Once an Outlaw

by Raine Cantrell

  Still, he waited. Something didn’t feel right to him. He wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand and crept closer to the pen. From his pocket he took out a few of the worms he dug for fishing and began tossing them to the rooster.

  Black-and-green feathers gleaming under the hot sun, the big bird attacked the worms and Kenny slipped around back of the small wooden house. There was a board he had worked loose that the widow woman had not discovered. It was just big enough for him to squeeze through and get inside.

  He had just gotten busy digging the loosely piled dirt away from the bottom when he heard a noise. It sounded like rock hitting rock. Just his luck that Marty had forgotten how to whistle.

  Kenny slowly turned around, then froze. A horseman was stopped not ten feet from him. With the sun behind the man, Kenny couldn’t see his face. But he was one of the biggest men he’d come across.

  “You, boy, your folks around?”

  Kenny swallowed a few times. His throat and mouth were so dry he couldn’t manage to spit dust.

  “Something wrong with you, boy?”

  Kenny shook his head. He prayed that the man in the cabin wouldn’t be able to see him. If he didn’t answer, this stranger would go to the cabin and be sure to say something about him. Then someone would come and take him and Marty away. He had to risk it. Kenny stepped out of the shadows cast by the henhouse.

  “Folks ain’t here now. They, er, went to town. You want to water your horse or something, mister?”

  “Just want a little information.”

  Wiping his damp palms on his grubby pants, Kenny wondered again why Marty hadn’t warned him. He offered a lopsided smile and took another step closer.

  “I’ll sure try to help if I can.”

  “I’m looking for a man, boy.”

  Kenny pressed his knees together. They were shaking so badly he swore he’d fall in another minute. “My pa—”

  “Don’t think so. This man’s name is Lucky. Last I saw of him he was near dead, but he ain’t where I left him.”

  “Oh, Jeez!”

  “You seen him, boy?”

  Kenny shook his head. He eyed the way the big man controlled the moves of his horse, then stared at the whip coiled around the saddle horn and knew he should run like the devil was chasing him. God, help me out here and I’ll never steal from the widow woman again!

  “Ain’t seen no strangers around here, mister. And my ma don’t like me talking to strangers. I got chores to do.”

  Zach Romal touched his heels to his horse and moved it closer to the boy. “You wouldn’t lie to me?”

  “Ain’t got no reason to, mister. You said he was near dead. Maybe the buzzards got him or a mountain cat. Could be,” he added with a shrug of his thin shoulders, “that he made it down to the Junction.”

  Kenny kept looking up at the deeply shadowed face. He was too scared to do anything else. But he was going to whup Marty’s butt good for not warning him.

  Without another word Zach turned his horse and left.

  Kenny fought the urge to run. He didn’t think his legs would let him run far. And he was panting as if he’d already run hard. He didn’t know how long he stood there with the sun beating down on him. He didn’t know what made him turn around.

  But he sure understood in a hurry what his pa meant by saying a man could get caught between a rock and a hard place.

  Just beyond the gate to the hen yard stood the man whose life he and Marty had saved. The man the stranger was asking about.

  Chapter Five

  “Who the hell are you, boy?”

  Not again. Remembering too well the whippings his ma had given for lying, Kenny started to back away. Despite his ma being dead, he believed that he’d be punished for all the lies he’d told so far. He wasn’t going to make it worse for himself by telling more.

  “Answer me,” Logan demanded. “You the one that’s been stealing Jessie’s chickens and eggs?”

  “Ain’t stole them. Traded her fair. Ask her. You go ask the widow woman if I didn’t.”

  “We both know that she isn’t here, boy. I heard what you said to the rider. Mighty obliged. You the one who found me and brought me up to Jessie?” Even as Logan asked, he studied the slight body and knew it was impossible.

  “Maybe.” Kenny turned and ran.

  “Wait! Don’t run off, boy. I won’t hurt you.” Logan stumbled, but went after him. He was still reeling from the shock of looking out the cabin’s window to see Zach there. Why the devil had he come back?

