Authors: Shelley Gray
And because he was the law and not a criminal, everyone would expect her to be grateful and to obey. Because he'd saved her.
But that didn't stop the terrible premonition that being looked after by him would be uglier than where she was now.
The lawman spoke again, this time louder. "Walton, hand her over or I promise you, we will not be responsible for our actions. We'll blow up this train."
Beside her she felt McMillan shift and tense. Beyond him, Scout looked bored, but still pulled out his pistol. Neither man looked her way, and for that she was glad. Jamie didn't trust her emotions, or trust how she would react if she was forced to leave the train car and join the Marshals.
So instead of guessing the future, she looked out the window and watched the delicate snowflakes swirl in the air as the men surrounding the train repositioned themselves.
"Getting colder out," Scout said. Just like there was nothing more important to him than the current weather conditions. "Their hands have got to be hurtin' by now."
Jamie wondered if that was true. From the moment their train had stopped in the middle of the Kansas Plains, they'd been surrounded.
She'd heard James Walton didn't trust the Marshals at all, and so though the lawmen had made all kinds of warnings, he'd basically ignored them.
Things had gone downhill fast after that. First, the lawmen had crept closer and had called out enough threats and assurances to make even the most stoic of men quake. Jamie was certainly not stoic. As she listened, she shivered. Eight or ten hours had now passed since the train had been held up. Cold had settled into her bones while stark terror had settled deep into her heart.
With a new sense of certainty, she realized she wasn't going to survive. Either the men were going to shoot her or she would perish when the Marshals stormed the train.
Or, heaven forbid, worse things were in store for her. And she knew she wouldn't want to survive that.
Beside her, Will turned even quieter. He'd long since stopped talking to her. Instead, he'd settled himself across from her, choosing to lean back and peek out the window every few minutes.
Time continued to drag. Her eyes felt like a pound of salt and sand had settled in them. They stung from lack of sleep. But every time her body tried to force her to sleep, her mind jerked herself awake. She needed to stay alert in order to save herself.
If that was possible.
"Walton? Time's running out!"
Jamie's heart clenched. "What are they going to do?"
To her dismay, Will simply shrugged. "Don't know. I've long since stopped guessing what men will do when they're cold and hungry." With a long look at her, he frowned. "Or desperate."
Though it made no sense, for a split second Jamie was tempted to apologize. She had a terrible feeling that Will somehow was starting to resent her being there. And with that resentment came a fear that he was just about ready to do almost anything to get rid of her. Even if it meant using her as bait.
Even if it meant handing her over to the set of six men on horseback around them. In the dark, their bodies looked larger than life and twice as dangerous. As the minutes passed, she had begun to fear them more than the man by her side. Time had taught her that even the most decent of men could do bad things if given the opportunity.
Or if he had the inclination.
"Mr. McMillan?"
"Will. I told you, call me Will."
His voice had just enough impatience in it to make her give in. "All right. Uh, Will. Do . . . do you think Mr. Walton is going to hand me over? Hand me over to the Marshals?"
As the lawmen called out again, their threats even more dire and disturbing, Will stared hard at her. "Truth?"
"Of course."
"No."
She was glad the dim light hid her sigh of relief. "I see."
"I doubt you do. Jamilyn, fact is, you're the only thing that's stopping those men out there from tossing a couple of sticks of dynamite at us and blowing us to kingdom come." After glancing at Scout, who still stood in the background as quiet as death, Will continued. "I promise you this—we're not keeping you to keep you safe. We're keeping you to keep
us
safe. That's it. Don't forget it. You're our ace."
"But the other hostages . . ."
"They're men—men old enough to have seen death a hundred times over. They know what's happening. What's more, they know their fate."
But that didn't change things, she figured. Death and dying surely felt the same at any age. Just thinking about what the future held—or didn't hold—gripped her tight and made her yearn for vanished dreams. She shivered and coughed.
"Look, the only reason we're still stopped is because that blasted engineer's brakeman is next to worthless and the tender is injured. But Russell is shoveling coal and word is that the train will be running again shortly. You should get some sleep."
