Untamed Journey (10 page)

There was a full moon, which worked to their
advantage, Jackson thought. The outlaws already knew where he and
Ruth were located, moon or not. Having light all around allowed him
a chance to pick off their pursuers, if his initial plan to lure
them inside failed.

He stayed focused on the surrounding woods,
until Ruth started moving. Maybe it was being this close to death
or just the tense waiting focusing his senses, but every silky
stretch she made put him on full alert. He’d never been a man who
was a slave to his body, not even in his youth. But at that moment,
he wanted nothing more than to stroke his rough hands down the
silky length of Ruth Jameson’s arm, fingertip to shoulder and back
again. He couldn’t recall seeing anything quite so beautiful as the
sight of this tired and dusty woman struggling to hang on to a
too-heavy rifle and keep her tired green eyes open.

Jackson shifted uncomfortably, berating
himself for acting like a boy lusting after his first woman. This
was no place for foolish men. He could get them both killed if he
didn’t stay focused.

Ruth moved again, changing into a
cross-legged position. She was no doubt trying to get comfortable,
too, Jackson thought to himself wirily, nearly smiling at his
dilemma. Of all the times to have to stay put, he thought good
naturedly, so as not to shock a woman with the fit of his
pants.

As if she suspected his thoughts were focused
on her, Ruth turned and gazed straight into his eyes.

He wanted nothing more at that moment than a
strong wind to cool his thoughts and cover the damned moonlight
with storm clouds.

The sound of a horse nickering came like a
shot in the night. Jackson’s focus centered completely on the job
at hand as he belly-crawled to a spot just left of the front door.
He’d checked earlier and found he could see the front of the
homestead clearly through a gaping space between the rotting log
walls.

He caught a glimpse of three horses riding on
the edge of the forest, with one set of hooves circling around back
of the house and two more stopped as their riders quickly
dismounted and took cover.

Jackson glanced at Ruth to make sure she was
ready.

She gave him a nod with more confidence than
she felt, but there were no alternatives now. She’d made it this
far with Jackson’s help and her own fortitude. She wasn’t giving
up, no matter how bad their odds seemed at that moment.

Ruth cocked the rifle and slid the tip of the
barrel through a tiny slot window in the loft. Jackson had given
her simple and straightforward instructions – don’t shoot into the
yard or at anything moving in it until at least one man stepped
through the front door. Her job was to give Jackson time to take
them out, and make sure the whole group didn’t charge the place at
once. If Jackson could disable two, he said that the third would
not pursue on his own.

Jackson gazed over the open clearing where
his uncle’s corral used to be. The forest hadn’t yet taken over,
which suited his purpose just fine. The outlaws would be hesitant
to cross an open clearing under a full moon with only scraggly
brush for cover, but they’d be impatient too. They always were, if
he just waited long enough.

He’d warned Ruth not to shoot as they
crossed. Jackson’s plan was to get them thinking their prey had
moved on and not stopped in the cabin at all. They’d check out of
habit, but once they crossed the clearing with no one shooting,
they’d immediately relax their guard, thinking the tracks they’d
spotted to the East were real and not a trick.

He wanted them to come all the way into the
house, so at least one would be thrown off balance into the hole
he’d dug. It might not break a leg, but if nothing else it would
throw confusion into the mix and ruin the aim of their
attackers.

Twenty minutes passed, then an hour.

Jackson nodded his reassurance at Ruth every
ten minutes, hoping she’d continue to show the patience their lives
depended on.

Finally, he spotted movement to the left of
the horse corral. There was one man – skinny and taller than
average. The outlaw was doing his best to hunker down behind the
remaining corral posts, as he quietly crept toward the front door.
Jackson immediately shifted his position to look for the man’s
backup.

Right on cue, Jackson spotted a second
figure, shadowing the tree line and heading toward the cabin. The
taller man angled in from the left, sliding against the porch.
Jackson could hear his booted footsteps along the rotting
floorboards. There was no window to the left of the door, but there
was one to the right. Jackson slithered back from the front wall,
until he was behind the cover of the table and lone chair, deep in
shadow.

