by Megan Besing
She wanted to ask him what he was on the run for, because surely he must be wanted somewhere to hole up in a place like this. Yet she wasn’t sure she wanted to know. It would be so much nicer to think of him as the somewhat kindly outlaw who’d kept the wolves at bay before she escaped this awful place. And she would escape. It would only take a few more days—three at the most—to lull him into a false sense of security. Then she’d put her plan into motion and find her way out of here.
Wyatt had expected Mariah to try to escape at some point. In fact, he would have been disappointed if she hadn’t. But, this? This was just stupid.
He maintained a sleep-laden rhythm to his breathing and watched beneath his lashes while she shimmied out the cabin window into the night. He held his breath as soon as she dropped out of sight, then listened to her quiet footfalls circle the cabin and head south. Shaking his head, he eased out of the cabin and tracked her to the barn where she bribed a sure-footed roan into cooperating with a few sugar cubes and some sweet-talking.
Wyatt gave her a couple minutes head start then hopped onto a palomino that could lap the roan when it came to speed. Mariah led her horse right up to the canyon’s opening. Her horse balked a little, and Wyatt couldn’t blame it. The canyon was a frightening place at night and more than one mountain lion had been known to stalk its walls.
A wild neigh was all the warning he received before the roan shot past him back into the valley with Mariah clinging to the saddle like a burr on a blanket. Racing after her, Wyatt plucked the woman from her horse and sat her in front of him on the saddle. He didn’t say a word as he herded the spooked horse away from the cabins so it wouldn’t disturb the other men. The roan calmed quickly once they reached the lakeshore. The same could not be said for the woman.
Mariah’s hands clenched the saddle horn, but the rest of her body trembled like a leaf in the wind. He dismounted then lifted her down as well. She immediately pulled away.
Stalking downhill, she stopped at the edge of the lake and slid her hands into the pockets of— Were those his denim pants? She’d rolled up the legs and hitched up the britches with a bit of rope, but they were definitely his pants. They looked absolutely ridiculous on her as did the oversized plaid shirt she wore. Had she been trying to disguise herself as a drifter?
Holding back a chuckle, he watched her sit down on the grass near the edge of the lake. She brought her legs to her chest, wrapped her arms around them, and rested her forehead on her knees as though she wanted to curl inside herself and disappear. The anger she’d been carrying like a shield for the last few days seemed to have burned out, leaving only defeat.
Perhaps she’d finally be open to connecting with him. He claimed the spot beside her but waited for her to speak first. Her voice was steady and resigned. “There’s no way out of here, is there?”
“I can think of at least two off the top of my head. Neither of them involves you getting yourself killed in the middle of the night.”
Eyes wide, she turned to search his face in the moonlight. “There are two other ways out of here? I don’t suppose you’d tell me what they are?”
He braced his palms behind him on the grass. “You could have told me there was something you desperately needed from town. A feminine something or other only you could pick out yourself. I would have eventually taken you there to get the item. You could have escaped, taken a train to…Where were you headed with the money you took from my secret stash before climbing out the window?”
“I wasn’t sure yet.” She sighed. “What’s the other way out?”
“You could have asked me to take you away from here.”
She gave a soft, skeptical laugh. “Would you have done it?”
He tucked his hands behind his head and lay back on the grass to consider the question. Would he have found a way to sneak her out of here? He couldn’t. Not without causing the gang to doubt his loyalty. Already, Jack had stopped talking to him unless absolutely necessary and Blade seemed to seethe with a quiet jealousy that made Wyatt wary. He shook his head. “Right now, it isn’t possible.”
Lying down on her side, she rested her head in her hand as she stared at him. “But someday?”
He had to give her something—some bit of hope to get her through this. “Gangs don’t stay together forever, Mariah.”
“I know.”
His brow furrowed. “You do?”
“Well, I’ve…I’ve read about outlaws in the papers same as everyone.”
