Wild West Wife

Wild West Wife Susan Mallery Return to 1800s Whitehorn, Montana, in this fan favorite from New York Timesbestselling author Susan Mallery.All Haley Winthrop wants is a chance at building a home and family. So, after corresponding with a wealthy rancher, Lucas Stone, she finds herself in a stagecoach bound for Montana, where she will become Lucas's wife. But before she even arrives her coach is held up by a bandit. And he doesn't want money; he wants Haley. He has some disturbing things to tell her about her future husband…Jesse Kincaid is only interested in one thing: to take revenge on the man who had his father killed. So he lies in wait and kidnaps the man's fianc?e from her passing stagecoach. But he didn't count on the bride-to-be, Haley, being so beautiful, so beguiling. Can he convince her that she's about to marry the wrong man before it's too late? Return to 1800s Whitehorn, Montana, in this fan favorite from New York Times bestselling author Susan Mallery. All Haley Winthrop wants is a chance at building a home and family. So, after corresponding with a wealthy rancher, Lucas Stone, she finds herself in a stagecoach bound for Montana, where she will become Lucas’s wife. But before she even arrives her coach is held up by a bandit. And he doesn’t want money; he wants Haley. He has some disturbing things to tell her about her future husband… Jesse Kincaid is only interested in one thing: to take revenge on the man who had his father killed. So he lies in wait and kidnaps the man’s fianc?e from her passing stagecoach. But he didn’t count on the bride-to-be, Haley, being so beautiful, so beguiling. Can he convince her that she’s about to marry the wrong man before it’s too late? Wild West Wife Susan Mallery www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk) CONTENTS Cover (#ua703bf3d-141b-56d9-9bc3-82de3cb0cd41) Back Cover Text (#uf99fa7e7-ded3-543e-8787-b7649da24ab6) Title Page (#u8d86d132-3287-5eac-ac97-a24da78004b3) Chapter One (#ulink_e334c0be-6379-5298-895b-f65d32734a47) Chapter Two (#ulink_769dfbe1-6a3d-54f7-9a77-6fe8e89792c7) Chapter Three (#ulink_e3257843-b88c-56c4-9183-f23b9b7fcad1) Chapter Four (#ulink_1276410f-bc3e-52c2-99af-466e9371853f) Chapter Five (#ulink_7b04f551-fc73-5db3-bede-3921e9e95319) Chapter Six (#ulink_13cbaf7c-b3d5-5c02-b9d6-67fac49d1ac4) Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Twenty (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Twenty-One (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Twenty-Two (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Twenty-Three (#litres_trial_promo) Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo) Extract (#litres_trial_promo) Copyright (#litres_trial_promo) CHAPTER ONE (#ulink_978f602d-18c8-5e32-b395-b6cb4f2f8252) Montana, 1879 Jesse Kincaid might not have sold his soul to the devil, but he’d come as close to it as a man could and still expect to head north upon his passing. Despite the faint sound of hoofbeats in the distance, he allowed himself to be distracted by the quiet beauty of the late afternoon. Winter had finally left Montana and the lush growth of spring promised a long and warm summer. The calving season had gone well...at least that’s what he’d been told. He couldn’t speak from firsthand experience. The herd he and his father had built over the past ten years had been scattered when the ranch had been attacked and his father murdered. Nothing was left but a partially burned house, a legion of memories and the promise he’d made to exact revenge on those responsible. Because of that, because of the vow he’d sworn on a cold, rainy night the previous October, he now stood by the rutted path that passed for a road and prepared to defy all that his parents had taught him. Because of that, he risked his very soul, raising his rifle as the weekly stage came into view. He had a momentary second thought. He’d played pranks as a child—just as all boys did. But he’d been raised with good values and a strong sense of right and wrong. Doing the wrong thing for the right reason didn’t set well with him. “You don’t have a choice,” he muttered aloud, knowing that while the end didn’t justify the means, sometimes justice had to be helped along. Six powerful horses pulled the large stagecoach. The conveyance swayed, the leather straps under the carriage doing little to absorb the bumps of the road. They were too far away for him to be able to see in the window and identify the passengers, but he knew she was there. He’d received a wire two days before saying she’d made the connection and would be arriving in Whitehorn today. Stoner might be expecting her, but Jesse was determined to make sure she didn’t arrive. At least not right away. He fitted the butt of the rifle against his shoulder and took careful aim. One well-placed shot would break the axle he’d weakened earlier and bring the carriage to a stop without too much risk. The trick was to time it so they didn’t tip. While he might be prepared to kidnap an innocent woman and hold her hostage, he didn’t want anyone’s death on his hands. The path leveled out just before a sharp turn. The horses slowed in anticipation of the bend and Jesse pulled the trigger. The single gunshot spooked the horses. Two of them reared up and pawed at the air. The driver held tightly on the reins and yelled at them to calm down. Seconds later there was a loud crack as the weight of the carriage split the axle and the rear of the stagecoach sank to the ground. The left rear wheel splintered, then the right rear came loose and rolled away. The instant deadweight jerked the horses in their harnesses and the animals stopped. Several frightened cries filled the afternoon, startling birds into flight. Jesse walked toward the stagecoach. He’d lowered his rifle, but he was alert and prepared to use it if pushed. Pray God no one decided to play hero and make that necessary. As Jesse stepped out of the bushes, Charlie, the driver, spotted him. The older man looked shaken, but otherwise unhurt. Bushy gray eyebrows drew together. “That you, Jesse?” Charlie asked. “You hear that? We was shot. Damnation, I want to know who the hell is shooting at the stage. We ain’t got no money on this run. Folks know that. Supplies and passengers. Next week is the payroll. Damnation, I hate it when people can’t keep the schedule straight.” He glanced around uneasily, then climbed down, moving awkwardly on the tilting stage. “You see anything? You get a look at the good-for-nothing who done this?” “Stop right there,” Jesse said quietly. Charlie ignored him. “It just don’t make sense to me. Why this run? We ain’t got nothing important. Shoot. Now we all gotta walk to town. You know how far that is?” “About four miles,” Jesse said. He’d already figured that out. He’d been careful when he’d picked the spot to attack the stage. He wanted them close enough to town that they could walk in and tell everyone what happened, but not so close that he wouldn’t have time for a clean escape. Charlie pulled off his worn hat and wiped his bald head. “And we was running early, too.” “Charlie,” Jesse said, raising his rifle to his shoulder. “I need you to let your passengers out.” Charlie’s watery brown eyes widened as he noticed the gun for the first time. “Jesse? What’s going on?” “I’ve got some business with one of your passengers. That’s all. Just do what I tell you, Charlie. I don’t want to hurt anyone.” The stage door rattled from the inside. “Sir!” a man called. “We seem to be trapped. Sir? I say, stage driver? Can you hear me?” Charlie rolled his eyes. “Damn fool prissy Easterners. Got a load of ’em. Not a one has a lick of sense ’cept for Miz Winthrop. She even figured out I’ve got a name, if you can believe that.” Jesse bit back a curse of impatience. So much for his life of crime. He couldn’t get Charlie to pay attention to him. He took aim at the left front wheel and put a shot cleanly through one of the spokes. Charlie jumped. “Damnation, Jesse, what’s going on? You could’ve just asked me to stop the stage. You don’t have to keep shootin’ it. There ain’t gonna be enough left for kindling.” “Put your hands behind your back.” “What?” The old man stared at him. “Jesse? You mean you’re doing this? You’re gonna hold me up?” “Yes, Charlie. I don’t have a choice.” He moved next to the other man and drew out the length of rope he’d strung through his belt loops. It took only a couple of minutes to secure Charlie’s hands behind his back. Gently, he led him to the stage. “Have a seat,” he said and helped him sit down. Confusion darkened Charlie’s gaze. “Jesse, I’ve known you for years. Since you were just a boy. This ain’t like you, son.” “I know.” He shrugged, then added, “I’m sorry.” As if the feeble words would make a difference. “Would someone please tell me what is going on out there?” the cultured male voice demanded. “I say, stage driver, we are quite thoroughly trapped in this conveyance. While we are unhurt, the ladies are most uncomfortable. We can’t see any Indians, but perhaps a small bribe would be enough—” Jesse jerked open the stage door, effectively cutting off the man’s tedious commentary. The unexpected action sent the male passenger sprawling facedown into the dirt. Jesse barely spared him a glance. Instead he stared intently into the darkness of the stage, searching the passengers for the one he sought. Three terrified women stared back from the floor of the stage where they lay in a pile of skirts and petticoats. The best dressed of the three was obviously the wife of the complainer. Her pinched expression and pale, bejeweled hands spoke of her unfamiliarity with hard work. The second passenger looked like Jesse’s grandmother, and he had a jolt of conscience at the thought that the unexpected stop might have injured her. “Ma’am?” he said, trying to sound as unthreatening as possible. “Are you hurt?” Gray corkscrew curls covered her forehead and danced across her weathered skin as she slowly shook her head. “Mr. Prichard said we were likely to be attacked by Indians, but you don’t look like an Indian to me. This is an attack, isn’t it?” She sounded nearly excited by the prospect. “Yes, ma’am, it is, but I’m not going to hurt you.” The wealthy woman clutched her hand to her flat bosom and moaned. “He means to ravish us. Surely that is a fate worse than death.” Jesse glanced at her husband, still sprawled in the dirt, and figured if her alternative was bedding down with him, then yes, it probably was. Then he wondered what the woman thought he was going to do. There were, after all, three of them and only one of him. Surely she couldn’t expect him to ravish them all on his own. He enjoyed his time with the ladies, but he had his limits. The thoughts were nearly enough to distract him. Nearly. But even as he decided he wasn’t going to reply to the question of ravishing, he turned his attention to the third woman...and the reason he’d had to hold up the stage in the first place. He hadn’t realized he’d created a picture of Haley Winthrop in his mind until he was surprised by her appearance and realized his picture was wrong. She was young, but he’d expected that. Wide green eyes, filled