Once an Outlaw

by Raine Cantrell

  “Jessie—”

  “No. I’m not finished. I’m mighty happy to know that you were born. ’Course, you can’t prove that, can you? But I was beginning to think you dropped from the sky and landed on your head. It’s the only way to explain,” she added with an overabundance of sugar drawling in her voice, “why you’re so puffed up over a kiss.”

  “It was more than a kiss and—”

  “And I was not,” she interrupted, “repeat, not running like hot honey all over you. That blow on your head must have done something to your memory. You kissed me, mister.”

  “Ain’t likely to forget it.” Mentally, Logan took a few steps back. In seconds he understood where the flare of temper had come from. He’d left Jessie wanting more. Hell, he wanted more. Trouble was, he knew what would happen if he let himself get tangled up with range calico that was likely as innocent as that dumb remark that had started all this fuss.

  And if he was being honest with himself, he was feeling a little puffed up that—regardless of what Jessie said—she’d run warm and sweet in his arms, just like honey.

  But if he said two words about how easily they could get rid of the frustrating tension, Jessie’d be dodging him like a mossback. Lord knew he’d done his share of trying to catch old longhorns that were skilled in hiding from a rope.

  “Jessie, I—”

  “Enough said. Your beans are burning.”

  Chapter Seven

  A raw wood shanty stood beside a newly erected pole fence in which six horses were standing. Inside the low-ceilinged room, the air was hot and laden with the odors of bacon grease, sweat and horse manure.

  Dusky shadows mixed with the glow from a single lantern that lit the room where four men sat around a rickety table on kegs and crates.

  Monte Wheeler held a match to the smoke he had built from his makings and hunched forward. “If you didn’t find Lucky breathin’, an’ you didn’t find his bones picked clean, Zach, then where the hell is he?”

  “I told you twice now, ain’t hide or hair of him around. All I saw was that kid. He didn’t know nuthin’ ’bout a stranger. Didn’t figure it smart to keep pushin’.”

  “You don’t get paid to think.”

  “Shut up, Billy Jack. Don’t see you findin’ him. If you hadn’t had a hankerin’ for his fancy gear, we wouldn’t be worryin’ where in the hell he is.” Zach sent a scowl the half-breed’s way.

  “Who stopped me from finishin’ the hombre?” Billy Jack’s fingers curled over the edge of the table as if he was more than ready to spring at Zach.

  From across the room, Tallyman threw his knife. The blade quivered in the center of the table, adding another scar to its already cracked surface.

  “What’d ya do that for?” Zach demanded.

  “I’m tired of listening to you two. You ain’t been cooped up here for five days. Still can’t understand why Monte only sent you to look for him.”

  “Then ask me.” Monte blew smoke toward the ceiling. “Boss didn’t like us leaving him where his body could be found. Boss wasn’t happy that two guards got killed and we lost a man. If we lost him. He doesn’t like loose ends. Till I know what happened to him, Lucky’s a loose end. My back gets ridden with spurs, you can bet I’m setting my rowels on someone else’s back.”

  “You shoulda let us all go search,” Tallyman insisted.

  “Nope. One man asking around won’t raise a fuss when folks gets to talking. An’ look at the lot of you. You’d scare the pants offen some poor sodbuster.”

  “Ain’t got no sodbusters ’round here. Ain’t nuthin’ but lizards, snakes an’ rock.” Blackleg poured the last of the coffee into his tin cup and strolled back over to the table. “Maybe the ’Pache got him. Buzzards could’ve cleaned his bones in five days. Man’s bones could be scattered from here to the border by now.”

  Monte listened to them argue, blaming himself for not making sure that Lucky was dead, and then burying him. Old Charlie had sure poured damning down on his head. He’d tried to warn him that after all this time odds were he wouldn’t find him. If the boss didn’t insist that they keep their distance from him, Monte knew it wouldn’t have taken him two days to ride to meet him, then two days back. He just never figured that Zach wouldn’t find the body, or what was left of it. Damn!

  “You sure that kid didn’t follow you, Zach?” Monte asked.

