The Reluctant Outlaw (Love Inspired Historical) (4 page)

Evan shifted in the saddle. His neck and shoulder muscles burned from overuse, and his lower back was stiff. Knowing it was past time to give his body a break, Evan decided to stop for the night. They’d spent most of the day in the saddle or walking, and tomorrow would be no different. They both needed rest.

Heading off the trail, he searched for shelter. He settled on a protected spot tucked in the midst of a stand of mature trees. The night air was comfortable enough that he wouldn’t need to build a fire. The blankets in his bedroll would provide ample warmth.

Careful to balance Miss O’Malley’s sleeping form, Evan slid off the stocky horse’s back. It wasn’t easy, but he managed to get her off Lucky and into his arms. Stepping carefully through the low grass, he lowered her to the ground. Then he returned for the bedroll.

Tucking the thickest quilt he owned around her body, he made certain every inch of her was cocooned in the material. Crouched beside her, he paused when she began to mumble words he couldn’t quite make out.

With unsure fingers, he smoothed the silky strands away from her forehead. The action caused her to smile in her sleep, and she turned into his touch. Evan sucked in a breath. Her cheek, soft and cool, rested against his open palm. What now?

He didn’t dare move a muscle. What if she woke and found him like this?

She’d panic, that’s what!

With the steadiness of a surgeon extracting a bullet, Evan slid his hand free.

Then he bolted.

Relief flooded him when, looking back over his shoulder, he saw that she remained oblivious to her surroundings. Great. He’d avoided an awful scene. If she’d awoken to find him hovering over her, well, she surely would’ve assumed the worst.

Evan crossed the meadow and sank down at the base of a tree. The nervous energy surging through his body made him restless, edgy. Jerking off his hat, he slapped it against his thigh.

His mission had hit a major snag. Ten months with the gang and he had nothing. No leads and no suspects. While his brother lay in a cold, lonely grave, his murderers were living full and fancy-free. Bitterness left a bad taste in his mouth.

A wave of loneliness washed over him. How he wished he could turn the clock back to that fatal night and force James to abandon the trip! Maybe if he’d been more convincing in his arguments or outright refused to let his brother leave, James would still be alive today.

Evan had made the decision last night to go through with the robbery and then head to Knoxville on his own. James had been killed near the Tennessee River, on the outskirts of downtown. He planned to visit each and
every saloon and tavern until he found the information he sought. No matter how long it took, he would never stop searching.

He glanced at the beautiful lady asleep in his bedroll. For now, though, his plans would have to wait until she was back with her family.

He gripped the rifle lying across his lap. He’d get little sleep this night. If Fitz or any of the other outlaws intended on coming after them, he would be ready.

Juliana woke shortly after sunrise to the smell of frying salt pork and coffee. Disoriented, she stared up at the patchwork of green leaves and blue sky. Where was she? Her sisters’ animated chatter had been replaced by birdcalls and her comfortable bed by dewy grass and unyielding earth.

Then it all came rushing back. The mercantile. The kidnapping. The cabin.

Her stomach rebelled, and she thought she might retch. Holding very still and taking even, shallow breaths, she waited until the sensation passed.

Her cheek throbbed. She gingerly probed the area with her fingertips and winced at the pain. She didn’t need a mirror to tell her what it must look like.

Propping herself up on her elbows, her hair falling in waves about her shoulders, she surveyed her surroundings. Her gaze locked onto Harrison, so intent on his task of tending the fire, and apprehension skittered down her spine. Should she trust this enigmatic stranger to stand by his promise to see her safely home?

Watching him now, she had to admit that under ordinary circumstances she would be curious about him. He was one of those men who commanded attention based on his calm self-assurance, the unleashed power in his
muscular form and his dark, forbidding good looks. He was like no other man she’d ever known.

He looked up then from the cast-iron skillet and caught her staring.

“Good morning,” he said matter-of-factly, as if they were old acquaintances.

