A Broken Outlaw

by Caylen McQueen

  Flynn didn't say anything, nor did he interrupt her. He just nodded and soaked in her words.

  “You probably think it's silly. It's... fanciful and silly.”

  Flynn shook his head. “Not at all, Miss Jun.”

  “I'm really glad you're with me, Flynn. I wouldn't want to be on my own.”

  When Jun scooted closer to him, Flynn's entire body was tense. Suddenly, it was ten times harder to speak to her. He would have liked to tell her he enjoyed her company, but his tongue was frozen in his mouth.

  “Prince Feng kept me in his airship for two days without any food or light. I was in total darkness for over forty-eight hours.”

  “That's horrible.” Flynn's reply consisted of two words, but he had to force them out of his mouth. His shyness had returned in full force, and Jun's close proximity was to blame. She was sitting so close, he could see the subtle moistness on her lips. It was torture.

  “When I thought I was going to be Prince Feng's wife, I... I never felt so lost. That was the worst moment of my life. I can't even begin to tell you how relieved I was to see your face!”

  He politely—if not a bit stiffly—replied, “I'm glad I was there to help you, Jun.”

  “Prince Feng will keep looking for me, though. He won't let me go,” Jun warned him. “He'll keep coming and coming and coming and... I'll only cause trouble for you.”

  Flynn reached for his rifle and gave it a light, loving stroke. “You're under my protection. If he comes, he'd be making a huge mistake.”

  “Josiah thought he'd protect me too, but... he didn't,” Jun reminded him as gently as possible. “Feng took him down so fast, too. I couldn't believe it. I never thought Josiah would go down as fast as that.”

  “Me neither.” Flynn dragged a hand through his wavy brown hair. He didn't want to belittle Josiah, but at the same time, he wanted to reassure Jun. At that moment, her contentment was more important than the reputation of an absent brother. So he said, “You'll have to forgive me if this sounds arrogant, but... I'm better than my brother. That prince can come if he wants, but he's not going to get past me to get to you.”

  “That's awfully confident of you.”

  “I want you to feel safe with me.” Flynn's voice dropped to a whisper. “There's no reason why you shouldn't feel safe, Jun. I'll take care of you.” Beads of sweat were springing out all over his forehead, so he knew it was time to change the subject. After dousing their fire, he rose to his feet and smacked the desert dust from his breeches. “Tomorrow, we should probably make a supply run to Beggar's Rest. It's a small town near here. We won't stay long... just long enough to gather a few things we might need. Like I said, I think we should stay in the desert for awhile. If that man's looking for you, he's probably searching the nearby towns.”

  Jun's lips were tugged by a hopeful smile. It was nice to be with someone who cared about her. It was nice to know someone was concerned for her safety. “Flynn...?”

  He turned in her direction and briefly met her gaze. Her beautiful eyes made him momentarily spellbound, but he managed a quiet, “Hmm?”

  “Thanks.” When Jun rose from the ground and hugged him, she was completely oblivious to Flynn's hammering heart. She was entirely unaware of how close he was to swooning. “Thanks. For everything.”

  Twelve

  “Well, Carol... you know the drill.” As Josiah removed the forceps from his bag and washed them with a dash of whiskey, his words were ominous. “Dr. Cole is going to remove that bullet, but you have to be nice to him this time.”

  “I'll try,” Carol answered with a sigh. When she removed her shirt and tossed it aside, she expected him to react to the sight of her brassiere—at least a little bit—but his face was entirely without emotion. Either he wasn't attracted to her, or he had seen too many naked women for her state of undress to impact him. Or both. “Can you try to distract me from the pain somehow? Maybe sing a song or tell a story?”

  “Miss Cassady...” Josiah's blue eyes were widened by utter disbelief, “You've known me for awhile now, right? Do I strike you as the sort of man who'd sing songs?”

  “Well... sure! I don't see why not.”

  “Girl, I'm as likely to dance a jig as sing a song.”

  “Maybe you could dance a jig while singing a song?” Carol suggested hopefully. “That would provide a pretty good distraction.”

