The Outlaw's Heart

by Amy Sandas

  He’s found me.

  Murmurs of concern and annoyance erupted from the strangers surrounding her. Some rose to their feet and craned their necks to look out the windows, trying to determine the reason for their abrupt halt.

  Evelyn did her best to remain calm and poised—in appearance, if nothing else. Clasping her hands in her lap to keep them from shaking, she sat silent and unmoving while a chilling sweat broke out beneath the heavy layers of her traveling dress.

  The likelihood that Matthew had already caught up with her was near impossible. She had been so careful—every detail attended to—to ensure her disappearance from Boston left no trace.

  She knew the absurdity of her suspicion, yet she could not shake the gripping fear that her escape had been foiled, her race to freedom ground to as complete and deafening a halt as the train.

  They had been stalled for only a few minutes when the door to their car slid open and two men sauntered in. Evelyn held her breath as she took in their appearance from her corner seat at the far end of the car.

  They were dressed in dust-coated denim and leather. Wide-brimmed hats shadowed their eyes, bandannas covered their faces, and their steps jingled with the sound of spurs. These men were undoubtedly the roughest characters she’d seen so far on this journey, but she had already acknowledged that the farther west she traveled, the less the people looked like anyone she was accustomed to seeing back in Boston.

  Still, there was a bold look of danger about these men.

  She was not the only one to think so. Their arrival inspired gasps from the other passengers as faces tightened with fear.

  And then she saw the guns.

  The terror that had been burgeoning beneath her serene demeanor surged to the surface. The burning of her lungs alerted her to the fact that she’d stopped breathing. The next breath she took was shallow and weak, but it cleared some of the sudden fog from her brain.

  Matthew had found her, and he’d sent these men to bring her back.

  The certainty sent a sharp numbness through her body. She stopped feeling anything at all. It was a strange sort of disassociation, as though she watched her story being played out from some distance.

  She had finally gotten up the courage to flee, and she had failed.

  There was nothing left for her to do.

  “Hiya, folks,” the smaller of the two gunmen said almost jovially. “I know what y’all are probably thinking, but this here ain’t a robbery. If y’all just sit tight and don’t make a fuss, we’ll conduct our business and be on our way.”

  Evelyn almost laughed. She hadn’t even considered a train robbery. Her odd bout of humor was short-lived, however, as the two men started making their way through the car, examining each passenger as they went.

  For a second, Evelyn considered running. She sat at the far end of the car from where the men had entered. She was very close to the opposite door, which led to a cargo car. If she could make it into the next car, perhaps she could find a place to hide.

  The man on her side of the train car was getting closer. He was only a few rows away now.

  The numbness that had pervaded Evelyn’s body helped to act as a sort of shield against her fear. Keeping her calm, allowing her mind to work. There had to be something she could do. She had gotten so far.

  She couldn’t just give up.

  But even if she hid in the cargo car, it would only be a matter of time before the men found her. There had to be something else…

  And then it was too late to run.

  The smaller man had reached her row. His gaze was hard and direct as he peered at her from between the low brim of his hat. She noticed the flicker in his eyes as he took in her appearance.

  Her heart stopped.

  “What’s yer name?” he asked. His voice was softer than she expected. It threw her off for a moment, and she didn’t acknowledge his question right away.

  Could it be that easy?

  “I asked yer name, sweetheart.”

  Evelyn found herself uttering the first name she fell on that wasn’t her own. It belonged to a young woman who had gotten on the train in St. Louis. The stranger had taken a seat beside Evelyn and had proceeded to declare herself Evelyn’s traveling companion. Though she was heading west to marry a man she’d never met, she was currently enjoying the dining car with a gentleman passenger with whom she had started a light flirtation. Evelyn didn’t think the woman would mind if she borrowed her name.

  With a clear and steady voice she replied, “Sarah Cummings.”

  The man narrowed his gaze for a moment, then turned toward his partner. “I’ve got her.”

  “Then let’s get the hell outta here,” the other man replied.

  The gunman grabbed Evelyn’s arm in a punishing grip and hoisted her out of her seat. Some of the other passengers gasped in shock as they saw what was happening.

  Horror overwhelmed her. How had he seen through her lie?

  One man dressed in a brown suit rose to his feet. “Now, hold on a minute. You can’t just take her,” he challenged.

  “You wanna die today?” the other gunman asked, his voice cold.

  The man shook his head, his eyes darting to Evelyn.

  “Then sit down.”

  The brave man stood for a second in indecision until the woman seated beside him grabbed his sleeve and gave a sharp tug. Evelyn could see the fear in the woman’s eyes and couldn’t blame her.

  She was a stranger to these people. She had been very careful over the last few days to make sure she gave them nothing to remember her by. She’d done all she could to be forgettable.

  The man holding her arm gave a rough jerk and spun her around until her back was against his chest. Then he started backing toward the door that led to the cargo car, keeping his gun trained on anyone else who might think to interfere.

  “Now, don’t none of you good folks worry. We ain’t gonna hurt this pretty lady, so just relax and we’ll be on our way.”

