The Reluctant Outlaw (Love Inspired Historical) (13 page)

Juliana watched him leave, her mouth hanging open. What in the world? She’d expected his anger, but threats? It didn’t make sense. He hadn’t been that abrupt with her since the first day.

She was no closer to the truth. In fact, the badge had only sparked more questions.

She stamped her foot in frustration. Why did he have to be so stubborn?

Evan tried to smother the annoyance roiling in his gut. She had some nerve! Why couldn’t she leave well enough alone?

The badge was safe in his pants pocket. For now. He shook his head in disgust. He’d thought he’d found the perfect hiding place. Either he was that bad or she was that good.

He strode back to camp and quickly rolled his bedroll into a tidy bundle. What he really wanted to do was go back to sleep. He’d gone to bed with a raging headache. The long rest hadn’t helped this time. It felt like an axe was being driven into the base of his skull.

Retrieving his shaving kit, he walked to the opposite side of the lake to shave. As soon as he was finished, he would get a cup of coffee and a plate of food. Maybe that was the reason he felt out of sorts this morning.

His thoughts strayed again to Juliana. He could tell her everything, he supposed.

Yet something inside him resisted. If she knew the truth, there would be no more barriers. No reasons to keep her distance. No more defenses.

The walls protecting his heart were not rock-solid. Against his better judgment, he already cared more than was wise. If he told her the truth now, he wasn’t so sure he could remain detached. And falling in love was
not
an option.

By the time he finished shaving, Evan realized that breakfast would have to wait. He needed to lie down again or risk collapsing in a heap. He just barely made it back. As it was, he didn’t have the strength to fix his blankets, so he stretched out in the grass and promptly fell into a dark oblivion.

A feather brushed over his nose. Lifting a limp hand, Evan batted it away and turned onto his side, his arm cushioning his head. Sleep sucked him back down.

A feather tickled his ear. Grumbling at the disturbance, he swatted again. All he wanted was to sleep in peace. He felt as if he’d been flattened by a runaway wagon.

“Baba!”

A child’s voice interrupted his dreams and a warm weight plumped down onto his rib cage. Jerked awake, he opened his eyes in time to see a curly haired moppet tumble sideways into the grass. Unfazed, she scrambled on top of him once more, her chubby hands clutching his blue cotton shirt for balance. Leaning in close, her brown eyes were large with curiosity as she gazed at him.

“Fafa!”

Careful not to dislodge her, he maneuvered himself
onto his back. She picked up a broken willow branch and waved it in the air.

Studying the little girl, he was struck by her sweet face and wide-eyed curiosity. Her sunny yellow frock combined with her large, heavily lashed brown eyes and coffee-colored curls put him in mind of the tall sunflowers growing along the far edge of his property.

Ah, to be a child again, innocent and free of the worries of this world.

She slid off his chest and toddled in the direction of the water. Evan sat up and pushed a hand through his rumpled hair. He had no idea how long he’d been out.

He tracked the little girl with his gaze. She was headed for the wildflower patch, no doubt drawn by the rainbow of bright colors—blue, red, yellow, pink and purple blossoms swaying in the wind.

The girl’s mother was hunched over the fire, stirring the contents of the iron kettle. Henry sat nearby sharpening his knives. Matt wasn’t in sight, nor was Juliana.

He stood and ambled after the child. She wasn’t near the water, but snakes liked to hide in tall grass and he didn’t want to take any chances.

On her knees in the midst of the wildflowers, she buried her nose in the fragrant blossoms. Occasionally, her tiny pink tongue jetted out to lick a petal. He shook his head in amusement. When she reached for a pale pink, bell-shaped flower, he hurried to warn her.

Squatting to her level, he said, “Hey, princess, don’t mess with that one,” pointing to the cluster of foxgloves. “These flowers will make your tummy hurt real bad. Don’t touch them and don’t put them in your mouth.”

“Fafa?” She quirked her head, her tiny brow wrinkled in dismay.

Flower? He pointed again. “Fafa no good.”

A shadow fell across his body.

“When did you learn baby talk?”

