A Wanted Man (24 page)

“We can grab a couple more guys to help us, too,” Carver suggested.

“Good idea,” Sam approved. “We’ll stay right here with Carver, Jonce, while you scoot over that hill and fetch a couple of mounts. Get nice ones, now.”

“When’d you turn into such a yappy sort? You were quiet enough on the way to the ranch.” Jonce looked faintly puzzled. “You don’t really think I’m dumb enough to leave you alone with Carver, do you?” He smiled, smugly pleased with his logic. “Naw, the both o’ you are comin’ with us. Since you seemed so interested in the camp and all.”

“Okay,” Sam said cheerfully, heading up hill. The guns swung around to cover his motion, leaving Laura momentarily exposed.
“Now!”
he shouted.

Laura didn’t look. She just turned tail and ran for the horses, full pelt, her heart lodged in her throat and her stomach churning as hard as her feet.

She heard the
bang
of shots behind her but didn’t dare look. The shots didn’t bother Star, who lifted his head only when Laura snagged the reins and grabbed for the saddle horn. She jumped and pulled up, once, twice, before her foot found the stirrup and she dragged herself into the saddle.

Damn,
she thought. She should have snatched Harry’s reins before she mounted. She kneed Star closer, clutched the horn until her fingers hurt, and
leaned over…over…Harry’s reins swung tantalizing out of reach.

“Got ’em,” Sam said.

Sam. Thank God. Relief made her light-headed. He grabbed the reins and leapt into the saddle in one smooth motion, wheeling the horse around until they pointed due south. “We’re gonna have to ride. If you start falling behind, holler, and I’ll slow down. Until then, we’re going as hard as we can until the horses start to labor.”

He kicked the horse into a gallop, aiming him along the base of the long, low ridge of the foothills. Laura turned her own horse in that direction and prepared herself to hang on for dear life. “Go,” she said, thumping Star’s side.

As they rode away, Laura finally dared a peek over her shoulder. She couldn’t see Jonce and Carver. Likely they were down, their forms lost in the dark shadows on the ground.

“Did you kill them?” she called over the pounding hoofbeats.

“No. Just knocked them out. They should be out for a while, though,” he shouted back to her. “If nobody heard their shots, we might get three or four hours before anybody comes looking for us.”

If
they hadn’t heard the shots. Big
if
. But there was an awful lot of noise in camp.

“And what if they heard them?”

“Then we’ve got ’til they find our friends.”

Five minutes? Ten? More? She hunched down, trying to relax, to fall into the rhythm of the horse. No good.

But hang on…hang on she could do.

T
he horses couldn’t maintain the hectic pace for long. They were riding horses, town horses, meant for visiting and picnics, not for pounding over a rough landscape for hours on end. But those who chased them had horses bred for it, and Sam and Laura knew it.

Sam slowed his horse, waiting for Laura to pull up beside him.

“So what do we do now?” she asked.

“Head for Salt Lake City.” He rode so easily, not the least bit winded, while she could already feel where aches were setting in, promising to protest harder if she kept up such foolishness. “It’s a big enough town that there’ll be people who aren’t scared of Haw Crocker. Not to mention that most people there answer to a higher power than him.”

“How long until we get there?”

He shrugged. “Depends how the horses hold up. Two days, maybe three. It’s not that far, but we’ll have to go through the mountains. That’s better, anyway. We’ll be
harder to track, the trees’ll get in the way, and there’ll be water.”

Get in the way…of bullets? She gulped. “All right.”

“We swung south at first to go around the mines, so now we’ll turn southwest. It was out of the way to make a big loop around the camp, but obviously we couldn’t gallop right through.”

“All right,” she repeated.

He studied her thoughtfully. “You can do better than that.”

“Than what?” She couldn’t seem to find her balance. Now that they’d slowed down, relieving her of the need to hang on for dear life, she found herself slipping and sliding in the saddle.

“Than that nice, meek ‘all right.’ Can’t you yell at me? Rain fire and brimstone on my head for getting you involved in this? I know you’re capable of it. You did just fine when we were discussing your father.”

“Feeling guilty, are you?” This was the man she’d met on the train; unsmiling, intent, a man without softness or happiness or even hope. One who did what had to be done because there was no choice, not because he’d any hope of finding joy in it. “Perhaps this is my plan. I’d rather have you stew in it than relieve you a bit by a good verbal thrashing.”

For an instant she thought he would smile at it. At
her.
But then she saw him swallow. “God, Laura, I’m so sorry.”

“For what? For letting me make my own choices? For telling me the truth? For not locking me away to protect me?”

“Yes.”

“You couldn’t do that,” she said.

“I should.” No, he couldn’t imprison someone, not even for their own safety. It was a weakness he should have overcome for her sake. “Ready for some water?”

She perked up immediately. “Water? Where?”