  A voice deep inside screamed for her to fight.

  Even if it kills you, Evie. You must fight with every last breath.

  But another voice—quieter, but stronger—urged her to be silent. The grip on her arm was tight. The guns frightening. But as long as she was alive, there was a chance of escape.

  The door on the far side of the passenger car suddenly opened, and a passenger charged in with a pistol leveled straight toward Evelyn and the two retreating gunmen.

  The newcomer didn’t hesitate to shoot. The bullet sang past Evelyn’s head to slam into the wall behind her.

  The man holding her muttered a vicious oath before shoving her behind him. Lifting his gun, he fired off a round of his own a second after his partner did the same. Both shots hit the floor of the train, splintering wood and keeping the would-be hero back for the moment. Screams and shouts filled the air as people dove for cover and husbands threw themselves over their wives, shielding them with their own bodies.

  Evelyn couldn’t help but think it strange that anyone would sacrifice himself in such a way, but the thought barely finished in her mind before she saw a flash of movement coming at her from the side as someone lunged toward her and her captor in misguided bravery. They all went down together. Evelyn heard a resounding crack as her head hit the edge of a bench. Pain exploded in her temple and everything—the gunmen, the other passengers, the screams, and the fear—suddenly ceased to be.

  Three

  Consciousness invaded slowly and with great discomfort.

  A thudding pain resounded in Evelyn’s skull, making it difficult to form cohesive thoughts. And a raw, burning pain spread across her back, while everywhere else she experienced an invasive cold. The harsh chill weighed down her limbs, making it impossible to move. She couldn’t even feel her fingers or toes.

  Evelyn wished she could slip back into oblivion, b
ut an intense feeling of urgency spreading from the far reaches of her awareness wouldn’t allow it.

  Why was she so cold? Why was she in so much pain?

  The panicked questions were swiftly followed by another—where was she?

  Becoming more aware, she realized she was lying on her side on what felt like rough, uneven ground. Not far away was the murmur of multiple voices—all male. The words were too soft for her to make out what was being said.

  A racking shiver slid through her bones as memories flooded her brain like pounding waves, each one crashing over the one before.

  The train.

  The two men carrying guns.

  She’d claimed to be Sarah Cummings, but they’d grabbed her anyway.

  Gunshots and the reckless passenger who’d lunged for them.

  She’d fallen and hit her head. Obviously, losing consciousness.

  Had she been saved or taken?

  Gathering what shreds of courage she could find, she opened her eyes.

  At first, all Evelyn saw was fire. The red flames, dancing in the darkness several feet away, had her sucking in a frightened breath before her addled mind recognized that she was looking at a campfire. A campfire surrounded by a half-dozen men.

  So she had been taken.

  There was a momentary flash of relief when she did not see Matthew’s pale-blond head and lean form amongst the rough gathering of strangers. Not that it mattered if he wasn’t there. It was only a matter of time before she was back under her husband’s control.

  She closed her eyes. Tears pricked hot at the back of her eyelids. Soul-aching regret and a surprising dose of fury rushed through her. To be so close to freedom only to have it snatched away. It was painful. Heartbreaking. She wished for oblivion once more.

  But only more clarity awaited.

  So far, none of the men around the fire had noticed she’d awakened. If they thought her unconscious, perhaps she might be able escape them.

  A subtle attempt at movement revealed that her hands were tied together in front of her, as were her ankles, which explained why she hadn’t been able to move her limbs. With her heart thudding so loudly she was amazed they couldn’t hear it, she risked opening her eyes the barest degree so she might observe her captors unnoticed.

  She was pretty sure she recognized the two from the train by their clothing and voices. The one who had grabbed her was the smaller of the two and appeared to be younger as well. With the bandanna no longer covering the lower half of his face, he looked to be little more than a boy with his lanky frame, rounded facial features, and shaggy hair brushing his collar. The other one was older, taller, and wider across the shoulders. The grin that flashed across his bearded face as he replied to something one of the others said was startlingly amicable. Pleasant even.

  Evelyn shifted her gaze.

  Two others sat at the fire with them. One was much older with thick, white hair and a bushy beard of iron-gray. The other was a younger man with dark skin and a calm, watchful expression.

  A fifth man sat off to one side of the fire, lounging back against a saddle as he carved at a small chunk of wood with a sharp little knife. His feet were outstretched and crossed at the ankles, and unlike his friends, he did not wear the wide-brimmed hat she’d seen on so many of these westerners. His hair looked to be only a slightly paler shade of red than the flames.

  The last man in the group was more difficult to see since he stood in the shadows directly across the fire from where Evelyn lay curled on the ground. He wore dark pants and a light-colored button-down shirt beneath a leather vest that had been left open. The man leaned back against the thick trunk of a tree with his arms crossed over his wide chest. His hair was parted in the middle and two long black braids fell over his shoulders, reaching nearly to his belt.

  She sucked in a tight breath of astonishment. Not because he looked frighteningly large and intimidating in the flickering light of the campfire, though he did that. No, it was because as she glanced over his broad, shadowed features, she discovered that he was staring straight back at her, his focused gaze cutting easily through the darkness and distraction between them.