Despite his irritation with her, pleasure curled through him at the sound of her lyrical voice. “How long have I been asleep?”

“A long while.”

When he rose to greet her, black spots danced before his eyes and he swayed. He squeezed his eyes shut in hoping that the light-headed sensation would pass.

“What’s wrong?” Juliana moved closer. Her slender hand closed over his wrist, thrilling him despite his discomfort.

“Probably stood up too fast,” he muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and finger. His head throbbed.

He opened his eyes and was relieved to find his vision clear. Juliana’s face was within touching distance, her forehead puckered in concern. Pale eyelashes framed dark green irises, tiny flecks of gold reflected by the shafts of sunlight peaking through the puffy clouds overhead. A breeze picked up, teasing strands of hair from the neat bun at her nape.

“Are you okay now?”

“I’m fine.”

A tug on his pants leg had him looking down. The little girl held her hands up to him. “Up!”

“I guess that means she wants me to hold her again, huh?” he said, bending to pick her up.

“Wait, Evan,” Juliana cautioned, “are you able to carry her? She may look light, but she’s not.”

With the girl perched in his arms, he turned to Juliana. “I’m fine, really. Let’s deliver this bundle to her parents. My morning coffee is long overdue.”

Gauging from the expression on her face, Juliana
wasn’t convinced. She walked beside him without speaking. The gusts of wind took the edge off the humidity. He eyed the darkening sky. They were likely in for a squall.

“I see you finally decided to roll out of bed, Harrison,” Henry called out, his ready smile in place. Evan liked the man and would be sorry when they parted ways.

“I found something that belongs to you.” He set the girl down. She hurried to her father’s side. Henry set aside his tools to pull her into his lap. Evan nodded to Talbot’s wife. “Good morning, Mrs. Talbot.”

“I told you to call me Rose,” she scolded in a light tone. “Would you like your breakfast now? We saved a plate for you. Bacon, beans and corn bread.”

His stomach revolted at the notion of food. “Thank you kindly, ma’am, but I believe I’ll just take a cup of coffee if you have any.”

Her brows rose in surprise. “Sure, we have plenty.”

“I’ll get it.” Juliana moved to fill a tin cup with the dark brew. When she handed it to him, she lowered her voice. “Are you sure you’re okay? It’s unusual for you to skip a meal.”

He accepted the cup with a nod. “I’m just feelin’ a little off today.” He sipped the steaming liquid. “Probably a combination of not eating all day yesterday and not enough sleep.”

“Maybe we should stick around here another day,” she suggested. “We could leave early tomorrow morning.”

She had a point. With the way he was feeling, hitting the trail in this heat held little appeal. Still, he didn’t like the idea of sitting in one place with Fitzgerald on their trail. And time was an issue—he needed to get her settled in Cades Cove and then report back to Roberts and the gang.

“Your idea is tempting, but we need to get home.” He tried to convey with a look what he couldn’t say aloud.

“What’s your hurry?” Henry joined them, his daughter on his hip. “Stay with us one more night. It’ll give us a chance to visit a bit more before we say our goodbyes.”

Evan couldn’t think straight, what with the sledgehammer pounding away in his skull. The coffee tasted bitter going down, so he threw it out. Juliana gave him an odd look. He shrugged.

“I can’t think…” The edges of his vision went black, and he stumbled back.

“Evan!”

Juliana calling his name was the last thing he heard before he lost consciousness and slid to the ground.

J
uliana reached for him, but wasn’t fast enough. He hit the ground hard, his head glancing off a fallen log. A thin stream of red trickled from his temple down past his ear and into his hair.

Alarm spiraling through her, Juliana fell to her knees. “Evan!” She cradled his face in her hands. “Speak to me.”

Stepping over his prone body, Henry kneeled, held Evan’s wrist and checked his pulse. “Does he have any health problems?”

“No.” Evan hadn’t mentioned a thing. He seemed so strong and healthy. But she’d only known him a few days. “At least, none that I know of.”

Rose rushed up and placed a hand on Juliana’s shoulder. “What can I do?”

