Outlaw Hearts

by Rosanne Bittner

  The one called Stanton hesitated. “Who the hell are you, mister? Really?”

  “None of your damn business. Just get that wagon ready!”

  The two men turned and walked toward the wagon, and Jake closed the cabin door. He hurried back to Miranda. Nemus lay groaning, now on his side, the chair still braced to his back with his arms wrapped behind it. Jake paid him no attention as he leaned over Miranda again. “Randy? Don’t be afraid. I’m taking you out of here. Everything is going to be all right.”

  “Hurts bad,” she wept. “Please don’t…touch me again. Let me…die.”

  He grasped her face, pressing his big hands to either side of it reassuringly. “Randy, it’s Jake. Nobody is going to touch you like that again. Do you hear me? It’s Jake.” She was so hot that the palms of his hands were wet within seconds after touching her. He wondered if she was beyond saving, wondered how he was going to live with himself if she died, knowing none of this might have happened if he had come with her when she asked. One thing was certain: if she died, Jack Nemus and the two men outside would also have to die. Then he would find Jennings and make the reverend pay for abandoning her. Maybe then he would just let himself be caught and hanged. There wouldn’t be anything left to live for anyway.

  In her own delirium, Miranda struggled to think straight. She was so sick. She had never known such pain. She was aware that strange men had been taking care of her, if it could be called that. She had vague, foggy memories of being naked, of men leering at her, touching her in private places. Her foot and leg hurt so bad, but no one seemed to be doing anything about it. She was sure she was dying and wondered why God didn’t let it happen quickly. The way she felt was certainly much worse than death. How she would welcome the blessed release if death claimed her.

  Hot, so hot, so much pain. The slightest movement sent excruciating agony from her foot through her whole body. She could remember the sound of the rattlesnake, remember the feel of the bite. She had cloudy memories of the Jenningses leaving her somewhere, with some man who said he would take care of her. She groaned at the memory of the man taking off her clothes, rubbing his hands over her body. She had begged him to stop touching her, to help her somehow. She had even asked him once to kill her.

  Now here was a man close to her saying he was Jake. Jake Harkner? That wasn’t possible. Surely she was hallucinating, probably on the brink of death. She hated the thought of dying alone out here where no one knew her. Would the wolves dig up her grave and eat her flesh? Would Wesley ever know what had happened to her? And Jake. He would never know either. Oh, the pain, the awful pain.

  Someone was wrapping the blanket tighter around her now, picking her up. Oh, it hurt so much to be moved! She screamed in protest, and again came the familiar voice. “It’s going to be all right, Randy. I’m taking you out of here and I’m going to help you.” She rested her head against a strong shoulder, opened her eyes to see traces of a scar on his neck, another small scar on his left jaw. Jake? It couldn’t be. If only she could think more clearly. Right now all she could think about was the awful pain. She wanted to talk, but all she could do was cry with the pain, cry in desolation. She had promised herself she would not cry over being left alone, but the pain was too much, especially when strange men were touching her, looking at her. Where was her Winchester? If she could just find her rifle, or her pistol, she could shoot them and make them stop touching her.

  Someone was laying her down again. Was that bright sunshine? Fresh air? It smelled good. She had smelled nothing but sweat and urine for days. “Hang on a little longer, Randy,” someone was telling her. It was a familiar voice. Jake? No, she told herself again, it couldn’t be. She heard a horse whinny, tried to determine where she was, whether or not she was in a bed. She felt movement then, was vaguely aware she must be in a wagon, going somewhere. But where? Was she being taken out for burial? Was this what it was like to be dead? Surely not. Surely with death the pain would go away, but it hurt worse than ever because she was being moved around.

  Everything after that happened as though in a strange dream. She had no conception of time, how long she rode in the wagon, where she was when someone lifted her down and laid her on soft blankets in green grass. She felt a light breeze. Someone drew her hair back and tied it at her neck, away from her face. “We’ll wash your hair later,” a man’s voice said.