No doubt she never thought she’d be living among one. Taking her hand in his, he rested it on his chest. “I know this might seem like a bleak situation to you, but it won’t last forever. You don’t belong to the Renegades. You belong with me. You go where I go.”
“I go where you go,” she repeated softly as she stared down at where her hand rested in his grasp. Her tumultuous gaze met his. “Then can’t we go somewhere else? Somewhere no one knows you. We could start over together.”
He barely held back a smile at her enthusiasm. “Why? So you could take my advice and run away from me as soon as we get to civilization? Isn’t that exactly what you would do?”
She let out a frustrated sigh. “How did you become an outlaw anyway? Can’t you just do a little time in prison and start over as a new man?”
“Just do a little time in prison?” This time he didn’t bother to hold in his chuckle. “You make it sound so harmless.”
She sat up and crossed her arms. “Well, maybe what you did wasn’t so harmless and you deserve it. What did you do, Wyatt? You know I could ask any of the other outlaws. They’d tell me with no hesitation. I’d rather hear it from you.”
It was a fair point. If she asked anyone else, they’d tell her the cover story he’d established. The one where a simple, relatively harmless robbery had accidentally ended in murder and sent him on the run. It wasn’t true. Not one bit of it. Yet, he’d never had a problem bandying it around…until now.
Telling her would serve no real purpose. It would only cause more distance to grow between them. That was the last thing he wanted at this point. For her safety and his, she needed to be loyal to him. He needed to make a move now. He sat up to cup that stubborn chin of hers. “Don’t ask them. Don’t ask me. If you want me to start over, then let it begin here and now.”
“You would do that?” she asked with a mix of skepticism and disbelief. “You would really change for me?”
He nodded. “Who do you want me to be, Mariah?”
“Honestly?” She glanced toward the lake for a long moment then turned back to him with her guard finally lowered. “I want you to be someone who loves God, someone who loves me more than you love danger or violence or the next job. Is that possible for you, Wyatt? If not, you have no right to keep me here. Especially if Wyatt Coulter isn’t your true name and our marriage isn’t legal.”
“I know God. I’ve strayed, but I do know Him. Or, I did. Once.” It was true enough. It was hard to maintain faith when he lived among those consumed by greed, violence, and death. Harder still, when simply owning a Bible could blow a carefully constructed cover. He’d told himself long ago he was doing all of this to serve God, to see justice done. Yet how could that be true when the work he was doing for God only seemed to take him further and further from God?
She caught his wrist. “Then get to know Him again. Love Him. Love me. Put my interests first. That’s what the Bible says a husband should do for his wife—sacrifice himself, give himself up for her as Christ did the Church.”
He barely managed to hide a frown. Loving her was out of the question, but maybe she was right about everything else. Maybe this was the right moment to start over. He’d write to his contact and ask to be pulled off this investigation then take Mariah with him when he left. He could help her start a new life somewhere unencumbered by her fake marriage to him. It’s what she deserved. More than that, it was the right thing to do.
He took Mariah’s hand in his and gave it a gentle squeeze. “I’ll
try, Mariah. I promise you, I’ll try.”
She seemed to be weighing him, weighing his words. “I believe you.”
For a man who made his living through deceit, whether it was for a good cause or not, those three small words seemed too good to be true. Yet she really meant them. They burrowed down deep inside of him, past every disguise, right to the heart of him. They made him want to be a better man, one worthy of the belief she had placed in him and the trust he was determined to earn.
Amid all the deceit and the veneer that had made up his world for so long, she seemed like the only real thing here. Her and the God he’d drifted so far from. He might not be able to reach out and touch God, but he could touch Mariah. So he did. Staring into her eyes, he traced a shaft of moonlight across her cheek. She stilled but didn’t move away.
He needed to make a moment here, find a way to forge their bond deeper, inspire affection. His lifted his head toward hers, but she pulled away, going so far as to stand and wrap her arms around herself. “This is a kind of prison for me. You know that, don’t you?”