  An intense flare of caution ignited across her nerves and sped her heart rate. The numbness in her hands and feet was forgotten, as was the discomfort of her position on the ground. All sensation—every bit of her awareness—was suddenly overwhelmed by the intensity of his direct and silent regard.

  He knew she was awake. Yet he said nothing.

  He just stared at her across the distance. No expression on his face, no change in his position.

  Evelyn couldn’t look away. Despite the panic inside her and the rising acknowledgment of her perilous situation, she could not break his steady gaze even to blink.

  “Looks like she’s awake.” The words came from someone at the fire.

  Evelyn’s attention flew to the bearded man with the wide grin as he rose to his feet and walked toward her. She stiffened with fear as he lowered himself next to her and reached for her shoulders.

  “Here, let me sit you up a bit,” he muttered.

  Evelyn tried not to flinch under his touch. She hated showing them even an ounce of the fear coursing through her. But she couldn’t help it when all she wanted to do was shrink away and fade back into the darkness, beyond their notice.

  He repositioned her quickly and easily, settling her into a seated position with her back against a tree she hadn’t realized was behind her. She ground her teeth against the flash of searing pain as her back made contact with the rough-textured bark. He either didn’t notice the way her body tensed, or he didn’t care.

  To her minimal relief, he withdrew his hands as soon as she was settled. But he didn’t leave.

  “Better?” he asked, and she wondered if he truly expected her to answer.

  It seemed he did since he stayed crouched there, his elbows resting on his knees while he looked her over.

  Forcing herself to maintain a steady expression, Evelyn studied him in return. He couldn’t have been more than twenty-five, if that. The short beard covering half his face did nothing to hide the strong line of his jaw or his pleasantly shaped mouth, which appeared prone to smiling. His nose was straight, as were his brows, and his eyes were a shade of blue that could only be called pretty.

  In short, he was quite handsome and not at all what Evelyn expected a ruthless gun for hire to look like.

  But then his expression shifted. The subtle smile slipped from his lips, and it wasn’t exactly anger she saw darkening his eyes, but it certainly wasn’t good.

  She stiffened against the desire to shrink away from the sudden coldness in his manner.

  “Hey, what was that description again?” he shouted back to his companions without looking away from Evelyn’s face.

  “What description?” the red-haired man asked as he glanced up from his wood carving. Though he looked the part of an outlaw, he spoke with a cultured British accent infused with the rolling sounds of a Scottish brogue.

  “Of the woman.”

  “Jesus Christ, Eli,” exclaimed the gray-haired man in exasperation. “She’s sitting right in front of you.”

  “What’s the description?” the bearded one—Eli, apparently—repeated.

  “Aged thirty-five, slim figure, yellow hair, brown eyes,” someone offered.

  Evelyn watched with growing tension as the man in front of her closed his eyes for a second, then rose swiftly to his feet. “We’ve got the wrong woman.”

  “Like hell we do!” The young one who had asked Evelyn her name on the train leapt to his feet and came to stand in front of her. He stood looking down at her with a fierce expression.

  “This woman’s eyes are blue, not brown,” Eli declared. “And if she’s a day over twenty, I’ll eat my hat.”

  Evelyn held her breath as all eyes focused on her. />
  “But she said she was Sarah Cummings,” the young one insisted. “It’s gotta be her.”

  Eli muttered something under his breath before straightening up and stalking back to the fire. “It’s not her.”

  “Bloody hell,” the red-haired one said.

  Evelyn felt like repeating the expletive as she finally accepted that these men had not been sent by Matthew after all. They truly had been seeking Sarah. The why of it made absolutely no sense, but there it was.

  Relief and an unstable rush of elation swept through her.

  She hadn’t been found.

  She was still free…sort of.

  Well, not really at all. But she would take this over being dragged back to Boston in a heartbeat.

  Four

  While Evelyn reveled silently in her unexpected alteration of circumstances, the others erupted in a heated argument. Some voices berated the young gun, named Ramsey as she swiftly discovered, while others debated what to do with her now. Someone opted to bring her to the next town and drop her off, but the dark-skinned man they called Jackson argued it was too risky so soon after the kidnapping. The old man seated next to him agreed, then voiced concern for what their boss would say when he discovered the mistake.

  She was distracted enough by the heated words that she didn’t realize someone had skirted the reach of firelight, approaching her through the darkness to suddenly appear at her side.

  A harsh inhale expanded her lungs as her gaze flew up to meet dark, unreadable eyes.

  The tall, muscled man who’d stared at her across the fire was even more intimidating up close. He had expansive shoulders, thick arms barely contained in his pale-colored cotton shirt, and powerful legs encased in worn denim. In a graceful economy of muscle and movement, he folded his large body into a crouch, bringing his face even with hers.

  And what a face it was. Strong and beautiful in a way she’d never seen before. He had a broad forehead and a long, straight nose. His jaw was sharply angled, as were his cheekbones, but his mouth was wide and his lips were soft and full.