with as much curiosity as fear, seemed to dominate her face. Freckles and a faint tan told him that she frequently went without a proper bonnet. She sat on the floor of the off-balance stage and held the older woman protectively in her arms. She didn’t look big enough or strong enough to hold off a half-grown boy, but there was a set of determination in the angle of her chin. Maybe she was tougher than she looked. He hoped so, for her sake. “Miss Winthrop,” he said politely. “I’d like you to come with me.” The wealthy woman moaned. “He’s going to ravish us all. Harold? Harold, you must save me.” Harold stirred on the ground. “Yes, my love. Unhand those women, sir.” Jesse thought about pointing out the fact that he hadn’t gotten to the point where he was actually touching one of them so there was no unhanding to be done. Instead, trying to ignore the bad feeling at the base of his spine, he turned and found Harold holding a small derringer aimed at his heart. “It’s very effective,” the other man said. “And I’m not afraid to use it.” “Me, either,” Jesse told him and slipped a cartridge into the rifle. “Want to see who’s still standing after a shooting competition?” he asked calmly as he took a sight on Harold’s skinny chest. “At this distance you’d be real hard to miss.” “Jesse, what in tarnation are you thinking?” Charlie demanded. “You can’t kill him, even if he deserves it.” Jesse knew that and he didn’t appreciate the reminder. While Harold was busy trying to figure out if he could get out of this situation without getting shot, Jesse decided to settle the matter for both of them. Without warning, he kicked hard, hitting the other man’s wrist. The derringer went spinning and Harold yelped like a dog. “You broke it,” he managed, cradling his injured wrist in his good hand. “I heard a bone snap. Good Lord, what kind of creature are you?” “A desperate one.” Jesse returned his attention to Haley Winthrop. “Miss, I’d rather not have to hurt anyone else. If you’ll please come with me.” The woman stared at him. Her curiosity had long since faded, leaving behind only fear. Color fled her cheeks. The paleness reminded him of another woman who had always been afraid. He pushed away those memories. They would accomplish nothing. He had to do whatever he could to see justice done. If that meant kidnapping an innocent woman, he would do it. Was doing it. In the quiet of the afternoon, he heard the faint call of the birds that had returned to their tree branches. The warmth of the day had bled away, leaving the air chilly. The nightly freezes continued and would do so for a few more weeks. The passengers would need the remaining daylight to get to Whitehorn before nightfall. They didn’t have a lot of time to waste. He reached past the rich woman and grabbed Haley’s arm. His action obviously startled her. He nearly had her to her feet before she started to resist. She squirmed and braced her legs against the floor of the stage. “I won’t,” she cried. “No! I won’t leave with you. Let me go. You don’t know what you’re doing. My fianc? will hear about this, I swear he will.” “I’m counting on it,” Jesse muttered. The grandmother turned on him suddenly and landed a quick kick against his knee. Her feeble strength barely registered, but Harold’s wife decided an attack was a good idea and wrapped her arms around his waist. “I’ve got him, Harold. Shoot him. Shoot him now.” “I don’t have my gun anymore,” her husband lamented, still making soft moaning noises. “I swear he broke my wrist, Lydia. I may never be the same.” “No great loss,” Jesse said under his breath. He ignored the older woman, and Lydia’s enthusiastic attack, and focused his attention on Haley. She squirmed, but he didn’t release her arm. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he told her. “Of course not,” she snapped. “Kidnapping is a colorful way of welcoming strangers to town. Forgive me for not wanting to participate in your well-planned entertainment, sir. Obviously I don’t travel enough to appreciate the experience.” This was getting him nowhere. He was trying to pull her up and keep from bruising her. While he might not appreciate her sarcasm, he recognized the truth in her words. There was no way to kidnap a woman and maintain the illusions of being a gentleman. He tightened his hold on her and jerked her once, hard. She gasped as he pulled her upright. Before she could gain her balance, he dragged her out of the carriage and onto the road. Then, quickly, he bent at the waist, bumped his left shoulder against her midsection and straightened. Her legs kicked out at him and her hands pummeled his back, but he simply wrapped his arm around her thighs to hold her bottom half still. He ignored the top half. “You can’t do this,” she screeched as she hung over his shoulder like a sack of flour. “I refuse to allow this.” “No one’s asking your permission. Charlie, which bag is hers?” “Don’t tell him!” Haley demanded. Charlie’s mouth dropped open. “Jesse, do you know who she is?” “Yeah, I do.” That was the point of the kidnapping. He kicked at the tapestry carpetbags that had spilled out with Harold. “Which one?” The grandmother pointed to a plain, worn, brown bag. The handle straps had long since broken and had been replaced by a couple of pieces of rope. A long rip down the center had been repaired with small, neat stitches of black thread. Either Stoner had sent money for the ticket and nothing else, or his mail-order bride didn’t waste funds unnecessarily. Jesse grabbed the bag and whistled. His horse stepped out of the wooded grove on the side of the rutted road. He’d tied the second gelding to his saddle and that animal walked alongside his mount. “I won’t go with you,” Haley said, her voice more muffled as her struggling settled her harder against his shoulder. He figured she was having some trouble drawing in enough air. If she kept up her squirming, she was going to pass out. Of course that would make her easier to handle. “You don’t have a choice,” he said and glanced at the stage. Harold still sat on the ground, holding his injured wrist. Lydia had moved to her husband’s side, but Jesse wasn’t sure if she was offering comfort or seeking protection. The grandmother watched him warily, but he figured she wasn’t likely to best him with a surprise attack. He slipped the rifle into the holster on his mount, then moved to the second horse and hoisted Haley across the saddle. Before she could regain her composure enough to scramble off the other side, he had pulled a rope from the open saddlebag and secured her feet together. “It’s a long way down,” he told her as he walked around the horse and reached for her hands. She jerked them away and tried to glare up at him. Green eyes flashed fire. “You are evil and disgusting and you will be punished.” “Yes, ma’am. I’m sure you’re right. But first they have to catch me and I mean to make sure that doesn’t happen.” He grabbed her wrists and tied them, then he squatted in front of her. “If you struggle too much, you’ll slip off the saddle. Now hitting the ground is going to hurt like hell. You might even break something. But your real worry is the horse. You spook him and he’ll rear. There’s no telling where those hooves of his are going to hit. If they land on you, well, horses have killed people before.” “If you were so concerned about my safety, you wouldn’t be taking me in the first place.” Jesse fingered the brim of his hat. “You know, you might have a point there.” He stood up and surveyed the broken stage, then the passengers. “You’ve got a couple hours until sunset, so I suggest you get headed for Whitehorn.” He nodded west. “It’s that way. Charlie?” He looked at the old man. “When you tell Stoner I kidnapped his mail-order bride, I need you to give him a message for me. Tell him all I want is to talk. He can name the time and the place and I’ll be there. I’ll send someone to contact him to get that information.” “He’s gonna kill you,” Charlie said. “I’m sure he’ll try,” Jesse agreed. After all, Stoner had already murdered Jesse’s father, not to mention several other ranchers in the area. What was one more death on his conscience? “But if he wants his chance, he’s going to have to meet with me,” Jesse told the stage driver. “Jesse, you’re making a big mistake,” Charlie said. “It’s not too late. Leave the girl with me. No one has to know what happened today.” Haley let out a squeal of disagreement. “Of course people have to know. This man is dangerous and he should be locked up. My fianc? will see to that. Mr. Stoner will come after me and make you pay for what you’ve done.” “I hope you’re right,” Jesse said as he swung into his saddle. “It’s getting late, Charlie. You’d best get these folks to town. I don’t think they’d take kindly to spending the night on the side of the road.” With that he reached down and grabbed the other horse’s reins, then urged his gelding into a walk and headed into the screen of trees. Within a couple of minutes, the stage and its passengers were lost from view. In less than five minutes, the sounds of their complaining had faded, to be replaced with the familiar chirps, trills and rustles of the forest. He spared a glance for his captive and tried to ignore the flicker of concern when he saw that she’d stopped struggling. “Miss Winthrop?” he asked. “What?” The word came out on a gasp of air. Now that he had her attention, he felt foolish. Was he supposed to ask if she was all right? Of course she wasn’t. Her arms and shoulders would be aching from their unnatural position. The saddle would dig into her belly and ribs until she wasn’t sure if she was going to faint or throw up. “If you promise not to try to escape, I would be willing to let you ride astride in the saddle.” “Fine. I won’t try to escape.” That was too easy. “I don’t think I believe you.” “You should, Mr. Jesse whatever-your-last-name-is. When I give my word, I mean it. So if I tell you I won’t try to escape now, I won’t. But I will try eventually and I’ll succeed. And when I do, I’ll find my fianc? and bring him back so he can shoot you for the dog you are.” Quiet venom gave her voice strength. Jesse felt the first grudging flicker of respect. He drew his horse to a halt and stepped down from the saddle. “You and Stoner didn’t correspond much before he brought you out here to marry you.” It wasn’t a question, but she answered it all the same. “No, we didn’t. He sent me a letter stating what he was looking for in a wife, and I responded. Then he sent me a ticket.” “Wouldn’t it have made sense to get to know the man a little before agreeing to marry him?” he asked as he approached her. “I know all I need to.” He untied her feet and stepped back in case she tried to kick him. But she didn’t. Maybe she was a woman who kept her word. “Lucas Stoner is a kind, honorable man,” she went on. As he walked around the front of her horse and reached for her bound hands, she raised her head and glared at him. “Decent. He would never do anything like this.” “You’re right,” Jesse agreed, thinking that Stoner wouldn’t have bothered with kidnapping an innocent woman. He would have shot her dead on the spot, if he thought it