Sinfully Supernatural

by Multiple

  She hesitated. “Promise?”

  Sam sighed. He stretched the towel out in front of him and closed his eyes. “Promise.”

  He waited. At first, only silence met his gesture. His lungs burned from holding his breath. The first ripple of the water warned him she was moving and he exhaled in relief.

  “Keep them closed.” The water splashed, signaling her exit. A damp hand brushed his and then the towel was taken away. He opened his eyes and found her standing in front of him, hair dark and dripping where it lay on her shoulders, the towel wrapped around her torso and fell to her knees.

  He envied the linen for how tightly she wrapped it around her curves.

  “You promised to keep them closed.”

  “I closed them for you to get out of the water. You’re out now.” Tempted to caress the damp skin for heat, he clenched his fists and dropped them to his sides.

  Scarlett rubbed a thumb over the corner of her eye. He flinched at the first sign of tears she’d ever displayed. Contrition was a bitter taste in the back of his throat.

  “Why are you doing this?”

  “Because you fascinate the hell out of me.” The blunt truth in his words was startling for both of them. But he embraced it. “I don’t understand you and I sure as hell don’t understand what I just saw in there.”

  She looked away from him, white teeth nibbling at her lower lip. “You shouldn’t have come in here.”

  “I know.” He conceded. But he could not unsee what he’d witnessed. “But I’m glad I did.”

  “Why?” Her chest rose and fell with long, panting sighs. Was it desire? Fear? The lack of shimmer in the air suggested she wasn’t angry. If he was right and the fire came when her emotions slipped out of control.

  If he was wrong, well…

  …he’d been burned before.

  “Honestly, Miss Scarlett,” Sam reached for his hat, to give his hands something to do. He shaped the brim and studied her. “Because I’m glad I know you can do whatever the hell that was. Now will you explain it to me?”

  “I can’t.” She shook her head, but he heard the ‘won’t’ under the can’t.

  “Why not?”

  “I just can’t.”

  He chose another tactic. “It can’t possibly be any worse than bank robbery.”

  She rewarded him with a half-hearted smile and a strangled chuckle. The tears shimmering in her eyes slipped free and she swiped at them with the back of her hand. “Marshal…”

  “Sam.”

  Her smile strained, but remained a smile. “Sam.”

  “Better.”

  “I can’t explain this to you. Please don’t ask me.”

  Sam pulled his knee up, resting his wrist on it and studied her. “There is a difference between can’t and won’t. You can explain it. You don’t want to. I can understand that.”

  “Can you?”

  Oddly enough, he could. “Yes. But you need to understand that right now, your life is in my hands. You’ve persuaded my father and brothers to your cause without even trying and I am rapidly discovering that I want to be a part of that cause, but the law is the law.”

  “And you uphold the law.” Her words were quiet, but her gaze searched his face and he forced himself to keep his expression even.

  “Yes, ma’am. I do.”

  Her shoulders sagged. “Marshal…”

  “Sam.” He reminded her.

  “If you uphold the law, then you’re the marshal.”

  Frustrated, he clenched his fists and rose, regretting it when she backed up to the edge of the water. He held up his hands in front of his chest and took a step away from her, pacing until she had room. The rising sun was kissing the edges of the treetops, cutting through the steam.

  Her expression was wary as he reached for the star on his breast pocket. He unpinned it and set it down on a rock closer to the tree line. He swiped at the spot on his breast pocket where it had hung and looked at her.

  “Sam.”

  Her slow nod unclenched the tension inside of him. If she couldn’t trust the marshal with her secrets, could she trust the man?

  “May I get dressed first?”

  Sam allowed a reluctant nod. It might be less distracting if he wasn’t thinking about the damp secrets hidden behind the towel. At her expectant look, Sam sighed and turned his back. He strained for sounds of her movement in the silence behind him.

  “Scarlett,” he kicked the dirt in front of him. What could he really say to comfort her? Whatever her story was, he would still have to reconcile it with her bank robbery. The gold was back, but that didn’t mean the judge wouldn’t still hear her case. She may only get hard labor instead of the hangman’s noose. Still.

