Outlaw's Bride

by Lori Copeland

  “Had a mother.”

  She waited.

  “She’s dead.”

  Ragan’s smile faded. “I’m sorry. She must have been very young.”

  Nodding, he stood up. “Too young to die.”

  “John.” It was the first time she’d ever called him by his given name.

  “Yes?”

  Her insistent gaze met his. “Did you rob that bank?”

  Their gazes held. “Do you think I did?”

  “I think you didn’t. I might be a fool, but I don’t believe you committed the crime.”

  He could tell her the truth, but then that would make him more vulnerable to her. “Well, I heard folks say you’re a fine judge of people.”

  He turned away while she resumed her work, tugging another clump of weeds and tossing them aside. “Where’s your father?”

  “You ask too many questions.”

  “You don’t talk enough.” Getting to her feet, she dusted her hands. “There, now. That looks better, wouldn’t you say?”

  “A grave’s a grave.” He’d never seen one to brag about yet. He checked the sun. He didn’t want to rush her, but it wouldn’t be smart to travel after dark. “Only a couple of hours of daylight left.”

  “I’m through. Just let me say goodbye to Mama and Jacob.”

  He stepped aside as she turned back to the graves. Though she spoke softly, he caught snatches of her one-sided conversation.

  “Papa’s not doing so good…put up green beans this morning…Jo’s growing like ragweed…miss you both more than I can…”

  When she returned to the wagon a few minutes later, he helped her aboard. Their clothing brushed, and he moved away. As the wagon rolled from the gravesides, Ragan kept her eyes fixed on the road.

  “Thank you for bringing me,” she said quietly.

  He kept his eyes trained on the trail as well. “You’re welcome.”

  It had been a pleasant outing, Johnny decided. No harm in a man enjoying a pretty woman’s company, as long as he didn’t forget his purpose.

  He kept to the back roads, as they had on the way there. Although he was accustomed to keeping his opinions to himself, Ragan’s tendency for chatter drew him into a spirited discussion. The debate involved dogs and skunks. What was worse? A wet dog or a passing skunk?

  “Dog,” Ragan said. “The absolute worst.”

  “Skunk. Apparently you’ve never taken a direct hit from one.”

  “Absolutely not. Have you?”

  “Once. One caught me while I was taking a bath. My clothes were high up on the bank, and the varmint decided to sit down and watch me. “The da—” He caught his language. “That old meany kept me pinned to the water for three hours.”

  Ragan giggled.

  He had become creative in his choice of expletives; he hoped she’d noticed. He felt like a fool talking like a sissy, but then he’d noticed he could get his point across just as easily without vile language. When had he picked up the habit? Over the years, on the trail, around men who lived as though there wouldn’t be a Day of Judgment. Living with Grandpa had convinced him there was a mighty God. Over the years he’d just let the knowledge slide by, bent on his own judgments.

  “By then the sun had gone down, and I was chilled to the bone. I decided to take my chances and climb out of the river. When I did, the skunk turned away from me, pointed his tail to the sky, and got me. And my clothes. And my horse.”

  He glanced over when she burst into laughter. “You think that’s funny? It took me three weeks to get the smell out of my bedroll. The horse smelled so bad we—”

  They looked up as four masked riders darted out of the bushes and galloped headlong toward them.

  “I thought no one knew about this road.”

  “Papa and I never met anyone along here before.”

  Brandishing a gun, the leader motioned for Johnny to pull over.

  Ragan pressed against his side, fear evident in her strained features.

  “Let me do the talking,” he warned as the bandits approached.

  She nodded, huddling closer.

  Without a weapon, there wasn’t going to be a fight. He let the wagon roll to a gradual halt. He had no way to defend her or himself.

  The men closed in, pistols drawn. “Put your hands where we can see them!” the leader ordered.

  Ragan’s arms obediently shot over her head. Johnny lifted his more slowly. “We’re not carrying any money.”

  Climbing off his horse, one of the men approached. Time stopped as Johnny came face-to-face with a red bushy beard partially concealed beneath a dirty bandanna—the outlaw from the bank robbery. Recognition turned to perverse humor in the dark eyes that stared back at him.

