by Lily Graison
“A rich outlaws prodigal son, then?”
He grinned, Sarah saw, when she looked over his shoulder. “No. My Pa’s a rancher. Or was. He’s not been himself in a while though.” He grew quiet, a solemn look on his face, and Sarah realized there was more he wasn’t telling her. She sat quietly behind him and didn’t ask, giving him the privacy in the matter he obviously wanted.
They rode half the morning in silence, stopping for brief rest periods before moving on again. By midday, sweat was rolling down Sarah’s back, her hair was plastered to her head and her back ached. She was miserable but held her tongue. The less she talked to Colt, the better off she was. She couldn’t ignore him if she constantly engaged him in conversation.
Crossing over into Montana Territory, Sarah knew the chances of William finding her were slim. He wouldn’t come this far. He’d never been out of Wyoming as far as she knew and never traveled far from home. Riding through the countryside to find her would be hard on him and for some reason, she didn’t think he would bother. He’d send someone else to look for her before he’d do it himself. The thought saddened her. If William loved her, he’d move hell and earth to find her himself, wouldn’t he?
A distant roar of thunder caused her to look up. The sky was blue and cloudless and she puzzled over the fact. The sound was muted once they descended the next hill but soon grew. Looking behind her, her eyes widened as her fists clenched in the material of Colt’s shirt. “We have company, Colt.”
He turned his head to look behind them. “Damn it. Hold on.” Spurring the horse into a run, Sarah wrapped her arms around his waist and held on for dear life. The wind whipped her hair into a mass of tangles that obscured her vision. Lowering her head, she buried her face into Colt’s back and hoped she wouldn’t fall off the horse.
The rumble of horses running grew louder and Sarah dared a glance back at them. One man had broken free of the approaching riders. She couldn’t see him clearly but she imagined it was Virgil. He lifted his right hand and it took Sarah a moment to realize what he was doing. The blast from his gun forced a scream from her throat. “He’s shooting at us!”
Colt nudged the horse faster and Sarah’s hold on him tightened. Another blast from the gun exploded, the sound so close sweat broke out on her brow. When Colt yelled a string of curses before saying her name, she peeked up at him. He was holding out his arm, the butt of his pistol pointed toward her. “Shoot him, Sarah, and for gods sake, don’t miss this damn time.”
Sarah took the gun and stared at it. Another blast from behind her and she gripped the pistol, turned best she could while still holding on to Colt, and fired. She missed. Every shot she took she missed but the rider was slowing. With the last shot, Sarah focused on her target and fired. He flinched. Her eyes widened. “I think I got him!”
“Miracles never cease.”
The rider’s horse came to an abrupt stop before the rider slumped forward, his left hand rising to his shoulder. “I did! I got him.” She laughed before turning back to Colt. “I told you I could shoot.”
“That you did.”
They rode hard for hours, not stopping to rest the horse, or themselves. When the sun was lowering, its heat starting to dissipate, Sarah saw a forested area ahead of them. Colt steered the horse there and within the hour she was ensconced by the shadow of trees. The smell of moss on wet rocks tickled her senses. Dead tree limbs and leaves overpowering everything.
She groaned when Colt held up one arm to help her off the horse and nearly fell to her knees when her feet touched the ground. He helped her to a nearby tree, nearly dropping her before tending to the horse. Sarah watched him from the shade until her eyelids grew heavy. She dozed, opening her eyes some time later when she heard Colt hiss out a string of curses.
He was sitting a few feet away, his back to her. A small fire burned in front of him but it was the sight of him shirtless that drew her attention. The muscles in his back flared and moved as he leaned over the fire and reached for something. She watched for long minutes before standing. “What are you doing?”
“Heating a knife.”
Puzzled over his statement, she walked around him to see what he was doing. Her eyes widened when she saw all the blood. “Dear lord! You’ve been shot?”
Chapter Four
Sarah dropped to her knees beside of him and grabbed his arm. When he yelled, she offered a quiet apology. “Did this happen earlier today?”
“Yes.”
She remembered the rider’s gun going off and the sound exploding near her ear. That must have been when Colt took the bullet. Why hadn’t he stopped before now or told her he’d been shot?
Looking up at his face, she saw pain in his eyes. How had he endured it for so long? They’d ridden for hours after the incident. And the wound had bled just as long.
Turning to look at the fire, she saw his knife lying in the flames. He was going to cauterize the wound. The thought made her sick. She’d seen it done once and the smell would stay with her forever. “You don’t have needle and thread?”
He shook his head. “No. Not much of the sewing sort. This is quicker, anyway.”