  “Couldn’t. Weren’t no horses around. Wild little thing, too. Kinda reminded me of when I was a kid.” His gap-toothed grin didn’t find any answering ones on the faces of the men staring at him. “You want I should go back there, Monte? Ain’t another homestead around.”

  Monte didn’t answer him immediately. He gazed up at the ceiling. Taking another deep drag of his cigarette, he blew smoke rings while he thought over his problem.

  The boss wanted him to hit the Kincaids harder. Despite the repeated losses of money, silver and cattle, they weren’t ready to knuckle under and sell out. With old Charlie setting his sights on a governor’s seat when Arizona became a state, Monte knew he’d have work for years to come. Thing was, he knew he couldn’t afford to make mistakes. What old Charlie wanted cost money, lots of it. The land he’d been buying, or stealing, if Monte knew his boss, was only the start. The cattle herd made him respectable to the other landowners. But old Charlie never let on why the Kincaids had been made the main target of his vendetta.

  The boss always played his hand close to the vest. Monte knew he’d hired other men to do other jobs for him around the territory. He knew better than to ask questions. He had always followed orders and made sure his jobs had no loose ends. But that didn’t let him escape from the way old Charlie had been proddy as a locoed steer over him letting the men dump Lucky’s body.

  He could’ve kept his mouth shut. It was the damn divvy that had caused the problem. He’d stupidly pointed out that he needed only five shares this time, not six, and the boss had bellowed like a newly made steer.

  Lowering his gaze and searching the faces of the men who watched him, Monte knew they’d likely think he was loco for being honest about the shares. But he knew the boss and they didn’t. Old Charlie had ways of finding out when a man lied to him. Man told him the job was done, it had better be so, or the boss’d hire someone else to clean up the mess and shoot the liar. Monte was fond of his skin and he aimed to keep breathing in it.

  “Monte?” Zach prodded.

  “Yeah, I heard you. I’m still thinking.”

  “Think too damn much, if you ask me,” Billy Jack asked.

  “He’s been coiled and spittin’ like a caged rattler while you were gone,” Tallyman observed.

  “Can’t blame him none. My share’s burning a hole in my pocket.” As if to prove it, Blackleg slapped his hip. “Can just taste me some whiskey. You can’t keep a man workin’ dry, Monte.”

  Billy Jack threw his cup at a rat scurrying across the floor. “Soon, amigo. We go very soon.”

  “You threatening me, boy? We go when I say so. Anybody gonna argue that?”

  “Ain’t no one arguing, Monte,” Tallyman assured him. “But Billy Jack an’ Blackleg got a point. We can’t spend our shares in this hole. We’ve been on the prod for nearly a month. Come to think on it, we ain’t seen whiskey or a female since the night Lucky joined us. Just can’t see what harm’ll come if we go down to the Junction for a night.”

  “Ain’t had nuthin’ but scanty fare to fill our bellies for weeks now. Who the hell’s gonna know?”

  “I’d know,” Monte answered. But he knew when he had pushed them as far as he could, and with an abrupt nod he gave his consent.

  “You’re all right. And maybe at the Junction we’ll pick up some word about Lucky. Sack out, and come first light we’ll ride.”

  Scraping the burned beans from the bottom of the cast-iron pot, Jessie vowed that come first light she would go to Apache Junction. The supplies were needed, but that was just an excuse, even if a truthful one. She needed time away from Logan.

&nbs
p; It had come as a shock to her to find out that she had a temper. Part of it came from the feeling that things were moving too fast between them. She couldn’t believe the way she had sassed him, yelling and shouting right back in his face. Added to that shock was the fact that she was pleased with herself. She had held her own with Logan, even to having the last word.

  She was getting the hang of this independent role. She could say what she wanted, do what she wanted, and no one could hold her accountable.

  True, with her morals and values firmly in place, she wouldn’t think of doing anything wrong. The only unpleasant result was Logan taking himself off in a brooding sulk.

  Jessie paused in her scrubbing and thought about that. She was in fine fettle. Logan wasn’t going to be allowed to spoil that.