The second man did his best to look inside
the dark house through the lone dirty window. Ruth held her breath
as he seemed to look up and right at her, but then crept along the
remaining steps to the door without raising the alarm.

The deafening crash almost unseated Ruth from
her perch above the main room. Both men had shouldered the door
with full force, causing it to shatter. The first careened in,
off-balance, and stepped directly into the tarp-covered hole in the
floor. He fell forward and instinctively grabbed for his cohort’s
arm, which tumbled them both the floor.

Jackson knocked the shorter man senseless
with one swift club from his shotgun stock, then swung up to his
right to knock down the larger man, who was still off balance in
the half-dug pit.

Ruth forced her eyes away from the struggling
men, trying to stay focused on the front yard. The commotion and
yelling of the two robbers from the house had the remaining man
poking his head out from the cover of the surrounding forest. Ruth
took aim, knowing that Jackson would have expected a male partner
to shoot to kill. Ruth didn’t figure a man like Jackson would ever
ask a woman to do such a thing, but Ruth was beyond any female
niceties. This was not only her life and virtue at stake, but
Jackson’s life as well. He’d saved her and countless others on the
train.

Ruth would be damned if she’d prove squeamish
when she was guarding his back.

She waited like Jackson had shown her, until
she had a clear shot at the man’s middle. She squeezed the trigger,
nearly losing her balance again at the force of the blast. When she
raised her eyes up over the window sill, she was almost
disappointed to see the clearing empty.

She couldn’t tell if she’d hit him – if he’d
yelled in pain, she wouldn’t have heard over the blast in her ear.
She kept scanning the clearing for any sign of movement, and found
none. After firing once more into the spot in the woods the man had
originally come from, she was rewarded with the neigh of a horse
and the sound of retreating hoof beats.

She glanced down below her at the still
struggling men. Jackson was underneath the tall man, struggling for
control of a pistol. She didn’t know how to help, as a bullet could
just as easily hit Jackson. The other robber was out cold and not
moving, so she dismissed him.

She split her glance between the fight down
below and methodical checks out the window to make sure the third
man didn’t return. If she could find an opening to safely fire at
the man grappling with Jackson, she intended to take it. She
unconsciously tightened her finger on the trigger as Jackson took
another punch to the gut.

He finally gained enough leverage to place a
booted heel into his opponent’s left hip socket. With all his
remaining strength, he shoved at the outlaw with his right leg,
while yanking the man’s right hand and shoulder under. He rolled
the robber over onto an upended floorboard where three rusty nails
penetrated his shoulder.

A howl of pain exploded through the room and
the man loosed his grip on the pistol. Jackson wrested it from his
weakened grasp and got off two shots into the man’s gut, just as he
lunged at him. Jackson heard Ruth’s scream as he struggled out from
under the now dead weight of his opponent.

He glanced immediately over at the second
man, thinking he’d regained consciousness. But the second intruder
lay where he’d fallen earlier, completely motionless. Jackson
glanced up toward the loft, searching for Ruth. He let out his
breath as soon as he saw her. She was pale and shaking, but not
bleeding.

Jackson rushed to the side of the window so
he could look for more men, but saw no movement in the yard.
Everything was quiet.

Ruth regained her breath – she thought
Jackson had been the one shot and had screamed in terror. But his
steady gaze and calm demeanor lessened the panic. She finally got
enough air to whisper, “It’s all right. The last man rode off a few
minutes ago.”

Jackson nodded his understanding as he
efficiently tied up the unconscious man. “Stay put while I make
sure.”

As if she had the strength to do anything but
hold on to her precarious perch, Ruth thought to herself. She
watched him exit the cabin, but after that, saw nothing, heard
nothing. She waited for what seemed like hours, but was only a few
minutes, before nearly jumping out of her skin at the sound of
Jackson’s voice coming from below.

Lord, that man moves quietly, she
thought.