  It would have been easy for Puet to find out where Judge Leonard had sent him. The outlaw was probably convinced that Johnny either had the bank money bag or that he knew where it was, and he’d tracked him to Barren Flats to get it.

  “Well, well, well.” Puet leaned across Ragan and rested the barrel of his pistol against Johnny’s temple. The gunman’s stench was worse than his taste in company. “Who do we have here? McAllister, isn’t it?”

  “We aren’t carrying any money,” Johnny repeated, lowering his hands.

  “No?” The gun dug into his temple. “Why, I’d swear you look like a man of means.” He slid his mask off.

  Johnny’s face remained expressionless. Ragan whimpered, and he quenched the urge to reach for her hand. He doubted the man would pull the trigger, not with the money bag missing, but he wasn’t a fool.

  “I don’t have your money,” he repeated.

  “No?” The man’s fetid breath was hot and potent. His lizard-like gaze darted to Ragan. She inched closer, molding against Johnny’s side.

  “Johnny?” she murmured.

  “Easy,” he said. The gun was still pointed at his brain; he couldn’t afford any unexpected moves. “They aren’t going to hurt you.” Her hand slipped into his. He held it, tightening his grip. She trembled beneath his touch.

  The man’s eyes slid insolently over her. “Afraid for your man, honey?” he mocked.

  She glared at him, and he casually switched the barrel of the gun to her temple.

  She clamped her eyes shut. “Our Father, who art in heaven…”

  “Shut up!”

  She closed her mouth.

  Johnny calmly pivoted the barrel back to his own temple and met the leader’s eyes. “The lady’s nervous with a gun in her face. If you want to shoot someone, shoot me.”

  The gunman lowered the pistol, a smile lighting his eyes. “Now, why would I want to shoot you?”

  Johnny stared back at him.

  The gang was restless. One man glanced over his shoulder, and another rode back and forth beside the wagon. “Come on, Puet. Stop foolin’ around. He ain’t got the money. Let’s take the woman and get out of here.”

  Keep your head, McAllister. Ragan’s only chance was for him to convince the men they were welcome to her.

  “Good idea.” The leader’s reptilian eyes shifted to Ragan. He ran his tongue over his dry lips. “We’ll take the woman.” He tapped Johnny’s shoulder with the barrel of the gun. “Any objections, McAllister?”

  “Take her. She means nothing to me. I was just delivering her to Judge McMann’s house.”

  Ragan’s gasp cut through the charged silence. She sat up straight, jerking her hand out of his.

  The smile was still evident in the leader’s eyes. “Take her?”

  “Take her. I’ll keep the money.” If the bluff failed, both he and Ragan were dead, because there was no way he would let them have her—not without a fight. Sweat trickled down Johnny’s collar and ran between his shoulder blades.

  The man’s eyes narrowed and then turned deadly. “Where’s the money, McAllister?”

  Johnny met his stare. “Take the woman, Puet, and we’ll call it even.”

  “Johnny.” Ragan’s eyes went from one man to the other. “Do you know th
is…this vile animal?” Disappointment choked her voice.

  The gun clicked, and Ragan whimpered. “Please don’t shoot him. Take me.”

  “Take her.” Johnny smiled.

  “You’re bluffin’, McAllister.”

  Johnny shrugged. “Try me.”

  Puet reached over and jerked Ragan to him. Grinning, he pulled her close, grinding his foul mouth into hers. She fought, struggling to break his hold.

  A vein throbbed in Johnny’s neck.

  When the gunman shoved her back, she fell against the wagon seat. She met Johnny’s eyes and then looked away. Her look of betrayal cut him.

  The rest of the men moved closer, bunching their horses to vie for space. “Take her, Puet. We don’t need the money.” They slid from their horses and approached the wagon, their eyes focused on Ragan.

  Puet eyed Johnny. “Whatta ya say, McAllister? Can my men enjoy your lady’s company? She’s a fine lookin’ filly.”

  Johnny held tight; he had no choice but to play his hand out. “Go ahead, gentleman. Like I said, she means nothing to me.”