He loaded up two trenchers with the pork and hoecakes. He rose in one fluid movement and approached her with long strides. Crouching beside her, he offered her one. “Can you eat something?”

His nearness intensified the queasiness in her stomach. Still, they’d skipped supper last night. “I’ll try.”

Juliana sat up, self-conscious about her disheveled appearance. When he didn’t move away, she lifted her head. She read the displeasure in his expression.

“What?”

“Your cheek,” he stated darkly. “It looks pretty bad. Is the pain worse this morning?”

Was that remorse in his voice? Surely he hadn’t developed a conscience overnight.

“Not very.” She wasn’t being exactly truthful, but she wasn’t about to admit to him the pain she was in. What was the point?

His eyes narrowed. “I don’t believe you.”

“Believe what you want.” She shrugged, lifting her trencher of untouched food. “Can we please eat now?”

“Be my guest.” He hesitated a moment before turning to his own breakfast.

Stubble darkened his jaw, and his eyes were bloodshot. Had he not slept? She quelled the urge to ask. What did she care whether he’d slept or not?

They ate in silence. Juliana nibbled at the slightly sweet hoecake, thankful that her stomach didn’t protest. One taste of the salty meat was one too many, however,
and she tossed it back on the plate. Gulping down coffee to rid herself of the aftertaste, she grimaced. She didn’t like black coffee. Her mom had made sure to always have cream and sugar on the table for Juliana, the only one of her five daughters who drank coffee.

“Is something wrong?” he asked midchew.

“I’m not used to the strong stuff.”

He swallowed. “You’ll get used to it.”

“Considering I’ll be home in a few hours, I doubt it matters.”

He didn’t meet her eyes as he stood to his feet. “I’m going to rinse these off,” he said, gathering the dirty utensils. “If you’re done eating, you can come with me. You’ll have a chance to wash up if you’d like.”

What a difference a day makes,
she thought. She supposed he felt guilty for what had happened and that was the reason he was acting kind. Rising to her feet, she tried in vain to smooth her wrinkled dress. “I don’t suppose you have a brush in those saddlebags, do you?”

“There’s a comb.” He rifled through the leather bags and produced a simple black comb. “Will this do?” he asked, his eyes raking her mass of auburn hair.

Her cheeks warmed at his inspection. “Yes.”

Falling into step beside him, she ventured a side glance. “How long have you been living like this? I mean…have you always been a thief?”

One black brow quirked up. “Yeah, it all started when I was three. I just had to have that lemon drop at the mercantile, so I swiped it.”

“Ah, a sense of humor. I’m surprised, Harrison.”

“Harrison is my last name. Call me Evan.”

“Oh. Okay…Evan.”

Her gaze drifted down to where the top two buttons of his cotton shirt were undone. His tanned neck shone
with a fine film of perspiration, his steady pulse visible in the hollows above his collarbone.

Juliana wondered at her absence of fear in his presence. His close proximity made her feel unsettled, even nervous. But she didn’t believe he would harm her.

“And your name is…” he prompted. His blue eyes, so distinctive and intense, were fastened onto her face in open scrutiny. His dark hair and clothes only made his eyes seem brighter.

“I don’t believe I’ll tell you, Evan Harrison.”

“Why not?” his brow furrowed. “
Miss O’Malley
is a bit formal, don’t you think?”

“Why should I? You and I will never again clap eyes on each other after today.”

B
one-weary from passing the night drifting in and out of sleep, Evan was in no mood to argue. So he clamped his mouth shut and continued down the path.

Contrary woman! He could only imagine how she was going to react when he told her the bad news—that she wasn’t going home today or any day soon. His mind was made up, though. She could get angry, cry or throw a fit. Didn’t matter. She would not sway his decision.

Leaving the cool shade behind, he stepped out into the bright sunshine. A wide ribbon of shimmering green meandered through the clearing, the sound of rushing water filling his ears. While not deep enough to bathe in, the stream was adequate for a quick wash.