  “Miss Scarlett.” He tried again. “I don’t know if I can reconcile what I saw with anything you tell me. But I promise. I will listen. You may not trust me, but I give you my word, I will keep your secret.”

  “I’m sorry.” He jerked around at the whispered words and grunted, catching the log to the side of his head. He crashed down, pain and fury blazing across his vision. His last sight was of her sorrowful face above. “I’m really very sorry.”

  Then the little Minx kicked him with her sweet little foot and he saw nothing else.

  Chapter Eleven

  Scarlett winced as Sam’s head lolled to the side. She crouched and put her hand on his chest. Shivers of awareness tingled up her spine at the warm, hard surface. His heart beat, he still breathed. His head would hurt when he woke up and she was sorry for that. “I’m sorry,” she whispered the hurried apology as she unbuckled his gun belt and tried to ignore the way his britches shaped over his hips.

  He was a big man and she struggled to pull the belt free. Casting a look around, she stripped off his boots and threw them into the woods. She was tempted to strip the rest of him, but decided against it. She tightened his gun belt over her own hips, nearly looping it twice to make it fit and strapped the holster to her thigh.

  With one last, lingering look, she fled through the copse of trees, pausing only long enough to pull on her boots. The sun was midway up the morning sky. The ranch was awake. She looked from the main house to the barn to the winding stretch of streams and the lazy cabins planted along their banks.

  Escape was paramount, but there were too many men in the barn. Too many eyes to see her. Too many hands to stop her. Scarlett’s gaze traveled north. Beyond the house and just over the rise where the hills began to swell were the large tracks of land were turned over to free ranging horses and cattle.

  Decided, she ran. The gun weighed heavily against her thigh and her lungs burned as she pushed herself. Fear nipped at her steps. Fear that someone in the house would notice her absence. Fear that Sam would wake too soon. Fear that her brothers would arrive to rain hell down on the ranch before she could escape.

  At the lip of the first hill, she dared a glance back, half-expecting the whole ranch to be on her. It was a surprise to see the morning activity remained much the same, with movement around the barns, horses coming and going and even life stirring around the cabins.

  She blew out a breath and hurried on. It didn’t take her long to find the first set of rails marking pasture and beyond that, dozens of horses, mostly bays with a scattering of paints grazing in the morning sun. Scarlett tried to remember what Micah told her about the horses. The yearlings and two year olds were kept closer to the house and the barn, earning turnout to the grassy pastures only after they were tame.

  Trained horses meant they would carry a rider bareback or with saddle. Since she didn’t have a saddle and didn’t dare return to the barn for one, bareback would have to do. Thankfully, she didn’t need a saddle to ride, although her bottom might regret it later.

  The need for escape was a driving force. Sam knew her secret. He’d seen her start fire. He’d seen the fire blossom around her. It was a dangerous secret. A secret that could get her family hunted, killed. It had hap
pened before.

  Quanto told them stories of the gifted ones. Tortured. Hung. Staked.

  Burned.

  Her mouth twisted in a grimace. Their gifts were blessings and curses. Blessings because they allowed them a freedom most people would never know.

  A curse, because those same gifts inspired fear. Fear killed.

  Scarlett shook her head and concentrated. Three mares grazed to the northeast and she jogged towards them, slowing to a walk when they looked up. Horses were prey animals. You had to be confident, but sidle when you approached. Too sudden and too direct and they were just as likely to bolt.

  Even those well trained to accept human companionship.

  She wished she had a rope or bridle, but she would have to trust that the Kane method of horse raising was as effective as Micah claimed. A dark brown mare with a half-moon of white circling her rump whickered at Scarlett, padding towards her.

  Curiosity, not fear, glimmered in the mare’s gentle eyes.

  “Hello beautiful,” she murmured, turning her palm out for the mare to lip. “I don’t have any treats. But I will try to find you some if you can do me the favor of letting me ride for a time.”

  A frisson of alarm skated up her spine.