would make his point. He pulled the rope free of her wrists. She started to wiggle. “Don’t,” he told her. “You’ll fall.” He grabbed her around her waist and lifted her off the saddle, then found himself in the uncomfortable position of having to turn her in his arms so she could stand. In the process, his hand slid against her right breast. She went rigid at the contact and jumped back as soon as she gained her balance. Both arms came up to cross protectively over her chest. Jesse felt himself falter, not sure if he should apologize or pretend the moment never happened. Despite the tingling in his hand and the impression of soft, yielding curves burned into his brain, he decided on the latter. “Can you ride astride?” he asked. She watched him warily for a heartbeat or two, then shook her head. “I’ve never been on a horse before. But it doesn’t look difficult.” The implication being if he could do it, anyone else could be equally successful. For the first time in months, Jesse felt like smiling. “You’re right. It doesn’t look difficult.” He laced his fingers together to form a step and bent down. “Grab hold of the saddle,” he instructed. “Put your left foot in my hands and I’ll raise you up high enough. You just swing your other leg over the horse’s back and sit down. Couldn’t be easier.” Haley’s expression hardened. “Why don’t I trust you?” He shrugged. “Because you’re smart. Don’t trust me, but do as I say. We need to get going and if you don’t cooperate, I’ll throw you back over the saddle and tie you up again. It’s your choice.” The twist of her mouth told him that she didn’t care for her limited options, but she did as he requested. She braced her left foot against his hand and reached for the saddle. “Are you ready?” he asked. She nodded. He lifted gently. But not gently enough. With a muffled shriek, Haley soared over the horse’s back and landed hard on the other side of the animal. Jesse ducked under the gelding’s head to make sure she was all right. She sat in the dirt, her skirt up around her knees, her mouth twisted in anger and pain. “You did that on purpose,” she said accusingly. He raised his hands in surrender. “I didn’t. Maybe it’s just a little harder than it looks.” Anger turned to disgust as she looked away from him. For the second time that day, Jesse found himself thinking about smiling. “Don’t you dare laugh at me,” she commanded, as if she could read his mind. Of course her words made the amusement rise up in his throat. “It’s not funny!” “Yeah, it is.” He could almost feel her reluctance as she grudgingly rose to her knees and rubbed her rear. “All right. Maybe I underestimated the skills required to ride a horse. But I want to try again. I would rather fall a dozen times than be tied up over the saddle. Agreed?” He met her steady gaze. He’d come up with the plan of kidnapping Stoner’s mail-order bride because he’d run out of other ways to see justice done. Once he’d made up his mind, he hadn’t allowed himself to think about the woman, or what the kidnapping might mean to her. He certainly hadn’t expected to admire her spirit. Jesse held out his hand to her and she took it. When he pulled her to her feet, she winced and shifted her weight as if trying to ease the pain from her fall. He didn’t know a damn thing about Haley Winthrop and he didn’t want to. But one point was perfectly clear. No woman deserved to end up with a man like Lucas Stoner, and the hell of it was, if Stoner gave him the information he wanted, he, Jesse, would turn her over to her fianc? without a second thought. CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_837450e6-aba4-579a-a582-0edf4462fd5a) Three tries later Haley found herself sitting on top of a very tall horse. The hard saddle was uncomfortable, but it was a lot better to be upright on it than thrown across it. She shifted uneasily and tried not to let her fear show. At least her skirt was full enough that the fabric fluttered down to cover most of her legs. She didn’t allow herself to think about exposed ankles and feet, which were a lot easier to ignore than the fact that a strange man had just kidnapped her. “You gonna be able to hang on?” Jesse asked. She nodded firmly. She might be his prisoner, but she wasn’t going to cower like a dog. If necessary, she could survive on pride and grit. She’d done it before. Without warning, his horse started walking. As Jesse was holding on to her mount’s reins, she found herself moving forward, too. The odd swaying, rocking motion nearly caused her to slide off the saddle. She made a quick grab for the leather and clutched it tightly with both hands. Instinctively, she clung with her leg muscles. Every part of her tensed. After a few minutes of the steady pace, she was able to loosen her grip a tiny bit. They were in a wooded area with trees so thick, the branches were practically a roof. It was still early enough in the year that not all of them had leaves, and she could look up and see patches of sky. In a few weeks the leaves would be so thick it would stay dim and cool, even during the hottest part of summer. Below them the ground was hard, with a few patches of snow in the shaded areas. Dead leaves covered everything. She inhaled deeply, absorbing the unfamiliar smells of damp earth, the trees themselves, plants, leaves and the sweat of the horses. So different, she thought, half exhilarated, half terrified. She was used to the city. Those smells and sounds were familiar. Not pleasant, but known. Out here, she wasn’t sure what to expect. Several strands of hair had worked loose from her tight bun and she raised one hand to push them off her face. The steady walking gait was getting easier to move with and she found herself relaxing a little more. Her heartbeat finally slowed, making her realize how hard it had been thundering and for how long. Ever since the sharp gunshot had cut through the rhythmic sounds of the stage rolling over the rough path and the carriage had crashed to the ground. One minute she’d been speeding toward her happy destiny and now... She stared at the man in front of her. He wore a dark coat that barely came to his hips. The combination of thick fabric and broad shoulders made him look huge and forbidding. His hat was pulled low, and even if he’d been facing her, she would have had trouble seeing his eyes. She looked away, preferring the view of the trees and plants to watching him. She didn’t want to think about what had happened or about the fact that she wouldn’t get to Whitehorn tonight. If she allowed herself to dwell on that, she would become even more afraid. Then she would shake and possibly even cry. And what use were tears? In all her twenty-one years, crying had never once accomplished anything. But it was hard not to think about what was happening. She’d come so far, with such high hopes. After years of barely surviving in Chicago, she’d finally had a chance to be happy, only to have it snatched out of her grasp. If this...this...villain hadn’t stolen her away from the stagecoach, she would be meeting her beloved at this very moment. Haley closed her eyes and pictured what it would be like. She touched the white collar of her green dress, the collar she’d carefully preserved throughout the difficult journey. The clean collar she’d put on only a few hours before at their last stop before Whitehorn. She raised her hand higher, to the intricately arranged hair she’d spent an hour on that morning, working in the dark, trying not to wake the two other women in the shabby room. She’d so wanted to make a good impression on Lucas Stoner. She opened her eyes and smiled. Even his name was perfect. Lucas Stoner. He sounded strong. And tall. While their correspondence had been brief, with him simply responding to her letter of interest with a stagecoach ticket and a few lines of instructions, she’d studied his words and his handwriting until she felt certain she knew the man. Lucas Stoner was good and honorable, kind yet firm. He was the sort of man others respected. She wasn’t sure what he looked like, except perhaps for his height, of which she was very confident. But his appearance didn’t matter to her. She’d seen too many handsome men who beat their wives and children, or stole, or even killed. What she cared about was on the inside of the man and she knew Lucas Stoner was the incarnation of all pure virtues. To think that if she’d been allowed to continue on her journey at this very moment she might be meeting him for the first time. She’d pictured the moment a thousand times. The way he would tilt his hat, then take her hand and help her down from the stage. The shy smile they would share, the polite and awkward conversation about which they would both laugh later. But instead of beginning her new life, she was stuck on the back of a hideously uncomfortable horse, in the wilderness, facing Lord knew what. “You’re quiet,” her captor said. She looked at him, but he hadn’t bothered to turn around. “Yes,” she answered. “Just making sure you’re still there.” “You’re holding on to my horse’s reins. Where would I go?” He did glance at her then. A long steady appraisal over his shoulder. Dark eyes met her own. “You could have slipped down and run off.” “You would have heard me. Besides, I gave you my word.” His firm mouth twisted slightly. “It’s going to take me a while to trust your word.” “I hope we’re not together long enough for you to form an opinion of my honesty.” “You’re a plucky little thing, aren’t you?” Plucky? She raised her chin. “I’m not afraid of you, if that’s what you’re asking. I’m not afraid of anyone.” He faced front again. “Must be nice to live that way. Fear can chew a man up inside. Like I said. Plucky. That’s good. You’re going to need that to survive out here. The land is hard on folks. Especially women.” She glanced around at the tall trees and the endless sky beyond. Ever since they’d left Chicago, she’d been eager to see what the great West of the country had to offer. The sheer size overwhelmed her. Until she’d answered Lucas’s ad for a bride and had decided to accept his proposal, her entire world had consisted of twelve square blocks in a poor part of the city. She rarely ventured past those familiar streets. What she’d seen on her journey had excited her. There was so much life, so much land. Different places, and people. She couldn’t remember all the wonderful sights and she’d barely been able to sleep for the excitement of trying to relive all that she’d seen during the day. Everything was bigger and the colors were brighter. Winter in Chicago was shades of gray. The sky, the snow, the dirt, even the people. “I don’t believe it’s harder out here for women than it was in the city,” she said. “Women die there?” he asked. “Yes.” “Then maybe it’s just different.” She didn’t want to think about death. Especially not now when a stranger had kidnapped her. She wanted to think about Lucas and how he would surely come rescue her. A faint rustle caught her attention and she saw something flash through the trees. It might have been a deer, but she wasn’t sure. She opened her mouth to address the man, then snapped it shut. Was polite conversation appropriate