by Linda Broday
“Won’t be the first time the odds were stacked against me. That piece of filth needed someone to stand up to him.” Jack shrugged. “Might as well have been me. I’d do the same again. Besides, I didn’t like how he was looking at Nora. We’d have had problems sooner or later.”
“You spoke a mouthful.” Poteet dumped the grounds from the empty coffeepot in the dirt, then filled the pot with water from a barrel and added coffee. He set it on the fire to boil.
Young Sawyer swallowed his mouthful of food. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, kid.” Jack rose and stood with Undertaker, his arm propped on the wagon. “How long were you traveling together, Sawyer?”
“Two weeks. He was real mean.” Sawyer glanced up, his lip quivering, trying not to cry. “What’s gonna happen to me now?”
“Do you have any family we can take you to?” Nora rubbed his back.
“None that I know about. My parents and two sisters died of the fever about a year ago. That’s when the peddler took me. I had to work to eat, but he was nice.”
Nora watched Jack’s eyebrows knit, saw his frown. He probably wondered the same thing she did.
“I’m curious.” Flames from the fire flickered on Jack’s face. He spoke in a tight voice. “Why did an outlaw like Bittercreek want you? He had to have something in mind to haul you around, and it wasn’t out of the goodness of his heart.”
The boy’s voice trembled. “He made me stand in the road in front of a stage to make it stop so he could rob it.” Sawyer licked his lips. “Sometimes he used me to draw attention away from himself and the things he was stealing. Once, he made me sneak into a corral and take the horses so he could sell ’em. Said he’d slit my throat if I didn’t. Then he gave me a gun and made me—made me shoot a man.” Sawyer’s blue eyes glistened with tears as he glanced up, whispering. “I’m an outlaw now. Do they hang little kids?”
“Of all the low-down, sorry-assed things to do,” Woodrow growled.
Jack clenched a fist. “No, they don’t hang kids, and you’re not an outlaw, so forget that.”
Tears stung Nora’s eyes as she put her arm around Sawyer. “You’ll come with us. We’re heading to Hope’s Crossing. It’s two or three days from here, I think.”
Jack knelt by the fire. “You’ll be welcome there, son, if you want to come. I reckon you’ve had a bellyful of being told what to do, so this time, the choice is yours. I can guarantee no one will mistreat you.”
“Sounds like a good offer to me, kid,” Poteet said. “I was left on my own when I was about your age, so I know how tough it can be. This fellow here, Jack Bowdre, is a fine man—just has one fault. He has the uncanny, god-awful ability to get into trouble without blinking nary an eye.”
The men chuckled. Nora smiled and asked Sawyer if he wanted more food, to which he said no.
She was happy to see the tension at the campfire melt away. She liked these three outlaws, even if they lived on the fringes of society. She didn’t kid herself about their chosen profession. Like Jack, they’d probably all done things—killed even—but mostly to stay alive. They appeared to be content to walk the world all alone, and, in a way, they were stuck in some kind of earthly prison of their own making. Wrong choices often led down the wrong path, and there was no backtracking. Her heart ached for men like Jack, Undertaker, Woodrow, and Poteet.
But if they could save Sawyer for a better life, they had to try.
“You don’t have to decide tonight. Let us know in the morning.” Nora patted his cold hand.
Sawyer swallowed hard. “I don’t have to wait. I’m coming with you. I ain’t gonna take a chance on Bittercreek getting me again.”
“He won’t as long as I’m alive,” Jack said quietly.
Nora nodded, suddenly unable to swallow past the lump in her throat. Sawyer’s decision made her happy. He needed someone to care about him, help him grow up to have honor.
It made their lives more difficult—they had the posse and now Bittercreek to try to avoid. They’d been lucky so far, but that could end at any moment. As much as Nora wanted to help, they might be putting the boy in even greater danger.
* * *
The men spent another cold night on the ground, next to the fire, giving Nora and Sawyer the wagon. Woodrow gave them an extra blanket of his, but she, in turn, wrapped it around Sawyer. The size of her heart plainly showed in the way she cared for the little lost boy. Jack had dozed between adding wood to the fire, but he was wide awake now as he sipped a cup of coffee, his gaze on Nora’s shapely figure as she and Sawyer gathered more limbs and sticks to cook breakfast.