  Working on one last stubborn spot, Jessie was glad when the last bit of burned crust came free from the bottom of the pot. She pumped clean water into the kettle and rinsed it a few times. Once she dried the pot with a linen cloth, she placed it on the still-warm stove. Scooping out a bit of bacon grease from the crock, she put it in the kettle, waited a few minutes, then wiped the pot again. Livia had taught her to do this to prevent rusting.

  With her hands at the small of her back, she arched and stretched to get rid of the ache in her back. Harry had always promised he would raise the level of the dry sink for her, but had never gotten around to doing the job.

  A glance at the open doorway revealed a pool of light spilling from the lantern that Logan had taken outside. He’d been sitting on the bench since their silent supper had ended. She hadn’t been aware that she had listened to his low-voiced swearing and mumbling, but now that it had stopped, Jessie wondered what he was doing out there.

  As if thinking about him suddenly conjured him up, Logan appeared in the doorway. He held the lantern in one hand, with a pair of pants tossed over his arm.

  Jessie would have looked a little like a startled deer but for the way her hands slid forward to rest on her hips, giving her a disgruntled appearance. He glanced down to make sure he hadn’t dragged any dirt inside with him.

  “You wash away all that sass along with the leavings from supper?”

  As the first words he had spoken to her since their heated argument, Jessie thought they lacked a certain something—like apology.

  “And if I didn’t?” she asked with challenge flaring in her eyes.

  Coming forward to set the lantern on the table, Logan thought of several ways to rid Jessie of that sassy tongue. Since all of them involved putting his hands on her again, he kept quiet. Honesty demanded that he admit he liked the way she stood up to him. He’d always had a liking for a woman who could hold her own. With his own mother an example of a female with a formidable strength of will, Logan had no trouble with Jessie exhibiting the same.

  Jessie’s unfortunate curiosity got the better of her. “What were you doing with your pants?”

  “Digging for gold.”

  “Pardon?”

  “I said I was digging for gold.” Logan tossed his pants onto the table. With them fell a kitchen knife.

  “I heard what you said. I didn’t understand how you dug for gold in those,” she said, waving one hand at the pants. Stepping closer to the table, Jessie bent over to examine the pants. “You’ve torn off the buttons and the…the…” Unable to finish saying that the placket of material where the buttons were sewn to close his pants was now ripped out, she stared at him.

  “I suppose you intend to share the joke with me. Or did you intend for me to mend these? I can’t see where you’d be digging for gold…uh, well, there.”

  Grinning at the way she fumbled over the words, Logan held up a fist. He liked Jessie with a tint of pink in her cheeks and that endearing bright-eyed look as she waited for him to finish revealing what he’d done.

  He opened his hand and the contents plunked down on the table. “Five bone buttons, five double eagles.”

  She rapidly looked from his face to the table. She knew she could trust what she saw for herself, but she reached down and picked up one of the twenty-dollar gold pieces.

  “It’s real,” he assured her.

  “And very clever,” she returned, wondering what he intended to do. She replaced the coin near the others on the table. Her gaze lingered on the play of the light over the bright gold coins and the softer pink gold of her wedding ring.

  Before she could move, Logan covered her hand with his. “Are you angry that I didn’t tell you about the money?”

  “Why would I be angry?” A small tug failed to release her hand. She leveled a direct gaze at him. “It’s your money, Logan. You do as you wish with it.” Once again Jessie tried to free her hand. He exerted a light pressure to keep her in place. She had the oddest desire to smooth the errant lock of hair from his forehead, but such a move would lead to trouble.

  “Truth is, I forgot about the money.”

  “As I said, it was quite clever. I don’t believe I’ve ever heard of anyone hiding gold in…in cloth that way.”

  “Good thing, too.”

  Jessie yanked her hand out from under his. “I am not a thief. I admit I searched your clothes for a clue to who you were. I can assure you that had I found anything in your pockets, which I might add were nearly ripped off before I mended them, you would have found the contents the minute you were awake.”

  “Don’t take on so, Jessie. I didn’t mean that you’d steal from me. I was thinking about everything else of mine being stolen, so it was best that I didn’t have this money hidden in my belt.”

