by Linda Broday
She stared at the dark-haired man outside. He was somewhere in his thirties and wore black trousers with silver conchas down his leg. Sunlight glinted off the metal disks. She’d never seen anyone quite like this man who sat astride a black gelding. He reminded her of a picture she’d seen in books of Mexican vaqueros. He was the furthest thing from her mind of a mail-order-bride procurer.
“Yes, I’ve waited a long time to meet him.”
Sawyer followed them out. Luke stopped when Ridge called out to him and dismounted.
Ridge and Luke clasped hands in greeting. “Let me introduce you to Miss Lenora Kane. Although she prefers Nora. She just arrived today and has quite a story.”
Sawyer glanced up at Luke with curiosity, patting the gelding’s neck.
Luke’s large, warm hand enveloped hers in a firm shake. “Glad to meet you in person, Miss Nora. Actually, you’re why I came. I wanted to make sure you arrived safely. I meant to be here last week but got delayed.”
“The stagecoach wrecked, and Jack and I have been walking for many days.” The dark eyes beneath the brim of his Stetson were sharp and arresting. She had a feeling there was nothing that escaped his notice. “I apologize for my appearance. Sawyer and I rode in this morning with Tally and haven’t had a chance to clean up. Mr. Legend, Jack is still out there. The posse is after him, and we got separated. I’m afraid for his life. One deputy marshal named Belew wants to kill him.”
“I want you to tell me everything, but first I’d like to meet this young man. Is he yours?”
“Meet Sawyer Gray.” Nora laid a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Jack rescued him from an outlaw named Bittercreek.”
At mention of the dirty, yellow-haired barbarian, Luke’s face hardened. He quickly shuttered his eyes and turned to Sawyer. “I’m happy to meet you, Sawyer.” Luke shook his hand. “Have you met Ely Carver yet? He’s about your age.”
“Not yet. I have to see to Nora and baby Willow first.” Sawyer sniffled and dragged his sleeve across his nose. Nora hoped he wasn’t getting sick.
She smoothed his hair. “Honey, Willow and I are fine. Go make friends with Violet and Ely.”
Ridge called to some children playing nearby and introduced them to Sawyer. Before long, he ran off with them to be just a little boy instead of a grown man.
Once they were out of earshot, Nora turned to Luke. “Forgive me if I’m mistaken, but you seem to know Bittercreek.”
“I do. If the boy was with him, I can only imagine what he went through.” Luke lightly slapped the reins of his horse against his leg. “Who is this baby he mentioned?”
“A newborn Jack and I found lying next to her dead mother.” She glanced toward Jack’s and her little house. “Let’s go inside and sit. I have a lot to tell you that you need to know. And I want to thank you for putting me in touch with Jack. We’re perfect for each other.”
She led the way into the parlor. Luke took a chair and Ridge stood at the window. She told him about the wrecked stage, the posse, Belew, Bittercreek, and the culmination of everything at the soddy.
“And now he’s out there alone, running for his life.” Her voice broke. “Even now, they might’ve killed him.”
Luke rose and sat next to her on the sofa. He took her hand. “If there’s one thing I know, it’s that Jack can take care of himself. He’s done it for years and has outrun the best.”
Ridge turned away from the window. “Clay’s already looking for him. Might’ve found him by now.”
“Even better, but I think you and I should head out. Gather some food for us while I telegraph my wife and eat something. I don’t want Josie to worry. She has enough with a sick baby.”
“What’s wrong with Elena Rose?” Ridge asked.
“Doc says it’s measles and she should be fine, but you know how Josie is.” Luke turned to Nora. “Josie had to nurse me back to health when I got shot and nearly died two years ago. Ever since then, she goes overboard whenever Elena or I get a sniffle.”
Nora smiled. She liked this man, and not only because he’d helped her escape Flynn O’Brien. “I think Josie and I must be sisters. I can’t wait to meet her.”
She wondered how Luke came to be in the mail order bride business but decided that was a topic for another time. “I can’t begin to thank you enough for going to help Jack. Two nights ago, we married each other under the stars. He’s as much my husband now as if we’d married in a church in front of a preacher.”
“We’ll find him. Ridge, we should get busy.” At the door, Luke took Nora’s hands and kissed her cheek. “Try not to worry. I’ve never lost a bride or groom yet.”
Nora returned to the sofa and sank back, breathing a sigh of relief. With so many looking for Jack, they’d find him and bring him home. A knock sounded, and Nora opened the door to find Tally on her step, her arms full.
“I had to guess at your size, but I think these might fit.” Tally came inside and handed her three dresses, then she went back out for a valise. “I brought petticoats and everything else you’ll need, except for shoes. We have a good selection over at the mercantile for you to choose from. Clay is a saddler and keeps the store well-stocked with boots.”
“I can’t believe your generosity.” Nora gave her a hug. “I was wanting to use the bathing room upstairs but didn’t know what I’d put on.” She glanced down at her bedraggled dress. “I’m burning everything I have on. They’re beyond repair.”
Tally glanced at her feet. “I’ve been wanting to ask but have held back. Why are you wearing men’s boots?”
“I couldn’t walk fast enough in my shoes, so Jack first exchanged them with a dead sheriff’s boots, then with a smaller pair he took off a tracker who was looking for me. Jack left Darius Guthrie tied up, unconscious, and stripped of his clothes.”
Tally grinned. “If that doesn’t sound like Jack, I don’t know what does.”
Nora recounted that tale, then moved into him using all her petticoats, roping the cow, and the fish down her dress. Before long, they were holding their sides from laughing so hard.
“And Jack has this odd thing where he counts whenever he gets irritated. I tell you I’ve never heard so much counting in my life. Whoever taught him his numbers should be commended.” Both women burst out laughing again.
Finally, Tally left Nora to draw her bath. Dr. Mary sent word not to worry about the baby, that the little darling was warm and fed. Determined not to let anything spoil the moment, Nora sank into the hot bath and couldn’t erase the grin from her face.
Sheer heaven. She rested her head against the high back and closed her eyes, letting the warmth seep into her bones. Nothing had ever felt so good, so satisfying in her entire life.
Her thoughts drifted to Jack. Where was he? Was he cold and alone?
Tears trickled down her cheeks. Had she found love only to lose it?
“Please don’t die, Jack. I don’t want to live without you.”
Nineteen
A twig snapped. The sound penetrated Jack’s dream like a rifle shot. He jerked up, bathed in sweat, his heart pounding. His gaze swept left and right, but he could see nothing in the night shadows. Had he merely heard the sound in a dream, or had it been it real? His hand tightened around the butt of the Colt that rested on his stomach.
The enemy was so close he could smell them. He pulled to his feet and moved silently through the brush.
All of a sudden, the figure of a man flew at Jack, knocking his weapon to the ground. Jack swung around and landed a fist in the man’s face, sending him backward into a rock wall.
Light from the moon revealed the ugly face and dark, glittering eyes of Bittercreek.
Jack breathed heavily. “You!”
“I came to kill you, Bowdre.” Bittercreek wiped blood from his mouth. “You shouldn’t have taken the boy. Messed up my plans good. You think you’re better ’n
me.”
“I know I am.”
Bittercreek shoved away from the bluff wall and launched himself at Jack. The men rolled over and over on the ground, Jack struggling to get the upper hand. Guttural grunts and groans filled the air.
They got to their feet and Bittercreek delivered a punishing fist to Jack’s unprotected jaw. Jack’s head whipped back, his spine arching. Sharp pain rushed through him and spread out along his body. Jack gathered his wits and grabbed the man around the middle, slamming him to the ground.
Jack followed, pinning his adversary. “You’re crazy. You know that, don’t you? Get it through your thick skull—the kid didn’t want to be with you. You starved him, for God’s sake!”
Bittercreek let out a loud yell and threw Jack off, then scrambled on all fours toward his gun lying several feet away. Jack grabbed his leg and pulled him back, jabbing a fist into the man’s kidneys. The air rushed from Bittercreek’s mouth. The man bared his teeth like a wild animal and yanked a knife from his boot.