  Kenny glanced over his shoulder. Despite the man’s faltering walk, he was coming after him. He ran faster, his gaze pinned on the big cottonwood tree where he’d left Marty. Damn! Where was he?

  “Marty, we gotta run. Where are you?” he asked in a furious whisper.

  “Up h-here.”

  “Jeez!” Kenny leapt for the lower branch and quickly climbed into the concealing boughs. “Why didn’t you whistle to me? I almost got caught.”

  “Th-the man on the h-horse. He w-was one of th-them. S-scared me.”

  “Okay. Okay. Just be quiet. Real quiet.”

  Kenny peered between the smaller limbs and saw that the man had paused. He tried holding his breath, afraid that he was breathing hard enough to be heard.

  Logan paused near a small rise and scanned the scrub brush, rocks and a few ancient cottonwoods that offered plenty of concealment to a boy. He didn’t want to frighten the child. Harry’s boots fit a mite on the tight side, and he was still weak, so the best he’d managed was a slow walk.

  Not fast enough to catch the boy. He looked like a half-wild critter, all big dark eyes and long hair.

  Wild or not, the skinny kid was sharp.

  “If you’re listening, boy, I’m beholden to you for saving my life. You got trouble, you come see me. I’ll be obliged if you come tell me if that man comes nosing around again.”

  Logan waited, but not even a breeze stirred in answer. Just as well if he headed back to the cabin. He felt as if he’d been wrestling steers all day. And he’d thought he was almost ready to move on. Like it or not, he was stuck here.

  Halfway back, Logan stopped cold. Jessie rode out and Zach showed up. He was crazy to think…but there had been talk about a place in the mountains, a safe place, isolated, too, where no questions were asked of the men who hid out there.

  Jessie involved with outlaws? If he had the strength he would laugh. If his life wasn’t on the line…if Zach hadn’t suddenly shown up. What could he be looking for? Unless Jessie had lied to him when she’d said that he’d been stripped of all but his clothes? Or that boy? He could have stolen the horse, rifle and gun. And that silver buckle. Damned if he didn’t regret the loss of that buckle. He’d had one made specially for Ty’s birthday, liked it so much that he’d gone back and gotten one for Conner and himself.

  With a rough shake of his head, Logan continued walking back to the cabin. That blow to his head had given him more than headaches, it had affected his thinking. How could he worry about a lost belt buckle?

  Because an object keeps you from thinking about Jessie and her possible involvement.

  Jessie puzzled over the reinforced brush fence at the end of the small valley where she kept her cattle.

  For the past few months she hadn’t been frightened by the missing eggs or hens, or the blankets stolen from her wash line. She had appreciated the gifts of food left in their place, and accepted the unasked-for trade.

  But seeing the newer brush tightly interwoven with the older, dried fence made her question if her benefactor had discovered the valley. The thought sent a chill of foreboding through her. Why?

  The large, heavy-bodied cattle with their short, curved horns had been inbred with the Texas longhorns. Harry had started the herd, and lost interest when he realized how long he would have to wait for his profit. Jessie didn’t mind waiting. She found pleasure in watching the calves fatten on the lush grasses in this blind valley. A stream ran through it year-
round, and she had thought them safe with the brush fence she had erected.

  Knowing that someone had stumbled upon her small herd left her feeling violated. As if her dream could be snatched away at a whim. Someone else’s whim.

  She recounted the cattle again to make sure that none were missing. Eggs she could lose, hens, too, but not her dream of having a thriving herd to build her ranch. Perhaps she stubbornly clung to the idea that she could do this on her own, but she had to try. If she didn’t, she would have to admit defeat, sell out and go back to living with Greg and Livia. Not that they wouldn’t welcome her, but Jessie knew she wasn’t ready to give up yet.

  First she would have to stop being so trusting. Just look at the way she had taken Logan in and let him get away without answering her questions of where he had come from or what he’d been doing to get shot.