Her thoughts scattered, Juliana’s only focus was on Evan himself.

Henry spoke with utter calm and authority. “We need clean water and bandages for his head wound.” Letting go of Evan’s arm, Henry placed a hand on his forehead. “His pulse is thready. And he’s burning up.” He looked at her. “Does he have a tent among his gear?”

“I don’t think so.”

“You can borrow ours.” He gave instructions to his wife. “Have Matt empty the tent of our things and ready a pallet for Evan.”

“All right,” Rose said before Juliana could protest. “I’ll be right back.”

With a squeeze of Juliana’s shoulder, she left, taking Joy with her.

“You really don’t have to do that,” she said.

“Evan’s ill. He’ll need cover if it starts to rain.”

“Thank you.” She paused. “What do you think is wrong with him?” She tore her gaze away to look at Henry.

Henry’s dark eyes were somber. “Could be any number of things. Did he get bit by anything recently?”

“Like a spider?”

He nodded. Her eyes drifted back to Evan’s still form. “He didn’t say. But he was really tired last night. We didn’t talk long before I went to bed.”

Rose brought the bandages and a bowl of clean water. She offered to clean the wound, but Juliana declined, preferring to perform the task herself. With great care, Juliana cleansed the gash and wrapped long strips of cloth around his head, tying it off tight enough to stem the flow of blood. She was thankful the wound wasn’t deep and wouldn’t require a sewing kit. She was in no mood to sew his skin back together. She was worried by the fact that not once during her ministrations did he flinch or flutter an eyelid.

“I have an idea.” Henry’s voice broke into her reverie. “Once we get him inside the tent, why don’t you undress him and look for marks or spots that look suspicious.”

Dread filled her as his words registered. Setting the bowl aside, she looked over at him. “I can’t do that.”

“Why not? You’re his wife.”

“Well, I—” She scrambled for a solid reason for her refusal and came up blank. As much as she wanted to help, she couldn’t bring herself to do as he suggested. “Could you do it, Henry? You probably have a much better idea of what to look for than I do.”

He studied her a moment, and Juliana felt a flush creep up her neck.

“Yes, of course.” He moved to rise. “Will you stay here with him while I help Matt?”

“I won’t leave him.”

“Holler if there’s any change.”

“Okay.”

She scooted closer and gently took his head in her lap, smoothing his hair with trembling fingers. Against the dark material of her dress, his face was deathly pale. His skin was dry and hot. His chest rose and fell in shallow, rapid breaths.

“What’s wrong with him, Lord?” she whispered, brushing aside the wetness on her cheeks. “I’m scared.”

She checked the bandage. So far, there was no sign of blood soaking through the thick cotton. A small blessing.

Juliana racked her brain, trying to think if Evan had eaten anything odd in the last day or so. As far as she knew, he’d eaten the exact same food as she. Unless he’d eaten something on the trail he’d failed to mention.

The wind picked up, tugging at her skirt and whipping strands of hair across her face. Slate-gray clouds swirled in the sky overhead, blocking out the sunshine. Henry and Matt worked with quick, efficient movements to ready the tent. She prayed the rain would hold off.

Rose brought Juliana a bowl of clean, cool water and strips of cloth with which to bathe Evan’s face and neck. With a light touch, she swabbed his forehead, cheeks, chin and neck. She unbuttoned the top buttons of his sky-blue shirt and spread the material wide so that she could access more skin. Curiosity overriding common sense, she slipped her hand beneath his shirt and flattened her palm against the hard muscles, the light covering of hair teasing her fingers. His heart thumped an angry rhythm, his skin fiery to the touch. Yanking her hand back, she ignored the flare of heat in her middle.

“Miss Juliana?”

She jerked at the sound of Matt’s voice behind her, the sudden movement jarring Evan’s head. He groaned but didn’t open his eyes. “Yes, Matt?”

“The tent’s ready.”

Henry rushed over. Between the three of them, they were able to lift his body off the ground and carry him to the tent beneath a magnolia tree. With the thick, interwoven branches, it was a good choice. Rainwater would sluice off the outer leaves and flowers onto the ground, leaving the inner circle of ground beneath the branches relatively dry. They settled him inside the cozy interior on a soft pallet.