“Don’t go too far!” he yelled. Bittercreek would love to get his hands on them.
Nora’s smile blinded him. “We won’t.”
The woman and boy already seemed like they belonged together. And he’d see to it that they stayed that way.
So much about Nora reminded him of the wife he’d loved, especially the way she cared about needy children. Probably animals too, if he could hazard a guess. Except snakes and rodents. A smile curved his mouth with the memory of her whacking the wood rat to death with Dollard’s boot. He might as well lump catfish in there too. She didn’t like those either.
The three outlaws cooked breakfast, and afterward, Jack, Nora, and Sawyer said goodbye.
Nora smiled and complimented each man on something, although finding even a small attribute to praise seemed to be a challenge, judging by the wrinkled lines on her forehead. Poteet appeared happy she’d complimented his suspenders, Woodrow his cooking skills, and Undertaker his soft heart.
Undertaker clasped Jack’s hand. “Be safe, my friend.”
“You as well.” Jack’s gaze went to the other two. “Never approach a bull from the front.”
Woodrow grinned and picked up the second line of the saying. “A horse from the rear.”
“Or a fool from any direction,” Poteet ended. “Take care of that woman and boy.”
“Count on it.”
Their breath fogged in the cool morning air, the sun just above the horizon. Jack couldn’t miss how attentive Sawyer was to Nora, helping her over rocks and across thorny patches. He was a good kid who’d had some tough breaks. If the posse gave chase, Sawyer would look after Nora. That eased Jack’s mind a bit. When his leg acted up, he could do little more than hobble.
He kept his gun loaded and a wary eye out for the posse and Bittercreek. Something told him they’d not seen the last of either—especially Deputy Marshal Seamus Belew.
Nothing would ever convince Belew that Jack had been on the right side of the law when he’d shot Belew’s brother. To Seamus, Max could do no wrong, but the truth was, he’d been helping himself to strongboxes off of stagecoaches for a while before that fatal day. Jack had been a lawman back then and happened to be riding shotgun. The brash young robber on horseback had burst from behind some trees and attacked the coach he was on, aiming to grab a gold shipment. They’d shot it out, and at the end, Max lay dead.
And now big brother wouldn’t let it rest until he made Jack pay.
“I wish I could shoot this bow and arrow.” Sawyer held it in front of him and pulled back the string. “Do you think maybe I can?”
“Sure. Go over there and practice.” Jack ruffled the gangly boy’s hair.
“Jack killed a rabbit with it,” Nora bragged. “He also killed one with a rock.”
Sawyer’s eyes grew round. “No fooling?”
“Jack is very skillful. If not, we’d surely have starved.” She met Jack’s gaze, and he grew warm. “He even fished without a pole.”
“I do not walk on water, no matter what Nora says.” He loved that she thought him more accomplished than most men. He didn’t have the heart to tell her that out on the Texas plains, folks lived off the land and were proficient in survival skills.
“How did you
fish without a pole?” Sawyer asked.
Jack related the feat in detail with Nora adding the color and commentary. “She’s leaving out the fact that the fish wound up down the front of her dress.” He could still remember in vivid detail the feel of her skin beneath his touch, both then and later, when they’d slept in the old ruins. His blood heated, recalling the satiny texture of her skin, the taste of her mouth, her curves pressed against him.
Damn! He shifted and drew his duster over the bulge in his trousers. Longing rose for the day when he could lay her on a soft bed and take his time exploring her lush body. He wouldn’t rush that.
Sawyer squinted up at him, his blue eyes sparkling. “I wish I had been there to see you catch that fish. Do you think you can teach me to do that?”
“Sure, kid. It’s not that hard. Just takes a lot of patience.”
The boy went to a mesquite thicket and played with the bow and arrow while they rested.
After a bit, Jack called him back and they resumed their journey. A little while later, they approached a rocky hill that had little vegetation covering it. He didn’t like the looks of it. There were no birds twittering about. The stillness seemed eerie.