  It didn’t take the brains of one of her hens to figure that one out for herself. People got shot all the time. There wasn’t much law in the territory. The last time David had come calling, he had left a four-month-old copy of the Arizona Star. Bank holdups, train robberies in the north, raiding Apaches, cattle rustling, news item after news item reported the violence in the land.

  She had no one but herself to blame for shying away from pushing Logan for answers. The admission came hard, but Jessie made it now. She was afraid of what he would tell her.

  She didn’t want Logan to matter, she certainly didn’t want to care about him, but she had been alone so long that it would be a lie to say there weren’t any feelings stirring for him.

  A darn foolish notion, but a real one. Did Logan think she was gullible?

  Maybe she was…

  And maybe her unknown benefactor had done more than secure the brush fence. Maybe by trying to protect her cattle someone got shot. Someone like Logan.

  But if that was true, she argued with herself, then why had Logan been brought to her?

  “Why?” she whispered, glancing around at the craggy, sloped walls of the valley. “Who are you? Where do you hide? And why, oh, why did you pick me?”

  The mare’s nicker drew Jessie’s gaze to her. “I might as well ask you the questions. I’ll get the same nothing for answers.”

  Heading back through the boot-high grass to where she had left Adorabelle tied, Jessie remembered some of the stories that Harry had told her of the men he occasionally met on his prospecting trips.

  Sometimes he would share a campfire with one, at other times merely nod in passing. Names, Harry had said, if exchanged at all, told little about a man or his past.

  Like Logan. If Logan was really his name.

  But not all men wandered the Superstitions in a search for gold like Harry. Some men ran from a tragedy, the law or to simply ease an inborn wanderlust.

  Just as all men were not bred to violent acts. One of the attractions that Harry had had for her was his gentle nature. Her brother was a hard but fair man, unashamed to reveal a tender side.

  And Logan…

  No, she must not allow herself to be distracted by the secret feelings that Logan effortlessly encouraged to surface. Or was that part of his game?

  Jessie took the brush fence in a rush, snagging her hem and tearing it free. She hurried to untie the mare and swung herself into the saddle.

  Putting thoughts of Logan aside, she spurred Adorabelle toward home. Whoever watched her, or whatever it was he did, may have shot at Logan to warn him. The bullet could have ricocheted and hit him. Jessie knew all about ricocheting bullets. She had almost hit her horse one night, which was why she now aimed the shotgun in the air.

  The closer she got to home, the greater her suspicions grew that what she had figured out about Logan’s wound was all too possibly true. She worked herself up to confront him as she dismounted near the corral. She had started to loosen the cinch when Logan came to the door of the cabin.

  Jessie paused and looked at him. A clean-shaven face should have softened the fierce line of his nose and jaw. Should have, but didn’t. If anything, with his narrow-eyed gaze pinned on her and the way he hung back in the doorway so that the late-afternoon sun and shadow played equally over him, Logan appeared dangerous.

  And Jessie weighed his appearance and her suspicions carefully. Perhaps confrontation wasn’t the path she would take after all.

  “Mighty sorry-lookin’ excuse for a horse.”

  “Adorabelle gets me where I need to go. I don’t see you with better. I see you with nothing at all.”

  It had been the wrong thing to say to her. Now she had her back up and that vinegar-mouth primed and aimed at him. He hated having to watch her yank the saddle off that swaybacked mare and sling it over the pole fence. It just went against the grain to stand there useless.

  “I managed to put on beans,” he said by way of a peace offering, thinking of how difficult it had been to perform each task with the use of only one hand.

  Jessie, stripping off her worn leather riding gloves with jerky moves, wasn’t interested in food.

  “I’m glad you found something useful to do.”

  “Well, hell!” It wasn’t just her mouth then, the edge of her voice said Jessie had loaded a verbal shotgun and was gunning for big game…Logan size.

  “Don’t curse.” She turned her attention back to the mare, scratching her behind the ears before she removed the halter. Adorabelle had such a placid nature that she remained as she was, waiting for what came next.

  Jessie went into the shed and came out carrying a curry brush. Tossing her floppy felt hat on top of the pole, she found herself drawn to look at Logan again.