He quickly shared what he’d found with Ruth.
“I’ve circled the woods and can’t see anyone else. There were only
three sets of horse tracks following, and only the one
backtracking. We’ll take the dead men’s horses to use as pack
animals. We can switch out our mounts down the trail, if theirs are
amenable to strange riders. My horse is used to the high altitude
we’re about to face, but I’m guessing that yours isn’t?” Jackson
turned his gaze to her, looking for confirmation.

“I’ve never even seen mountains this high,
much less ridden through them, I’m afraid,” she replied, knowing
her inexperience might change his plans. Since she didn’t know the
horse’s experience, it was the best she could do. She didn’t want
to lie outright to a man who’d just saved her life. She knew it was
a fine distinction, as omitting the fact that she was a horse thief
from the conversation wouldn’t allow her to sit comfortably on any
church pew.

But survival took precedence. Those were the
last words of advice her normally strict father gave her before
setting off to war. Ruth supposed he’d known what she and her
mother might face on their own, and wanted to free her from the
rules of society that were a lovely thing during peacetime, but
none too practical with the enemy at the gate. Ruth silently
promised her Maker she’d square things up with him later.

Jackson finished adjusting the pack horse’s
load before handing the reins to Ruth. “It would be good to rest
Caboose once in a while if we can get one of these mounts to take
you. If we’re being followed, it might be the only edge we’ve
got.”

“That shouldn’t be a problem. I can ride most
any horse out there,” she asserted.

At his skeptical look, Ruth elaborated. “My
father was a doctor and sometimes veterinarian before the War. Our
neighbor used his service often, and in exchange he’d let me help
with horse training. Mostly I rode side saddle to get the mounts
used to flailing skirts, but sometimes, when Mama wasn’t looking,
he would let me ride astride and break in the younger ones.”

Jackson shook his head. “I don’t know why I’m
surprised you’ve got experience breaking horses, seeing as you’re a
beauty with that rifle.”

At Ruth’s blush, he laughed outright. They
were alive, and although not out of danger, they were one step
closer to home and safety. He covered the three steps separating
them and pulled Ruth into his arms. He kissed her before she could
protest or he could remember his upbringing. She felt soft and
pliant in his arms and her mouth was warm and inviting. He pulled
her fully into his embrace, until he felt the press of her breasts
against his racing heart.

He knew he shouldn’t act when the adrenaline
was still surging through his head and his body, but for once, he
didn’t care beyond the moment. He stroked his hand along the curve
of her spine until coming to rest possessively around her tiny
waist.

Ruth couldn’t think at first, didn’t react.
But the warmth of Jackson’s hard body against every inch of her was
too comforting and necessary for her to move away. She grasped his
shoulders and held on to the only steady thing in her life for more
years than she could count. She went from numb and firing at men
she didn’t know to warm and steady in an instant. She wanted that
feeling so badly she ignored the brief and half-hearted memories of
her mother’s advice to her young daughter.

Ruth didn’t much care what Jackson’s
intentions were in that moment, as long as this feeling of life and
warmth didn’t stop.

She didn’t notice Jackson’s invading tongue
so much as the heat sliding down her swelling breasts and between
her thighs to warm every part of her. She subconsciously moved her
hands along his upper arms, reveling in the strength she so craved
in this uncertain world.

The slide of Ruth’s fingers along his bare
arms made Jackson’s senses go into high alert. He wanted nothing
more than to take this courageous woman to bed and spend the next
two weeks with her. But whether out of respect for her amazing
strength as a woman, or respect for the ingenuity of his
still-living enemies, Jackson came to his senses and pulled
away.

“Christ, we have to go. We’re not safe here,”
he said out loud, more to convince himself than Ruth.

At her dazed look, he gently brushed his lips
across hers. “The third man you shot at is no doubt backtracking to
the rest of his men. Since we don’t know if Emmett and Mike had any
success tracking them down, we have to plan for the worst – That
they escaped and this rider may catch up with them and circle back
to us. I don’t think it likely, but it’s best to move on. Are you
up to another ride tonight?”