“Let me take the lead and keep silent,” he said low.
“What is it?” Nora whispered.
“Maybe nothing.” Or maybe something. He’d learned to be careful, reminded of it even more so after Marshal Dollard had captured him. Careless men ended up dead.
He slid the gun from his holster.
A shot rang out, and Jack shoved Nora and Sawyer into the brush, then dove in after them.
Trouble had found him. Again. The only question worth asking was “who?”
Twelve
The projectile had come too close to Jack’s foot. His heart hammered. He scanned the thick brush, working his tongue in a mouth that had suddenly gone dry. Whoever hid among the rocks was good. He could detect no movement. Save for the absent birds, he would’ve had no warning.
The shooter could be anyone—Deputy Marshal Seamus Belew, Bittercreek, another posse member, or even Darius Guthrie still hunting Nora. Take your pick.
Sawyer’s thin body shook, and he sniffled quietly. Without shifting his gaze from the rocky hill, Jack put his free arm around him. “Don’t be afraid, son. I won’t let anyone hurt you. Or Nora.”
Nora moved against him and whispered, “Who do you think it is?”
“I don’t know. I’m going to have to take a look. You and Sawyer stay here and keep out of sight.” Jack handed her Dollard’s Colt, still loaded with Guthrie’s extra bullets. “Shoot if you have to.”
“Don’t worry.” Her hand was steady, her grip firm as she took the gun. Jack sensed a new determination, new assurance in her. Maybe it was her need to protect the boy that’d brought on some changes. “Be careful, Jack.”
He nodded and crawled through the tall brush, slowly making his way toward the spot where he’d seen the muzzle flash—a stand of mesquite at the foot of the hill. He had to be fast. That rifle shot would bring everyone from miles around, and the place would soon crawl with the posse. He didn’t like being separated from Nora and now Sawyer. They depended on him.
The need to hurry pounded in his brain as he reached a tall juniper. He kept a sharp gaze on the brush, searching for movement.
“I told you this wasn’t over!” The yell came from Jack’s right. The voice was familiar.
Bittercreek.
A chill curled along Jack’s spine, and his stomach clenched into a knot. He tightened his grip on the gun. “I couldn’t let you starve the boy. Come out and let’s get this over with. Your shot is going to bring everyone in three counties. They won’t mind finding your hide.”
Jack inched his way forward until he spied his quarry a few yards to the left with his horse. Bittercreek hadn’t seen him. Jack reached for a rock and threw it over to the right.
When Bittercreek swung and fired at the rock’s landing spot, Jack stood. “Drop it.”
The man turned, his top lip curling back from his teeth, his rifle pointed at Jack. “Told you we weren’t done. I want the boy. He’s mine, and I got plans for him.”
“Not going to happen. I can see why you need him though. You’re one dumb outlaw. It’s a mystery to me why they haven’t hanged you before now. The kid is a whole lot better than you. He told us what you made him do.” Anger washed over Jack, recalling the words. “I ought to kill you for that.”
“You would’ve already done it if you’d had the chance. I’m taking the kid back one way or another.”
“No chance in hell.” Jack listened for sounds of riders but heard nothing yet. “I’m guessing you have a job you want him to do. Is that about the size of it?”
“I ain’t telling you nothing. Tell you what, though. I got an idea that would work for both of us. What say I take him for two more days—treat him real nice—then I’ll give him back. I’ll be glad to be shed of the boy after that.”
“Nope. Drop the weapon.” Jack watched Bittercreek’s strange yellow eyes narrow into slits, and a thin smile formed.
“Don’t think so, Bowdre.” The man shouted over his shoulder, “Kid, get the hell out here now or I’ll kill him!”
Ice slid down Jack’s spine when he saw Nora stealing from the brush, with her gun pointed at the outlaw’s back.
What was she doing? He’d told her to stay put. Where was Sawyer? She’d never shot a gun before. What if she missed and hit him? His blood froze. If that happened, both her and Sawyer would fall into Bittercreek’s clutches. Jack’s heart pounded.
