by Janis Jakes
Billie’s gaze rested upon the man in front of her. He sat tall in the saddle with a silent but sure confidence. She was thankful to have him join her. Now she might make it to Arkansas alive. Once there, he’d be on his own getting back, but a man like Luke would have no trouble traveling alone. He knew how to hunt, track, and how to stay hidden.
He looked at her and unnerved her with that glance. “Ready?”
She nodded, keeping her lips pressed together and spine straight. She glanced back once more, closing her eyelids tight to keep the tears away then looked toward Luke.
He snapped the reins and sent his horse into a gallop. She did the same.
They stopped several hours later near a stream to refresh the horses and eat. Abigail had wrapped up some fried chicken and placed it in a bag for today’s meal. After that, it’d be pemmican and whatever they could get on the trail.
Luke slid from his horse, stretching his legs, and apparently searching the countryside for any hint that someone followed. He finally unrolled a blanket on the ground, inviting her to sit.
She hesitated, not sure she wanted to have a sit-down meal with him.
But he disappeared into the bushes.
She enjoyed the reprieve. Her backside already ached, but she dared not complain.
Luke returned after a while with a handful of berries. “How about a treat?”
“Thank you.” She took the dark fruit from him, devouring their sweetness.
He laughed. “Did it enter your mind to share?”
Pink colored her cheeks. “I’m sorry. I just thought you’d already—”
“I did. I just wanted to tease you.”
A grin broke out. It was good to see a more playful side to him even if she was the object of his joke. They had several weeks to spend together. She guessed he intended to treat her with a bit of kindness along the way instead of his former indifference.
“I saw a rock schoolhouse when I rode through Justice City. Was that where you taught?”
She pushed up from the blanket, dusting off her dress. Sorrow surrounded her, its grip squeezing her heart. “Yes. Don’t know if I’ll ever be allowed to teach again even if I clear my name.”
“Why not?” he asked. “You’re innocent.”
“Yes, but people will always wonder…”
“You can’t help what people think. You know the truth. That should be good enough.”
But it wasn’t. She wanted her name cleared and her reputation returned.
Talking about the loss of her profession, whether temporary or permanent, grieved her heart. She wanted the conversation to end. “Maybe we should go?”
“We’ll ride a few more hours and then rest the horses again, but I don’t want to stop for the night until dusk. We’ve got to stay far enough ahead that no one can catch us.”
She liked his plan. Even though it had been a while since there’d been any sign of Caldwell or his men, Luke had poked a hornet’s nest when he went probing around Justice City. They were as good as dead if either the sheriff or her former boss caught up with them.
Luke didn’t seem particularly worried. Maybe it was the life he lived that made him more composed. But the thought of dying by gunshot or hanging from a tree did not appeal. Her fear wasn’t something she could easily hide.
“When Caldwell’s men came by the cabin,” she began. “Abigail told them I’d gone to Mexico.”
“She’s smart like that. Let’s hope and pray that Caldwell isn’t smarter.”
But Caldwell hadn’t stayed alive as long as he had because of stupidity. He’d stolen money from miners, framed her, murdered Malcolm, and all without leaving behind any proof. Then he’d filed a claim with the insurance company to have the miner’s money restored—money he’d stolen in the first place. Criminally brilliant.
Of course, people had suspicions, but no one who wanted to remain alive dared to voice them. His ruthlessness preceded him. She was the only proof that slipped through his fingers, and Caldwell intended to do everything in his power to get rid of her, and now Luke.
“He won’t stop until he knows I’m dead.”
“We’ll see about that,” Luke said with confidence.
His words stirred a hope she prayed was not in vain.
12
As darkness drew near, Luke guided the horses up into the hillside and away from the canyons. He seemed to know a lot about the terrain. He moved with a resilient purpose, weaving about boulders and trees before stopping at a semi-hidden cave. “Let me go in first. I need to check for bears.”
Her hand rose to still the lurching of her heart. “And if you find one?”
“We’ll ride like the wind.” He stopped at the entrance, showing her several deep marks on the rocks surrounding the cave. “See that? Bear claws. They like to sharpen them on the rocks.”
A lump slid down Billie’s throat. Was he teasing her again? A clammy sensation spread across her limbs. He disappeared inside. She listened for the slightest sound. It seemed like forever before he reappeared, wearing a smile, and holding up a dead rabbit. “Good news. No bears, and better news—I found supper.”
By the time they finished dinner and tossed the remains down the hillside, stars lit the sky like specks of gold dust on a bed of ebony rocks. A faint breeze sifted about, moving in and out of the cave in a gentle swish.
Billie turned her face into the wind, enjoying the coolness. The scent of trees and damp earth wafted under her nose. “I can almost smell autumn. Guess I’ll spend winter in Arkansas this year.” The words made her melancholy.
A coyote sounded in the distance, and Luke tilted his head in curiosity. He gave a coyote call back as if expecting a response, but no sound came.
“How’d you learn to do that so well?”
“Comanche. My father’s people.”