  Color crept up Puet’s neck. “You’re bluffing, McAllister.”

  “You heard the verdict. I saw you in the crowd that day. I’m her prisoner. Why would I care what happens to her? You’ll have a woman, and I have the cash.” Johnny leaned back. “Fair trade.” If there was a God, Johnny hoped he was watching. Ragan was innocent. He’d put her in this spot and he knew no other way to get her out.

  The gang exchanged skeptical looks. Puet rammed the gun against Johnny’s throat. “Tell us what you did with the bank money, McAllister!”

  Lunging, Johnny knocked the bandit off balance. With lightning swiftness, he reached for the whip. Swinging it above his head, he brought it down on the four horses standing to the left. The animals bolted, breaking for the underbrush. The wagon shot ahead, pitching the highwaymen to the ground. They scrambled to gain their footing as the buckboard shot off through the thicket.

  “There are some old mining shafts about a mile up the road!”

  “Which way?”

  “To the left! There’s one particular one with a hole big enough for the rig, but it won’t go all the way through the shaft!”

  The wagon clattered along uneven ground, bouncing them like nuggets in a sluice pan. Their teeth rattled, and Ragan held on to his arm with a deathlike grip.

  “How far?”

  “Not far!”

  It seemed a hundred miles before she pointed ahead and shouted, “There!” The opening was nearly obscured by undergrowth. He would have whipped past it if she hadn’t pointed it out.

  The entrance looked small—too small for the wagon to clear. Glancing over his shoulder, he estimated how long it would take for the men to round up their horses and come after them. Five, ten minutes?

  The shaft opening was coming up. “Is it large enough to clear the wagon?”

  “I’m pretty sure it is!”

  Large enough or not, they were going through. Ragan screamed and covered her eyes as the horse galloped headlong toward the cavern. Thick vegetation grew along the sides of the overgrown mining road, obscuring the shaft.

  “Come on, girl,” Johnny urged. He prayed the mare wouldn’t refuse to go in.

  Johnny shut his eyes as the wagon sheared the undergrowth and burst through the opening. The scream of metal meeting the stone walls was deafening as the wagon slowly ground to a halt.

  Johnny turned to stare at the wheels. Were they ruined?

  They both sat in silence for a few moments, breathing hard. Dampness encompassed them, and they could hear water dripping from somewhere inside the shaft.

  “Are you hurt?”

  “I need to use the necessary,” Ragan whispered, pale as a ghost.

  Climbing over the seat, Johnny inched his way to the rear of the wagon. The bed was just inside the shaft, and the wheels were sheared to the spokes.

  Hoof beats pounded down the road, and Johnny quickly climbed back to shove Ragan to the floor of the seat and crouch over her.

  The riders galloped by, and then the vibrations of their horses’ hooves receded into the distance.

  Ragan’s voice was muffled beneath him. “Are they gone?”

  “Yes.” Helping her onto the seat, he leaned back, taking a deep breath. “If this isn’t a mess.”

  She threw her arms around him. Her mouth consumed his, pressing him back in the seat with such force he struggled to breathe. When she lifted her head a few moments later, he murmured, “You pick the oddest times to turn woman on me.”

  She grinned, leaning her forehead against his. “I’m just so very grateful to you.”

  “Grateful?” He hadn’t expected her gratitude. He thought she’d fly into him like a banshee. “For what?”

  Looping her arms around his neck, she met his eyes. “For protecting me. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  Sitting up, she drew a shaky breath and then she hauled off and smacked him in the middle of his chest.

  “What was that for?”

  “How dare you give those vile men permission to take me!” She whacked him again.

  Pinning her hands in front of her, he struggled to control her. “It was a bluff—one that saved your life, lady!”

  She stared defiantly back at him. “What would you have done if they had accepted your offer?”

  He released her hands. “They didn’t.” He didn’t want to consider the prospect.

  Rubbing her wrists, she refused to look at him, so he turned in the seat to take further stock of the damage. The wagon was sitting on the frame, the back wheels wedged securely in the opening.