Nora came closer until she stood ten feet away. “Throw the gun down, Bittercreek!”
The outlaw stiffened with surprise and glanced over his shoulder. “Lady, you don’t have guts enough to shoot a man.”
Not bothering with a reply, Nora fired. She let out a surprised yelp when the force of the .45 propelled her arm up and her rear backward, the gun flying from her hand. The bullet struck Bittercreek below his right shoulder blade. Before Jack could stop him, the man staggered to his horse and leaped into the saddle. Blood had already soaked a good portion of his shirt.
“Hurry!” Nora got to her feet. “The posse’s coming. Glimpsed them through the trees.”
“Not without the kid.”
“He’s already ahead of us. We’ll catch up to him.”
Maybe Nora had saved them, especially if Bittercreek got away. The posse would assume Jack was the one who got shot and follow the blood trail—which would be good if it led in the opposite direction. And if they didn’t catch Bittercreek too soon.
He spied Sawyer several hundred yards in front and lengthened his stride, soon catching him. Jack breathed a sigh of relief to have them all together again. The afternoon sunlight added a bit of warmth to the day. No one spoke until they reached a small river about an hour later.
Anger that Jack had held back while they escaped boiled over as he faced Nora. “I told you to stay hidden with Sawyer back there. Why did you come after me?”
“I thought you might need me,” she answered hotly. “You’re welcome.”
“Don’t ever do that again. I had it under control.” Jack caught Sawyer’s worried gaze. He swallowed the rest of his irritation and began counting. He reached forty and kept going.
“Oh for God’s sake, Jack.” Nora rolled her eyes. “I didn’t mean to make you mad. All right? Next time you’re on your own. I swear, I don’t understand you.”
Her shoulders slumped. She started to turn away, and he grabbed her. “If I lost you, I’m not sure if I’d have the strength to rebuild my life again. You’re my world. I don’t know how it happened in so short a time, but there it is. Maybe being handcuffed together all that while drew us closer, let us get acquainted faster.” He lifted a tendril of golden hair. “All I know is that I don’t want to ever lose you, lady.
”
Nora released a sigh. “One day, I promise I’ll listen to you. I just had to know what was happening and to do something to help. I saw him holding the gun on you and thought he was seconds from firing. He blocked me from seeing you and your Colt, and I thought I had to act fast.”
“Maybe you just bought us more time. We’ll see if the posse assumes I was the one shot and take out after Bittercreek.”
She blinked twice. “Oh, then I helped. Can you take my gun? I don’t want it.”
Jack took it from her and stuck it in the waistband of his trousers. Sawyer gave them worried glances from where he stood, skipping stones.
“It’s all right, Sawyer,” Jack assured him. “Nora and I are just discussing things. Rest here with her while I backtrack a little and get rid of our footprints.”
The coltish boy’s eyes lit. “I can help, and it won’t take long at all. Please?”
Nora gave Jack’s hand a little squeeze, and he found himself agreeing. The kid needed to feel useful, and sometimes that helped to heal a spirit.
In short order, they wiped away all traces of them. Jack glanced up at the sky and frowned. The sun had slipped lower, and the town was at least another full day’s walking distance. Damn! Hope’s Crossing seemed to be moving farther away instead of getting closer. They’d lost too much time on Bittercreek. If they just had a horse, they could make it a whole lot faster. The grind was wearing on all of them.
One more night and day of hiding from the posse—and Bittercreek.
They’d have to spend another night under the stars unless he found something. He muttered a low oath. If he were alone, it wouldn’t matter so much. But Nora and Sawyer needed a bed and blankets.
They set off again with Jack looking for shelter. The area was riddled with abandoned adobe houses that sheepherders had once lived in when sheep filled the panhandle. All but a few had given up and returned to New Mexico Territory.
Over the next three hours, he kept his eyes peeled for one of those empty dwellings. If they couldn’t find an empty one, maybe the folks living there would give them water and food. His throat was parched, and he knew Nora’s and Sawyer’s were too. As he walked, he listened to their low voices. The boy spoke with longing of his parents and the home he’d left behind.