  He had taken off Harry’s toe-pinching boots and stood barefoot, dressed in too-short black twill pants held up by a tightly belted strip of leather. The old bib-front chambray shirt, reduced to the faded color of smoke, should have added no appeal to a woman’s eye. But despite the ill-fitting clothes, she felt a prickle of sensual awareness for Logan as a man.

  Adorabelle’s nudge served to draw her back to the chore at hand. She swung open the pole gate of the corral and, without urging, the mare stepped inside. Jessie followed her. “Don’t mind him none, sweetheart,” she stated loudly as she began brushing. “He wouldn’t know what to do with a kind-natured lady like you.”

  “Well, double hell!” Logan deliberately raised his voice. “What’s got into you, lady?” Even with the distance separating them, he felt the impact of Jessie’s golden brown eyes glaring at him. But he was mad now. “Don’t tell me that someone stole your damn cow?”

  “No one stole my cows. No thanks to you.”

  When a man has had enough, he’s had enough. With complete disregard for his bare feet, Logan stomped across the yard and stopped just outside the corral.

  “What the devil was that supposed to mean?”

  “I’d say if the shoe fits, wear it, but you don’t have any shoes, or boots, of your own. You don’t have anything that could prove who you are, what you are or how you came to be here.”

  The attack was so unexpected that Logan couldn’t answer her. He ran his hand through his hair. What had happened to her while she’d been gone? She ducked beneath the mare’s neck and began brushing again. He could see the way she nibbled her lower lip. So, she’d blown up at him, but she wasn’t at all sure of herself.

  “Jessie, why are you suddenly angry with me?”

  “I did a lot of thinking while I was gone. I didn’t wrap you in a quilt—”

  “Are we back to that again?”

  “Yes.” She stood and looked at him. The mare swished her tail, and when Jessie paid no attention, walked off to the water trough. “It’s important for me to know who brought you to me. I have a right to know how you got shot.”

  There was a wealth of demand in her voice, and a wealth of confusion in her eyes. And she had asked him for the one thing he couldn’t tell her—the truth about himself. All the earlier suspicions surfaced, even though he had dismissed the idea of Jessie being involved with any outlaws. They’d pay for
a safe place, and pay dearly. Jessie had an abundance of questions, but he’d bet his gear—if he had any—that she didn’t have money.

  “Have I hurt you, Jessie?”

  “No.” There wasn’t any hesitation. Logan had awakened feelings, but they were hers to deal with. He wasn’t even aware of the temptation he presented to her. And Jessie vowed to keep it that way.

  “No,” she repeated. “You haven’t hurt me. But you ask me to take you on blind faith. I’m having a difficult time doing that. See,” she said with a shrug, walking toward the gate, “I’m being honest. Try it. I promise the ground won’t shake and the sky won’t fall.”

  He closed his eyes briefly against the plea he saw in hers. She said she’d done a lot of thinking, and she’d come up with the worst conclusions about him. With the added problem of Zach nosing around, Logan didn’t want to put her in any danger. And, he admitted to himself, he had to protect himself, too. Zach’s appearance also cut off his thought of leaving immediately. Jessie wasn’t about to give him a gun and her horse, sorry critter that she was. Jeez, who the hell named a swayback Adorabelle?

  The fierce, frowning look of concentration on Logan’s face alarmed Jessie. She started toward him and stopped. If she softened, gave him one more excuse not to tell her the truth, she would have only herself to blame if she got hurt.

  “Logan?”

  His eyes targeted her with a bleak expression. “Do you want me to leave?”

  “Do you have somewhere to go?” she countered.

  “Another dead-end question, Jessie. Either you let me stay awhile longer or I’ll leave.”

  She chewed her bottom lip, tearing off a piece of skin. “You are making me responsible for your well-being.” Coming out of the gate and latching it, Jessie picked up her hat and her gloves. She knew he was waiting for her to finish. There seemed to be no other choice. As she entered the cooler shadowed shed to replace the brush, Jessie made up her mind.