“Right here.” He dug in the pack he’d strapped to the saddle before they’d left the main compound.

He handed her a skin of water and she gulped greedily. She wiped the back of her hand across her mouth, a wet gleam in the wan moonlight, and eyed his pack.

“Are you always prepared?”

“I try.”

“What else is in there?”

“Ammunition, mostly,” he said, sending ice down Laura’s back, a chill she ignored.

“Tooth powder?” she asked him.

“That, too,” he admitted.

“My hero.”

For all that sharp moment of terror when Laura’d had a gun leveled at her, for the intellectual awareness of danger now, there was a certain pleasure in the moment. The air was cool and sweet, a breeze streaming off the mountains, carrying the scent of evergreens. The horse swayed beneath her, easing down from the sprint, the hoofbeats a soothing
clop.
They’d come far enough from the mines that the raucous din and harsh glow were fading.

“We could be the only two people in the world,” she murmured.

“I—” He pulled his horse to a stop, waited until she noticed and halted her own mount. “I promised you I would keep you safe,” he said.

“So far, so good,” she said lightly, and nudged her horse on its way.

They alternated through the night, faster stretches once the horses caught their wind and the way in front of them was clear, then slowing to give them all a chance to recover and pick their way through rougher ground.

Not that Sam ever needed to recover, Laura noted. If he ever grew tired, it didn’t show. She wondered where he’d learned that constant self-possession. Was that really how he felt in truth, in command of every situation, confident of his abilities and his choices, or had he merely learned that a good illusion of it was an effective weapon in itself?

They’d gained deeper trees, the ground rising in a steady slope. They had to choose their way carefully, and if they followed a trail, Laura certainly hadn’t noticed it.

But Laura liked this landscape better than the open range. The trees rose on all sides, spearing toward the sky, a mix of evergreens she couldn’t identify. They made her feel sheltered, safe; there were thousands of trees around her…how could anyone ever find them there?

She couldn’t guess how long they rode. Long enough that the tentative pain in her legs and lower back gripped hard and stayed. The temperature plummeted as they rose and the night deepened but it kept her awake, the crisp air as heady as if they were breathing freedom.

The sky lightened above the pines when Sam looked back at her and swore. She tried to hide her grimace, but she’d been too late.

“You were supposed to tell me when you’d had enough.”

“I’m fine,” she insisted. “I can go a while longer.”

“You’re going to pitch right off that horse pretty damn soon, and you
would
have before you said anything, wouldn’t you?”

He swung down from his horse. “Get off. Rest time.”

“Heavens, but you’re bossy.”

“So?” Scowling, he lifted a brow. “You don’t think I consider that an insult, do you?”

“I really can go a little longer,” she said, “if you think it’d be safer. I’d as soon put as much space between us and the Silver Spur as possible.”

“There’s been no sign of anyone following us yet. They can’t be too close. We can go faster tomorrow if we get some rest now.”

Mute, Laura stared down at him.

“And the horses need a break if we don’t want to injure them.” Laura couldn’t argue with that one, which meant she’d have to get off the horse.

She sighed. “All right.” She leaned forward, attempting to use the momentum generated to swing her leg over.

“Need any help?”

“No.” Pain speared through her hip. “I can do it.”

He plucked her off the horse as if she were weightless. For that brief moment she thought of nothing but the feel of his arms around her. Then her feet met the ground.

“You can let go,” she said.

“Umm.” Now why had she said that? Pride? Independence? Who cared about such things compared to leaning against the solid bulk of his chest, his warmth chasing the chill, his arms holding her up so her legs didn’t have to? “I don’t think so. Not until the blood flows back into your limbs.”

“I’m not sure I’m ever going to feel them again.”

“Oh, you’ll feel them. And probably wish you couldn’t.”

His hold loosened, and Laura stifled a regretful sigh.

“Are you hungry?” he asked. “We’ve more dried beef, some hardtack. Not exactly what you’re used to, but it’ll keep you going.”

“No. I’m fine.”

They’d eaten on the fly, washing down the dry food with swigs from the waterskin.

“There’s no need to ration it, we’ve plenty to get us to Salt Lake City. You need to keep up your strength.”

“No. I’m just tired.”

He scanned the ground. “I don’t have so much as a blanket.” Why hadn’t he thought to pack a bedroll? Sam thought. He always traveled as lightly as possible, finding speed and flexibility more crucial than comfort. But Laura Hamilton shouldn’t have to sleep on the ground.

Laura Hamilton shouldn’t have to do a lot of things she was doing that night, though, and he understood far too well where the blame for that lay.

“This looks like a good spot.” She bent and brushed aside a clutter of twigs, needles, and stones. She sat down, glancing around as if she didn’t quite know what to do next.

Hell. No pillow, no blanket, not even a cape to roll up in.