  Was she really stealing a horse?

  Somewhere, a mischievous spirit such as those Quanto talked to, must be laughing.

  The mare snuffled at her shirt, allowing Scarlett to stroke her hands over the velvet soft face and back behind her ears. She scratched slowly, letting the mare get used to her scent and her touch. The mare turned, sidling as though giving an invitation and Scarlett smiled.

  “Thank you, beautiful. I will do my best to see you returned home as soon as I am back with my brothers.”

  Not stealing the horse.

  Borrowing her.

  And she’d asked the mare for permission.

  Not that Sam was likely to see that way. Another pang of regret thudded in her chest. She hoped she hadn’t hurt him too badly. But it was safer for him, safer for them all, if she just vanished. Let him come up with some story to explain what he witnessed, but she didn’t dare. She couldn’t risk her brothers…Quanto…any of them.

  Curling her fingers into the mare’s mane, she bounced up and threw her leg over her back, settling gently on the mare’s back. Good to Micah’s word, the mare stood rock still until Scarlett was in place and then broke into a ground-eating lope at the touch of her heels.

  Scarlett aimed the mare north. Dorado was to the west, because they’d chased the rising sun, but she didn’t dare head directly back. Better to angle her escape. She had no idea how large the spread really was, but all she needed was to ride until nightfall when Buck might sleep.

  He could find her in dreams.

  Scarlett paralleled a streambed for a time, using the water to cross out from behind another set of fences. She wasn’t even an hour north when she saw the rider cantering towards her. Her stomach plummeted.

  Micah waved his hat as he brought his horse closer and Scarlett pulled the gun. Trusting her legs and her hand on the mare’s mane to keep her steady.

  “Miss Scarlett, good morning.” He drew back on the reins, the chestnut stallion nearly a hand higher than her own mare. His smile faltered at the sight of the gun. “Miss Scarlett, this isn’t a good idea.”

  “Perhaps not and I am very sorry, Mr. Kane.” It was better to think of him at a distance. His friendly, if wary, smile adding to the package of guilt she was already carrying.

  “Scarlett,” Micah held up a gloved hand. From the dust on his chaps to the sweat on his face, she suspected he’d been riding the land’s perimeter. From her arrival, Jed had increased the men on watch.

  To protect her.

  She swallowed.

  “No.” She kept the gun steady, resisting the urge to gesture with it. “Just dismount and strip the saddle.”

  Micah sighed, his expression so much like Sam’s that her heart hurt. He dropped off the stallion easily and began unbuckling the girth. “Miss Scarlett, running isn’t the answer. Pa’s already sent Jason to the Governor. He’s applying for a dispensation to have the Governor decide rather than the circuit judge. Just give him some time.”

  Scarlett bit the inside of her lip. The Kanes had all been extremely kind to her, kinder than she deserved, but it was too late. Sam had seen her fire. It didn’t matter whether it was a federal judge or the governor making the decision, she couldn’t be here anymore.

  Micah paused, as though sensing her hesitation. “Just give us some more time? You’ve been so ill. It can’t be good for you to be racing bareback off across the hills.”

  “Finish taking the saddle off, please. I don’t want to have to shoot you.” She wasn’t even sure she could shoot him. Micah’s look said as much as he pulled the saddle off. The stallion tossed his head once.

  “Drop it.”

  Micah obeyed.

  “Bridle next.”

  Shaking his head Micah freed the bridle, the stallion lipping the air at the freedom. He dropped the bridle onto the saddle and waited. “Should I send him on his way now?”

  “Yes, please.”

  Micah gave the horse a gentle slap on his rump and the stallion trotted away, pausing after a few feet to drop his head and graze. Micah didn’t quite smile as he met her gaze.

  “Scarlett, don’t go.”

  “I have to.”

  “No, you don’t.” His expression gentled, but he didn’t move in her direction. Her arm was getting tired of holding the gun, but she concentrated on keeping it still.

  “I do. Take off the gun belt. Put it with the rest and start walking west.”

  Micah sighed and this time he did take a step forward. “No.”