under the circumstances? She didn’t think so. “What should I call you?” she asked. “The stage driver called you Jesse. Is that what you prefer?” “It doesn’t much matter. I’m Jesse Kincaid. Make do with what you’d like.” Calling him by his first name was a little informal, but the man had stolen her away, so using Mr. Kincaid was just too strange. As she mulled over the dilemma, she noticed it was getting darker. The sun had disappeared from the visible bits of sky and the shadows lengthened perceptibly. A shiver rippled through her. Unfortunately, it wasn’t just from cold. What would happen when they stopped for the night? What would he do to her? She’d heard stories, too many of them. Stories of women at the mercy of strange men. “We’ll have to make camp soon,” Jesse said. She jumped, wondering how he’d known what she was thinking. Her unexpected action made her horse step to the side suddenly. She shrieked and grabbed the saddle with both hands. Jesse reined in his mount and reached for her. He gripped her upper arm, steadying her. “It’s all right,” he said. “I’ve got you.” Which shouldn’t have reassured her, as he was the reason she was frightened in the first place, but it did. When her horse was calm again, he released her. “There’s a stream a little up ahead,” he said. “We’ll stop there for the night. I’m going to have to ask you to promise not to run away.” She glared at him. “Why should I do that? I don’t want to be with you. I want to be in town with my fianc?.” “If you don’t give me your word, I’ll have to tie you up. It will make your evening very uncomfortable.” She thought about how he’d so casually lifted her onto his shoulder, then flung her across the horse. Anger filled her. She knew it was only there to camouflage the fear, but she didn’t care. “No! I won’t do this,” she told him. She wanted to be in town. She wanted to be with Lucas. Finally she had a chance at being happy, at living in a safe place and belonging, and no one was going to take that away from her. She snatched at her reins. In the process of steadying her, Jesse had released his grip on them. He grabbed for her, but she was faster. She slapped her horse’s neck. The animal bolted forward, the force of the movement nearly tossing her from the saddle. But she clung on to the leather and gripped the reins tightly. “Dammit, Haley, you’ll get yourself killed.” She ignored him, just as she ignored the sound of hoofbeats behind her. The brush and trees grew close together here. There were branches all around her. They plucked at her clothing and pulled at her hair. The musty odor of the forest was thicker, too, seeping up from the ground and filling the air with a heady aroma that, under different circumstances, might have been pleasant. Her horse moved faster. She didn’t know where they were or where she might find Whitehorn, but right now all that mattered was getting away. Later, she would figure out how to find Lucas. For now, there was only escape. “Haley, look out! Pull back on the reins.” Jesse’s frantic words made her look up ahead. Tree branches jutted out on the path, forming a thick, impenetrable barrier. The horse would probably be able to duck underneath them, but they would hit her in the center of her chest. She screamed low in her throat as she began to saw on the reins. Her horse didn’t slow. If anything, the animal went faster. The branches seemed to rush forward. She screamed louder and tried to sit up. Behind her, the sound of hoofbeats got louder but she knew Jesse wasn’t going to reach her in time. At the last possible second, her horse dug in and stopped. She felt powerful muscles bunch with the effort and then found herself sailing through the air. Twigs and new leaves clawed at her arms and face, then the ground rushed up to meet her. She landed on a patch of snow. The impact knocked the breath from her body, leaving her stunned, aching and unable to breathe. She tried to sit up, tried to inhale, anything to relieve the hideous pressure in her chest. At last she drew in a shaky mouthful of air, then another. Every part of her hurt. Her back, her arms and legs, her shoulders, even her hair. The cold, damp snow soaked her dress, but she didn’t have the strength to move. She just wanted to lie here until Lucas found her and took her to town. But the man looming over her wasn’t her fianc?. He was big and as cold and unyielding as the ground beneath her. Without saying a word, he crouched beside her and began touching her. Haley was too stunned from the fall to protest. Her eyes burned and she fought tears as large, male hands moved over her arms, then her legs. She flinched against the invasion, wondering why she’d been spared attack for so many years in the city, only to find herself at some man’s mercy out here. She told herself to fight him, to scratch and kick until she drove him off. But there was nothing left inside. The failed escape attempt had used up her last reserves. “Nothing feels broken,” he said, sitting back on his heels. “Can you stand?” She blinked several times. “Wh-what?” “I asked if you can stand up. Are you hurt?” She rolled until she was kneeling, then slowly pushed herself to her feet. Once there, she staggered a step or two until she regained her balance. Straightening her shoulders, she stared at her captor. “I’m not hurt.” “Good. Hold out your hands.” When the meaning of his words sank in, she thought about running. But where was there to go? If she hadn’t been able to escape on horseback, she wouldn’t make it on foot. There would be another chance tomorrow, she told herself as she brought her arms up and held them stiffly in front of her. As he wrapped a length of rope around her wrists, she studied his lean face. The stubble darkening his jaw, the set of his firm mouth. “You’ll be punished for this,” she said defiantly. “You’ll be caught and punished.” He finished his task, then shrugged. “You’re probably right. But it will be worth it.” * * * Daisy Newcastle lifted the cover off the china serving dish and smiled. “More soup, Lucas?” The tall man sitting across from her at the small table shook his head and tossed his napkin on the table. “I don’t know how you do it, Daisy. I’ve paid three dollars for a meal like this in the city and never tasted anything so delicious.” He leaned forward and cupped her chin. “You’re a treasure.” The feel of his fingers against her skin made her want to shiver, but instead she smiled winningly and lowered her gaze as if embarrassed by the compliment. “You’re so sweet to me,” she said. “I don’t deserve you.” He squeezed once, then released her. The light from the lamps around the room caught his profile. As she stared at the left side of his face, she acknowledged that Lucas Stoner was a handsome man, with strong features and thick, dark hair. But when he heard a noise outside and turned toward it, she saw the other side. A thin scar cut down his right cheek, the line marring the flesh from his cheekbone to the corner of his mouth. The two sides of his face were much like the man himself. Viewed one way, he was handsome, successful and charming. But the other side of him, the scarred side, was ruthless and forbidding. He was a cruel man for whom life held no meaning, save perhaps his own. She played a dangerous game, teasing a lethal opponent. Yet she didn’t have a choice. She would risk everything for the man she’d once loved. She couldn’t bring him back from the grave, but she could try to make his murderer pay. That thought was as close as she came to allowing herself to think about Michael Kincaid, Jesse’s father. About his senseless murder and the destruction of his ranch. She dropped her hands to her lap and clutched her fingers tightly together in an effort to control the rage and helplessness that swept through her. It had been nearly six months, but the pain lingered. In some ways it wasn’t as fresh as when she’d first learned the news, but she’d loved him too much to let him go easily. So for Michael, and for Jesse, too, she invited Lucas Stoner to her small house and into her bed in the hope of learning enough to get him arrested. For justice’s sake she played the whore and made him believe he was all she’d ever wanted. Sometimes when she wondered how she could stand it another minute, she reminded herself she wanted to see Stoner in prison, then she wanted to watch him hang. With any luck his death would be slow and painful. At least that was what she prayed for each and every night. “Did I smell pie?” he asked and raised the left corner of his mouth in a mocking imitation of a smile. “Yes. I know it’s your favorite dessert and I couldn’t help myself.” He leaned forward and pressed his mouth to hers. The feel of his hot lips and the scent of his body made her stomach turn. She forced herself to stay completely still until he’d straightened back in his seat. “Thank you,” he murmured. “Anything for you.” She rose to her feet and began clearing the table. As always, she refused to think about what would happen in the next few hours...what always happened. The idle chatter about his day and how brilliant he was. How he sipped coffee from the delicate cups that had been brought to this country by her English grandmother. The way he would set the cup on the table in front of the sofa, place his hands on his thighs and leer at her. “I think it’s time, Daisy dear,” he always said, then waited for her to lead the way to her bedroom. She hated it all. Especially his calling her “Daisy dear.” But at least he was quick. Sometimes he didn’t bother undressing all the way. He simply unbuttoned his trousers and thrust himself inside of her. Sometimes, if she ignored the burning pain and telltale wetness he left behind, she could convince herself nothing had really happened. As she took a step toward the kitchen, someone knocked on her front door. Daisy frowned and glanced at the grandfather clock in the hallway. It was already dark and after seven. Who would be calling at this time of evening... especially when Stoner left his carriage carelessly in front of her house for everyone in town to see? She set the dishes back on the table and brushed her hands against her skirt. “I’ll just get that,” she said. “Perhaps I’ll come with you.” Stoner pushed back his chair and stood. Daisy crossed to the door and pulled it open. An older man stood on her small porch, his hat in his hand. He looked familiar, but she couldn’t put a name to his face. Stoner moved close behind her and supplied the information. “Charlie, what are you doing here?” he asked. “Mr. Stoner, I’ve brung you a message.” Daisy frowned at the man, realizing he drove the stage. “Were you expecting a package?” she asked, glancing at Stoner over her shoulder. “In a manner of speaking,” he answered. “What message? Was there a problem?” Charlie turned his hat in his hands, spinning it faster and faster. He swallowed twice and a muscle twitched in his cheek. “Mr. Stoner, we had us some trouble with the stage.” “Would you like to come in?” she asked Charlie. “That won’t be necessary,” Stoner said, never looking away from the driver. “What happened?” “There was a holdup.” “I didn’t have any packages or