  He climbed over the front of the buckboard and released the harness. No sooner had the last tether loosened than the mare bolted, the reins slipping out of Johnny’s hands before he could react.

  “Now the horse is gone.” He turned to look at Ragan.

  “This shaft opens up just around the corner. Not much gold was ever found in this area, and the mine shafts are all very shallow.” She climbed over the front of the wagon, and they walked out the back of the shaft.

  “Do you see the horse out here?” she asked.

  “No. I’m sure she’s headed for her stall in town. We’re going to have to get back on our own.”

  Darkness was closing in, and they had a good hour’s walk ahead of them. If they didn’t show up soon, the judge would have a posse out after them.

  “I thought you said the opening was wide enough.”

  “I said I was pretty sure it was.” She primly straightened her collar.

  “Well.” He assessed her inappropriate hour-walk-to-town footwear. “I’m pretty sure you’re going to have a blister the size of a washbowl, Miss Ramsey. We have a long walk ahead of us.”

  She seemed unaffected. “You’ll have blisters just as big as I, Mr. McAllister.”

  She speeded up to walk ahead of him, turning to call over her shoulder, “And don’t come whining to me for relief!”

  “Miss Ramsey?”

  She refused to turn around. “What?” Her skirt tail flounced in the dust.

  “Those ‘vile men’ are still out there.”

  Her footsteps slowed and then stopped. Without turning around she said tightly, “Hurry up. Procky will be worried sick about us.”

  Lifting his hat, he brushed his hand through his hair. The judge could send someone back for the wagon. He fell into step with her, and they walked on.

  “For what it’s worth, I take responsibility for what just happened. I shouldn’t have brought you without a gun.”

  He was surprised when she said, “It’s not your fault. It’s nothing short of a miracle that the horse and wagon cleared that opening.” She paused, and he slowed to face her. “I’m also sorry I lost my temper. I know you saved me from certain…shame.”

  “What do you take me for? I wouldn’t have let them hurt you.” He didn’t know how he would have stopped it, but they would have had to kil
l him first to get to her.

  Her face softened. “Really?”

  “I’ll protect you the best any man can without a gun.”

  She took a step toward him, her eyes softening. “I wasn’t certain.”

  “Look, Ragan.” He put his hands on her arms, holding her politely. “You’re a good-looking woman and I’m a red-blooded man. I’m not immune to you, and I would not stand by and see you compromised.”

  “Thank you for informing me. I will remember that the next time you offer me to a gang of thugs.”

  He gave her a pained look. He couldn’t get involved with her, tempting as the idea might be, but she didn’t make it easy. With every passing hour it was harder to ignore her.

  “Can’t we just be friends?”

  His tone gentled. If things were different— “I’m not in any position to be a friend or anything else to you. I’m a prisoner, Ragan. I’m here to serve a sentence.”

  “Fine. You have my permission to kiss me.”

  “Kiss you!” She could come up with the nuttiest notions at the nuttiest times.

  He groaned when she lifted her mouth to his. “This is exactly what I’m talking about,” he murmured. “We cannot be friends or personally involved.”

  “I didn’t ask for lifetime commitment. I asked for a gentleman’s kiss.”

  “I am not a gentleman.”

  “Stop talking and kiss me.”

  He took her mouth passionately and surrendered to the certainty that she was different, and he didn’t know what he was going to do about it.

  But at the moment, he plain didn’t care.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Ragan jumped as Judge McMann slammed his fist on the desk, rattling Maddy’s china cup and saucer. In all the years she’d known the judge, she’d never seen him this upset. “I’ll not have it! I’ll not have it! Whatever it takes, we’re getting rid of these gangs. You and Johnny could have been killed!”

  It was late by the time Ragan had calmed the judge enough to insist that he go to bed. He had assembled a posse and Alvin Lutz was fit to be tied. They had had to roust him out of bed. Procky had thought the worst when she and Johnny hadn’t shown up when expected. They hadn’t returned until well after dark.

  After helping Ragan assure the judge they were both unharmed, Johnny saw Ragan safely home before lying down in his own bed and trying to put the incident behind him. He thought about the good night kiss she had given him instead.