Jamie noticed that his voice was softer, kinder. That small amount of comfort held her close and lifted her guard. And with that easing, came the fear again. She trembled. "I can't sleep."
"Sure you can." Impatience tinged his voice. "Just close your eyes."
"You might be able to do that, but I can't."
To her surprise, he chuckled. "Yep, I can fall asleep 'bout anyplace, it's true. A body learns to find comfort and rest almost anywhere."
"Well, mine hasn't learned that yet. Besides, I'm too afraid. And I'm too cold anyway."
He looked at her long and hard. Then slowly, so slowly that his knees creaked, he stood up and moved even closer to her. "Lean against me," he said after a moment.
Will's voice sounded rusty and hoarse. Just as if he wasn't used to offering comfort and was even less sure about how it was to be received.
"I couldn't." But even as she said that, she felt the warm heat radiate off his body. Added to that was the thick canvas of his duster, heavy and woolen and luring her closer.
Little by little, her tense muscles eased and the cramps in her legs loosened. Oh, but how did he stay so warm?
Beside her, he shifted. He wasn't looking at her. Instead, he was staring straight out the window. She noticed the muscle in his jaw jump—just like he was holding on for a comfort that he couldn't deny.
Or else he was trying to grab hold of his patience and cling to it.
She wiggled again, trying to get comfortable, trying to get warm but not touch him. He sighed, then snaked an arm out and wrapped it around her shoulders, coaxing her head to rest against his chest. His body was solid and warm. The weight of his arm felt heavy and secure. Holding her tight, but not in a bad way.
In an odd way, she felt more secure, like maybe—just maybe—she was going to have a chance to live a little longer. She shifted again, finally tucking her feet under her skirts.
Next to her, Will shifted again. In her movements, his hand curved a little more tightly, falling to her waist and feeling far too personal. She gasped.
He cleared his throat, just as his hand moved again. "Stop. Just settle now. Relax and try to sleep."
Though she feared being so close to him, her eyelids felt heavy. As she listened to the steady beating of his heart against her ear, her will to fight him fluttered away. "I don't want to be here," she murmured.
"It doesn't matter what you want. All that matters is what you need. Now sit still and stop wiggling so much. A man can hardly think with you moving and squirming the way you are."
The thread of warmth in his voice took her off guard. Warily, she looked his way. "I never imagined you would have much experience comforting a woman."
To her amusement, he rolled his eyes. "Long ago, I wasn't an outlaw. Long ago, I had a sweet sister named Bonnie. She used to cuddle up against me just like this."
A yawn escaped her as hope settled into her heart. Maybe Will McMillan wasn't pure evil. Maybe there was still a good portion of him that would protect her and hold her close. "What happened to her?"
"She died," he said, his voice flat. "Now stop talking and sleep."
Unwilling to fight exhaustion anymore, Jamie finally gave in to her body's needs. Will McMillan was warm, and for the moment, he wasn't hurting her.
He wasn't making her leave the train and go out into the unknown.
And for right then, right there, Jamie knew that was enough. Her body relaxed. The sweet oblivion of dreams captured her then and pulled her under. She finally gave up and relaxed her head against his ribcage.
And slept.
A
s Jamie's weight settled against his chest, Will shifted slightly and rearranged his arms around her, hoping to make her more comfortable. His movements weren't automatic. Instead, they were more than a little awkward and choppy.
It had been a long time since a woman had rested in his arms—and a very long time since the female had been anyone he cared about.
Actually, there hadn't been anyone since Bonnie. Even her name caused a painful ache to rush through him, reminding him yet again of all he'd lost. And he'd sure as heck not needed any reminding. He'd only mentioned Bonnie so Jamie would drop the topic.
And she had.
He was thankful for that, since he'd been even less eager to talk about the other women he'd known since then. Not that there had been a lot. Easily less than a handful. But each woman in her own way had claimed a piece of his heart—at least for a little while.
Jamie Ellis was his first hostage though.
The realization of who he'd become kicked him in the gut and made his head pound. He'd become someone he hardly recognized. Someone even his mother wouldn't know. Thank the good Lord she wasn't alive to witness his change. Disappointed wouldn't begin to describe her feelings.
Of course, there was little that could convey the complete metamorphosis that his life had taken since he'd been a scared soldier in Arkansas. Surely, it was nothing like the life he'd planned on back when he still looked to his mother's smile for support.
Shifting slightly, Will kicked out his feet and stretched his legs. The worn tips of his boots pointed up at him. He'd worn them so long, and so many hours at a time, it was sometimes hard to imagine what his feet looked like bare.
There was something to be said about that.
As the train continued to sit idly, held captive by a dead engineer, too many demanding lawmen, and a poker-playing boss who refused to back down no matter what the odds, Will decided to take advantage of the quiet and briefly let his guard down. The air around him smelled sweet and almost clean. It was a rare moment when he wasn't assaulted by noise and the stale smell of fear and unwashed men. No, here, wafting upward, was the faint scent of gardenias. It floated toward his nose, teasing him. And with that, it brought a hint of a moment from another time.
Years ago, when Bonnie had been alive, he'd sat on a cornhusk mattress and had held her tight. Pa had been out fighting in the war, of course, and he'd instinctively known that his time to defend the South was coming on soon.
Bonnie had been all of five, and with her twin braids in disarray, she'd lain by his side and had chattered on about the cut on her finger and the mess of bluebonnets she'd seen in the field. The sun had showered a warm ray across their bodies, making Bonnie giggle when she'd spied him stretching his toes to catch the sunny spots.
The sweet, soft memory slammed him with force, almost taking his breath away with its sharpness. He'd plumb forgotten what it had been like to enjoy the pleasure of merely feeling warmth on his toes. And being in the company of a girl.
And smiling? Giggling? Did anyone even do those things anymore? Almost everyone of his acquaintance were shadows of their former selves. Wariness and pain prevented them from embracing frivolity and pleasure.
Time had proved that letting one's guard down meant pain—not pleasure—was around the corner.
Under his elbow, Jamie shifted and shivered. Unable to stop himself, he repositioned his coat about her more securely, hoping to retain a bit more of the heat.
But instead of seeking the warmth of the wool, she curved closer to him, taking obvious comfort from not only his body's heat, but also his person. The sweet, soft curves of her body pressed against his—bringing with it the many masculine urges he'd suppressed for too long.
It had been a necessary thing. The war had been an unforgiving mistress and his current job was far too dangerous. Surely that was why his body and mind were sliding along such disastrous roads?
As if she'd read his mind, Jamie sighed and cuddled even closer. Her cheek lay against his chest, tangled tendrils of her hair mixing with the buttons of his coat. Before he could stop himself, he reached out and smoothed the strands, then caught himself fingering the silky mass just as the door opened again.
Will inhaled her sweet scent as he tightened the burden in his arms. He let his mind drift and dream. Maybe this time things would be different. Maybe this time he'd get to keep the girl—form a relationship with her that had nothing to do with loneliness and doubts and had everything to do with promises and love.
Sweet emotions. Silly ones, really. But even men accustomed to pain and regrets deserved a flash of hope every once in a while. Surely, even a man like him.
The jarring click of the door opening brought him back to reality. Will's hold on Jamie loosened as he faced the intruder. "Yes?"
"Russell has somehow figured out how to run the train. He and that idiot are firing up the engine now."
"Lord have mercy," Will said. "Wonders will never cease."
"Faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen," Scout quoted.
Will blinked. "I didn't know you knew the Bible."
"I know it. I just rarely quote it," Scout replied. "However, the occasion felt warranted."
"You come in here to tell me about Russell?"
"Nah. I came in here to let you know that the boss has been asking for you."
"Right now?"
His gaze darting from Jamie's position to Will's errant fingers brushing her cheek, Scout shrugged. "He could probably wait a minute or two if you wanted." Below them, it sounded as if the train was coming to life as the wheels began to gradually turn. Then, slowly, the train fell into motion, inching forward. Gathering speed.