money on the stage.” “I know that. But you did have...” Charlie trailed off and glanced pointedly at Daisy. “You know.” “My mail-order bride. Yes, I do know. Go on.” Charlie began speaking, but Daisy wasn’t paying attention. So the woman had arrived. There was nothing to be done about her, of course. The poor innocent had answered an ad from a man looking for a wife. No doubt she thought she was marrying someone kind and ordinary. Not a monster. Not Lucas Stoner. “Jesse Kincaid took her off, bold as you please. Right in front of all of us.” That got Daisy’s attention. “What did you say?” Charlie’s head bobbed several times. “That’s right, ma’am. Jesse kidnapped Mr. Stoner’s bride. Said he would bring her back when Stoner agreed to talk with him.” He shrugged. “So that’s what I come to tell you.” Daisy didn’t want to look, but she forced herself to turn slowly and raise her gaze to Stoner’s face. The cold, ugly hatred there made her shrink back against the door frame. There were several moments of silence. All Daisy heard was the sound of the hat brim brushing against Charlie’s callused fingers and the faint ticking from the clock in the hall. “Thank you for bringing me that information,” Stoner said at last. “I’ll take care of it.” Charlie bobbed his head again. “Yes, sir, Mr. Stoner. I just wanted to be the one to tell you. When he took her off, she wasn’t hurt or anything.” “Thank you,” Stoner repeated, drew Daisy inside the house and firmly shut the door. Daisy tried to gather her composure. She had to figure out how to act. She hadn’t known about Jesse’s plans, so her surprise about that had been genuine enough. The fool boy was trying to get himself killed, she thought grimly, then pushed the thought away. There was no time to deal with Jesse’s folly right now. First she had to handle Stoner. She was supposed to be his loving mistress, and as such, news about a mail-order bride should bother her. Stoner had no way of knowing she’d overheard him talking to the wire operator when he had sent the money for the woman’s ticket. “Lucas?” she asked, as he led the way back into the dining room. “I don’t understand.” He motioned for her to take her seat. She hesitated, then did as he requested. She rested her hands flat on the table and opened her eyes wide. For a couple of heartbeats, she allowed herself to remember the pain of watching Michael Kincaid hanged for a crime he didn’t commit. As always, the memory of the senseless death brought tears to her eyes. She blinked as if trying to hide them. “A b-bride,” she said, deliberately stumbling over the word. “I know, Daisy dear. This is a shock.” “More than a shock. I thought—” She shook her head and turned away. “Lucas...” He took the chair next to her and grasped both her hands in his. “I don’t have a choice. Look at me.” She drew in a deep breath for courage and did. His faked concern made her supper rise in her throat. “You know about my ambitions,” he said. She nodded. “You’re going to be governor.” “And more.” He smiled as if she were a bright student and had provided the correct answer. “That requires the right kind of connections and the right wife.” Daisy hung her head. “I have no connections, nor am I a young, blushing bride.” “You are a beautiful woman and I have no intention of ending our relationship.” She sucked in a breath, then turned her mouth up into a smile. Pray God he didn’t notice the lie. “Really? But I don’t understand.” “She will be a convenience, nothing more. I specifically wanted an orphan. She has no family to appear and refute whatever I may say about her past. But she will be little more than a decoration to appease the world. You will still warm my bed at night.” He leaned close and kissed her. “Often.” Her pity for the faceless young woman vanished. She, Daisy, was still going to have to allow Stoner to have his way with her. At least for now. Which was fine with her. She still wanted Stoner dead. “But she’s been kidnapped. What are you going to do?” His expression hardened again. “I will take care of Jesse Kincaid myself.” Just like you took care of his father, Daisy thought angrily. “He can’t be allowed to go around kidnapping innocent women,” Stoner continued. “I will think of something suitable.” Daisy realized she had to warn Jesse. On the heels of that concern came the knowledge that he’d known by kidnapping Stoner’s bride-to-be he would be tangling directly with his enemy. Perhaps that was what he wanted—a way to flush Stoner into the open. He had a plan. Of that she was sure. The best thing she could do to help was to stay close to their mutual enemy and learn all she could. Eventually Lucas Stoner would make a mistake. They only needed one. Then she would be standing right in front to watch the man hang. CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_e1a899aa-e1fe-5ec5-9423-bc12d0e79ce3) They made camp in a small clearing beside a rushing stream. Haley leaned against a thick tree, trying not to think about where she was or why she was there. The pretending to be strong and brave only worked for a short period of time. Sometimes, the fear won anyway. A shiver rippled through her. Her dress was soaked from where she’d fallen in the snow, but she didn’t have anything else to change into. The small carpetbag Jesse had brought with them contained a nightgown, stockings, her brush and comb, some hairpins and two spare petticoats. Her other dresses were in her trunk, still tied to the stage. The snap of a twig caught her attention and she turned toward the sound. Jesse moved back into the clearing. His arms were full of tree branches, which he placed on the ground. Next he gathered small twigs and some leaves. He pulled a tin of matches from one of his saddlebags, then lit one and touched the flame to the kindling. The fire caught instantly. “If you stand close to the heat, your clothes will dry,” he said without turning around. Haley glared at his back. She didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of responding to his suggestion. But another shiver rippled through her and she knew she was risking a serious chill if she didn’t get warm soon. So she approached the growing fire and turned so her damp skirts were closest to the flames. She was careful to keep her gaze from meeting Jesse’s. As it got darker and the sounds of the night surrounded them, it was more and more difficult to forget she was alone with this man. What was he going to do to her? Don’t think about that, she ordered herself. Think about Lucas. So she tried to picture his face, his eyes, his warm smile. She got lost in a daydream of how he would tell her he’d been so worried about her. She would tell him about her adventure and he would gently take her hand and offer comfort. They would— Something settled on her shoulders. She let out a scream and tried to jump. Strong hands held her in place. “Just until you stop shaking like a wet calf,” Jesse said, smoothing a coat over her. “I have a spare. I figured a city girl wouldn’t know how to dress for Montana nights.” She wanted to throw his gift back in his face, but she could feel the weight of the fabric and the warmth lingering from his body and all she wanted to do was snuggle into the soft sheepskin lining. Despite her annoyance at the implied insult, she knew he was right. She didn’t have a warm coat. “I—” She clamped her lips shut. She was not going to thank him. He didn’t deserve it. He also didn’t seem to expect it. He moved away and began setting up the camp. He filled a coffeepot with water and put it on a flat rock he rolled into the fire. Next came cans of beans and some hard, flat chunks of bread. He heated the beans in their can, then used a bent fork to push them onto two plates. Somewhere in the process, he removed his hat. Haley didn’t notice the exact moment he did so, but suddenly he wasn’t wearing it. As he crouched by the fire, the light illuminated his features. Stubble darkened his jaw, making him look forbidding. Dark eyes and a straight mouth gave nothing away. She didn’t know what he was thinking and she decided she didn’t want to know. When he stood up, she realized he was much taller than she. The top of her head barely came to his chin. He’d already proved he could physically overpower her without a moment’s pause. The fear returned and with it a sensation of helplessness. She glanced around, but there was no one to help her and nowhere to run. The vast star-filled sky seemed to mock her. In the middle of the wilderness, what did the fate of one unknown woman matter to anyone? * * * The woman had gotten real quiet. Jesse told himself it was a good thing, that her silence was better than her threats, but to tell the truth, he’d spent a lot of the past two years in his own company and he’d gotten tired of the quiet. But he couldn’t think of anything to say. And if the little glances she kept throwing at him were anything to go by, she was terrified. Despite the large fire and his coat, she kept shivering. He knew her dress was wet from where she’d fallen in the snow, but there wasn’t anything he could do about that. It was unlikely she had a spare in her small carpetbag and he didn’t have one with him, either. She was just going to have to shiver until she dried out. But he could try to reassure her fears. Somehow. He searched his brain, wondering what he could say that would bring her a measure of comfort. He felt another of those darting glances. She’d cleaned her plate and set it on the ground beside her. From here he couldn’t see if she’d finished her coffee or not so he reached for the pot, rose to his feet and headed toward her. She sat in a half crouch across from him. As he approached, she stiffened, then slowly stood up. He’d untied the ropes around her wrists so she could eat. She’d pushed her arms through the coat sleeves. The garment hung down to her thighs, making her look small and childlike. “More coffee?” he asked, holding up the pot. She dropped her cup to the ground as her hands curled into fists. “Stop it,” she said softly. “Just stop it.” He paused in midstep. “What are you talking about?” “This.” She made a motion that took in him, the camp and the horses. “All of it.” She cleared her throat and her voice got stronger. “I’m not afraid. You can do whatever you have to and I won’t be afraid. But don’t make me wait and wonder. Just get it over with. Whatever you’re going to do to me, I can bear it. I just can’t stand the waiting!” Jesse took a step back and stared at her. The firelight illuminated half her face. Her green eyes had darkened to the color of shadow while her skin seemed to glow. But it was her mouth that caught and held his attention. Her lower lip quivered. He didn’t know if she was terrified or just close to tears and he didn’t want to know. Dammit all to hell, he hadn’t wanted to do this from the start. If there’d been another way to make Stoner listen to him... But there hadn’t been, he reminded himself. The past six months had proved that. Stoner was too smart to make a mistake and Jesse had no choice but to force his hand. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he said. She made a sound that was half laugh, half strangled sob. “Yes, I’ve heard the men always say that right before they ravish the woman. That it won’t hurt. That she’ll like it.” Her chin raised slightly in a gesture of defiance. “I don’t care because I won’t be afraid of you. So ravish me or kill me, but just do it now.” Her words sank in slowly. Jesse felt an unfamiliar heat on his cheeks, then realized he was blushing. “I’m not going to do that,” he said quickly and returned to the fire. After putting the coffeepot back on the rock, he shoved his hands into his pockets. “Kill me or r-ravish me?” “I’m not going to hurt you at all. You’ve got this all wrong.” “Forgive me for misunderstanding the kidnapping. Perhaps you merely meant to show me this beautiful countryside. Of course. How silly of me. Allow me to admire the beauty of the night sky. There are so many stars out. It’s lovely. You are a thoughtful host.” He had to admire her guts. She was still visibly shaking with cold and fear, yet she spit at him like a barn cat facing down a coyote. She had about as much chance of winning this encounter, too, but by God she wasn’t going to let her fear best her. He had the brief thought that life would have been easier for Claire if she had had a little of Haley Winthrop’s spirit. But Claire couldn’t help what she’d been and he knew better than to speak or think ill of the dead. He pointed to the log he’d rolled over for her to sit on. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he repeated. “You might as well make yourself comfortable.” He sat on the ground on his oilcloth and stared at the flames. She didn’t move. “I didn’t want to kidnap you,” he said, figuring he owed her some explanation for what had happened. “So you made a mistake. How unfortunate...for all of us.” Her frosty words almost made him want to smile. Almost. “I have a ranch, or rather I had one with my father. It’s a few miles from here. A great piece of land with plenty of room for grazing cattle and there’s lots of water.” “How lovely for you.” She was just as sarcastic as ever, but he noticed she’d lowered herself onto the log and was leaning toward the fire. “A couple of years ago I headed south to bring up a herd of longhorns from Texas. We wanted to breed them with the stock we already had and build up our cattle.” He paused, remembering the plans he and his dad had made. The dreams they’d had for success as ranchers. There were opportunities available to men willing to work hard. He remembered his mother and Claire. The land wasn’t as forgiving when it came to women. “Did you?” she asked. “Did you bring the herd north?” “Yeah. Nearly two thousand head of cattle. But when I got back, the ranch was gone.” That caught her attention. She straightened in her seat and stared at him. “What do you mean, gone? The land is still there, isn’t it?” “Oh, yeah, the land is there, but the cattle had been scattered and the house was mostly burned. My father was dead.” He stared into the fire and remembered that time. Those days—the shock of seeing the half-burned house. The silence broken only by a few birds flying overhead. “What happened?” she asked. “He was murdered. Falsely accused of helping renegades who have been attacking local ranches.” Rage welled up inside him; the familiar heat had kept him alive through the long, cold winter. “I know my father as well as I know myself. He was a decent man who never broke the law. He wouldn’t have helped any renegades. I asked around in town and found out there had been a quick arrest and a quicker trial. He was hanged in two days. It happened about four months after I left for Texas, so by the time I got back with the herd, people had mostly forgotten.” He heard Haley catch her breath. “I’m sorry for your family,” she said. “But what does this have to do with me?” “I know who’s responsible. Lucas Stoner is behind my father’s death and he’s responsible for the other attacks on the ranches around here. So far I haven’t been able to prove it, but you’re going to help me change all that.” Haley sprang to her feet. “No! I won’t listen to this and I’m certainly not going to help you. How dare you imply that Mr. Stoner is anything but a good and kind man? He’s honest and hardworking. While I appreciate and sympathize with the death of your father, that does not give you the right to kidnap an innocent woman and hold her against her will.” Jesse shook his head. “You’ve never met Stoner.” “So?” “How can you claim to know what kind of man he is?” That pointed chin came up a notch again. “I have read his letter. I know the man.” “Lady, I think living in the city has addled your brain. You don’t know this man, and trust me, you don’t want to know him. If anything, you should be grateful I kidnapped you.” “Grateful? Why, you are nothing but a lying dog. Lucas Stoner is a gentleman and you have no right to even speak his name. You are a criminal, a liar and I’m not sure what else.” Jesse was too stunned to protest. She was comparing him to Stoner and Stoner was coming out the winner? “You got all this from one letter?” She nodded, her green eyes flashing fire. “My fianc? is a wonderful man and I’m lucky to be engaged to him.” Haley was grateful for the argument. Not only did talking about Lucas make her feel less alone, but the anger gave her strength. She wasn’t sure if she believed Jesse’s claim that he didn’t want to hurt her. She hoped he wasn’t lying, but she had no way of knowing for sure. “Must have been a hell of a letter,” Jesse muttered as he turned back to the fire and poured himself more coffee. Haley knew if the truth were told, it hadn’t been much of a letter. Just a few lines of Lucas telling what he wanted in a wife. She had replied with a long detailed description of herself, her character and her life in Chicago. His answer had been the stage ticket west. So she wasn’t completely sure of Lucas’s character, but she had been able to interpret several qualities from both what he wrote and what his words probably meant. And when the little voice in her head asked why, if Lucas was so wonderful, did he have to advertise for a wife, she reminded the voice, and herself, that there weren’t many women in the West. Besides, her entire future depended on the character of Lucas Stoner. She couldn’t bear the thought that he was anything less than perfect. “It’s getting late,” Jesse said. “If you want to wash up, go on down to the stream to take care of your business. We need to turn in soon.” His words reminded her of the pressure low in her belly and the fact that she hadn’t had a moment’s privacy since he’d kidnapped her. While she was surprised he was willing to trust her on her own, she wasn’t about to question the fact and hurried in the direction of the running water. Once by the bank, she found a clump of trees and carefully lifted her skirts. It was dark and she worried about what kinds of creatures might be lurking in the shadows. Still the outdoors was cleaner smelling than any privy in the city. When she’d finished, she made her way to the stream and quickly washed her face and hands. The water was like ice, but so clean and sweet tasting, she had to drink several handfuls before reluctantly turning back to the camp. It would be easy enough to run away, she thought. She could simply disappear into the darkness. A bird hooted from the high branches above her head and something rustled in the leaves next to her. She jumped. Her choices were the enemy in the form of Jesse Kincaid, or the unknown of the forest. For now the man was less frightening. But as she got closer to the camp, her step slowed and she wondered if she would be better off taking her chances with the creatures of the night. To distract herself, she thought about what he’d told her about his family and the death of his father. She didn’t know anything about her own family. She’d been delivered to the orphanage when she was only a few weeks old and no one had ever come looking for her in all her twenty-one years. She had often wondered what it would be like to have people related by blood, people who cared where she went and what she did with herself. That was one of the reasons she was so looking forward to getting married. Lucas was going to care about her. In time, he would love her and she would finally belong. He was... He was not responsible for the death of Jesse’s father. She knew that for sure. He couldn’t be. There had to be a mistake. Before she could figure it all out, she found herself entering the camp. The first thing she saw was two bedrolls stretched out on opposite sides of the fire. Relief filled her, chasing away the chill and the last of the fear. Jesse had meant what he said. He wasn’t going to ravish her. When she hesitated, he pointed to the one closest to her. She walked to it, then sank down on the thick blankets. “How did you know I’d come back?” she asked. “You didn’t have a choice. You’re a city girl and you wouldn’t survive half a day in these woods, let alone half the night.” She thought about the unfamiliar smells, sights and sounds and knew that he was right. As long as he kept his word and didn’t try to take her, she would be fine. In a few days she would be in town and this would all be just a bad dream. He tossed the rest of his coffee into the bushes, then stretched out on his bedroll. “I’m not going to tie your hands,” he said. “If you try to escape in the night, I’ll probably hear you and drag you back. Then I will tie your hands, and your feet, too. You won’t like it.” “I’m not going to try to escape.” At least not tonight, she thought. Maybe tomorrow, when it was bright and she was rested. “If I don’t hear you, you’re going to be on your own out there,” he said as if she hadn’t spoken. “There are a lot of hungry critters who would like to have someone just like you for supper.” “You don’t scare me,” she told him. “I’m not trying to scare you, I’m telling you the truth.” She raised herself on one elbow and looked at him. “It doesn’t matter if you try or not, I’m tough. I’ve been on my own since I was twelve. Some backwoods criminal isn’t about to make me do anything I don’t want to do, so don’t even try.” He raised himself on one elbow, too. “You don’t say.” “I do say.” He lifted his eyebrows, then smiled. “Good.” She’d expected several reactions, but not a smile. Not from him. Not after what they’d been through. Her first thought was that he was surprisingly handsome, in a rugged kind of way. The second was that he looked kind when he smiled, and he made her want to smile back. Which was ridiculous because the man had kidnapped her. So she stretched out on the bedroll and pulled the blankets over her. The wool smelled of horse and hay and the outdoors. She inhaled the scent and thought it was very nice. Clean and safe smelling. Logs snapped on the fire. In the distance, something howled a mournful cry. An answering yip filled the night. When there was silence again, Haley turned on her side, toward the fire. “Jesse?” “Yes?” “Tell me about Lucas Stoner.” He was quiet for so long, she thought he wasn’t going to answer. Then he said, “I thought you knew everything about the man.” “I know some things. What he told me in his letter and what I