The Reluctant Outlaw (Love Inspired Historical) (6 page)

With Lenny Fitzgerald calling the shots, her life could be over in the blink of an eye.

“Last I saw him, he was alive and well,” she said.

“How did you manage to steal his horse?”

“He let his guard down.”

“We won’t do that, will we, Art?” Fitzgerald shot Art a warning glare.

Juliana swallowed hard. This conversation was going nowhere fast. Her gaze darted around, looking for a weapon of some kind. If she could delay him just long enough for her to get a head start, she was sure Lucky could outrun his mount. Besides, the man was half-drunk. He’d be slower than normal.

Her gaze landed on the cast-iron skillet resting above the flames. Melted fatback popped and hissed. An idea seized her, and she acted on it before she could change her mind.

Leaning forward, she reached out a hand. “Mind if I help myself to some more meat?”

He eyed her a moment, then shrugged his beefy shoulders.

Inhaling deeply, she grabbed the handle and slung the skillet upwards, the burning hot liquid spilling out to splatter across his face and neck. He yelped in pain, his hands clawing at his face.

Panicked, Juliana let the skillet fall to the ground. She jumped to her feet and sprinted to Lucky’s side, vaulting onto his back with more speed than she knew she possessed.

“You’ll pay for this!” he bellowed in a fit of rage. “You won’t get away—”

Hearing him hollering for Art to follow her, she glanced back and saw him pretend to stumble and twist his ankle.

She silently praised Art’s quick thinking.

Juliana urged Lucky into an all-out gallop. Her heart throbbed in time to the horse’s hoofbeats against the hard earth as they dodged trees and fallen logs. Within moments, they left the forest behind for the wide, open plain. Juliana held on tight as the black lengthened his stride—heading back the way they’d come, back to where she’d started from, back to Evan Harrison.

F
inally emerging from the trees, Evan paused to take in his surroundings. Before him lay miles and miles of grassland. The forest behind him covered the hills to the right and curved around in front of him far in the distance. It would’ve made sense for her to have stayed with the tree line, but he could clearly see the trampled grass leading into the empty field.

He thought of the bonnet she’d forgotten back at camp, now tucked safely in his pack. He could only imagine her discomfort traveling in the direct sunlight without the benefit of shade. If she hadn’t found water… No, he wouldn’t allow his thoughts to go there. She was smart. Resourceful.

About a quarter of a mile later, he caught sight of what looked to be a horse and rider. To be safe, he unsheathed his gun. Too slow for his liking, the figure neared, and he saw that the animal was dark in color, although whether brown or black he couldn’t tell. The rider was slumped over, using the horse’s neck for support.

Evan stiffened, his muscles primed to spring into action. Something was wrong. In the instant he realized
that it was
his
horse carrying Miss O’Malley, he slid his gun back into the holster and started running.

When he came alongside Lucky, she fell into his arms, her unexpected weight and forward motion knocking him to the ground. Evan pushed up into a sitting position, his arms locked around her slender form.

“Irish! What happened?”

“Oh, Evan.” She sobbed into his chest, her fingers clutching his shirt. “I’m so s-sorry—”

His anger evaporated at the sight of her tears. “Are you injured? Ill?”

“N-no.”

Relief filtered through his soul like soothing rain. She was safe.

“Shh,” he murmured, resting his chin against her head. “Everything’s all right now.”

Comforting her, holding her, felt so right. His eyes drifting closed, he inhaled her sweet lavender scent and smoothed her hair with gentle strokes. The strands felt like pure bliss to his fingertips…thick and heavy and silken. His hands drifted lower to rub circles along her back. He felt her sigh as she settled her weight more firmly against him, the wetness from her cheeks seeping into his shirt. He didn’t mind.

He tightened his hold, aware of the need she was stirring within him. The need to connect, to
matter.
To share life’s joys and burdens. To love and be loved.

Irish lifted her face to gaze at him, her tear-filled eyes looking like forest ferns sparkling with dewdrops. His eyes dropped to her pink lips, the lower one full and inviting. It would be so easy to angle his head down and—

“Evan, I stole your horse. And Fitzgerald found out—” She broke off, a shudder racking her body.

“What?” His heart skidded to a halt, and his gaze
jerked upwards to meet hers. Evan gripped her shoulders and held her away from him. “You saw Fitzgerald? Where? What happened? Did he hurt you?”

“No, but he threatened me. And after what I did to him—” She clutched his biceps, “Evan, we have to go! We have to get out of here before he catches up to us.”

“What did you do, Irish?” He tensed.

“I threw hot grease in his face.”

“You
what?
”

“It was my only option at the time.” Her chin came up in defense, a spark of her usual spirit flaring in her eyes. “I had to distract him…somehow get a head start. It worked, didn’t it?”

