I’ll only be a couple of minutes.”

  It occurred to her then that now would be an excellent time to escape, but she couldn’t so much as lift herself from the unladylike sprawl her muscles had frozen into. She watched his head bobbing as he walked away, waiting for it to disappear from her line of sight, telling herself the entire time that as soon as it did, she’d get up and run. But when it did, she closed her eyes for only a moment and allowed the overpowering bliss of sleep to overtake her.

  Chapter Seven

  The sun was starting to sink behind them when she awoke. She sat up with a start, never having meant to go to sleep at all. The shadows weren’t that deep yet in the valley below them; it had to be early afternoon. He stirred behind her, voice husky with sleep as he said her name. Emmy. Not her name, but the name he’d invented for her, the one that she secretly liked more and more every time he said it. Only when she looked over at him did she realize that at some point he’d laid out the bedroll and put her on it before covering her with his coat. It sat crumpled in her lap now with him lying right beside her.

  She tried not to imagine him moving her practically unconscious body from the ground to the bedroll. Had he watched her as she slept? Had he lingered over the task or performed it in a perfunctory manner with no care at all? For some reason she kept imagining him moving her gently, with the slow touch of a lover, spreading the bedroll and cradling her to his chest as he placed her tired body upon it. The thought was so clear she had to wonder briefly if it was a memory flitting through her mind, even going so far as to try to remember what position they had been in when she’d awakened and sat up, before giving it up to a notion of her ridiculous imagination.

  This bizarre attraction to him, to this man who had kidnapped her—a sane person shouldn’t have to keep reminding herself of that small detail—was intolerable. It didn’t matter that he was handsome. It didn’t matter that he had handled himself in a way that had earned her grudging trust. It didn’t matter that she kept imagining him as a knight in battle, like in the few adventure novels she read to the girls. None of that mattered. He was the enemy. He was her captor and she very much needed to get herself away from him as soon as possible.

  The enemy in question wasn’t smiling as he looked up at her with those strange eyes, deep pools of transient color that changed from green to gold on a whim. That intense gaze was taking its time tracing every contour of her face. Long, dark blond lashes rimmed the heavy lids making him appear deceptively at ease, while the shadows of fatigue beneath his eyes, along with the extra day’s growth of beard, gave h
im a fierce look.

  “Thank you for the bedroll and the coat.” She spoke, to break his spell as much as to thank him for seeing to her comfort. When he didn’t move or answer, she grabbed his coat and pushed it toward him.

  “You should sleep,” he finally said. “There will be more riding tonight. Rest while you can.”

  She nodded, but it wasn’t at all what she intended to do. Her muscles still ached and her body craved rest, but to willingly give in to it would be accepting her place as his hostage. If there was a chance to escape, she needed to be awake and alert to seize it. Her gaze flitted around the small space, taking in every hard nook where rock met more rock. The low ceiling kept it dark and cool inside their little cavern. Light penetrated from each end, just beyond his head and feet, and along the drop-off edge where boulders kept them from rolling out and down the mountain in their sleep.

  “Have we been followed?”

  “No. I’ve been checking, but so far no action.” He rose to his knees then, the space too low to allow him to get to his feet, and pushed the coat back at her. She accepted it because she was cold and held it to her front, draping the wool over her shoulders. Walking the few feet needed to reach the edge on his knees, he picked up a small, leather-wrapped case and pulled out what could only be a pair of binoculars. Two sets of lenses, one small and one larger, were set into twin cylinders rimmed with a thick edge of gold at either end, fastened to a middle wrapped with rich, brown leather. He gripped the leather in his fingers as he raised the smaller lenses to his eyes and looked back into the distance in the direction they had come. A few minutes later he lowered them, giving her a nod. “Still no sign of anyone.”

  “Are those binoculars?”

  He seemed surprised by the question, his brow furrowing a bit as he looked down at the object in question. “Of course. Have you never seen a pair?”

  She shook her head. “We’ve never had need for them.” Not that they would have been able to afford them had there been a need. After food and clothing all other necessities became frivolities. The only exception being the occasional book Ship, or even Pete during one of his sober spells, would sometimes bring back for her, but if those small treasures were bought or stolen she didn’t know. She’d made a point of never asking. She’d heard Pete mention needing binoculars before, though, and had wondered about them ever since.

  “Have a look.” He raised them toward her.

  She tensed to refuse, but her curiosity won out and she tossed his coat aside and accepted the binoculars. Going to her knees beside him, the expensive smell of leather and polished metal greeted her as she brought them to her eyes and peered between the boulders, barely managing to keep her mouth from dropping open at the sight that greeted her. The entire countryside was before her—right there before her eyes—just an arm’s length away, or so it seemed. She could even make out each distinctive white petal on the thimbleweed across the valley below them as they swayed in the gentle afternoon breeze.

  “It’s amazing, isn’t it?” She couldn’t help but smile as she pulled the lenses from her eyes, only to bring them back again as she compared the different views.

  “I suppose it is,” he answered in a voice that made it clear he didn’t think so at all.

  “It...everything is just...just right there and it’s almost as if you can touch it.” She held her fingers out before her, wiggling them in front of the lenses and smiling at how large and blurry they were.

