Marshal of Hel Dorado (16 page)

 
    
He envied the linen for how tightly she
wrapped it around her curves.

 
    
“You promised to keep them closed.”

 
    
“I closed them for you to get out of the
water. You’re out now.” Tempted to caress the damp skin for heat, he clenched
his fists and dropped them to his sides.

 
    
Scarlett rubbed a thumb over the corner of
her eye. He flinched at the first sign of tears she’d ever displayed.
Contrition was a bitter taste in the back of his throat.

 
    
“Why are you doing this?”

 
    
“Because you fascinate the hell out of me.”
The blunt truth in his words was startling for both of them. But he embraced
it. “I don’t understand you and I sure as hell don’t understand what I just saw
in there.”

 
    
She looked away from him, white teeth
nibbling at her lower lip. “You shouldn’t have come in here.”

 
    
“I know.” He conceded. But he could not
unsee what he’d witnessed. “But I’m glad I did.”

 
    
“Why?” Her chest rose and fell with long,
panting sighs. Was it desire? Fear? The lack of shimmer in the air suggested
she wasn’t angry. If he was right and the fire came when her emotions slipped
out of control.

 
    
If he was wrong, well…

 
    
…he’d been burned before.

 
    
“Honestly, Miss Scarlett,” Sam reached for
his hat, to give his hands something to do. He shaped the brim and studied her.
“Because I’m glad I know you can do whatever the hell that was. Now will you
explain it to me?”

 
    
“I can’t.” She shook her head, but he heard
the won’t under the can’t.

 
    
“Why not?”

 
    
“I just can’t.”

 
    
He chose another tactic. “It can’t possibly
be any worse than bank robbery.”

 
    
She rewarded him with a half-hearted smile
and a strangled chuckle. The tears shimmering in her eyes slipped free and she
swiped at them with the back of her hand.

 
    
“Marshal…”

 
    
“Sam.”

 
    
Her smile strained, but remained a smile.
“Sam.”

 
    
“Better.”

 
    
“I can’t explain this to you. Please don’t
ask me.”

 
    
Sam pulled his knee up, resting his wrist
on it and studied her. “There is a difference between can’t and won’t. You can
explain it. You don’t want to. I can understand that.”

 
    
“Can you?”

 
    
Oddly enough, he could. “Yes. But you need
to understand that right now, your life is in my hands. You’ve persuaded my
father and brothers to your cause without even trying and I am rapidly
discovering that I want to be a part of that cause, but the law is the law.”

 
    
“And you uphold the law.” Her words were
quiet, but her gaze searched his face and he forced himself to keep his
expression even.

 
    
“Yes, ma’am. I do.”

 
    
Her shoulders sagged. “Marshal…”

 
    
“Sam.” He reminded her.

 
    
“If you uphold the law, then you’re the
Marshal.”

 
    
Frustrated, he clenched his fists and rose,
regretting it when she backed up to the edge of the water. He held up his hands
in front of his chest and took a step away from her, pacing until she had room.
The rising sun was kissing the edges of the treetops, cutting through the
steam.

 
    
Her expression was wary as he reached for
the star on his breast pocket. He unpinned it and set it down on a rock closer
to the tree line. He swiped at the spot on his breast pocket where it had hung
and looked at her.

 
    
“Sam.”

 
    
Her slow nod unclenched the tension inside
of him. If she couldn’t trust the Marshal with her secrets, could she trust the
man?

 
    
“May I get dressed first?”

 
    
Sam allowed a reluctant nod. It might be
less distracting if he wasn’t thinking about the damp secrets hidden behind the
towel. At her expectant look, Sam sighed and turned his back.

 
    
He strained for sounds of her movement in
the silence behind him.

 
    
“Scarlett,” he kicked the dirt in front of
him. What could he really say to comfort her?

 
    
Whatever her story was, he would still have
to reconcile it with her bank robbery. The gold was back, but that didn’t mean
the judge wouldn’t still hear her case. She may only get hard labor instead of
the hangman’s noose. Still.

 
    
“Miss Scarlett.” He tried again. “I don’t
know if I can reconcile what I saw with anything you tell me. But I promise. I
will listen. You may not trust me, but I give you my word, I will keep your
secret.”

 
    
“I’m sorry.” He jerked around at the
whispered words and grunted, catching the log to the side of his head. He
crashed down, pain and fury blazing across his vision. His last sight was of
her sorrowful face above. “I’m really very sorry.”

 
    
Then the little Minx kicked him with her
sweet little foot and he saw nothing else.

 
    
S
carlett
winced as Sam’s head lolled to the side. She crouched and put her hand on his
chest. Shivers of awareness tingled up her spine at the warm, hard surface. His
heart beat, he still breathed. His head would hurt when he woke up and she was
sorry for that. “I’m sorry,” she whispered the hurried apology as she unbuckled
his gun belt and tried to ignore the way his britches shaped over his hips.