Sarah grimaced. It was quicker but she could only imagine what placing a hot blade on an open wound would feel like. Looking at his bare chest, she saw other scars. Most small and only leaving thin, jagged lines across his flesh but one caught her attention. A puckered bit of flesh on his right shoulder. A bullet hole, most likely. Looking back up at him, she smiled. “We need to clean this before closing it up.”
“There’s a bottle of whiskey in the saddlebags.”
She stood and started for the bags before stopping. “I don’t recall seeing a bottle of whiskey in there last night.”
“That’s because it was in my boot when you looked.”
“Oh.” Reaching the bags, Sarah dug inside, her hand hitting the small bottle moments later. She carried it back to where he sat, removing the cork before handing it to him. “Take a drink. You’ll need it once you get to the hard part.”
He gulped a fair portion of it before setting it down. He looked at his arm, turning it to see the cut better. The bullet had grazed the skin, cutting a deep gash through it. Blood ran down his arm and it probably looked worse than it was.
Seeing the canteen of water nearby, Sarah opened it, pouring a liberal amount over the wound and washed the blood away. Setting the canteen down, she grabbed the whiskey bottle, glancing up at him briefly before turning it over. He hissed a breath, clamped his eyes shut and cursed before she stopped.
Colt’s face was white when she looked back up at him. Whisky on a fresh cut was the closest to hell she’d ever been, the burn intense and agonizing. She leaned forward, blowing on his skin the way her father had done when she cut the bottom of her foot on a piece of glass when she was eight.
She raised her eyes, glancing at him through her lashes. He was staring at her, his eyes darkening in color the longer she blew on his skin, an unfamiliar look of hunger and need flashing in those strange blue eyes. It nearly took her breath. She stopped, leaning back to look at him. He stared at her for long moments before he blinked and reached for the knife.
Sarah cleared her throat, scooted back, and avoided looking him in the eye. “Please don’t say you need me to do that part for you.”
He gave her a half smile and shook his head. “I can do it.”
“Thank the lord.” She stood, glanced at his arm, and the hot knife, and swallowed the nausea she felt. “I’ll be—over there somewhere.”
She left, hurrying as far away as she could. She felt like a coward but knew she’d pass out if she had to watch. With her back to him, she wouldn’t even know he’d done it until he screamed so she busied herself looking around the area they’d stopped at.
It was lovely from what she could tell. The grass was thick, the tree limbs stirred the air and the breeze was welcome. She still smelled wet earth and knew there was water nearby. She started to glance over her shoulder at Colt but
remembered the hot knife and his open wound, and thought better of it. Darting between the trees, she walked deeper into the forest, hoping to find the stream she thought was near.
Moments later, she found it. The small creek was barely large enough to step into but it was water. She could wash herself a bit, get rid of the stink she knew clung to her skin from her layered dress and the sun being so relentless. Kicking off her boots, she reached up and pulled her stockings off, tossing them aside before raising her skirts to her knees and stepping into the shallow creek bed. The water barely reached her ankles but it felt so wonderful, she threw her head back, dug her toes into the sandy bottom and sighed.
The coolness around her feet was refreshing and she let her mind wander. Naturally her traitorous thoughts went to Colt. Her minds eye replayed the vision of him sitting by the fire shirtless, all that sinewy muscle displayed for her hungry gaze. She felt her cheeks heat as she blushed.
A noise startled her and she turned to find Colt watching her. He’d slipped on a clean shirt but hadn’t bothered to button it. Her previous thoughts intensified with him standing there. It wasn’t the scars marring his flesh she noticed this time. It was the definition of his chest and how bronzed his skin was. The way his stomach muscles bunched and curved. His trousers hung low on his hips and drew her attention to the small thatch of hair that started under his navel and darted down to disappear under the waistband of his pants. That enticing “V” his hipbones made and pointed to the thick bulge of his cock resting inside the material.
Raising her gaze to his face, she swallowed to moisten her throat.
He didn’t say anything to her, just crossed the distance between them, his gaze heavy, the intensity in his eyes causing her pulse to race. He stopped a hairsbreadth in front of her and lowered his head, his eyes locked with hers. “Looking at a man like that is dangerous sweetheart, especially a man who hasn’t been this close to a fine looking woman in a while.”
Sarah blinked and laughed to cover her embarrassment. “And how exactly do you think I’m looking at you?”
Colt didn’t say anything. His gaze traveled the length of her face, stopping on her lips for long moments before he looked back up. He straightened his shoulders, the look in his eyes hardening. “Don’t leave camp like that again without telling me.”
Sarah was shocked at his curt command. She opened her mouth to ask him who he thought he was but he raised a hand, cupping the back of her neck in his palm before dragging her closer to him. “There’s things out here you don’t want to run into, Sarah, and if I don’t know where to look for you, you’ll be to hell and gone before I can find the first track.”