  She slipped into a restless sleep. For how long she wasn’t sure, but when she awoke she was vaguely aware of a fire nearby. She felt herself being bathed then, gloried in the feel of the warm, wet rag, the smell of soap. It felt so good to be clean, and for some reason she didn’t mind that whoever was washing her saw her nakedness. Why didn’t it matter? He was so gentle. He slipped something over her head…a gown! Finally she had something to cover herself. She reveled in the feel of the soft flannel.

  “I’ve got to reopen the wound, Randy,” the man told her. “It’s going to hurt worse than anything you’ve ever known, but I’ve got to drain the infection and get something on it to help it heal, or you’re going to lose your foot. I’ll try to find some of your pa’s laudanum to help kill the pain.” He was leaning close now. “I’m sorry, Randy. It’s all I can do. I hate like hell to bring you even more pain.”

  She opened her eyes, finally able to focus them a little. Jake? It looked like his face, but it seemed too impossible. He had ridden off over a week before she had even left Kansas City. How could he be here? “Jake?” she whispered. “Is it really you?”

  “It’s me. You’re going to be all right, Randy. I won’t leave you for a minute now until I get you to Nevada.”

  She stared at him, trying to believe he was real.

  “I’d like to find that sonofabitch Preacher Jennings and blow him away for what he did, leaving you alone with those bastards at that trading post!”

  Jake! Such language! She almost felt like laughing. Who else would talk like that? And it was his face she saw hovering over her, his dark, handsome, familiar face. Fever and tears mixed with joy overwhelmed her. She said his name over and over, trying to convince herself she was not dreaming. He drew her into his arms and she sat up slightly and wrapped her own around his neck. Somehow he had found her, but how? And why? It didn’t matter for now. It only mattered that he was here. Jake Harkner had found her and he said he’d take her to Nevada.

  “Don’t let them touch me again,” she sobbed. “Those men…”

  “Hush, Randy. They won’t touch you again. You have my word.”

  His cheek was resting against her own, and it was comforting. “It hurts so bad, Jake. I’ve never known…such pain.”

  “I know. Once I drain it, it’s going to feel a lot better.”

  She wished she could stop crying, but everything seemed to hit her at once, her desperate fear of being left alone with the strange, rude men; the false accusations; the abandonment; her horror of being snakebit and the unbearable pain that followed; the thought that she would surely die alone on the prairie with no one who cared to pray over her grave. Most of all, the thought that she would never see Jake Harkner again. “I love you, Jake,” she sobbed, unable to control her emotions in her weakness. “Don’t let go. Don’t ever let go!”

  He held her a moment longer, saying nothing at first. He pulled her arms away then and made her lie back down. “You don’t know what you’re saying,” he told her. “You’re just sick and all mixed up right now, but that’s okay. In a few days you’ll be back to your old self.”

  Jake rose, turning away and breathing deeply, removing his hat and running a hand through his hair. “Jesus,” he muttered. Would she misinterpret the reason he had come to find her? All he wanted to do was repay her kindness by helping her get to Nevada. There was nothing more to it than that…or was there?

  She couldn’t have meant what she just said. She was just delirious, that’s all. She would probably forget all about it when she was better, proba
bly be horribly embarrassed, if she did remember. Women like Randy didn’t love men like him. It was then he remembered what he had shouted to Jack Nemus. She’s my woman, he had told the man. The words had come out so easily and felt so right.

  He shook away the unfamiliar emotions this woman stirred in him. First things first. She could die on him and there would be no more need to think about these feelings. There would only be a strange, unbearable emptiness in his life. He climbed into the wagon and searched through her trunk to find her father’s medical bag. Inside were three small bottles of laudanum. He also found a small surgical knife that he knew would cut better than his own pocketknife.

  He closed his eyes, breathing deeply. “God, let me do this right,” he said quietly. “And don’t let her die.” He climbed down, bag in hand, not even thinking about the fact that he had said a prayer for the first time since he was a little boy and used to pray with his mother.