Juliana stopped Matt’s departure with a hand on his arm. “The water is already tepid. Would you mind refilling it?”

His dark eyes were wide with uncertainty. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Thanks.”

The sound of Evan’s labored breathing stirred fear in Juliana’s soul. Whatever was ailing him was serious.
Miles from the closest town and doctor, they would have to depend on herbs or plants to provide a remedy.

“Mrs. Harrison.” Henry spoke as he untied Evan’s bootlaces. “I’m going to check him now. Do you plan to stay or would you rather wait outside?”

“I’ll go speak with Rose.” With a last caress of Evan’s cheek, she scooted outside and looked up at the dark sky. She thanked God for holding off the weather until Evan was settled. She headed toward the fire where Rose sat with Joy, who was apparently unhappy with the choice of beans for lunch.

“No!” Crossing her arms, the little girl averted her face.

Rose held the spoon aloft, encouraging Joy to eat. She looked up at Juliana’s approach. Her black hair was damp with sweat from cooking over the fire. Lowering the spoon to the bowl, she waited for Juliana to speak.

“He’s not doing well,” she said, discouraged. “I’m worried, Rose. We’re out in the middle of nowhere, and we haven’t a clue what’s wrong with him. He’s so hot. If the fever gets out of control—”

“Let’s hold off on the what ifs, okay?” Rose held up a hand. “Someone very wise once told me that what ifs open the door to fear. We don’t need that. We need clear-headed thinking.”

“Of course you’re right.”

“What’s the first thing we need to do?” Rose asked, thinking aloud. She tugged on Joy’s shoe. “Come sit next to me, Joy baby.” The child obeyed. Intent on watching them, she ate the beans her mother again offered her.

“We have to get that fever down,” Juliana uttered on a shaky breath.

“Right. My grandmother used coneflowers for pain and fevers. Have you noticed any growing around here?”

“No, but I haven’t been on the lookout for them.”

“Why don’t you search in this area while I finish feeding Joy? If you don’t find any, Henry can look farther out.”

Careful to keep the camp in sight, Juliana combed the area for the large purple flower. Her gaze swept across the prairie. With its thigh-high grasses and sparse tree cover, she didn’t hold out much hope that she would find what she was looking for. The coneflower was a woodland plant, preferring the shady forest floor to direct sunlight.

In the distance, she spotted Henry leaving the tent. She sprinted toward him and arrived winded.

He was the first to speak, his eyes kind as he looked at her. “I didn’t see a thing. Nothing at all that would call for suspicion. He must have some sort of sickness.”

“How is he?” Her gaze darted to the opening.

“The same. Fever, shallow breathing.” He touched her elbow briefly. “I need to speak with Rose. While I do that, why don’t you try to get some water into him?”

“Tell her I didn’t find the coneflower.”

His mouth drooped. “I will.”

Stooping over, she entered the tent and waited for her eyes to adjust to the faint light. He was dressed in his white undershirt. A cheerful red, blue and yellow patchwork quilt covered him to his chest, adding a dash of color to the dim space.

She settled on the pallet and brought his hand to her lap. With her fingertip, she traced the blue veins beneath his tan skin. Testing the weight of it, she took comfort in the strength and capability she knew he possessed. These
hands had caught her when she stumbled, comforted her when she cried, held her close when she was afraid. She lifted his hand and pressed her cheek into his palm.

His eyes remained closed, shutting out the rest of the world.

When had his face become so dear? Five days ago, she would’ve passed Evan Harrison on the street without a second thought. How had he come to mean so much to her in such a short time? A better question would be how had she allowed herself to fall in love with an outlaw? A man who courted danger?

Alice O’Malley had raised her daughters to fear God and live upright, godly lives. She expected her daughters to choose men of moral character and good standing in the community. Her mother would be horrified if she knew that her eldest daughter had fallen in love with the very man who’d kidnapped her.

What was the secret he guarded so closely?

“What are you hiding?” she whispered softly.