He glanced back at Miss O’Malley, his eyes drawn to her sleek red hair glinting in the sun. Then he caught sight of her discolored cheek and winced.

He reached into his back pocket and pulled out his bandanna. He rinsed the black material in the cool water, wrung out the excess and folded it in a neat square.

He went to stand before her and, lifting the compress, lightly placed it against her cheek. For a moment she didn’t blink. He lost himself in her impossibly green eyes.
There was a flash of apprehension which she quickly masked. That he’d caused her unease made him feel ill. He pressed the compress into her hand and stepped back abruptly. Of course she would be wary of him. He was her kidnapper, after all.

“Keep that on for a few minutes,” he murmured. “It probably won’t help much with the swelling, but the cold will feel good. As soon as we get washed up, I’ll make you a poultice.”

His concern for her, a stranger whose name he hadn’t bothered to ask until a minute ago, was a foreign emotion. He’d been consumed with his own needs for so long—his desire for revenge and his well-thought-out plans to get it.

Evan felt ashamed. Selfish. Hard-hearted. Almost like an entirely different person than he’d been before his brother’s murder. His cousin certainly had tried to convince him to let the authorities handle it, had warned Evan of the hazards of settling old scores.

The faith he’d grown up with and cultivated as an adult—the same faith he’d considered the foundation of his existence—had splintered beneath him in the space of a day. He’d fallen into an abyss of suspicion and inner turmoil.

“How long will it take to get back to town?” she asked, interrupting his thoughts.

Evan weighed his words carefully. “We’re not going to Gatlinburg. I’ve decided it’s too risky to take you back there. For now, anyway.”

“I don’t understand.” Although her voice remained calm, he sensed the brewing storm.

“I’d planned to take you straight home to your family, but since the men know about you…we can’t risk it. I figure the safest spot for you right now is my place—”

The hand holding the compress against her cheek went limp, and she looked at him in horror. “
Your
place? The home of a thief and kidnapper? No! I am not sleeping one night under your roof!”

Goodness, but she was stunning when riled up. A faint blush stained her cheeks, her pink mouth puckered in disapproval and graceful hands propped on her slim hips. She looked eager for a fight.

“You’ll be safe there. That’s what matters.”

“Safe?” Her expression turned disbelieving. “With the man who held a gun on me, forced me from my family and is currently planning to whisk me away to parts unknown?”

“Why don’t you calm down so we can discuss this rationally?”

“When it comes to my freedom, I don’t feel particularly rational!”

“I brought you here. It’s my duty to get you home safe and sound—”

“Oh, I see…” she scoffed. “You’ve got it all planned out. The triumphant return! You deliver me to my front doorstep and my family will fall to their knees in gratitude—a true hero.”

“I’m no one’s hero,” he shot back. “Remember that.”

Bitter regret rose in his throat like bile. He’d failed to protect his only brother—tried and failed.

He lowered his voice. “The men go into town once or twice a week for supplies. With your flame-colored hair, you might as well wear a sign around your neck. If I take you back now, I’d be risking your life and mine.”

“I’m not the only redhead in town, you know.”

“Gatlinburg isn’t exactly a big town.” He paused, trying to think of a way to make her see reason. “What about your sisters?”

She stilled. “What about them?”

“Suppose one of the men—let’s say Fitzgerald—spotted you in town and followed you home. You wouldn’t be the only one in danger.”

She looked away, evenly spaced white teeth worrying her lower lip. He could see that she was torn. At last, she crossed her arms. She didn’t appear pleased with the change in plans.

“Do you realize the anguish my mother must be feeling right now? And my sisters? I’m the oldest. They depend on me.”

“You haven’t mentioned your father.”

Her eyes darkened. “He died four years ago of a heart attack.”

“I’m sorry.” Evan understood the pain of losing a parent. “We can send a telegram from Cades Cove, let them know you’re safe and will be home soon.”

She closed her eyes, distress twisting her lovely features. “This is a nightmare.”