He stared at her, his gaze moving to her mouth again. He lowered his head a fraction and even though his words were harsh, Sarah’s stomach clenched at the thought that he was going to kiss her. She licked her lips and waited and was disappointed when he let her go and took a step away. He looked at the surrounding forest, tilting his head as if listening for something, before looking back at her. “Clean up and come back to camp. I’ll find us something to eat while you do. I can’t leave that fire burning for much longer. Someone will see the flames when full dark is upon us.”
Turning, he left her alone, her heart racing. The encounter was strange but Sarah did as he said. She cleaned best she could, washing her face and arms until she felt more human. When she sat to put her stockings and boots back on, she stared at the trickle of water, her thoughts flashing back to Colt.
She didn’t understand him. He was an outlaw, ruthless, she imagined, yet he’d been nothing if not civil with her. Any other man would have stolen a kiss by now or pinned her down and taken what he wanted like Virgil had tried to do. Colt had done neither, which led her to believe that maybe he didn’t find her attractive. He had a perfect opportunity to kiss her just then but he hadn’t taken it. He’d let her go with a gruff demand instead.
The realization he wasn’t interested disheartened her. Why, she didn’t know. It wasn’t as if he was the type of man she’d want to settle down with. He was an outlaw for god’s sake. What decent woman took up with an outlaw? None that she knew. Besides, she had a fiancé. Well, sort of. She hadn’t told William yes, yet, but the entire town knew it was only a matter of time and had already started to plan for the wedding.
A heavy sigh escaped her. It made little difference. She was probably nothing like the women Colt was used to, which was, if she had to guess, saloon whores who knew how to seduce men with a simple look. They weren’t educated daughters of a single father who prided herself in manners and appearance. To Colt, she was probably the most boring woman he’d ever met. Aside from her waspish tongue, she was nothing if not ordinary. She was no great beauty. Sure she had plenty of suitors but she knew they were far more interested in her father’s bank account than they were of her.
Thinking that, led her thoughts back to William. It was why he came calling on her. She’d bet her inheritance on it. He always went out of his way to talk to her father, often times leaving her side as they conversed about things she wasn’t interested in so why had she been willing to marry him?
Standing and shaking off her current mood, she brushed off the seat of her skirt and started back to camp. She wasn’t sure how long it would take to make it to the next town but Sarah couldn’t wait until they did. She could wire a telegraph to her father, hop on the nearest stagecoach, and be back home by week’s end, leaving all this unpleasant business behind her.
She still wasn’t sure she wanted to accept William’s marriage proposal but she knew one thing with certainty. She would forget Colt even existed if it was the last thing she did.
The plan sounded feasible until she made it back to camp and saw him squatted next to the fire. His shirt was still unbuttoned and damn his hide, he looked up and smiled at her in a way that made her entire body clench. The man was sinful, in more ways than one, and a danger to her very soul.
She swallowed the lump forming in her throat and tried to ignore all that flesh he seemed so determined to show her. It didn’t work.
* * * *
He had to get away from her. Colt closed his eyes when she shifted again. Her breasts pressed against his back was pure torture. Her hands were like branding irons where they sat against his hips and he’d be damned if he had to endure one more minute of her breathing on the back of his neck. His cock was already so hard it hurt to breathe and having her so close was agony.
Reining the horse to a stop, he threw his leg over the animal’s head and jumped to the ground, walking away without a word. Thank God they still had the forest to escape into. He darted into the shadowed recesses and tried to will his erection away.
They’d ridden half the morning in silence. Good thing. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to carry on a decent conversation with her. Her every word was felt like a living thing against his skin. Ever since seeing her the evening before, standing in that sorry excuse for a stream with her skirt pulled up past her knees, his cock had been hard as a rock.
The sun trickling down through the those trees, bright shafts of light illuminating her and making her hair shine… she’d looked like an angel standing there under those wispy tree branches. He’d wanted to lay her flat on her back, hike those skirts up to her waist, and bury himself inside her the moment she turned to look at him.
“You should have left her behind,” he said to himself, and was immediately disgusted with the thought. Virgil would have seen her, like he had, and taken her. Then where would she be? Dead. Virgil would have used her, handed her off to the others when he’d had his fill, and they would have slit her throat when they were through. He’d heard enough of their stories in the time he’d been riding with them to know. They would have killed her and not thought twice about it.
Stopping by a tree, he leaned his shoulder against it, crossing his arms over his chest. He grimaced when his left arm gave him a twinge of pain. That damn bullet of Virgil’s would cause aggravating aches for the nex
t month.
He should have shot the bastard the moment he had a chance. Setting that gang up hadn’t been as easy as it had been in the past. Just proved the outlaws were getting smarter. Or he was getting too old for this kind of life. One couldn’t take but so many chances before his number came up.