  As he brought the forceps to Carol's bullet wound, he distracted her in an unexpected way. “You have pretty eyes, Miss Cassady.”

  “Really?” When Josiah's tweezers dipped into her flesh, a bolt of pain jolted through her body, but her mind was stuck on his compliment. “Do you mean that?”

  “I do. For awhile, I thought they were blue... but that's not quite right, is it?” Josiah leaned closer to Carol's wound as he tried to dig out the bullet. “I'd say they're violet.”

  “They are. I mean... that's what I've been told, anyway.”

  Josiah's forceps clamped around the bullet, and a few seconds later, he pulled it out. “Look,” he said, holding up the bloody bullet. “This time, you didn't even throw a single curse at me. I'm proud of you, CC.”

  “When you call me CC, I want to throw my arms around you and hug you 'til you pop.”

  “Alright then. Where's my hug?” Accepting the challenge, Carol wrapped her arms around him so tightly, he couldn't catch his breath for a moment. But he didn't complain. He rested his chin on Carol's head and let her hold him to her heart's content.

  “I'm glad you came for me, Josiah. I kept hoping you'd come to your senses and save the day, so when you finally appeared on top of that building, it was, like... magical.”

  “Magical, huh?” Josiah chuckled at the thought. “Next time, I'll bring my unicorn. That'll really leave an impression.”

  “And if you could ride in with a leprechaun on your shoulder, that'd be even better.”

  When she finally released him, Josiah bandaged her wound and recovered her shirt. As soon as she was dressed, he said, “You should probably get some rest, Carol. How long has it been since you've gotten some shut-eye?”

  “I dunno. A couple of days, probably.”

  “See? You need sleep.” They were currently in the train's front car, so he motioned toward its panels and switches. “I'll stay up here, and if there's a problem with the train, I'll find you.”

  “You better stop the train before we get to Yooma, Jojo.”

  “Will do.” He forced his whiskey bottle into Carol's hand and said, “For the pain.”

  “Thanks. Oh, can you let me borrow your arm for a bit?”

  “Can you let me borrow your arm for a bit.” Josiah repeated Carol's words with a sullen chuckle. “Now there's a sentence I never thought I'd hear.”

  “Seriously, hand it over!” Carol demanded. “I want to put the thumb on!”

  “What about getting some rest?”

  “I'll try to sleep... but if I can't, I'll work on your arm.” When he didn't react, Carol unbuttoned Josiah's shirt, unfastened the straps, and stole his arm. “If I can get it done before we reach Yooma, I'll be happy.”

  “Alright, but rest should be your priority,” Josiah insisted as he watched her walk away. “I mean it, Carol! I don't want you to pass out from exhaustion.”

  “Pffft! I'm not going to pass out, you rum dummy!” Looking down at the bottle in her hand, she amended her insult. “Whiskey dummy!”

  Carol retreated to the train's lounge and laid on the sofa. She thought about crashing in one of the train's many compartments, but she didn't want to make it difficult for the boys to find her—after all, they couldn't do anything without her. For all of three minutes, Carol closed her eyes and tried to sleep. As usual, her thoughts were racing, and after a shockingly short period of rest, she was back on her feet.

  Carol laid Josiah's arm on the table, dipped into her bag, and got to work. “Dum dum-dum dah-duuuh...” she hummed to herself as she tinkered with her gadgets and tools. Affixing a working thumb to a roboti
c arm would have been nigh on impossible for most engineers, but for the inventor of the world's only hovertrain, anything and everything was possible. “Dum dah-dah dee doooo.”

  Carol was making good progress before Patrick Amberley swaggered into the room. He was the worst—and best—kind of distraction. He was naked, apart from the towel around his waist. Not only was he clean, he was clean-shaven too. His hair was wet, and though he trimmed it, he kept it at shoulder length. He looked like an entirely different person, and he was far more than handsome than Carol expected.

  Patrick paused beside Carol's table and flashed a crooked smile. “Whatcha up to, Miss Cassady?”