  “Oh.”

  “Yeah,” he agreed, then grinned. “Oh.”

  “It’s a great deal of money,” she murmured, wishing the suspicions about him wouldn’t come rushing back. But she might as well have wished away the night for all the good it did to stop thoughts of where he had gotten a hundred dollars. Money he obviously didn’t need if he could sew it up and forget about it.

  Logan watched her face. He could feel her withdrawing from him, but he didn’t understand why. She lifted her lashes and glanced at him. A fine tension coiled through his body as he gazed into her tawny eyes. For a moment there was fear within them. Fear that he would stay, or fear that he would go? She looked away before he decided.

  “You’re afraid of me again.”

  Jessie felt trapped by the intent look in his eyes. He wasn’t asking, but she answered him anyway. “This,” she said, pointing to the money, “raises more questions about you. I don’t know anyone who can afford to hide a hundred dollars away so that they could just forget about it.”

  “You’re a mighty suspicious woman, Jessie.”

  “Wouldn’t you be in my shoes?”

  To her surprise, Logan straightened and appeared to give her question serious thought.

  “I don’t know,” he said after a few moments. He studied the light playing over her upswept hair, making it appear varying shades of spices. He wanted to take the pins from the thick coil and see her hair loose. Shaking his head to rid himself of the distraction she presented, Logan finished.

  “I can’t picture what it’s like to be in your shoes, Jessie. I can sure imagine how attracted I am to you, but I can’t imagine being you. I always figured a man’s and woman’s ways of thinking about things were at odds with each other. Women tend to complicate matters and a man’s real straightforward in his thoughts.”

  Jessie felt the increased racing of her pulse. She knew she shouldn’t push this, but couldn’t seem to help herself.

  “Are you?”

  “Am I what?”

  “Attracted to me?”

  The moment the words were said, Jessie clamped her hand over her mouth. Mortified that she had been so bold, she started to back away from him. What was wrong with her?

  Logan caught hold of her wrist in a gentle grip, stopping her flight. “Jessie,” he said solemnly, his lips twitching, “if you’re still asking, I’m sorry. Guess I’ll have to rectify that fault at the earliest opp
ortunity.”

  He drew her hand from her mouth and brought it up to his own.

  “Don’t,” she whispered, knowing the condition of her work-roughened hands.

  He met her protest with a brief shake of his head and turned her hand palm side up, then lightly kissed it. Still holding her gaze with his, he bit the fleshy pad below her thumb.

  “And now,” he murmured, drawing her closer, “seems like a mighty fine opportunity.”

  A shiver ran through her, then another when he repeated the small bite. She searched his hooded eyes, her gaze lowering to the flush mantling the golden darkness of his face. She stood so close to him now that their breaths mingled. A part of her reveled in his open desire for her, a part remained worried that he slipped so easily past her guard.

  “You are the devil’s own temptation, Logan.”

  The breathless way she spoke deepened his smile. “The only one I’m interested in tempting is you.” Still holding her hand, he rubbed it against his cheek. “Be honest with me, Jessie. Am I succeeding?”

  She glanced away a moment, then faced him. “Far too well, but I suspect you know that.” She pressed her fingers to his cheek. Regret filled her eyes as well as her voice as she disengaged her hand from his and let it fall to her side. “You already explained that I don’t have your experience. I—”

  “Jessie—”

  “No, please. Let me finish.” She stepped back a bit, needing the distance. “I’ve been very bold with you. I’ve said things to you I’ve never spoken to another man. Honesty is called for, Logan. I’m very tempted to give in to these feelings you cause inside me. Tempted, but I remind myself that it would be foolish.

  “The money you suddenly remembered,” she said, looking at the coins on the table. “It’s your means to leave here.”

  “Jessie, I didn’t mean to hurt you in any way.”

  A bittersweet smile creased her lips as she slanted a look at him. “I believe you. But that doesn’t change the way I feel.”

  Logan watched her looking at the money. The thought that formed had to be voiced. “Jessie, you didn’t think I meant to pay you like some nickel-a-ride daughter of joy?”