  Nine

  Jake sat back and watched Miranda sleep, hoping she really was finally experiencing a peaceful sleep and not passed out again. He would not soon forget her screams of agony when he recut her wound and forced out the infection, and he had no idea if he had done any of it right. That had been yesterday afternoon, and she had tossed in fever and delirium since. The laudanum had done little to help deaden her pain, and he figured it was because the wound was just too badly infected. Early this afternoon her fever had finally broken, and she seemed to be resting at last.

  He leaned over the fire and lit a small stick, holding it up to a cheroot held between his lips. He lit the smoke and rested back against his saddle again, smoking quietly. Dusk was settling into darkness, and it was cool tonight. He studied Miranda’s pale skin in the firelight, the fine lines of her small face. He wondered if she would remember his holding her, bathing her; and he wondered how he was supposed to forget the look of her, the beautiful, firm breasts he had been so careful not to touch with anything but the washrag, the flat stomach and slender thighs, the golden hairs that hid that sweet part of woman he had not enjoyed in a long time. For now it was not so hard to see and touch her without having thoughts of passion and desire; but what about when she got well?

  He sighed, knowing what was happening to him and wanting to kick himself for it. These feelings were exactly what he had been afraid of, yet he had let himself go looking for her, fool that he was. Now he would have to fight his emotions all the way to Nevada, for he did not intend to bring the pain and sorrow into her life that any good woman would suffer hooking up with a man like him. No. He would simply get her to Nevada. That was what he had felt obligated to do. After that, he could get rid of the guilt and get on with his life, and she with hers. Maybe her brother had a place to live up there and she could have a home again.

  Her eyes fluttered open then, and he watched her a moment, trying to determine if she was really alert or still in a daze. “Randy?”

  She just stared at him at first, letting the reality set in. “Jake,” she whispered. “It really has…been you,” she added in a somewhat stronger voice. “I thought maybe…these past hours…days…I don’t even know how long it’s been. I thought it was…all in my mind.”

  He picked up another blanket and came closer to put it over her, touching her cheek with the back of his hand. “I found you yesterday at that trading post. I took you out of there and I lanced your wound to get the infection out.”

  Her eyes teared. “Those men…”

  “I don’t want you to think about them. Two of them are dead, and a couple more are wishing they were dead.”

  “What did you do…”

  “Doesn’t matter.” He took hold of her hand, the cheroot still between his lips. “What matters right now is how that foot feels. I’d like you to try to eat something.”

  How good his strong hand felt around her own small one. Jake was here! She could hardly believe her eyes. An outlaw, a wanted man, was looking after her. How odd that she felt safer with him than she had among the Jenningses or the men at the fort. The men at the fort. She shuddered at the vague memories, and Jake squeezed her hand.

  “What did those men do to me?”

  He rubbed a thumb over the back of her hand. “Nothing, at least not the worst. You’ve got nothing to be ashamed of, Randy. You were sick and they were filthy bastards who are wishing they would have taken better care of you. I think I’m more angry with the sons of bitches who left you behind in the first place. What the hell kind of so-called Christians were you traveling with, anyway?”

  She sniffed back more tears at the hurt. “The reverend’s nephew…Clarence. He was eighteen. He kept…bothering me…got mad when I told him to…leave me alone…thought because I was a widow…” She closed her eyes. “He did his best…to make me look bad. The reverend and…his wife thought…I was a bad influence. When I got…the snakebite, it just gave them an excuse…to leave me behind…said I’d slow them down.”

  Jake let out a sigh of disgust. “They’d better hope I never catch up with them. Hell, even I wouldn’t do a thing like that!”

  Miranda looked at him through tears, thinking how handsome he looked in the firelight, the cheroot between his lips. Some might think he looked dangerous, but she knew better. No, you wouldn’t do that, would you, Jake? “I don’t…understand…how you found me. Or why.”