She sat on the blanket only feet from him, her legs curled underneath her. He sat with knees bent and ankles crossed, much like she imagined his Comanche family and ancestors had sat. A fading campfire burned between them. There was something unsettling about being alone with him, but nothing she wanted to wish away.
“How did your father and mother come to marry?” Perhaps her question was too personal.
He didn’t seem to mind. There was no hesitation or frown. His expression remained relaxed and open. “My mother’s parents were missionaries and served the Comanche people. It was there where my mother and father met, fell in love, and got married. Her father performed the ceremony. When they all returned to Texas to start a sheep business, her father hoped his new son-in-law would learn the trade. But—” His gaze shifted away from hers. “My father went back to the old ways. He left my mother, married several other native women, came back to her long enough for Abigail to be born and left again. He was happy Abigail looked like my mother—said her life would be easier that way.”
“He didn’t stay even though he had two children with your mother?”
“No. He never stayed anywhere.” He reached down and stirred the fire with a twig. “He couldn’t adjust to my mother’s life nor did he want her with him and the Comanche. He said he wanted his children to learn the new ways. He believed the Comanche way was dying.”
She waited for him to continue.
“My mother taught me to read and write. My grandfather taught Abigail and me to shoot. Besides the fact I looked so different than the rest of my family, it was a good life. My mother made sure of it.” He grinned, laughing at a memory. “A traveling salesman brought his wares to our doorstep one time and commended my mother for taking in a savage. Said he admired her act of Christian charity. But my mother got so angry she chased him off the front porch with a wooden spoon. He never came back.”
The sound of the dying fire crackled and sputtered pieces of hot ash.
She let the moment hang between them before asking, “When was the last time you saw your father?”
“When I was in my teens,” he said. “He came and got me. Said I had to become
a man to be recognized as a Comanche. Go through a rite of passage.” His voice grew sullen, and his stare darkened. “I learned many things from his people, and I did what he said, but I never felt at home with the tribe, and I never finished the rite. My mother was against the ceremony, and so was my grandfather. I had become a white man on the inside even though I looked like my father on the outside.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“To him, it was a great disappointment. So, he returned me to my mother, and that was the last time I saw him.”
Pain froze within his features. The rejection must have rent his young soul. How could a father be so cruel? Did he not realize that his son and daughter needed him—that his wife needed him?
“So now you know the whole story of my life.”
She doubted that.
“We should get some sleep.” He rose, taking their horse’s reins and leading them deeper into the cave.
Billie stood. “What can I do to help out?”
He stopped, looking at her as if she’d grown a horn. “Just close your eyes and enjoy the rest.”
“Right here?”
“Yes. On the blanket. I’ll cover you up.”
“Where will you sleep?”
“Outside the cave, so I can hear if anyone or anything comes.”
He walked toward his saddle, removing the blanket.
Billie locked her hands together, prim and proper. “Luke, I don’t know what to say except thank you. I didn’t know if I’d make it to Arkansas by myself.”
“You’d make it. Any woman who can point a gun at a bounty hunter and tell him to drop his holster without blinking—”
“Just so you know—” She tried to hide the grin. “I was scared out of my wits. It wasn’t bravery that made me do it. It was fear—fear of dying in the dirt and no one knowing what happened to me.”
He took a step toward her. “You won’t have to worry about that ever again.”
Her breath came faster.
His gaze lowered to her lips.
Every part of her said yes, but she stepped back and the moment splintered. Something had happened—a spark, a flame, or maybe a full-fledged fire had ignited, and the thought terrified her even as it thrilled her.
“Good night, Billie Jo.” He held out the blanket.
She blinked several times to regroup. Her throat tightened. “Good night, Luke.” Her voice was a bare whisper. She took the blanket with trembling fingers and dampness clinging to her lashes that should not have been there. The man did something to her that no man had ever done. He stirred her.
With a glance, he made her knees weak. With a whisper, he siphoned desire from her being. Her lips longed to taste his—to search past their sweetness into the fullness of his mouth. She had never had such thoughts. How dare her flesh betray her. Didn’t she have enough on her mind?
Luke Lancaster would get her to Arkansas and then leave. Was that the man she wanted to give her heart and soul? No. She had not waited this long just to choose a vagabond as the love of her life. She did not want a relationship like Luke’s mother and father. She wanted something solid—something that would last.
Like an apple tree among the trees of the woods, so is my beloved among the sons. I sat down in the shade with great delight, and his fruit was sweet to my taste. Words she did not want to recall flooded her mind, leaping off the pages of the Bible that still lay beside her bed in Justice City. Beloved? He is not my beloved! He is a bounty hunter with a wanderlust spirit. How else can he know the paths, waters, and caves so well?
Let this trip end soon, Father. I can’t bear to remain in the man’s presence. My heart is weak. I fear it has betrayed me.