  “What?”

  “I said no. This is ridiculous. If you really want to go, go. But I don’t think you’re going to shoot me and you’re having enough trouble staying on the mare’s back without firing that gun. So, no.” He was just a step or two away from reaching her side when she thumbed the hammer back.

  He frowned.

  “Please, Micah. Just do what I ask.”

  “Where are you going to go?” He put his hand to the buckle, his gaze never leaving her face. “Do you even know where you’re riding?”

  “It doesn’t matter. I’ll make sure I leave the mare somewhere safe if I can’t send her back and have them send word to you so you can get her back.”

  “Her name is Crescent’s Dawn, for the half moon on her rump.” Micah wrapped the belt around the holster and gun, tossing it over to land in the grass next to the saddle and bridle.

  Scarlett hadn’t needed to know that. Guilt gnawed at her. “Okay. Start walking.”

  He stood still, folding his arms across his chest. His chin set in stubborn fashion. He gazed at her evenly with dark brown eyes, so like Sam’s they made her heart hurt. “Sam is going to come after you. A lot of people are going to come after you.”

  “Are you going to?”

  “Only if you ask nicely.” White teeth flashed with a quick grin. “And maybe even if you don’t. Don’t run.”

  “I’m sorry, Micah. I wish I could explain, but I can’t. It’s not safe for any of you if I stay. It’s so much better if I go.”

  “No ma’am. I don’t believe that.”

  Scarlett wanted to scream. Why couldn’t he just go? Why couldn’t he just walk away?

  “Micah, please.” Her voice broke.

  “Dammit. I hate to see a lady cry.” He backed off a step and then another. “But wait.” Turning on one heel he strode over to the saddle. She stared at him, disbelieving as he pulled off the canteen and carried it back to her. He came right up to her, ignoring the gun and putting a hand on her leg.

  “Take this. You’ll need it if you keep heading north. Water gets sparse. It’s rockier to the northeast, but there’s water and caves there for shelter.” His hand was warm on her knee. Scarlett uncocked the g
un and slid it back into the holster.

  “Thank you.” She took the canteen’s strap and looped it over her shoulder and across her chest.

  “You’re welcome. Is Sam all right?” He nodded to the gun on her thigh. Of course he recognized the pearl handle.

  “He should be. But I don’t think he’ll be happy when he wakes up…”

  Micah frowned, his fingers tightening on her knee. “He didn’t touch you…”

  Scarlett’s eyes widened at the implication and shook her head. “No. I hit him. In the head.”

  “Wouldn’t be the first time.” His smile relaxed, a hint of mischief inching his lips upwards. “He’s got a hard head. All right. Go on then. I’ll give you an hour.”

  “And then?”

  “Well then I’m coming to find you darlin’,” Micah’s grin was infectious and Scarlett laughed in spite of herself.

  “One hour.” He held up a finger. “Remember, north and east. Rocks, streams, caves. But keep the gun handy and listen to Dawn, she’ll warn you if any predators are about.”

  “Micah.”

  “Yes ma’am?”

  “Thank you.”

  “You ride safe. I’ll see you soon.” He slapped the mare on the rump gently, startling her into a walk. Scarlett’s legs tightened to stay steady and with a single tap, they were loping away.

  North.

  And east.

  When she dared a glance back, Micah stood next to the stallion, staring in the direction she rode.

  She tapped the mare’s flanks again.

  Hours later, the sun soared directly over her head. But she saw no signs of pursuit. She’d followed Micah’s directions, going north and cutting east. She’d found another streambed, following it for a time before turning east fully. She was riding away from Dorado now. Deeper into rockier hills decorated with spruce, scrub and the occasional half-oak. The grass here was yellowed, but Dawn didn’t seem to mind as she nibbled her way through the break. Scarlett used some gathered leaves to branch to scrape the sweat off the mare’s side before letting her loose. She watched the landscape behind her, aware that they couldn’t linger here for long. It was hours before dark and even hoarding her water in the canteen, she’d have to refill it soon.