figured out for myself. But there’s a lot I don’t know.” “You know he killed my father.” She sighed. “I don’t believe that. There has to be some mistake.” “There’s no mistake.” Jesse’s voice was bitter. “I don’t want to talk about that.” “I don’t blame you. I don’t imagine any bride wants to hear that her fianc? is a murderer.” “Never mind,” she said and closed her eyes. She heard Jesse draw in a deep breath. “I can’t tell you about him without telling you what I know he did, but if you ask me something specific, I can probably answer that.” “Is he handsome?” Haley wasn’t sure where that question came from. She’d never thought of Lucas as being good-looking or not. In her mind, he simply existed. But now that she’d asked, she found she wanted to know. “I’m a man, Haley. How would I know?” He had a point. “Is he ugly?” “I don’t think so. He has a scar on his face, though. That might bother you.” “A scar? What does it look like?” “It’s a thin, pale line on the right side of his face, from his cheekbone to about an inch from the corner of his mouth. And before you ask, I don’t know how he got it.” Haley drew her knees to her chest and thought about the scar. He must mind having it. Anyone would. In a way it made Lucas a tragic figure, which made him more approachable. The scar wouldn’t matter to her. She would find him just as easy to love. She would tell him after they were married. After all, she’d worked with a doctor for several years and she was completely used to seeing things more unpleasant than a scar. She felt herself start to relax and she pulled the blankets up over her shoulders. Tomorrow Lucas would come find her, she was sure of it. They would get married and she would begin her new life. CHAPTER FOUR (#ulink_922cecb9-fdbb-5031-88b3-88f5529ed61b) It was still dark under the trees when Jesse woke up. He could see the first fingers of light filtering through the branches as he rolled onto his back and got his bearings. Slowly he turned his head toward the fire, then rose on one elbow. Haley was still there, curled up on her side, the blankets pulled to her chin. So she hadn’t tried to run. He was pleased, but a little surprised. She was tough and he admired that. He suspected her fighting spirit would cause her to try to escape again. He could only hope that he would be able to catch her. Being tough wasn’t going to be enough to keep her alive out here in a wilderness that didn’t show anyone mercy. He continued to study her. Sometime in the night her light brown hair had come loose from its pins. Soft-looking strands spread out on the pile of clothing that was a makeshift pillow. She was, he acknowledged, very pretty. Claire had been pretty, but in a more traditional sense. He supposed at one time his mother had been beautiful, before the hardships of ranch life had leached the color from her face and hair. This wilderness was hard on women, which was why it would be better for everyone if Haley just turned around and returned to Chicago. At least she would be safer there. Still, he knew better than to tell her his opinion on the subject. She was about as stubborn as she was tough. He had to admire that, even though he knew it was going to make the situation more difficult for him. Despite everything, despite her sharp tongue and her misplaced faith in her fianc?, he liked her. A useless piece of information, he thought, sitting up and reaching for the coffeepot. Haley wasn’t for him, and even if she was, he wasn’t going to get involved with a woman ever again. He refused to be responsible for another woman’s death. He walked to the stream and washed his face, then filled the coffeepot. Six months of living under a real roof at the Baxter ranch had softened him some. He’d spent more than a year on the trail before that and he knew it wouldn’t take long for him to get used to being outdoors again. Of course he wasn’t going to be out here all that long. Just as soon as Stoner agreed to talk to him, he could let Haley go and get on with his quest for justice. As he stirred the cold fire and added more kindling, he heard a faint sound. He half turned as Haley’s eyes fluttered open. She drew her eyebrows together as she glanced around. Her gaze settled on him. Fear followed confusion, then she remembered and stiffened slightly. With a reaction that he knew was involuntary, she reached for the buttons of her green dress, checking them as if to make sure they hadn’t been disturbed. At the same time, her other hand reached down to smooth her skirt. Then she blushed. Jesse looked away, fighting embarrassment of his own. He’d told the woman he wasn’t interested in ravishing her. Why didn’t she believe him? But he knew the answer to that question. He was a stranger to her. A man who had taken her away against her will and was holding her captive. Why should she believe anything he said? “The coffee will take a few minutes,” he said, his voice gruff. “You should go clean up. We’ll be moving out right after breakfast.” She scrambled to her feet and walked briskly toward the stream. When she was gone, Jesse collected their blankets and rolled them up. He gathered the saddlebags together and as he set them next to the blankets, he felt something hard inside one of them. Without wanting to, he opened the flap and reached inside. The brooch was wrapped in a piece of soft cotton. He squatted down and flipped open the edges of the cloth, until the beautiful piece of jewelry winked up at him. A pink cameo edged in gold. The carved face showed a beautiful woman in three-quarter profile. His father had given the piece to his mother before he, Jesse, had been born. He remembered her wearing it nearly every day. She used to laugh and finger it, saying it was too fine for daily wear, but too beautiful to be left in a box. It was, she’d often said, a legacy of the love she and his father shared. When Jesse fell in love, she would give it to him to give to his bride. So when Claire had arrived, she’d been given the Kincaid cameo brooch and she’d worn it at the base of her throat. His mother had been pleased by how the jewelry suited Claire. Then Claire had died and his mother had taken the brooch back. Jesse had ceased to believe that it was given as a legacy of love. He doubted the pin was cursed—it just didn’t have enough power to ward off the inevitable. Or maybe love wasn’t strong enough. Or maybe it was something else entirely. For while Michael Kincaid had loved his wife desperately, he, Jesse, had never come close to loving Claire. It was an ugly truth and one he didn’t want to face. But today he couldn’t ignore it. He hadn’t loved her and she’d known. Perhaps that had been the real reason she had died. * * * Haley crouched in front of the stream and shivered as her hands dipped into the frigid water. This morning there was still ice on the muddy banks. It crackled as she shifted her weight. But she didn’t mind the cold water or the chill of the early morning. Instead she had to hold in a laugh of pure pleasure. Everything was so clean. The scent of the air and the earth, the taste of the water, the ground, the sky, all of it. Clean, new and alive. She splashed water on her face, and caught her breath at the coldness. Then she drank several handfuls of the sweet liquid. A few drops ran down her chin and soaked the collar of her dress, but she didn’t mind. Montana was more wonderful than she had allowed herself to believe. It was big and beautiful and, no matter what, she was never going back. She rose to her feet and, arms open wide, she spun in a circle. Her loose hair hung down her back. She shook her head, enjoying the feel of the thick strands moving against her. The rising sun touched her face, warming her skin. As she stretched, she felt stiff and a little sore. Probably from her horseback riding yesterday. She rubbed her rear and wrinkled her nose at the thought of getting back on the horse again. But it was unlikely Jesse would have another way for her to travel. At least being on the horse was much better than being trapped in the swaying stagecoach. The first two days of the journey her stomach had been queasy and she’d been afraid she was never going to feel better. A familiar and tempting smell caught her attention. She sniffed, inhaling the scent of coffee. Her stomach rumbled. She turned and headed back toward the camp, her nose leading her when she nearly lost the narrow trail. As she broke through the brush surrounding their small clearing, she saw Jesse squatting on the ground, staring at something in his hand. She approached him and when he didn’t turn away, she bent down and studied what he held. It was a woman’s brooch. Gold with a carved cameo in the center. The gold caught the rising sunlight and seemed to wink at her. “It’s lovely,” she breathed. “Is it yours?” He looked at her. It was the first time she’d seen his face in daylight. Yesterday, when he’d kidnapped her, he’d been wearing a hat pulled low over his forehead. Last night he’d taken the hat off, but it had already grown dark and she’d only seen him by firelight. Now she stared at him in the full brightness of day. He had regular features, with a straight nose and dark eyes. His hair was a little shaggy, thick and straight, with a few strands falling over his forehead. Stubble shadowed his cheeks and jaw, outlining his firm mouth. A mouth that looked as if it never smiled, yet he had last night...hadn’t he? He didn’t want to answer her question. She could tell by his silence and the way he carefully wrapped the pin in its piece of cotton and placed it in his saddlebag. Had it belonged to someone in his family? An old sweetheart? It wasn’t her business, she reminded herself. She turned to the fire and grabbed their coffee cups. The brew was nearly ready. “It belonged to my mother,” he said, startling her. She spun toward him. “Really? It’s very lovely.” He shrugged. “My father gave it to her when they were married.” “Your mother died?” she asked. “About three years ago.” She heard the pain in his voice. “At least you can remember her,” she said. “And you have the brooch.” “I know.” But she could tell by his shuttered expression that he didn’t think it was much. If only he knew how precious the remembering could be. There had been so many times when she’d lain awake at night and desperately wanted to remember something... anything. But she’d been an infant when she’d been left at the orphanage and there weren’t any memories to be had. She’d contented herself with making up stories about a family that didn’t really exist. The coffee sputtered. She bent low to the fire and grabbed her skirt, then used it to protect her hand from the heat of the pot as she poured them both a cup. “You’ve been around open fires before,” Jesse commented, coming up behind her and taking the cup she offered. “I’ve been around every kind of fire and cookstove you can imagine,” she said. “Big black monsters in restaurant kitchens and tiny flames in shacks on the edge of the neighborhood.” He frowned and sat on the log by the fire. She settled next to him. He produced a couple of hard biscuits and some dried beef. “Why so many places?” “I worked for a doctor,” she