Why did seeing Ethan again create such conflicting emotions within her? She should be more scared of being brought to justice than dealing with Ethan. She had to put the past aside, because safeguarding the young man with childlike qualities was more important than saving her own hide. She’d face the consequences of her actions, but not until Dakota was safe. It was as though she’d come full circle, once again doing what was necessary to protect someone she cared about.
Anna added some mesquite to the belly of the stove, then covered the cooling skillet of cornbread with a tea towel. She tasted a couple of beans. Ugh, needs more salt. She added a smidgen, knowing that the tad left on the shelf had to last for a while. On second thought she threw in a pinch more since this would most likely be the last meal she cooked in the dugout.
Stepping outside to check on Dakota, she caught sight of Ethan standing near a thicket of brush while a golden palomino lapped up water. With the storm brewing and light raindrops already falling, it’d be next to impossible to get out of the canyon before dark. The steep, flinty, and treacherous trail was dangerous even during daylight. The storm would give her much needed time to figure out what to do. Not only would escape be impossible, it would be stupid to try it. She’d been on the run too long and had been a pawn too many times, so this was the end for her. But how in the world could she ever come up with a reason simple enough for Dakota to understand why they had to go back to Galveston? He felt safe where he was, probably for the first time in his life. Where would he go? He needed her, and she needed him. But before she could explain anything to Dakota she had to somehow talk to Ethan and make the big man understand.
A chill coursed through her body. How in the living hell was she going to explain the kid to Ethan?
Dakota headed her way.
She met him halfway. “Come inside. It’s suppertime.”
“Storms, storms,” he said without looking up. “Big storms.”
After entering the dugout, the young man moved directly to a quilt folded up on the foot of the lone bed in the room. He removed it, then meticulously laid out the bed covering in the corner, making sure that the fabric was totally flat. At least as flat as it could be on the hard clay floor. When he was satisfied, he settled down in the corner with his back to the wall. He removed a deck of cards from the leather pouch around his neck and carefully went through the pack and removed two of the jacks. Placing them to the side facedown, he said, “Bad jacks,” as though reprimanding them, then shuffled the remaining cards thirteen times. Once he finished, he sorted the remainder of the deck one card at a time onto separate squares of the quilt sequentially by ranking suit.
Anna was accustomed to his solitary game. When he completed all of the stacks of cards, he’d announce, “Three hundred twenty,” then gather them up one suit at a time and return the deck to the pouch. Within seconds, he’d begin the whole process over again.
Although Dakota was absorbed in his solitude, Anna spoke softly as she worked. She didn’t know if her words penetrated his thoughts or not, but talking to him gave her comfort.
“I’ve already set a place for Uncle Ethan twice but ended up removing it each time.” She laid down a blue tin plate, along with a fork and knife on the table in front of the spare chair. “Guess I’d best find out if he plans to eat with us before I set him a place.” She again removed the items and stacked them on the small sideboard next to the sink.
Ethan probably had better food in his saddlebags than she had to offer. So far Anna hadn’t gotten hungry enough to try to chase down a wild turkey or prairie chicken, so dried beans and cornbread was their daily fare. The dried and preserved food she found in the root cellar, along with what she had brought along, had been devoured a while ago.
“Dakota,” Anna said. “Do you remember when I tried to get you to go to Amarillo with me, and you were too scared to go somewhere you’d never been before? Remember me puttin’ on a big floppy hat and rubbin’ mud on my face so nobody would recognize me when I ventured into town for supplies?” She didn’t anticipate an answer so continued on, “With only one horse everything I bought had to fit in the saddlebags.” She couldn’t help but smile to herself. “I don’t think Troubadour was all that happy having sacks of sugar, cornmeal, and flour strapped across his back, but we made it home safely.” She took two cups off the shelf. “Remember me telling you how nice Mrs. Diggs at the mercantile was?”