  “Working.” Carol tried to keep her eyes on Josiah's arm, but Patrick's damp body was like a magnet, drawing her gaze back in.

  “Working on what?”

  She pointed at the mechanical appendage on the table. “Josiah's arm. Duh.”

  “And you made that thing? That's awfully impressive.”

  “Oh, this is nothing.” Carol pulled Gogobot from her bag and laid him on the table. “This is impressive!”

  “Indeed,” Patrick agreed. “I haven't known you long, but there are a lot of things I find... impressive about you, Miss Cassady.” Naturally, his gaze dropped to her breasts.

  “Gogobot, on! Gogobot, soft music!”

  When the gentle piano music filled the room, Patrick clapped his hands. “Ahh! That's amazing! I've never seen anything like it.”

  “Gogobot's special. I've been trying to make more robots like him, but his parts are kind of pricey, and I haven't been able to find a lot of good sponsors, sooo...”

  Patrick suddenly sat in the chair beside Carol and leaned closer. “If I had a lot of money, I'd sponsor you.”

  “You would?”

  “Of course I would! I've never met anyone like you. You seem like a smart girl. Hell, you're probably the smartest person I've ever met.” Patrick's crooked smile morphed into a full-fledged grin. “I haven't known you long, but you fascinate me, Carol Cassady.”

  “Oh, yeah?” Carol momentarily abandoned her work in favor of staring into Patrick's eyes. He was flirting with her, and he wasn't being subtle about it. If he wasn't so handsome, she might have thought he was slimy.

  “Yeah. Definitely. You're real pretty, too. And funny. What man could ask for anything more?”

  Carol blew off his flirtation with an indifferent shrug and turned her attention to Josiah's arm. “Do you think you could find yourself some pants? Seriously. It's a little weird talking to you when you're sitting in a towel.”

  “Is that really what you want?”

  “Well... kind of. Sort of?” Carol's eyes were drawn back to Patrick's bare chest. “Maybe? I don't know.”

  “You're not Josiah's girlfriend, are you?”

  “God, no. Is that what you thought?” Carol adamantly shook her head. “No no no... Josiah and I are just friends.”

  “Good.” Patrick, who was in no apparent rush to find appropriate clothing, drummed his fingers against the tabletop. “I thought you were too good for him.”

  “What? Why?” Carol's brow furrowed, as if she was personally offended by Patrick's opinion. “Josiah could get any woman he wants!”

  “Maybe... at one time.” Even though Josiah was nowhere near them, Pat lowered his voice before continuing. “As much as I hate to say it, there aren't going to be a lot of ladies swooning over One-Arm Jo.”

  Carol poked his arm with a wrench. “Hey, that's not nice!”

  “It might not be nice, but it's true as hell. Some women might not give a damn, but the majority of them aren't going to want a man who can barely buckle his own belt.”

  “That's so rude!” Carol kept poking him with the wrench, but it didn't seem to affect him.

  “Hey, I love that man like a brother. And if he was sitting beside me, there's no way I'd be saying any of this.” When Patrick leaned back in the chair, his towel opened up a bit, so he snapped it shut with a chuckle.

  “You...” Carol smacked him with the wrench. “Are...” She smacked him again. “Mean!”

  Before Carol's weapon could collide with his arm again, Patrick caught her wrist. As he brought his face closer to hers, he said, “I find that most women tend to like a little meanness.”

  “Oh really?”

  “They sure do.” Patrick's mouth inched closer to hers. He didn't want to close the gap too quickly and risk frightening her off. “If a man's too nice, they get bored. They want a challenge. They want a bad boy they can fix.”

  “Well, from what I can understand, you're definitely a bad boy, Patrick Amberley. According to Josiah, you're responsible for the arson that's listed on all his wanted posters.”

  “I'm not even going to try to deny it.” Patrick grinned at her, and his lips inched closer still. “I bet I could light a fire in you, Miss Cassady.”