The flap lifted, and a stiff wind circled through the space. Henry ducked his head in and beckoned her outside. With reluctance she left Evan’s side. Henry and Rose stood side by side waiting to talk to her, while Matt played with his baby sister. Their grave expressions gave her pause.

“Mrs. Harrison,” Henry began, “I’m inclined to believe that Evan has contracted the same sickness that swept through my sister-in-law’s house. Joy had similar symptoms, but as you can see she’s almost recovered.”

“Remember I mentioned it yesterday?” Rose prompted.

“Yes, I remember.” She kneaded her stiff neck muscles. Dread flooded her entire being. “But she and the others were given medicine to control their fevers, right?”

Husband and wife exchanged a look. “Yes. And the adults fared slightly worse than the children. Took longer to recuperate.”

Her heart hammered against her rib cage. “Tell me directly, Henry. Without the medicine, what do you think Evan’s chances are of surviving?”

He didn’t flinch at her words. “He’s young and healthy. If we can bring the fever down and get him to drink plenty of fluids, I believe he has a fighting chance.”

A tiny bud of hope burst forth in her heart.

“How are you with a gun?” he asked.

“Me? I know my way around a firearm.”

“Good.” He lifted a weapon from his left holster and gave it to her. “Don’t be afraid to use it.”

“What about Matt?”

“Matt has his own rifle.”

Her gaze strayed to the boy playing peekaboo with his sister. She prayed he wouldn’t be forced to use it. “Evan told you about Fitzgerald, didn’t he?”

His lips flattened. “Yes.” He shifted, his arm going around his wife’s shoulders. “I wouldn’t be leaving if it wasn’t absolutely necessary. As it is, I’m not going far. I figure it’s about an hour’s ride to the forest edge. Once there, I’ll travel on foot until I find the coneflower. Pray I find it soon, for everyone’s sake.”

Rose lifted her face to his. “I’ll be praying every minute you’re gone.”

His expression softened, and he dropped a kiss on her cheek. “Thank you, my dear.”

“Me, too,” Juliana added. “I appreciate all you’re doing for Evan.”

Settling his hat on his head, he returned, “I know he’d do the same for me.”

Juliana recognized the truth of his words. Evan would be quick to help a man in need. She watched the pair walk arm in arm toward the horses, turning away when they embraced. The clouds overhead rushed past without releasing a single drop of water. While the wind was still brisk, it had lessened in the last ten minutes or so. It seemed as if the storm would pass them by. Praise the Lord!

“Oh, Father God, please protect Henry. Again, stay the weather as he searches. Bring him back swiftly, and protect us while we wait. In Jesus’s name, Amen.”

Juliana headed for the fire, determined to get some broth into Evan. She would do everything in her power to help him get well. The alternative didn’t bear thinking about.

Juliana spoke in soothing tones as she coaxed Evan to sip the lukewarm broth. He’d drifted in and out of consciousness as the afternoon wore on, at times mumbling random words she couldn’t make sense of. It was suppertime now, around five o’clock or so, she guessed, and the fever still raged through his body.

Holding the cup to his parched lips, she managed to get a bit of the broth into him. She set the cup aside and gently lowered his head back down to the pillow. Then, as she’d done countless times, she dipped the cloth into the water bowl and, wringing out the excess, began to wipe his face. Not that it appeared to be helping.

Outside the tent, the constant wind had given way to occasional gusts. While the sun still hid behind a thick layer of clouds, it hadn’t rained. Every now and then, she lifted the flap and peeked out to see if Henry had returned yet. She hoped he hadn’t run into bad weather.

Evan couldn’t seem to lie still. Restless, he moved his head from side to side. His low moans tugged at her heartstrings. Watching him suffer while she sat helplessly by made her want to weep with frustration.

She leaned in close. One bright spot in this whole ordeal was that she was free to look at him and touch him and speak without reservation. “Evan, darling,” she murmured, smoothing his damp hair, “hold on a little while longer. Henry will be back before you know it with that coneflower and you’ll soon be on the mend.”

She prayed that her words would prove to be true.