  After a moment, she noticed that he had become strangely still beside her and she pulled the lenses back from her eyes to look at him. He sat back on his heels, his face stoic in an expression she couldn’t quite place as he watched her. “You think I’m silly.” Not for the first time, it occurred to her how worldly he seemed for an outlaw and she felt quite silly in her ignorance. The smile fell from her face as she handed the binoculars back to him.

  He shook his head “no” in answer to her accusation and placed them back into their case.

  “It’s fine.”

  “No. I don’t think you’re silly.”

  “It doesn’t hurt my feelings.” What a simple, pathetic girl he must think her.

  “I don’t think you’re silly. I think you’re...”

  After an appropriate amount of silence followed, she prodded, “What? What am I?” She realized she was holding her breath for his answer, but couldn’t seem to make herself not care. She was being a dolt over this criminal.

  “You’re unusual.”

  She let out a disappointed breath, but acknowledged that “unusual” was better than silly. Why did it even matter? This wasn’t a Sunday picnic. He hadn’t bought her basket at the church auction, not that Whiskey Hollow had those anymore after the pastor had left them one spring night a couple of years ago.

  “That’s a compliment. I’ve met Campbell. I’ve met your brother, Pete, and men like them, you’re nothing like I was expecting.”

  It spoke volumes for Ship’s character that she knew exactly what he meant. Ship was a big talker, but he wasn’t known for being particularly eloquent or honorable. “My mother wasn’t always a prostitute. She was a schoolteacher first.”

  His eyes widened for a moment in surprise before he hid the reaction and she realized that he hadn’t known that. She was used to people in Whiskey Hollow knowing all about her mother and how Ship had brought her and her bastard daughter to town from that fancy Helena brothel one day years ago. She still remembered how difficult it had been for her to leave the women at the brothel behind, the only family Emmaline had ever known. Her mother had thought she was doing the right thing for her daughter, giving her a real home with a real family. She hadn’t realized until it was too late that a legitimate husband and shelter wasn’t what made a family. Ship had never been intentionally cruel to them, but his crassness, his inattention and boorish nature had never made them feel at home.

  Shaking herself out of the memory and to cover the gaffe, she continued on. “She brought her books along when Ship married her and we moved to his farm. She taught me what she could. Ship never really cared to learn anything...from her or anyone else. Pete let her teach him to read, but only just barely, and that’s only after she threatened to shoot his horse if he didn’t learn.”

  He laughed, a gentle breath of air that made her smile. Their gazes met and held over that smile. “She sounds like a...special woman, your mother.”

  “She was.” Her smile faltered as she experienced a pang at the loss all over again. A cough had ravaged her mother’s body one summer and hadn’t let up until she was gone. It had been over seven years now and it still hurt.

  His green eyes darkened, becoming solemn. “I’m sorry you lost her.”

  She nodded, trying to determine why that look from him touched her so deeply.

  “If your mother’s gone, why do you stay with him?”

  She shrugged, not daring to mention her sisters. She and the girls had been alone when her mother had died, Ship hadn’t come back until weeks later. She’d asked to leave then, to take the girls with her and go back to the brothel knowing that Glory, the brothel’s madam, would help her find respectable work with her connections. Through the madam’s regular letters to Emmaline’s mother, she knew that while she ran a functioning brothel, women in trouble went to her all the time in search of aid. Sometimes they decided to become prostitutes, sometimes they simply stayed for a brief sanctuary and a train ticket out of town.

  Ship had refused to even consider it, telling her that she could be a whore if she wanted, but she wouldn’t take his girls. After that, he hadn’t delivered any more letters from Glory. She couldn’t blame him for not wanting to part with his children, even though she knew their best chance at a good life was to be away from him. She’d resigned herself then to life with Ship for a little longer. Just until she could figure out a way to get the three of them awa
y safely.

  But that opportunity had never presented itself and here they were in danger. She couldn’t wait anymore. She had to get them to safety, even if it meant doing something unspeakable.

  “Where would I go? I don’t have binoculars edged in gold.” That wasn’t completely true. Though she didn’t have money, once a man had asked her to leave with him, a widower who had worked at the stable in town for a few months before moving further west. He’d become a regular at the saloon and one night, slightly drunk and missing his wife, he’d kissed her. It had been pleasant and repeated on other nights as well, but when he’d suggested that she leave with him, she’d gently refused because she couldn’t leave her sisters. Besides, leaving with him would’ve been unfair, because she’d only be using his affection to take her away from Whiskey Hollow.

  “No, I suppose you don’t.” Suitably chastened, he looked back out over the valley.

  “How is it that you do? You’re an outlaw like Ship. How is it you’re so successful? I always thought outlaws barely got by on the money they steal.”

  “Some do. We earn a decent living.”

  “No, there’s more,” she prodded. “I could believe that from the Spaniard or even the giant—”

  “The giant?” He laughed and whipped his head back around to look at her.

  “The big one,” she explained and raised her hand to the low ceiling of their little hideaway. “He dresses fine, but there’s something else, something underneath, a lack of refinement.”

  “You’re good, Emmy. I was educated back East.” He wasn’t laughing anymore, but he still smiled at her. It was the brief half-smile that she was coming to crave from him.

  “Then why did you leave that world and become an outlaw?”