  “Oh, puh-lease.” Despite her wrinkling nose, Carol didn't pull away from him. As handsome as he was, if he wanted to kiss her, she was going to let him get away with it. Sensible women didn't refuses kisses from a man like Patrick Amberley. “If you think a line like that is going to work on me, buddy, you've got another thing coming!”

  “I don't need lines. I usually let my face do all the work.”

  “Well, you are cute,” Carol conceded. “You're vain as heck, but you are cute, I can't lie.”

  Just as Patrick's lips were about to brush hers, the lounge door opened, and a very wide-eyed Josiah interrupted their moment. When he saw his friend's disapproving face, Patrick mumbled a curse. After several months in jail, he not only wanted Carol—he needed her.

  “I can see you two are getting along... very well,” Josiah remarked.

  Unless she was mistaken, Carol detected a trace of disappointment in his voice, so she decided to pin the blame on Patrick. “Your friend won't stop flirting with me!”

  “If that's true, I'm not surprised. It's what he does.” Josiah briefly sent a heated glance in Pat's direction before turning his attention back to Carol. “We'll be in Yooma soon, so I'm stopping the train in about three minutes. I just thought I'd let you know.”

  “Alright. That sounds good to me, Jojo.” Carol looked down at Josiah's mechanical arm and pouted. If Patrick would have left her alone, she might have finished in time.

  Before leaving the lounge, Josiah had a few more words for his friend. “Pat?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Carol's a lady. A good lady. And you'll treat her like a lady, do you understand?” Josiah's words were cold and sharp, not unlike the edge of a knife. “So... the next time I see you walking around nearly naked like it's no big deal, I'm giving you a black eye. I mean it.”

  Thirteen

  Gwen wandered the desert for what felt like an eternity, even though it was a matter of hours. Her tears for her father were already dry, as was her throat, which was so parched it was practically painful.

  She couldn't get the image out of her mind. The bodies of her father and his men were blown apart, and pieces of them were scattered across the dirt. How could she ever forget the horror of such a sight? How could she ever scrub it from her head?

  There was no way she could survive on her own. She had no food, no water, and absolutely no sense of direction. Being alone in the desert was nothing like traveling with the Cole brothers, who always knew where they were going and were always prepared. She was miles away from Gravestone, and probably miles away from any trace of civilization. She was doomed.

  Gwen's feet dragged across the dirt and sand as she pushed herself forward. At first, she tried to follow the motocarriage's tracks, hoping they would lead her back to town, but after the first mile, they were swept away by the wind. Gwen had no idea which direction was the right one. She didn't even have a guess.

  “Pa...” As much as she wanted to keep crying for him, she couldn't. Her current predicament made her heart feel hollow. She tried to be optimistic, but there was a good chance she was going to die. In her mind, she c
ursed Carol and Josiah for leaving her behind.

  “Aw, come on!”

  When Gwen heard a man's voice, she froze. She wasn't alone, and that fact filled her with a mixture of relief and fear.

  “Dammit, why's there no water in this?”

  It took her a moment to locate the speaker. He was standing on top of a hill, trying to get water from a cactus. He had no shirt, and his bare body was equally tanned and sunburned. His dark hair was windswept and wild, making him look like a madman. As much as she didn't want to be alone in the desert, Gwen was too scared to approach.

  “What are you looking at, you piece of shit?” the madman barked at an armadillo that parked beside his feet. “I've got nothing for you, you understand? You better get out of here before you start to look like dinner!”

  Gwen crept to the hill and crouched, trying to stay out of view. She wanted to get a better look at him, but she could only see his profile.

  “We aren't friends, y'hear?” The man continued to rail at the poor armadillo. “You can look at me with those beady little eyes all day, but I ain't got nothing for you!”

  When the armadillo suddenly skittered away, the madman changed his mind. “Waaaait! Where are you going?” He tried to chase the armored mammal, which brought him a bit closer to Gwen. “Come back! Please? I'll be nicer this time, I swear!”

  Gwen gasped when she finally got a good look at his face. It was too unbelievable to be real. The armadillo-chasing desert madman was someone she knew. “Nicky Gunn?” His name flew from her lips with a squeak.