Anna never forgot the friendliness of the woman, particularly since she was so helpful and didn’t ask too many questions Anna didn’t want to answer. But when Mrs. Diggs asked if she’d been around long because she looked familiar, Anna gathered up her purchases and hightailed it out of Amarillo. She’d never risked returning to town again, with or without a disguise.
Whether Mrs. Diggs thought she really knew her or had seen a wanted poster, Anna didn’t know. By now she had little doubt there’d be wanted posters of her from every county between the Gulf Coast and the Texas Panhandle tacked on the wall in the sheriff’s office. Why had they been renamed the Texas Flame Gang anyway? The band of misfits, minus her, already had a seedy reputation as the Graves Gang under the leadership of the burley Cajun Gator Graves.
Anna walked over to where Dakota sat and squatted down to his level. “Dakota, do you remember us talking about the ruts wagons make in the trails?”
He looked up at her, and to her it signaled an acknowledgment.
“If for some reason I’m not around and you get scared, go back up the trail, find the ruts, and it’ll lead you to safety.” She searched his face to make sure he was absorbing her orders, and it seemed he was. “Go find Mrs. Diggs, she’ll keep you safe. Do you understand?”
“Ruts. Ruts. Ruts,” he repeated before returning to his cards.
Satisfied he understood, Anna pulled to her feet.
Walking outside, she took a gander at the ominous clouds over the rim of the canyon. The temperature had dropped fifteen degrees in the short time she’d been inside. Behind the light showers, an ebony rain wall waited to attack. And if the previous few days’ storms were any indication, it promised to be a gullywasher.
Since there was only one flinty trail in and out of the canyon, and the streams had already swollen miserably, they could be stranded for days if that happened. She wasn’t sure if she ought to be happy or sad about the idea. It could work for her yet against her. Possibly, the longer she had to explain things to Ethan the better it could be. At the same time, just the thought of spending any more time than was absolutely necessary with the rugged, incredibly appealing lawman made her uncomfortable. He had made it crystal clear that his sole mission was to arrest her. On the other hand, technically she was already in his custody. She sure didn’t hear him contradict her when she told him to consider her arrested. Surely there was some law on the books that said a wanted person couldn’t arrest herself.
Anna stepped around the corner of the stone structure and movement near the corral caught her eye. She watched as Ethan removed a small, tan box from his saddlebags and took out the contents. Briefly the sun peeked between clouds. Sun rays danced off something very bright, more faceted than silver. He dropped the shiny object back in the container and took out what appeared to be a picture.
Although Anna felt more like a spy than someone announcing supper, she couldn’t help but watch. He removed his hat, uncovering a full, thick head of blond hair. His hair color had always reminded her of the sand along the Gulf Coast. Today, coupled with his deeply tanned skin, it seemed even lighter.
Just as she was about to holler for him to come eat, Ethan dropped to one knee for only a fleeting moment. Holding the photo tight to his chest, he pointed to the heavens with his index finger, then effortlessly rose to his feet.
A sense of strength came to Anna. She remembered the gesture from years gone by and knew its significance. That left only one question. Whose picture did he cherish enough that just looking at it would move him so?
Ethan stuck the picture back into
the box and secured it in his saddlebags, which he threw over his shoulder. He gave the gelding a pat on his rump, heaved his saddle over his other shoulder, then headed toward the dugout.
The sky opened and buckets of rain pelted the ground and everything standing in between. Ethan ducked his head and increased his gait from a fast canter to a full-out run.
The rain, combined with him bringing his belongings with him, answered one of her questions. He’d be spending the night.
Not wanting Ethan to catch her watching him, she stepped back inside.
Dakota had moved to the table and sat in his customary chair. He stopped straightening his silverware when she walked in.
“You’re hungry, too.” Not expecting an answer, she continued on to the stove, removed the tea towel from the cornbread, and placed the pan on the table. Hurriedly, she set another place for Ethan and finished only seconds before the screen opened and the lawman walked in.