“It doesn’t have to be.” He stood up beside her. “It could be a refuge.”
She sent him a disbelieving look. “Not with the Renegades for company.”
“I promised to protect you from them, and I will. Maybe this isn’t the life you were hoping for, but surely it has its moments. Look around. Without thinking of this place as a prison, just look.” He waited as she took in the bright moon hovering in the sky among a million stars, mountains blanketed by the deep blue of night, and the vast lake where still, dark waters shimmered with starlight.
Something within her seemed to relax enough to let a soft smile shine through. “It’s pretty. I’ll admit to that much.”
He could say the same of her and more, but she didn’t seem like the kind of woman to respond to flattery. Forthrightness would likely serve him better. “Mariah, I’d like to kiss you.”
She stilled. The soft sound of the wind whispering across the lake filled the silence as she considered his request. Finally, she turned to look at him. “Why?”
That was Mariah, all right. No feigned bashfulness. Not a hint of alarm. Just pure curiosity and confrontation. He searched himself for the answer she demanded. Why did he want to kiss her? Because it was a part of his job. A means to an end. Was that really all there was to it?
Maybe. Maybe not. He shrugged. “You’ve got moonlight in your hair.”
Her eyebrows lifted as a hint of amusement set her voice lilting. “I’ve got moonlight in my hair?”
He nodded, touching the loose waves that reflected the light. “Besides, you’re still here—not lying dead in the canyon somewhere.”
Her eyes narrowed. He smiled for the first time in what felt like ages. Her long lashes blinked in surprise as her gaze drifted to his mouth and lingered there. “So what?”
He pressed his advantage, taking a step closer. “It seems like the right thing to do right about now, wouldn’t you say?”
“I suppose one kiss might be acceptable in a setting like this.” Warning filled her voice. “One kiss. That’s all.”
He placed his hands on the curve of her waist. “Yes, ma’am.”
Chapter 4
Mariah stood at the kitchen sink a week later running a soapy cloth over the last dirty plate. The midday sun poured through the windows of the General’s house, but her mind was filled with moonlight, stars reflecting off a still lake and a soft breeze whispering through the trees. Wyatt’s fingers sliding into her hair as he deepened the kiss, lingering until they were both breathless. Yet he’d kept his word by respecting her request. One kiss.
That was all that had transpired. Nothing more. Nothing less.
A few days later, General Lorde had sent him out to do…Well, she wasn’t sure what Wyatt was doing out there in the world beyond this valley. Likely stealing or robbing. Maybe even killing. Or being killed. Blade and Jack had gone with him. Their absence was a relief. There was no mistaking that. It was nice to be able to walk around without Blade’s cold eyes following her every move or fearing Jack might waylay her for another attempt at sweet-talking her into trading her husband for him.
Still, she couldn’t help wondering if Wyatt was safe in their company. Would they betray him simply to get him out of the way? What would happen to her if they did? If Wyatt didn’t come back…
She closed her eyes against the thought, not even wanting to consider what might happen. Shaking her head, she rinsed off a tin plate and set it on the drying rack. The sound of shuffling cards paused for a moment then started again. “Mariah, come play a hand with us.”
She turned to lean back against the sink and met Dodger’s friendly smile with a doubtful one of her own. Galen Lorde didn’t echo the invitation, but he didn’t protest it either. Instead, he lit his pipe then looked at her with a hint of challenge in his gaze. He wanted her to bond with the men, did he? She knew the tactic well enough. Make a newcomer earn his or her place in the gang. Let them form some affection or at least a sense of belonging to the other members. Thereby making that person far less likely to turn state’s witness if given the chance.
Tilting her head, she eyed Dodger’s fancy shuffling. “What game are y’all playing?”
“We call it matchstick poker. It’s like regular poker except we play for matchsticks instead of money.” He began dealing the cards for the three of them. “Come on. I’ll teach you how.”