“A nightmare that will soon be over.”

Resigned, she sighed. “What do you have in mind?”

“We’ll pass by Gatlinburg and make our way to Cades Cove. My farm is there. We can make the trip in about three days if the weather holds. You’ll have the place to yourself while I ride back to the hideout and convince the men I got rid of you. They’ll be heading out in a week or so. Then I’ll come back for you and escort you home.”

“Why would you do that? Why go to so much trouble on my behalf when you’re partly responsible for my kidnapping?”

He deserved that. “That’s right. I’m responsible.” He jammed a thumb in his chest. “As I said before, I got you into this mess and I intend to get you out of it.”

“Something’s not right.” She studied him, a specula
tive gleam in her eye. “Little details about you that don’t quite add up.”

Intrigued, he crossed his arms and waited. “Such as?”

“Well, for starters, you talk funny.”

He hadn’t expected that. “Excuse me?”

“No, no, that’s not the right word.” She began to pace, and he could practically see the wheels in her brain whirling. She snapped her fingers. “Educated! That’s it! You don’t use foul language. And you don’t speak as if you were raised in a saloon, as one would expect from a common criminal.”

“And you’re acquainted with common criminals, I take it?”

“Thanks to you, I am now.”

“Yes, that’s unfortunate. I apologize.”

“There.” She pointed a finger at him. “That’s the other thing. You shouldn’t be apologizing to me.”

“I shouldn’t?” This woman was beginning to confuse him.

“You treat me as if I have value. Those other men…” She shuddered. “What I mean to say is that, for the most part, you’ve treated me with respect. A truly hardened criminal would’ve done as those men suggested and gotten rid of me.”

“Wait just a minute—”

“Shh! Don’t try to distract me. There’s one more thing, and it’s a doozy.”

A no-nonsense expression stole across her face and, straightening to her full height, she focused her entire attention on him. He felt like a witness under cross-examination.

“Well? What is it?”

“Money.”

“What about it?”

“Where is the money you risked your life
and
mine for? You walked out of that cabin without a moment’s hesitation. Have you even given it a second thought?”

“I’ve been kinda busy plotting our next move.”

“Exactly.”

Uncomfortable with her astute observations, he sought to distract her. “Is that all, Irish?”

“Yes, that’s all.” Her eyes narrowed. “What did you call me?”

“Fits, doesn’t it? Or would you prefer
Red?
”

“Absolutely not!”

“I suppose I could try to guess your name,” Evan made a show of studying her, and he gained much satisfaction at seeing her squirm. “How about Matilda?”

Her finely arched eyebrows shot up. “You think I look like a Matilda?”

“Hmm…no, that’s not quite right, is it?” He stroked his chin thoughtfully. “I know. Bertha.”

“Bertha?”

“That’s not it, either, huh? Okay, a Bible name. Rachel. I like that one.”

“Me, too, but it’s not mine.”

“Can you give me a hint? Tell me what letter it starts with?”

She bit her lip, and he could tell that she was beginning to find some humor in the conversation. A thrill shot through him. Trying to make her smile could become addictive.

“That would make it too easy. Besides, you don’t deserve the help.”

“In the meantime, then, I’ll stick with
Irish.
”

“What? That’s not a proper name!”

“It’s yours until you decide to quit being stubborn.” He shrugged, tossing her a washcloth. “See those trees over
there? I’ll be right on the other side washing up while you do the same here. You’ll have plenty of privacy, but if you need anything just call out.”

Juliana watched him stride away, her eyes fixed on his broad back. She noted the way the smooth material stretched across his powerful shoulders and biceps. A wall of solid muscle, he moved with purpose and confidence. On the outside, he was every girl’s dream.

A pity he spent his days terrorizing innocents and taking what didn’t belong to him.

His horse moved into her line of vision, his majestic black head low to the ground as he nibbled a clump of red clover. He was a fine specimen. Glossy coat, firm flesh, strong legs. Probably a fast runner…

Juliana clapped a hand over her mouth. Lifting his head, Lucky stared at her blankly for a second or two before resuming his snacking. No…she couldn’t.
Or could she?