Evan dropped his hands and sat back, his mind numb with the implications. There was no question now as to whether or not Fitzgerald would follow them and watch for a chance to strike. After what she did to him, he would be out for blood.

“Art was with him.”

“Art?” Evan repeated. “Did he say why?”

Her eyes dulled. “Your boss sent him and Fitzgerald to make sure you held up your end of the bargain.”

He couldn’t say he was surprised. After the way he’d reacted to Fitz’s treatment of her, Roberts was bound to have his doubts.

“I didn’t mean a word of it, remember?” he said softly, reaching out to stroke her cheek. She looked so lost just then. And vulnerable. It made him all the more determined to get her home safe.

“You realize, don’t you, that you absolutely can
not
go back to Gatlinburg until he leaves the area.”

A worried crease appeared between her brows. Her hair was tousled, her skin sunburned, her dark dress
streaked with dirt and grass stains. In his opinion, she couldn’t have looked more beautiful.

“I should’ve stayed with you.” She swallowed hard. “I didn’t believe you when you said he might be following us. I’m sorry I abandoned you.”

After her run-in with Fitzgerald, Evan was confident she wouldn’t try another stunt like that again. No reason to make her feel worse than she already did.

“Would you have kept Lucky?” he said.

“I figured you’d come looking for him. I planned to take good care of him until you found us.”

“Good answer.” He stood and helped her up, resisting the urge to pull her close. He couldn’t believe he’d almost kissed her a moment ago. Bad idea. The worst. No matter how beautiful or alluring she was, he could not allow himself to be distracted from his mission. Nor could he afford to forget the immeasurable pain that love ultimately cost a man. He was better off alone.

“Come on. Let’s go back to camp and get the rest of my stuff.”

She placed a hand on his forearm, her expression somber. “Can you forgive me?”

Her humble request shamed him. Brushing her aside, he picked his hat off the ground and thumped it against his thigh to dislodge the dirt. “You kidnapped my horse—an animal that’s happy as long as he has food and a kind word now and then. I had a part in kidnapping you—a woman with feelings and needs and family you care about.” He put on his hat and pulled the brim down low. “Think on that and then tell me who needs to ask for forgiveness.” He turned his back. “It’s time to go.”

Irish appeared to sense his need to be alone with his thoughts because she didn’t say anything else. He helped her mount before hauling himself up behind her.

He pulled her bonnet out of his bag and handed it to her, waiting until she put it on to signal Lucky. He would’ve liked to urge him into a full gallop, but he knew his horse’s limits. They traveled instead at a moderate pace, stopping now and then for a drink of water and a short rest.

Evan could tell that she was nervous. She searched the woods continually, as if expecting Fitzgerald to jump out from behind the nearest tree.

He gave her arm a squeeze. “Relax, Irish. You have my word that I’ll do everything in my power to keep you safe.”

She responded by resting against him. “I’m glad I have you to protect me.”

Again her words hit him like a punch in the gut. Guilt gnawed at his insides. He certainly didn’t feel like a hero in all this.

Evan tried to recall what life had been like before James’s murder. Plowing the fields, feeding the animals, repairing tools and broken-down equipment. Hard work that brought satisfaction at the end of the day. Going to church on Sundays. Attending town picnics.

Those days of normalcy were long gone. He was living a nightmare…forced to do things he’d never dreamed he’d do. If someone had told him a year ago that he’d be robbing banks and keeping company with a nest of vipers, he would’ve laughed his head off. If someone had told him that he would kidnap an innocent young lady, Evan would’ve punched him square in the face and spit on him to boot.

Goodness, but how life could take twisted turns.

By the time they arrived back at camp, the brilliant yellow-orange sun hung low in the sky. The intense rays
blended into the horizon, painting the pale expanse in swirls of pastel pink and orange.

Evan was eager to dismount and put some much-needed space between himself and his lovely riding companion. She filled his senses with her scent and softness. He was aware of her every sigh. He imagined that he could even detect her heartbeat pulsating in the creamy skin near the base of her throat.

Get a grip, Harrison.
Yanking on the reins, he slipped to the ground before Lucky could come to a complete stop. He helped her down, breaking contact as soon as her boots touched the ground. “Why don’t you rest a spell? I’ll rustle up something for us to eat.”

“I’d actually prefer to help if you have something for me to do.”

He hesitated. “You can gather wood for the fire, if you’d like, but I don’t want you to overdo it.”

“I’m fine.”

“Okay.” He stepped away, only to halt midstep to glance back at her. “Oh, and Irish?”

She met his gaze with an unreadable expression, cinnamon eyebrows raised in question.

“Don’t disappear on me this time.”

A ghost of a smile crossed her lips. “I’ll be here, I promise.”