  He sat down cross-legged beside her, wondering if she remembered what she had told him yesterday when he had held her. He hoped she did not, that it wasn’t even true. She shouldn’t love him. She was much too good for the likes of Jake Harkner. “I don’t understand the why myself,” he said aloud, “except that I felt like a bastard for not going with you like you asked. I kept thinking how guilty I’d feel if something happened to you. As it turns out, it’s a damn good thing I did try to find you. As for how, I just went to Independence and started asking around, rode poor Outlaw and my packhorse nearly into the ground trying to catch up. I just happened to stop at that trading post, spotted your trunk. I knew then something was wrong.”

  “My trunk! I…need it.”

  “I’ve got it. I kind of borrowed a wagon from the owner of that trading post. Figured he owed you that much. You couldn’t very well ride. Between that foot and wanting to bring your trunk, I needed a wagon.”

  Miranda smiled weakly. “I never thought…I’d see you again. I prayed for you…every day…thought about you…so many times, especially when I got scared. I wondered…if you were thinking about me too…worried if you were all right.” Her eyes teared anew. “I wanted so much…to see you again. It just…didn’t seem right…the way you left. And now…here you are…helping me get to Nevada. You see? You do have some good in you.”

  He grinned and moved away, setting a fry pan on the fire. “Don’t be putting labels like that on me. I just figured I still owed you, that’s all.” He took some potatoes from his supplies.

  You don’t fool me, Jake Harkner, she thought. “You took a chance, going…to Independence like that.”

  He shrugged. “I did like you said, stayed cleaned up, kept my guns off. People thought I was just an ordinary citizen. I found that Reverend Bishop and told him I was an old friend of the family. He told me about you traveling with the Jennings party.” He looked back at her. “You never answered me about how you feel. Can you eat a little? It would be the best thing for you. You need to get your strength back.”

  “I’ll try.” She moved slightly and realized her foot and lower leg were tightly wrapped. The pain was not nearly as bad as it had been for the last several, horrible days. “My foot feels much better.” She laid back, feeling under the blankets. She remembered someone bathing her, putting on her flannel gown. Jake? She felt a cloth wrapped between her legs, and embarrassment took over. She was grateful that at least it was dry. She tried to get up then to relieve herself, but could hardly get to a sitting position without feeling faint. In an instant, Jake was at her side.
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br />   “What the hell are you doing?”

  “I have to go…relieve myself.”

  “You can’t even walk.” He picked her up in strong arms and carried her several feet away out of the firelight. “When I put you down, don’t put any pressure on that left foot. I’ll raise your gown and keep hold of you when you squat. You don’t have to support yourself at all. Let me do it. Can you get that towel off you?”

  He kept one powerful arm firmly supportive around her middle under her breasts and lifted her gown with his left hand. Miranda wanted to die of embarrassment. “I can’t! I can’t do this with you here.” She started to cry.

  “Bullshit! I can’t see a damn thing just leaving the firelight like that. It’s black as tar tonight. Hell, you’re sick, Randy, and I’ve already seen everything there is to see, so just go. Hell, it’s better than having to clean up after you.”

  She removed the towel, sniffing back tears, realizing he was right. She couldn’t do this alone, and the need was too great to hold back. She forced herself to think about something else for the moment, wondering if there was any way she would be able to cure Jake Harkner of his constant cursing by the time they reached Nevada. Nevada. Jake was taking her. He had promised. She was sure she had heard him promise. She remembered an embrace, suddenly remembered she had told him she loved him. She couldn’t remember hearing him reply, wondered if he just thought she had said it in delirium. She clung to the strong arm that held her. “Do you…have paper?” she asked, brushing away tears.

  “Yeah, but I can’t let go of you to get it. Use the towel. Hell, it’s just water. I can wash the towel out in the river. Leave it right here and I’ll pick it up in the morning.”

  Miranda cleaned herself and Jake let go of the gown and picked her up again, carrying her back to the fire. She clung to him, weeping against his chest. “I’m sorry,” she told him. “When I asked you…to take me to Nevada…I didn’t mean…to be such a burden.”