He knew what it was to sleep on the ground with no more than your clothes to shield you. The chill seeped through the fabric in no time, sank into your skin, your bones, until it took half the next day before you stopped creaking with every step.

“Wait.”

He lay down next to her. Above him the stars were
fading, a listless twinkle against a charcoal gray sky. Clouds were blowing in from the west, tangling with the treetops. “Here.” He thumped his shoulder. “Settle in. It’ll keep us both warm.”

She didn’t hesitate. She hitched over until her hip bumped firmly against his. And then she lay down, snuggling up against his side as if it were the most natural thing in the world, her head pillowed against his shoulder.

His heart pumped, reminding him that he was alive. Not merely existing,
alive
. The softness of her breast pressed against the side of his chest, her belly cradled his hip as she lay on her side. He heard the catch in her breathing, the quick stuttering intake that told him she was not as blasé about their intimate position as she pretended.

“Comfortable?”

“Very.” Her hand thumped his belly, and his muscles contracted at her touch. “Though you’re not the
softest
mattress ever.”

Oh, this was his punishment, wasn’t it? To have her near, alone,
touching
him, her hand resting low on his stomach, and not being able to do anything more than keep her warm? The only question was whether she knew how much she tortured him.

“I thought you were angry at me,” he said. “About not trusting your father.”

“What would be the point now?”

Because she thought they might die? And Laura did not want to waste her last moment in anger? “I’m not going to let you—” He couldn’t even say it. Refused to think it ever again.

“I’ve got other things to think about rather than be upset because we disagreed,” she said. “Yes, I would
have preferred that you trusted my judgment enough to believe that my father had nothing to do with this. But I don’t imagine you survived what you did by trusting other people’s judgments.”

Try as she might, Laura could not fathom how she’d ended up here. Attempting to sleep in the open air, bad guys giving chase, curled up against the type of man she’d thought only existed in the books Mr. Hoxie was so fond of. And she
liked
it, every second of it. It was as if the world bloomed around her, expanding until there was nothing but space and freedom, giving her enough room to be…not a
different
person, but even more of herself.

“Yeah,” he said, a catch in his voice that told her it had been a very long time since he’d trusted anyone, about anything. Griff, she supposed, which was why he was so driven to discover what had happened to him.

“I don’t expect this to change your opinion,” she told him. “And I know that my father has a…reputation. I realize he did not make all that money by allowing people to run over him, and that he can be ruthless. But he is also fair. He cannot take pleasure in winning if he does not believe he did so honestly. And what is happening to all those men is not fair.”

His turn.
The wind whispered through the trees, flowed over her face. She’d told him something of her family; now Laura waited for him to share something of his. She was wildly curious about what sort of family had formed him. Were they close? Did he grow so tough only in prison, or had his life been difficult even before then?

His breathing deepened; his chest lifted and fell lightly beneath her cheek.

“Are you asleep?”

“No,” he said. “Though I’m leaning that way. Why aren’t you?”

“I can’t sleep.” When she was quiet and still, she could detect the sturdy thump of his heartbeat. Did hers sound like that now, or was there still evidence of her weakness? “Oh, I’m tired. But I feel…jittery. Like everything that’s happened is buzzing around inside my brain, and I can’t get it to calm enough to let me sleep.”

“It’s like that after battle,” he said. “At first you think that all you’ll ever want to do is sleep. Every bit of energy has been drained from you, and all you want is oblivion. But then I would just lie there, staring at the sky, and no matter how much I begged for sleep,
prayed
for it, I could never force it to take me.”

“So what do we do?”

It seemed a simple question on the surface. And yet the air hung heavy with portent, as if they faced a crossroads, where the path they chose could begin a different life for them, leading them to a future they could not forsee.

She held her breath, awaiting his answer. And yet she’d no idea what she wanted him to say, what fork she wished to take. That was the problem with freedom. Too many choices and too few answers. Confidently following a given path was much easier when it was completely laid out in front of you.

“You’ll rest, if you can’t sleep,” he said quietly. His hand rubbed her arm—meant to be soothing, in truth anything but. “And you’ll let me worry about everything else.”

She closed her eyes, breathed in the scent and nearness and
existence
of him, and let the peace steal over her.

“Laura.
Laura
. You gotta get up, sweetheart.”

She opened her eyes. “Why do I ever seem to be waking up with men looming over me these days?”

“Hey, you’re the one who wanted an adventure.”

She touched his cheek, her thumb scraping over the dense beard that seemed to have sprouted overnight. “Grows fast.” His hair was mussed, his mouth sober, eyes too worried for her liking. Serious, dangerous, and so appealing she nearly lifted up and pressed her mouth to his, right then, without thought, without plan.

Above him the sky was charcoal and starless, disorienting her. “Did I sleep the day through? Or only for a few minutes?”