 
    
He was a big man and she struggled to pull
the belt free. Casting a look around, she stripped off his boots and threw them
into the woods. She was tempted to strip the rest of him, but decided against
it. She tightened his gun belt over her own hips, nearly looping it twice to
make it fit and strapped the holster to her thigh.

 
    
With one last, lingering look, she fled
through the copse of trees, pausing only long enough to pull on her boots. The
sun was midway up the morning sky. The ranch was awake.

 
    
She looked from the main house to the barn
to the winding stretch of streams and the lazy cabins planted along their banks.

 
    
Escape was paramount, but there were too
many men in the barn. Too many eyes to see her. Too many hands to stop her.
Scarlett’s gaze traveled north. Beyond the house and just over the rise where
the hills began to swell were the large tracks of land were turned over to free
ranging horses and cattle.

 
    
Decided, she ran. The gun weighed heavily
against her thigh and her lungs burned as she pushed herself. Fear nipped at
her steps. Fear that someone in the house would notice her absence. Fear that
Sam would wake too soon. Fear that her brothers would arrive to rain hell down
on the ranch before she could escape.

 
    
At the lip of the first hill, she dared a
glance back, half-expecting the whole ranch to be on her. It was a surprise to
see the morning activity remained much the same, with movement around the
barns, horses coming and going and even life stirring around the cabins.

 
    
She blew out a breath and hurried on. It
didn’t take her long to find the first set of rails marking pasture and beyond
that, dozens of horses, mostly bays with a scattering of paints grazing in the
morning sun. Scarlett tried to remember what Micah told her about the horses.
The yearlings and two year olds were kept closer to the house and the barn,
earning turnout to the grassy pastures only after they were tame.

 
    
Trained horses meant they would carry a
rider bareback or with saddle. Since she didn’t have a saddle and didn’t dare
return to the barn for one, bareback would have to do. Thankfully, she didn’t
need a saddle to ride, although her bottom might regret it later.

 
    
The need for escape was a driving force.
Sam knew her secret. He’d seen her start fire.

 
    
He’d seen the fire blossom around her. It
was a dangerous secret. A secret that could get her family hunted, killed. It
had happened before.

 
    
Quanto told them stories of the gifted
ones. Tortured. Hung. Staked.

 
    
Burned.

 
    
Her mouth twisted in a grimace. Their gifts
were blessings and curses. Blessings because they allowed them a freedom most
people would never know.

 
    
A curse, because those same gifts inspired
fear. Fear killed.

 
    
Scarlett shook her head and concentrated.
Three mares grazed to the northeast and she jogged towards them, slowing to a
walk when they looked up. Horses were prey animals. You had to be confident,
but sidle when you approached. Too sudden and too direct and they were just as
likely to bolt.

 
    
Even those well trained to accept human
companionship.

 
    
She wished she had a rope or bridle, but
she would have to trust that the Kane method of horse raising was as effective
as Micah claimed. A dark brown mare with a half-moon of white circling her rump
whickered at Scarlett, padding towards her.

 
    
Curiosity, not fear, glimmered in the
mare’s gentle eyes.

 
    
“Hello beautiful,” she murmured, turning
her palm out for the mare to lip. “I don’t have any treats. But I will try to
find you some if you can do me the favor of letting me ride for a time.”

 
    
A frisson of alarm skated up her spine.

 
    
Was she really stealing a horse?

 
    
Somewhere, a mischievous spirit such as
those Quanto talked to, must be laughing.

 
    
The mare snuffled at her shirt, allowing
Scarlett to stroke her hands over the velvet soft face and back behind her
ears. She scratched slowly, letting the mare get used to her scent and her
touch. The mare turned, sidling as though giving an invitation and Scarlett
smiled.

 
    
“Thank you, beautiful. I will do my best to
see you returned home as soon as I am back with my brothers.”

 
    
Not stealing the horse.

 
    
Borrowing her.

 
    
And she’d asked the mare for permission.

 
    
Not that Sam was likely to see that way.
Another pang of regret thudded in her chest. She hoped she hadn’t hurt him too
badly. But it was safer for him, safer for them all, if she just vanished. Let
him come up with some story to explain what he witnessed, but she didn’t dare.

 
    
She couldn’t risk her brothers…Quanto…any
of them.

 
    
Curling her fingers into the mare’s mane,
she bounced up and threw her leg over her back, settling gently on the mare’s
back. Good to Micah’s word, the mare stood rock still until Scarlett was in
place and then broke into a ground-eating lope at the touch of her heels.

 
    
Scarlett aimed the mare north. Dorado was
to the west, because they’d chased the rising sun, but she didn’t dare head
directly back. Better to angle her escape. She had no idea how large the spread
really was, but all she needed was to ride until nightfall when Buck might
sleep.