~*~
Luke stared out at the sky, chastising himself. He’d wanted to kiss her. She knew it. He knew it. Probably the skunks, squirrels, spiders, and snakes knew it. That would’ve been stupid. Three weeks on the road with a woman he’d come to have feelings for—and when had that happened anyway? Had it occurred when he learned she’d taken care of Abigail and little Henry in their time of need? When he heard Molly’s version of what happened at the bank? Or had it been when he saw her in that blue dress—looking soft and inviting? Maybe it was all three and then some. Maybe it happened when he first saw her at the river’s edge and realized there was more than met the eye.
He’d lived his life purposely not getting too attached to any woman. His line of work wasn’t conducive to a wife and family. So why’d he let his mind go there with Billie?
Thoughts pushed against reason—thoughts he tried to shove away as fast as they came. He could never be with Billie. He could never be with any woman—not as long as he worked for the agency. Yet, the notion continued to gnaw at him as if sent from a divine Source that would not be silenced.
He peered into the cave. Through the moon’s rays, he could see the curve of her back, and her hair splayed out past her shoulders, down to her waist, and onto the blanket. How had a teacher from the small town of Justice City, Texas, got in such trouble? Was it as simple as being at the wrong place at the wrong time, or was it more than that? Perhaps a setup from the very beginning?
It was impossible to conceive Billie Jo ever deserving what was happening to her right now. He had to get back and talk to Theo. Surely, the agency had their undercover deputy in place by now. And couldn’t they look at past records and see the total amount deposited in Caldwell’s bank and the total amount moved out?
Caldwell and McGregor would end up in jail or dangling from a noose. They had to pay for what they’d done. People didn’t commit such crimes and get away with them. He’d see to it. But until then, he had to keep Billie Jo alive. She was the only one who could tell the truth.
It wasn’t time to let her know that someone followed him. As long as the tracker kept his distance, no need to add more worry to her shoulders. She already carried enough. Besides, what could she do about it besides look over her shoulder every few seconds? Then whoever it was would grow suspicious and up their game. Better their stalker remain unaware. Luke would deal with it soon enough.
A low rumbling sound raked through the bushes only feet in front of him—moving upward toward the cave. A loud huff sounded and then the snapping of branches. An animal odor wafted that curled his toes.
Luke jumped up, climbing into a tree to get a better look. He shimmied up the bark, glancing out into the illuminated night.
Please let it be a wild boar or a deer or anything but a—
A massive black bear lifted his nose into the air.
No!
At least the beast would find the rabbit remains from their dinner first. That would give him time to wake Billie, grab the horses, and get out of there. When it came to short sprints a black bear could take a horse every time. Their only hope was a strong head start. He just had to remain quiet enough and pray that the wind wouldn’t shift before he made his move.
With teeth clenched and muscles wound taut, Luke maneuvered silently down the tree with clean movements that landed him on the ground a good twenty feet away from the bear. A hungry bear could cross that space before he had time to run. He moved with quick precision toward the cave, walking as the Comanche had shown him to keep from making a sound.
Billie slept soundly.
He shook her shoulder.
She rose up onto an elbow and stared at him in startled confusion.
He held his fingers to his lips. “Don’t make a sound. We’ve got company.”
“Caldwell?”
“No. A bear. Grab the blanket. Get on your horse. We’ve got to move. Now.”
She stood without a word. Her horse neighed as she pulled herself up.
A groan slipped from Luke’s lips. “Go now!” he yelled.
Billie nudged her horse, and they flew out the cave opening, Luke directly behind her just as the bear broke through the brush. Wild eyes shone green in the light of the full moon as a shadow rose and growled, showing teeth that still held bl
ood and bone fragments from the rabbit carcass.
Her horse rushed forward, sensing danger was near, Billie Jo holding tight to the reins. She glanced back once, her loosed hair whipping about her face.
The bear moved toward them several feet, and Luke feared it would give chase, but it stopped and stood again—leaving them with a growl that felt as if it shook the entire hillside.
Luke didn’t stop until they’d crossed a stream and then passed back over the water several miles down the dusty path. That would get rid of their scent. Finally, he tugged on his reins, halting his horse on the bank, and letting him draw a heavy drink. “I know another place we can bed down for the night, but it’s a few hours down the road.”
Billie looked as if she might lose her dinner. Her hand rested on her belly. “I don’t think I can sleep in another cave—not after seeing that bear so close.”
“This isn’t a cave. It’s a house. One I’ve stayed at before while tracking outlaws.”
Her hair cascaded down her shoulders and body in a shimmery, red-gold veil. He looked away, half afraid he might reach out and touch the silken threads. Now was not a good time to think such thoughts. She might laugh in his face, and he wouldn’t blame her one bit. What would a beautiful teacher want with a half-breed bounty hunter? Even as the thought left his mind, another thought penetrated his soul. A powerful whisper—unexpected but piercing.
You are exactly who I created you to be. Exactly.
The thought shocked him so much that he held his breath for several seconds before finally exhaling. OK. He was who he was supposed to be. There was no questioning that truth. Now, he just wanted to understand what to do with the guilt of the past. Was that meant for his shoulders, too? Or was there a safe place to hide the pain where he’d never see it again? Did the same Voice Who’d spoken to him want him to suffer the burden of what had happened for the rest of his life?