She’d been playing poker since the summer she’d turned twelve and moved in with her stepfamily. Nonetheless, she let Dodger have the pleasure of teaching her all over again since he seemed so eager to help. She lost the first hand on purpose then set about trouncing them both with a doddering innocence that kept them from guessing she’d ever played the game before. Four hands in, Doc Tillman opened the front door and peeped in to announce, “The boys are riding in.”
Everything within her stilled. Wyatt was back? The General let out a grunt. “Right on time. Mariah. It’s your turn.”
She forced her distracted gaze back to her cards as Doc disappeared outside, closing the door behind him. “Two cards, please.”
Dodger dealt her two more. It seemed an eternity before the front door opened again. She deflated at the sight of Blade and retrained her eyes on her cards. General Lorde cleared his throat. “Blade, come and take Mariah’s place before she bursts.”
She met the General’s kind blue eyes with a thankful smile then set her cards facedown on the table before hurrying out to join Doc Tillman on the porch. The white-haired fellow stood at the railing with his black doctor’s bag at the ready. Concern filled her. “Is someone hurt?”
“Don’t know yet.” He opened his bag and pulled out a handkerchief, studiously unfolding it to reveal three of the sugar cookies she’d baked two days ago. He took a large bite of one. “Blade said he didn’t need my help, but you never know. The others might.”
She eyed his doctor’s bag. “Do you have any…um…medical instruments in your bag, Doc Tillman?”
“Pshaw, missy.” He sent her a disdainful look. “What do you take me for?”
“Is that—does that mean yes? You do have medical equipment?”
He leaned his hip into the porch railing and stared her down with flinty blue eyes. “Now, listen here. I ain’t half as crazy as those young pups make me out to be. Course, I’ve got medical equipment in this bag, and I know how to use it. Ask any one of the gangs who come through here all battered up and bloody. They’ll tell you who set them to rights. It was Doc Tillman. That’s who.”
“My apologies. I shouldn’t have doubted you.”
He gave a firm nod then narrowed his eyes at Jack, who exited the barn and walked toward them favoring his left arm. “What happened to you?”
Jack grinned at them both. “Coyotes.”
“Two-legged or four?”
“Both.” Jack gave her a once-over as he climbed the porch steps. “Hello, Miss Mariah. You’re a sight for sore eyes
.”
“Hello, Jack.” Nervousness filled her stomach. “Did Wyatt ride in with y’all?”
“Sure did. He’s in the barn, but I’m sure he’ll be right happy to see you. I know I am.”
She ignored his flirtation, knowing he was mostly doing it to needle Wyatt even if her husband wasn’t there to witness it. With all the other men accounted for except Hawk, who hardly showed his face anyway, Mariah deemed it safe enough to walk over to the barn and greet her husband—fake husband. Though why she felt inspired to do so was a mystery to her.
Relief filled her at the sight of him standing in the sunlight with one shoulder leaning against the open doors of the corral. Glancing down at the letter in his hands, he gave a frustrated shake of his head then stared out at the mountains. Mariah pulled in a steeling breath. “Bad news?”
He spun to face her. His gray eyes lit up and a smile curved his mouth. Folding the letter into his pocket, he reached out his hand then met her halfway to claim hers. That oddly perceptive gaze of his seemed to scour and catalog every inch of her as he spoke in low tones. “My sister says it’s best for me to stay put for now.”
Her heart leaped in her chest. “You were thinking of going somewhere?”
“Thought you might could use a trip.”
Her free hand squeezed his arm. “Oh, Wyatt, truly?”
He nodded. “But we can’t go. Not yet. No one can know we’re even thinking of it, understand?”
“I understand.”
He cupped her cheek and let his thumb trace her smile. “How’d you manage without me?”
Releasing his arm, she took a step back, though she couldn’t go far with her hand still tucked in his. “I managed fine.”