said, taking the food. It wasn’t what she would have requested, but she was hungry and there didn’t seem to be much choice. She’d long ago learned to eat when food was around because it might not always be available. “I assisted him as he cared for patients, so I went with him to their homes or where they worked.” Jesse looked surprised. “You had a job?” “Of course. How do you think I took care of myself?” “Didn’t you live with your family?” “I’m an orphan.” “I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t know.” “There was no reason for you to.” He glanced at the saddlebag containing the brooch. “Do you remember your family at all?” She shook her head. “I was left at the orphanage when I was first born. I like to think I have many brothers and sisters and they just lost track of me, but I know that’s not true.” “How did you get from the orphanage to working for a doctor?” She took a sip of coffee, not sure if she should answer the question. She didn’t much like talking about her past. Dr. Redding had often said life had not treated her well, but she didn’t think it had been any more unkind to her than to most people. “The orphanage kept us until we were twelve, then we were sent out to work.” His gaze narrowed. “At twelve?” She nodded. “We could stay after that, but we had to pay room and board. That’s what I did. I found a job cleaning. Scrubbing floors, that kind of thing.” She made light of that time, not wanting to dwell on what it had been like. She didn’t want to remember her cracked and bleeding hands, so raw from the hot water and lye soap. She didn’t want to relive the pain in her back from the endless scrubbing. It was, she’d found out, only slightly better than working in a laundry, where she’d only lasted three days before deciding it would be easier to simply starve to death. “One of my friends worked for Dr. Redding,” she went on. “When a position became available in his office, she recommended me. I cleaned there, but it was easier than what I’d done before. Then one day, one of the nurses was ill and I accompanied him as he visited patients. I found I liked it a lot more than cleaning and he said I had a talent for helping the sick.” “How old were you?” Jesse asked. “Nearly fifteen. After a few months I was earning enough to leave the orphanage. I rented a room in a nice house. It was in the attic, but still it was mine.” She could remember how proud she’d been the first night she’d slept in that narrow bed. In the morning the room had been freezing and she’d bumped her head on the sloping ceiling, but none of that had mattered. She’d found a place that was hers. And she’d done it all by herself. Jesse continued to study her. She wondered if she’d missed a smudge of dirt on her face and tried to casually wipe her cheeks. “That’s not what I imagined,” he said at last. “You’ve been through some difficult times.” She shrugged. “I suppose. It’s all I know.” “Do you miss Chicago?” She thought about the tiny room that was so hot in the summer and so very cold in the winter. She thought about the sick and the dying, the stench of the open sewers, the fear of being attacked when she walked home late after tending an ill patient. In the past four years only three men had invited her out for an evening and she hadn’t liked any of them. There were, she knew, lots of young men in the city, but she didn’t know how to meet them. While a few friends had offered to introduce her to brothers and cousins, she always felt shy and silly and she’d refused. So she remained alone. “No,” she said softly. “I don’t miss it. I wanted something different than I had there. I know how to work hard and I’m not afraid. Mr. Stoner and I can build a good life together here.” She thought about her fianc? and wondered if he was already out looking for her. It would have been difficult to get men together in the darkness, but she was sure that first thing this morning, they would begin the search. Perhaps they’d already started. Her heart quickened. At this moment, he could be on horseback, retracing the journey she’d taken with Jesse. Perhaps in a few short hours, she would be with him. A quick movement caught her attention. Jesse stood up, his body stiff with tension. She knew it was because she’d mentioned Lucas. Well, none of this was her fault. Jesse was the one who had kidnapped her and if he didn’t want her talking about Lucas, he could take her to town and let her go. “How long do you intend to keep me prisoner?” she asked. “For as long as it takes.” “You want money? Is that it?” He turned his cool gaze on her. “No. Not money. Information. A confession.” Frustration filled her. “Why do you insist on blaming him for what happened to your family? I’m sure he wasn’t—” He cut her off with an angry flick of his hand. “Lady, you don’t know what you’re talking about. You have one letter from a stranger and nothing more. You’ve never met the man, nor have you spoken to anyone who knows him. If you want to believe he’s the archangel Gabriel, that’s your business, but I don’t want to hear about it anymore. As far as I’m concerned, Lucas Stoner is a murdering son of a bitch and I want to see him hang.” She opened her mouth, then closed it. This wasn’t the time to reason with him. Later, when he’d calmed down, she could try to explain the situation to him. Or maybe it was better if they avoided the topic altogether. “You are entitled to your opinion,” she said stiffly and took a bite of the dried meat. “Thank you,” he said sarcastically. “Now if you’ll hurry up your breakfast, we have a lot of ground to cover today. I want your word that you won’t try to escape.” She’d forgotten about her plans until he mentioned them. In the daylight, the forest didn’t look so frightening. Maybe she could find the road, then make her way to town. Wouldn’t Lucas be proud of her for getting away all on her own! “Don’t even think about it,” Jesse told her. “If you don’t give me your word, I’m going to tie your hands. If you remember from yesterday, it’s not a very comfortable way to travel.” She popped the last bit of beef into her mouth and turned her back on him. Although she hadn’t promised, he seemed to take her actions as agreement because he didn’t bother with the rope. Which was fine with her. There was no way she was going to just accept her fate. She had a life she needed to get on with and Jesse Kincaid wasn’t going to stand in her way. At the first opportunity that presented itself, she was going to run. CHAPTER FIVE (#ulink_1c40fcb3-0120-53f9-8de5-20d7865a501d) Haley couldn’t remember ever having been this thirsty, hot, tired and sore. She stayed in the saddle by sheer will alone, simply because she knew it would hurt too much if she allowed herself to fall to the ground. Not that she was sure she could feel a whole lot more pain. Her thighs felt as if they’d been stretched two inches too long. Her rear was one giant bruise. The sun beat down unmercifully and she could feel her face burning. If only she had a bonnet. Or a glass of water. If only she was still in the carriage. A queasy stomach was simple compared to this. To make matters worse, Jesse didn’t seem to notice. He rode a few feet ahead, sitting comfortable in his saddle as if he’d been riding since before he could walk. He probably had been, she thought grimly, tugging at her suddenly too-tight collar and wishing a few clouds would appear in the brilliant blue sky. From time to time she heard a faint noise that sounded suspiciously like whistling. As if this were a great adventure to him. As if her suffering meant nothing. If she were standing on solid ground instead of undulating on this poor excuse for transportation, she would stomp her foot and tell him exactly what she thought of him. Then she heard the most perfect sound. At first she was afraid she was imagining it. The soft rush of water over rocks. A stream? Her mouth watered at the thought and she rubbed her cracked, dry lips. “Is there a stream up ahead?” she asked. “Yeah.” He glanced at her over his shoulder. “I thought we could take a break there.” “I’d like that.” Gratitude filled her and she nearly smiled at him before she remembered it was his fault she was suffering in the first place. If he hadn’t come along, she would be in Whitehorn by now, possibly entertaining Lucas before the wedding. Or she might actually be getting married at this very minute. Her new, perfect life would be starting. But instead, she was stuck in the wilderness, dying of thirst and slowly roasting alive in the afternoon sun. She would never have guessed it got hot in Montana in the spring. Last night the temperature had dipped below freezing, but today was just like summer. Under other circumstances, she might have enjoyed the unexpected warmth. Under other circumstances, she might have been willing to make polite conversation and be an agreeable companion. But right now all she wanted was to get off the horse and have something to drink. Five minutes later, she reined in her mount and slowly slipped to the ground. There was an awful moment when she wasn’t sure her legs were going to support her. Everything shook. Her thighs, her knees, her insides. Jesse dismounted and grabbed her horse’s reins. “You might want to walk around for a bit,” he said. “That’ll ease the stiffness.” “I doubt it,” she told him, not bothering to look at him. She made her way to the stream and crouched down by the flowing water. It was as icy as the one they’d camped by last night and she nearly laughed her delight. Again the taste was almost sweet. In some ways she felt as if she’d never really tasted water before. This clear, nearly sparkling liquid was nothing like what she’d grown up drinking. There was no odd color or odor, no taste of the barrel. The closest she’d come had been rainwater and that was a rare treat. When she’d sipped her fill, she straightened and walked around on the bank. Moving did help, although she wasn’t going to admit that. Jesse walked down to the edge of the bank and broke a branch off a sapling. She’d noticed him doing things like that before. He’d taken a length of ruffle from one of the petticoats in her carpetbag and cut it up into small pieces, one of which he lodged in the broken branch. “What are you doing?” she asked. “Leaving a trail.” She glanced across the stream to the other side. It was thick with trees, but she thought she saw a narrow path. “Are we going that way?” “No.” She frowned. “Then why...” Her mouth hung open for a moment, then she snapped it shut. She thought about all the times he’d stopped to break branches or leave bits of cloth. He usually did it when they changed direction or stopped. But the broken branches and pieces of petticoat didn’t lead to them. Jesse was using them to send her rescuers in a different direction. “You’re tricking them,” she said, as the anger returned. This time she was standing on the ground, so she placed her hands on her hips and stomped her right foot hard. “You’re sending them away from where we’re going.” “That’s right,” he said as easily as if he were agreeing to the day of the week. “I want them close, but I’m not ready for them to find us.” “Find me, you mean.” