by Karen Kirst
“Do all your sisters have red hair?”
She touched a hand to her hair. “I’m the only one, although the twins’ hair does have an auburn tint. Mother says I inherited this hair from my father’s side. A great-grandmother, I believe.”
“Were you teased a lot growing up?”
“Actually, no. There may have been a few comments, but I didn’t let it bother me. I was happy to be different.”
“It’s beautiful,” Evan blurted, his voice hushed in the still air.
She ducked her head. “Thank you.”
“I’m glad you told me about your family. You’re lucky to have them.”
Her gaze searched his face. “What about you? Don’t you have any family?”
The question sparked sad, bittersweet memories. No, he didn’t have family. Not anymore.
“My parents died six years ago,” he admitted. “I was nineteen, old enough to be on my own but still a kid in many ways. I was devastated. Lost. Confused…but I had James—” He stopped, unwilling to continue lest he spill the whole sordid story. Juliana was too easy to talk to.
“How did they die?”
“Hmm?”
“Your parents?”
“Cholera outbreak. It happened so fast there wasn’t time to say goodbye.”
He remembered the shock of it all, how his mother and father fell ill that fateful spring morning. By nightfall they were dead. In a flash, responsibility for the homestead—their very livelihood—was thrust upon him. And his brother…
“I’m so sorry.” Her voice, soothing and heavy with compassion, interrupted his thoughts. “I know what it’s like to lose someone you love dearly. My father died when I was ten. He and I were close.”
Evan was silent, not trusting himself to speak just then. How long had it been since someone, anyone, had cared how he felt? Had showed him an ounce of compassion?
“Who is James?”
“My brother.”
“And he’s where now?”
Gone. Dead. “He died almost a year ago. I’m alone now.”
“Evan.” She leaned closer and placed a cool hand on his arm. “Are you familiar with the verse promising that God will never leave us nor forsake us?”
“Yes, of course.” At his mother’s insistence, he and his brother had memorized many verses from the Holy Scriptures.
“God’s Word tells us Jesus is a friend who sticks closer than a brother. If you have Jesus, rest assured that you are never alone.”
“I appreciate your kind words, Juliana. After what I’ve put you through, I don’t deserve your compassion.”
“I’m simply speaking the truth. All you have to do is trust Him.”
“I’m not ready,” he admitted with regret. The grief inside him was too fresh, too deep to ignore. Suddenly he was exhausted, both physically and mentally. Unfortunately, he doubted that he’d get much sleep that night.
He rose to his feet. “Would you mind if I turned in early?”
“Where exactly do you plan on sleeping?”
“The front porch.”
Her gaze slid to the cot with its ratted cover. “How about I take the porch and you take that thing?”
A smile touched his lips. “Sorry.”
“How do you expect me to sleep with spiderwebs hanging above my head? And who knows what sort of filth is embedded in that blanket? I’d rather sleep standing up!”
“I would make you a pallet on the floor, but the bedroll is soaked.”
“Whatever. I’ll think of something.”
Lightning flashed, illuminating the room for a brief second, followed by a low growl of thunder directly above them. The window glass shuddered. “It could be worse, ya know. We could be out in that.”
Her brows drew together. “Are you sure you’ll be okay on the porch?”
Her worry about his safety touched him. “I’ll be fine.” If he didn’t get struck by lightning. “Try to get some rest.”
He’d opened the door when her voice halted him. “Good night, Evan.”
He didn’t turn around. “Good night, Juliana.”
Chapter Nine
The quiet woke her. The storm had raged through the night, gusts of wind shaking the walls of the little cabin until she feared they would collapse. Her thoughts never strayed from Evan, out there in the elements simply to give her privacy and protect her reputation. She doubted he got even a minute of sleep.
She was eager to see how he’d fared.
Lifting her arms above her head, she stretched, trying to loosen the kinks in her muscles. Her back and shoulders were in knots. In the end, she’d been unable to bring herself to sleep on the cot, so she’d chosen to sit in a chair and rest her arms and head on the table. It was a miserable way to sleep.
Juliana touched a hand to her hair, grimacing as her fingers encountered her untidy braid. She longed for a bar of soap, a tub of hot water and especially a clean dress. Reaching across the table, she checked to see if hers had dried overnight. The shirt and trousers Evan had loaned her billowed about her body like a tent, and she felt undone.
Her dress was still damp, so she turned her attention to her hair. As it had been braided wet, her hair now fell in soft waves about her shoulders. She pulled a comb through the strands and tied the mass back. It was the best she could do under the circumstances.
A glance out the window told her it was daylight. Time to check on Evan.
She hurried to the door and tugged it open, a little anxious about what she might find. What if he’d been struck by debris tossed about by the wind? Or, worse, struck by lightning? Breathing a little faster than normal, her gaze sought his familiar form.
What she saw melted her heart.
He was huddled on his side, his arm thrown over his head in a protective pose, his knees drawn up toward his chest. His breathing was deep and even. His clothes were wet, which she didn’t like, and he wasn’t wearing his boots. Odd.
She looked around and saw them at the edge of the porch, near the steps. Why would he take them off, she wondered. Maybe they were new, like hers, and rubbing his feet raw in places.
Noticing water from the roof splattering down, she reached for them. Her fingers brushed against a rigid bulge beneath the lining in one of them and she paused. What in the world? Curious, she picked it up for a closer inspection.
The material was smooth all around the top of the boot except for that one spot. Raised bumps felt like tiny stitches of thread, as if someone had made a small slit in the lining and later sewed it closed.
She glanced at Evan, relieved to see that he hadn’t stirred. Had he hidden something in his boot? After finding the wanted sign stashed in his gun, she wouldn’t be surprised.
Prodding the area, she felt a small, round object with ragged edges. What could it be? Not a gold or silver coin. The edges weren’t smooth. She racked her brain for clues but couldn’t imagine what he would want to hide.
Too bad she didn’t remember where he put his knife.
She put the boots back where they’d been, and with another glance at Evan, tiptoed back inside and shut the door as quietly as possible. She sat back down at the table and plotted her next move. One way or another, she would eventually uncover his secrets.
One very long hour later, she heard him stirring. He jerked his head up in surprise when she threw open the door.
“Morning,” he greeted, his voice husky from disuse. His brilliant blue eyes fastened on her face. In her mind, he looked much too fresh for just having spent a cold and miserable night in the rain. “Did you get any rest?” he asked, bending to tug on his boots.
She watched closely, noting their snug fit. Surely the hard object would chafe against his leg.
“Juliana?”
He straightened, his expression questioning.
“Oh.” She realized that she hadn’t answered him. “Yes, well, I managed to get a little. What about you? Was it awful?”
He folded his arms across his chest and stared at
her. “I’ve slept in worse conditions.”
“Worse than this?” Her brows shot up to her hairline. “I don’t think I want to hear about it.”
He smiled then. “No, you don’t.”
She glanced beyond his shoulder. The sky was a clear, robin’s-egg blue this morning, the greens and browns of the forest crisp and vibrant as if the rain had washed away a film of dust from the tree leaves, the grass, the flower petals, the rocks.
“Is it too muddy to travel?”
He twisted around to look over his shoulder. “Not if we’re extra careful.” He turned back. “I want coffee first, though. And breakfast. The first order of business is finding dry wood for a fire. I’ll probably have to break apart one of the chairs. Maybe two.”
Juliana’s stomach rumbled at the mention of food. She held out her hand. “Give me a gun and I’ll rustle up breakfast.”
His mouth went slack. “What?”
She grinned at his dumbfounded expression. “You heard me.”
His dark brows slashed together. “Let me get this straight—you can’t cook but you can shoot small animals?”
“I thought I explained about my cousins. They taught me a lot of things, one of them being how to shoot a gun.”
He studied her a moment, then shook his head no. “I’ll do it. I’ll get a fire going and you can be in charge of the coffee.” He brushed past her on his way inside.
“Which is it?” she demanded, her humor fading. “You don’t trust me with a weapon or you don’t believe I have enough skill to bag our breakfast?”
Evan shot her that look of his that said he thought she was acting foolish. “If I didn’t trust you, I wouldn’t have given you my gun the other night. And I believe you can do whatever you set your mind to. You’re a very resourceful woman.”
His words erased her irritation. All that was left was bewilderment. “Then why?”
He paused with his hand on the chair back, his mouth set in a stubborn line. “I can’t let you go alone. Fitzgerald is still out there. He won’t give up until he gets his revenge.”
Her stomach quivered at the thought. “It’s because of what I did back there, isn’t it? I mean, he despised me before—”
Evan was suddenly right in front of her, his fingers gently tipping up her chin, forcing her to look at him. His blue eyes blazed at her. “None of this is your doing, Juliana. You’re in this situation because of a decision I made—a foolish one. Fitz hates my guts. That hatred extends to anyone associated with me. Understand?”
Juliana simply nodded. He held her gaze a moment more before dropping his hand and taking a step back.
“What does he have against you?”
Evan was quiet, weighing her question. “He considers me a threat because I’m not afraid of him. I don’t cower at his rantings and ravings. And Roberts likes me, which makes Fitz worry that someday I could become the second in command instead of him.”
Juliana stared at Evan. The words coming out of his mouth did not accord with the man she knew him to be. No, she corrected herself, the man she desperately wanted him to be. Frustration bubbling up inside, she fisted her hands at her sides. She decided that she did not want to hear anymore about his lawless life. If by that she was hiding her head in the sand and ignoring reality, so be it.
“I’m going outside,” she announced. At his intake of breath, she added sardonically, “to answer the call of nature.”
“Fine. Take this with you.” He pressed a gun in her hand. “And keep your eyes open.”
“Yes, sir.”
He cocked an eyebrow. Before he could respond, she whirled around and stalked out.
Evan watched her hasty retreat, hoping she’d calm down and pay attention to her surroundings. He didn’t have a clue what had sparked her ire. One minute she’d been cool as a cucumber and the next she’d looked as if she’d like to throttle him.
He couldn’t stop the grin tugging at his mouth.
Juliana O’Malley was one amazing woman. One in a million. His initial instincts had been on the mark—she was no simpering wallflower. She was spirited. And brave. Smart. Witty. Don’t forget beautiful.
“How can I?” he muttered to himself, pulling his small axe out and beginning to hack the chair into pieces.
Every time she turned those wide, luminous eyes his way, the cracks in the walls around his heart fractured another inch. And that smile…at times sweet, at times teasing, at all times harboring secrets he’d like to explore…made him want things he’d never have. Love. Laughter. Marriage.
He brought the axe down with more force than necessary. No. He couldn’t afford to dream dreams. He’d made his decision to go it alone and he would stick by that.
Twenty minutes later, the fire was roaring and coffee was made, yet Juliana had not returned.
Evan wore a trampled trail in the grass, his gaze searching the woods for a glimpse of her fiery hair. He strained for any sound at all that might mean she was nearby or, God forbid, in trouble.
She has the gun, remember?
True, but if she’d been caught by surprise…
His gut twisted as his mind flashed back to the cabin and Fitz’s assault, then to the moment she’d fallen into his arms after escaping the outlaw’s clutches. The abject terror in her eyes had stirred within him a fury at the other man like nothing he’d experienced before. Not even the news of James’s murder had evoked such a reaction.
Evan scanned the woods again. Surely she wouldn’t have gone so far as to get lost.
What if Fitz had her even now? The thought made his blood run cold. If anything happened to her—
There. A rustling to his right. Unsheathing his weapon, he crept toward the sound, all senses on high alert.
The flash of red hair glinting in the sunlight made his limbs go limp with relief. It was her. Then he spotted what she carried in her hands, and his blood pressure skyrocketed. She’d blatantly disregarded his order to stay close. Stuffing his gun back into his holster, he marched back to the fire.
Juliana strolled back into camp feeling extremely satisfied with herself. She could only imagine Evan’s surprise—
“Where have you been?”
She halted in her tracks, her gaze flying upward to find him standing near the fire, arms crossed across his chest and feet braced apart, the brim of his black hat shielding his eyes. Eyes she supposed were as blistering as the flames spitting and popping near his feet.
Holding up her bounty, she gave him a smile meant to cool his ire. “These two crossed my path, and I wasn’t about to let them get away. I don’t know about you, but I’m ravenous.”
His gaze flicked to the rabbits dangling from her fingers then back up to her face. His expression remained inscrutable.
“One more minute and I was coming to look for you. From now on I’ll be accompanying you on all your calls of nature.”
Juliana opened her mouth to utter a retort, then bit her lip. Arguing wasn’t going to improve his mood. She simply shrugged. “So are you going to ready them or shall I?”
Surprise registered, but he didn’t comment. “I’ll do it.”
He held out his hand, and she crossed to where he stood. He took her burden from her without a word. When she started to move away, his hand shot out and imprisoned her wrist. Startled, she gasped at the severity of his expression.
“Promise me you won’t do that again.”
“Evan, I—”
“You’ve no clue what’s been going through my mind the last half hour.”
Frustration edged his generous lips. Worry was there in the line between his dark brows. Concern darkened his eyes to that beguiling purple-blue.
She sighed, truly repentant for causing him trouble. “I’m fine. Nothing happened.”
“This time. Juliana, I don’t think it’s registered just how dangerous this man is. I’ve watched him gun down men for no other reason than the thrill of shedding blood. He has a reason to despise you now as much as he does me. I
f he catches you, he will kill you.”
Her blood ran cold at the conviction in his statement. She’d seen the cold emptiness in Fitzgerald’s eyes, had known instinctively that he wouldn’t hesitate to hurt her.
“I’m sorry. You have my word I won’t do it again.”
With a terse nod, Evan turned away. She stood quietly by as he dressed the rabbits and readied the spits, unable to think of a single thing to do. By the time he had breakfast started, she couldn’t handle the silence any longer.
Juliana settled herself on a fallen log near the fire, a cup of coffee cradled in her hands.
“How much farther until we reach Cades Cove?”
He glanced at the sky. “If the weather holds we should arrive late tomorrow.”
“Tell me about your town. Is it large?”
The tension left his features as his thoughts turned to home. “What it lacks in size, it makes up for in charm. It’s nestled in the most picturesque, most fertile valley in East Tennessee. You’ll see for yourself soon enough.”
“What about the people? Are they friendly?”
“Friendly enough, I suppose. Why do you ask?”
“Just curious.” She shrugged. “I’ve never traveled outside of Gatlinburg.”
His brows lifted in surprise. “You’re in for a treat then. I guarantee you’ll be impressed.”
“How long have you lived there?”
“Since I was fifteen. We lived just over the mountains in North Carolina before that.”
“I’ve heard that North Carolina rivals Tennessee in beauty.”
“I’d agree with that.” He turned the skewers so the meat would cook evenly. He propped his arm on one knee in a half-kneeling position. “We were happy there. Then one day my father met up with an old acquaintance who had traveled through East Tennessee. He filled my father’s head with stories of rich farmland, rivers teeming with catfish and trout, forests and abundant wildlife. Land was selling for a fair price, so my father convinced my mother to leave her home for a new one.”
It wasn’t a new story. Hundreds, if not thousands, of families living in the East had given up everything in search of a new and better life in the West. So far, Evan Harrison’s childhood sounded typical. What had gone wrong? Why had he chosen a life of crime?