Ice slid down Jack’s spine. He held his hands wide, readying for the attack.
Moonlight glinted off the sharp blade. “I’m gonna gut you like a fish, Bowdre.”
The first slash missed, but as the outlaw came back across, he caught Jack’s upper arm, slicing through his duster and into flesh. Pain seared along his nerve endings, stealing the ability to breathe. Blinking hard, he leaped back, his gaze searching for a piece of wood, anything to defend himself with.
Nothing but small twigs.
His harsh breath fought through his mouth that had become so dry he was unable to draw spit. Nausea rose in waves. For a second, he thought he saw stars and his head swam in a dizzying whirl. Gaining control, he danced out of reach, searching the ground for the gun but could only conclude the weapon must’ve gotten covered in the scuffle.
Fear rushed through him. To win this fight, he had to stay calm and focused. Slow, measured breaths. In and out. The fear ebbed away and he tamped down his rage. He grabbed a handful of dirt and threw it into his opponent’s ugly face.
Blinded, Bittercreek slashed the air wildly before running at him.
A bead of sweat rolled into Jack’s eye, stinging. “Is that all you got, you piece of shit?”
Rage burned in Bittercreek’s eyes as he lunged again, missing his belly only by a fraction. On the next pass, Jack grabbed the arm holding the blade and twisted it until the outlaw dropped the knife and it landed out of reach.
Jack delivered a hard blow to Bittercreek’s belly, doubling the yellow-haired bastard over and putting him on the ground. Bittercreek snarled like some crazed beast, cursing the fact that Jack had ever been born. The moonlight glinted on a piece of metal on the ground.
The Colt.
Bittercreek saw it too. He got a second wind and rolled over quick as lightning and grabbed the gun.
With only seconds to spare, Jack snatched the knife from the dirt and threw it into Bittercreek’s leg. The man let out a loud curse and jerked the gun up. As he fumbled for the trigger, Jack dove onto him and seized the fist holding the firearm.
Wrenching the man’s hand down, Jack forced the gun between them, pressing it to the outlaw’s chest.
A bullet left the barrel with a loud explosion and Bittercreek went limp.
The air was thick with gunpowder, on Jack’s tongue and in his mouth. He rolled off the outlaw and stood, snatching the gun from lifeless fingers, checking for a pulse. The man was dead.
Thanks to the duster, the cut on his arm wasn’t serious, although it burned like blue blazes as he approached Bittercreek’s horse. Untying the reins from the mesquite, he pulled himself into the saddle.
Ride! The noise would bring the posse.
He didn’t bother with being careful. Didn’t have time. His breath came harsh and ragged as he raced through the night. The cold air burned his lungs and numbed his fingers.
Each strike of the hooves would either carry him farther away from danger or to it—which, he couldn’t say.
* * *
Nora woke with a start to the sound of a closing door. She threw a shawl around her gown and hurried across to Sawyer’s room. It was empty. He’d left.
The boy had been quiet all evening after speaking with Ridge, been sullen when Ridge had ridden out with Luke. He’d taken a bath, and they’d eaten with Tally and Violet. Afterward, they’d gotten Willow from Dr. Mary.
Tears had bubbled in his eyes when she’d tucked him in, and she knew how much that little gesture had meant.
Now panic burst inside Nora as she hurried downstairs and yanked open the door. But she could see nothing. Even if she had seen him, there was little she could do. Although Sawyer lived with them, he didn’t belong to them. He was free to do as he wished.
No one had to tell her what that was—he was going to find Jack.
It was all he’d talked about. She thought she’d gotten through to him about the danger.
Apparently not.
The cool air swirled around her and bit at her toes. She closed the door and raced upstairs. It took no time to dress and slide her feet into the buttery leather boots in her correct size that she’d selected earlier from the mercantile. Bundling Willow in blankets, she hurried to Tally’s and knocked on the door.
A few seconds later, Tally peeked out. “Nora, what’s wrong?”