After dropping his gear on the floor in the corner, Ethan removed his dove gray Stetson and let the rain slide off it. He hung the hat on a peg next to the door. “Some rain you all have here,” he said, then shot her his familiar schoolboy smile. That dern smile, with deep dimples on each cheek, always caught her off guard. And then there was the tiny indention in his chin. So enduring, but then he’d always used his dimples to get what he wanted. That’s why she loved to fan the flames by calling him Dimples, especially whenever she had the upper hand on him.
Her mind whirled with mixed feelings, unnerving her somewhat.
Ethan pulled off his jacket and hung it beside his hat. Although his shirt wasn’t soaked, it clung to every inch of his upper body, and she could imagine his wide shoulders tanned just as much as his face and neck. She still had memories of sneaking up on him when he was fixing fences at his pa’s place when they were only in their teens. Of course, she had to make sure it was him, not his brother. From a distance they looked alike. It didn’t take her long to be able to tell them apart when they worked outdoors because, unlike Robert, Ethan rarely wore a shirt and his pants hung tight and low against narrow hips. Some things never change, and that was certainly one of Ethan’s enduring qualities that had only matured handsomely with age.
Over the last few months, during times when she wasn’t sure she’d survive to see daylight, those memories gave her hope and sometimes warmth, but his dimples always made her smile.
Savannah Kathleen Parker, don’t forget he’s your enemy, not your sweetie, her heart chastised her.
Thinking only about the good times and nothing of the bad was beginning to make her unfocused on what truly mattered.
Nothing could stand in the way of making sure no one found out the truth . . . not even Dimples.
Chapter 4
The dugout was roomier than Ethan had imagined, with sturdy lodge poles holding the rafters high. As he expected the air was several degrees cooler inside than outside. Although the quarters were clean and tidy, it had the personality of a way station without the comforts. Even the pitcher and bowl on the stand near the lone bed was devoid of color.
The three ate dinner in total silence. If it hadn’t been for the claps of thunder and pounding rain on the sod roof, there would have been no sound in the least. The mutt snoozed by the fireplace after gobbling up his share of beans and cornbread.
Ethan took his time eating, enjoying supper more than he had in a very long time. Tired of eating dried beef and hardtack on the trail was an understatement. Sharing a meager meal with Anna and Dakota, who made him feel right at home, was nice—except he sure could have passed on the one-woman Winchester welcoming committee. Certainly better than chowin’ down a steak and all the fixin’s in some fancy, faceless hotel dining room surrounded by people who didn’t give a rip about him.
Sleeping arrangements in the dugout would be tight at best, so he’d do what he generally did: sleep under the stars. Even rain wouldn’t hold him back. He wished he had two bits for every night he bunked with Yellow Jacket in the livery or threw a camp near a creek. Every few days when he’d come across a town with a hotel, he’d rent a room so he could get a hot bath and a close shave. A shot of whiskey and an occasional warm bed was fine with him, but he’d probably choke to death if he had to make it a steady diet. He had to admit how inviting a comfy bed might be tonight.
Just the thought of cool sheets and a feather pillow sent old feelings rushing back even stronger than before. A riot of emotions ran harem scarem through his belly, reminding him that it’d be physically impossible to share such cramped quarters with the pretty, petite bandit.
The room continued to reek with deafening silence except for an occasional clang of metal against metal when someone rested a knife on a tin plate.
Ethan had avoided bringing up the subject of Anna’s return to Galveston in front of the kid, but time was nearing. Preparations had to be made tonight, as they needed to leave at first light. It didn’t look like Anna would have much packing to do. It’d take a good bit of the day, absent of rain, to ride out of the canyon and travel to Amarillo.
As much as Ethan wanted to get a message to her father, Alexander Parker, that he’d found his daughter safe and would be accompanying her to Galveston, he couldn’t take the chance of Anna being identified by local lawmen. He’d memorized the railroad schedule, so he pretty much knew when to expect the train to Fort Worth, which would eventually take them to Galveston.
For a brief moment, several reasons to wash his hands of Anna and her problems galloped across Ethan’s mind. He shook his head to dislodge the thoughts. How stupid could he be? Just because he didn’t want to risk spending any more time with her than necessary, he’d never put her or the kid in danger. There was still a reward over her head. He’d told her father that he’d do everything humanly possible to keep her safe. They’d shook hands on the deal, and in Texas, a handshake was as good as his word any day.
He couldn’t even get a good bath and shave before they left for Fort Worth, mainly because there’d be no place to safely leave Anna. Usually he’d deposit a prisoner in the local jail for a few hours, but not in this particular situation. It wasn’t just taking a chance on her being recognized; for whatever reason he was unable to grasp, he just couldn’t bring himself to do that to her . . . or the kid.
In the corral, Ethan had taken stock of the dapple-gray-rumped Appaloosa that looked strong enough to get them about anywhere they wanted to go. He had looked around but found no second saddle or any sign of another horse or pack animal. He surmised that Anna and the boy had rode double. Ethan wasn’t sure what he’d do with the gray gelding but dern sure wasn’t gonna leave his palomino behind. Yellow Jacket would probably be happy to have company in the train’s livestock car.
Ethan didn’t know exactly how to go about questioning Anna about the kid, and so far, she hadn’t offered up any explanation.
How had he latched on to her? Ethan had already witnessed how protective she was of him. But before final arrangements were made to leave, Ethan had to know more.
Was he related? If so, why didn’t she just say so? Had she picked him up along the way? Or did he come with the dugout? That being the possibility, he might be happy for the return of his privacy. That concerned Ethan since the kid was somewhere between grass and hay; physically more man than child, but just how experienced was he in taking care of all of his needs on his own?
One thing Ethan would not compromise on was making sure the kid got into the hands of people who would care for him, but he could not and would not be responsible for him all the way to the Gulf of Mexico.
Silence continued to suck life out of the room, while the winds howled flanked by booms of thunder that sounded like cannon fire.
Ethan took a gulp of lukewarm coffee.
Dakota downed his cornbread and after finishing his first plate of beans, dished himself another helping. Ethan watched as he carefully divided the beans into equal parts on the plate before he began eating three at a time.
&
nbsp; Anna shuffled her food around on her plate before awkwardly asking, “What is your horse’s name?”
“Yellow Jacket,” Ethan answered, realizing she was obviously trying to make small talk.
“Nice name.” Time crawled by before she up and said what was really on her mind. “How did you find me?”
Ethan was pretty sure this was another attempt to avoid the question they both had on their mind: what came next?
“I knew you’d head north, so when I didn’t find you in Ransom Canyon, I knew exactly where you were headed.”
“You knew or you were told?” Her normal soft, composed tone had turned sarcastic.
“I don’t go off half-cocked based on what I’ve heard. I find out the truth for myself and make my own conclusions. You should know that.” He ripped the words out impatiently, even for him.
Anna smiled benevolently as if dealing with a temperamental child.
Ethan struggled to retain self-control. Why did she frustrate him so? He knew the reason his mama offered up, and for a while he thought she was right, but that was a long time ago. It was best that those reasons stay undisturbed deep within his heart. But for the record, he only thought he was in love with Savannah Parker.
“Savannah, I remember your dad tellin’ you that if he ever needed a place to hide it’d be in the Palo Duro. He said that if anybody got all the way down to the bottom they could get lost with all the caves and streams. I figured you weren’t a cave dweller since you don’t particularly like confinement and might head for the colonel’s abandoned dugout. Heard he built himself a big ranch house up on the caprock.”
A thoughtful expression veiled her face, and she lifted an eyebrow as if to question his comment. He realized that something he said had given her pause for thought. Surely she wasn’t hatching a plan to escape.
Her silence made him reconsider whether to tell her of any of his plans to get her back home, but common sense prevailed. It was in both of their best interests to know exactly what to expect from one another.
Give Me A Texas Outlaw Bundle with Give Me A Cowboy Page 17