“Good.”

As Evan tended to Lucky, he reminded himself that he was better off alone. Loving someone left a man vulnerable and open to heartache. God had seen fit to take away everyone who’d ever mattered in his life—first his parents, then his only brother. No way was he going to let anyone else get close. He simply could not face another loss.

Feeling irritable, he went in search of his saddle and
other belongings. They were exactly as he’d left them, which should’ve pleased him. Walking back and seeing Irish’s flushed countenance as she worked sparked his ire. He strode to her side and took the bundle of wood from her arms.

“I thought I told you not to overdo it,” he growled. “Go sit down.”

“And I told you, I’m fine. I think I’m smart enough to know my own limitations.” Her glare dared him to challenge her assertion.

His gaze took in the damp tendrils clinging to her temple and nape and the fine sheen of moisture on her forehead. “You’re short of breath, and your face is redder than a strawberry patch. With all the layers you’re wearing, it’s a wonder you haven’t passed out standing still in this heat.”

Her mouth fell open. “Gentlemen do not discuss ladies’ undergarments.”

Oddly amused by her discomfiture, he smirked. “I never claimed to be one.” He placed a hand on her shoulder and gently turned her in the direction of the nearest shade tree on the bank. “Humor me. Go sit down.”

Shifting the wood, he watched as she did his bidding. Once settled, her skirts arranged about her just so, she speared him with her dark gaze. “Happy now?”

“Yes, thank you. Rest while I fetch you some cold water.”

She was silent, offering only a simple thank-you when he handed her the cup. Evan gathered his fishing gear and settled on the bank beside her.

His gaze on the shimmering water, he asked, “So who taught you to ride bareback?”

“My cousin, Joshua.”

He glanced over at her. She appeared at ease, her legs
tucked to one side and her graceful hands clasped in her lap. Her green eyes seemed to miss nothing.

“And he thought that was necessary because…” Evan prompted.

“Oh, I don’t think he had any particular reason. We did it for fun and, like everything else, it turned into a competition. He’s two years older than me and more like a big brother than a cousin. He lives next door with his folks and two younger brothers, Nathan and Caleb. We see each other almost every day.”

“Did he teach you how to shoot a bow and arrow, too?”

“Now you’re teasing me.” Her lips curved in a most intriguing smile.

An answering smile on his face, he held up his hands. “No, honest. I’d like to know what else your talented cousin taught you.”

“Let’s just say that because of his patient instruction, I’m more skilled in manly pursuits than the average woman. And severely lacking in those skills necessary to make a comfortable home.”

Evan felt a tug on his line. He eased it up out of the water, pleased to see a medium-weight trout dangling on the end. He made quick work of unhooking the fish and getting his line back in the water. “So let me guess, while your sisters were learning to make biscuits and crochet, you were gallivanting about the countryside with your cousins.”

Her soft trill of laughter warmed his insides. “That about it sums it up, yes. I do my share of chores, of course. I like to work in the garden and oversee the care of the animals.”

“You don’t look like a tomboy,” he offered over the rim of his cup.

He was rewarded with a soft pink blush along her
cheekbones. She shot him a wry glance. “I’m not as particular about my appearance as some of my sisters, but I do like nice clothes. Of course, this dress is sadly ruined.”

“I’ll replace it.”

Irish shook her head. “I could never accept such a personal gift from a stranger.”

He lowered his gaze to the creek. Odd, he didn’t consider them strangers. Not friends, certainly. What then? Two people whose lives intersect for a fleeting moment, like two leaves floating on the breeze, colliding, twirling together in a delicate spiral, only to drift apart and land in separate spots?

He sighed. This line of thinking could only lead to trouble.

“You must be tired after all that walking,” she said, obviously interpreting his sigh as a sign of physical exhaustion instead of the emotional upheaval it reflected. “Am I allowed to help at all? I can get the fire going and make coffee, at least.”

“Can you fish?”

“Yes, of course.”

He handed her his pole and a small collection of worms. “These don’t bother you?”

“Nah.”

“Okay, then. You catch our dinner, and I’ll cook it. Deal?”

“I think that’s a wise solution.” She laughed again, a delightful, enchanting music that washed over him and made him long for impossible dreams. He bolted to his feet to keep from doing something rash, like kissing her sweet mouth.

“I’ll leave you to it then.”

As Evan lit the fire and set the coffee to boiling, he
forced all thoughts of Irish from his mind. He had to get a grip. Focus. Fitzgerald was out there somewhere. Evan couldn’t afford to let down his guard, not even for a second.

When she presented him with four fish half an hour later, he praised her efforts but didn’t attempt conversation. He cleaned, gutted and cooked them in silence while Irish stowed his fishing rod and spread out a blanket for them to sit on.