“Sawyer’s left to find Jack. I have to go after him. He’s too young to be out there alone. Can you take care of Willow until I get back?”
“You don’t even have to ask. Do you have a gun?”
“No.”
“Come in and I’ll get one. You have to be able to protect the two of you. Also, take my slicker. You might run into rain. I thought I saw some lightning toward the south.”
“Thanks, Tally.” Nora hugged Willow close, trying to calm her racing heartbeat. “You’ll be just fine here, little one. I’ll be back soon,” she crooned softly.
She hoped so anyway, but who was to know? The country was foreign to her and she could get lost. Or she could run into Guthrie or Belew again. She put the thought out of her head and focused on Sawyer. He needed her. Jack needed her.
Tally’s face was grim. “Be careful. I wish I could go with you, but Dr. Mary laid down the law yesterday after I began spotting.”
“I’ll—we’ll—be fine.” If she could figure out how to saddle a horse, find her balance, and remember how to ride. Oh, and please let her remember how to read the compass Tally pressed into her hand. “Go south,” she repeated Tally’s words.
A short time later, she followed the path on horseback that Tally had pointed to. The gun in her pocket lent her courage to ride through the pitch-black. She could face any monsters that might be hiding in the gloom. By the time the sky had begun to lighten, she spied Sawyer’s slight form ahead.
He glanced up. “I ain’t going back.”
“I know. Do you mind if I come with you? We can rescue Jack together.”
“I guess.” He rubbed his red eyes. “I think I know where he might be.”
“Perfect, because I haven’t a clue.” She helped him up behind her.
“Bittercreek an’ me hid out there some in this rundown shack. He said outlaws used it a lot.”
“Just tell me how to get there. I’m glad you bundled up in your coat. This morning’s air is chilly. Would you like a biscuit left over from supper?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
They rode along in silence. Sometimes when life dumped a bunch of problems on her, it was good to simply be still and listen.
She prayed Jack had hunkered down somewhere and was doing the same.
If he still breathed. Regardless, she meant to find him—whether alive or dead.
* * *
Bloody and sore, Jack limped through some scrub cedar and juniper. Every inch of him stung as though some
one had stomped him with a pair of hobnail boots. If he could just find some water.
The horse nickered and nudged Jack with his head. The animal needed water too.
The taste of blood from a split lip sat on his tongue, in his mouth. The fight had loosened a tooth as well. Hell!
But he was still alive. More than he could say about Bittercreek.
The sun sneaked over the horizon like a thief, a cloud bank forming where the light hit. Unless he missed his guess, a rainstorm was coming. Maybe it would wash some of the blood and filth off him. He was smelling ripe.
He paused to rest at the foot of a mesa and tend to his cut. As it did very often, his mind wandered to Nora. What he wouldn’t give to see her in that bath she’d yearned for, her body slick with sweet-smelling soap, her beautiful hair freshly washed. His thoughts raced, and he imagined what she’d look like stepping from the water, dripping wet and so beautiful.
Ahhhh, his imagination was going to get him in bad trouble.
When would the real thing replace his thoughts? It couldn’t come soon enough.
Pushing aside his frustration, Jack forced his thoughts back to survival. If he could avoid the posse, he’d be home in a few hours. But the posse seemed to be fanned out across every path leading to Nora.
He must’ve dozed off again, because the sound of thunder woke him. Cold raindrops hit his face. Jack rose, determined to make it a few more miles before taking cover. As he reached for the horse, it skittered sideways, then pushed its heavy weight against Jack. He lost the grabbing dive for something solid and stumbled. His boots slipping, he rolled down into the bottom of a muddy ravine.
Jack lay there curled in a ball, shivering.
The raindrops became sheets and soaked him to the bone. His pain-numbed mind told him to find shelter.
It took all his remaining strength to pull himself to the top. He blinked hard at the wet boots standing in his way.
“Now I’ve got you, you son of a bitch,” snarled the owner of the boots.
Jack glanced up through the rain, and his stomach clenched.