She spoke in low, soothing tones as she approached the animal and tried to convey an air of calm she didn’t feel. What would Evan Harrison do if he came back and caught her trying to steal his horse?

“You’re a fine-lookin’ boy, aren’t you?” she crooned softly, taking hold of his studded bridle and rubbing her palm down his side. He was already used to her scent, and he seemed to welcome the attention. “Would you care to give me a ride somewhere, Lucky?”

She’d have to ride bareback, since she wasn’t strong enough to lift the saddle with all the gear attached to it. While she preferred a saddle, riding without one was doable. If Lucky would let her, that is.

“I have to try, right, boy?” She continued to rub his soft coat, her heart thumping in her chest. “I need my
freedom.” She laid her forehead against his neck. “Will you help me?”

Juliana searched the woods where Evan had disappeared. Nothing. Now was her chance. She prayed Lucky wouldn’t throw her.

Still speaking soft words of encouragement, she led him to a fallen log, where she stepped up, grabbed hold and vaulted up and onto his back. Half lying on her stomach, she scooted closer to his neck, her inner thighs pressing into his sides for balance. She signaled for him to move out.

The big black obeyed without a moment’s hesitation. She glanced over her shoulder and again saw no sign of Evan. She was sweating—not from exertion but from sheer nerves. Her stomach, already upset, was now a hard knot. Her hands shook.

As she got farther from the campsite, however, Juliana felt like shouting for joy. Freedom was in her sights. God had surely presented her with this chance at escape.

The going would be tough, no doubt. She had no supplies of any kind. Her cousins, she thanked God, had taught her many skills that would help her find food and shelter. The only problem, in her mind, was figuring out which direction to go. But even if she couldn’t get all the way back to Gatlinburg, she figured she’d come across a town eventually where she could get help.

She took note of the sun’s position and rode in the opposite direction. They’d been traveling east, so it made sense that home was to the west.

“Mr. Evan Harrison is in for one big surprise.” She grinned, ignoring the nudge of conscience. He’s strong and healthy, she reasoned. Wouldn’t hurt him a bit to hike to civilization.

What she would do with the horse once she got
home, she hadn’t a clue. She couldn’t keep him—he didn’t belong to her. She couldn’t very well return him, either. Evan knew she lived in or near Gatlinburg, and it wouldn’t be difficult for him to find her. Although her time with him had been brief, she had a gut feeling that he would come looking for what was rightfully his. The thought of meeting him face-to-face at this point unnerved Juliana.

Pushing that disturbing thought away, she focused on her surroundings. She couldn’t afford to daydream. Not only did she need to keep Lucky headed in the right direction, she also had to keep a lookout for snakes or wild boars that might spook him.

She was vulnerable out here alone, she knew. If only she had a weapon.

I will never leave you, nor forsake you.
The words from the book of Joshua reassured her.
I know, Father, and I thank You for reminding me.

After a mile or so of the beautiful yet monotonous terrain—wide-spaced hickory, spruce and sugar maple trees—her thoughts strayed again to Evan Harrison and his concerns about Lenny Fitzgerald and the others. He didn’t have her completely convinced of the danger. If they only planned to be in the vicinity for a week or two, all she had to do was stay home and not venture into town.

And of course she planned to give Sheriff Timmons a detailed description of Lenny Fitzgerald. Wanted posters would go up all over town. That should send the criminal running in the opposite direction!

But what about Mr. Harrison? Would she give a description of him, too? William Timmons would want the man who’d kidnapped Juliana. In the sheriff’s eyes, she
realized, tracking down Evan Harrison would take precedence over capturing any of the others.

Juliana wanted justice. Evan deserved to be punished for what he’d done, of course, but somehow she couldn’t place him on the same level as those other men. There was something different about him…she just couldn’t put her finger on what that something was.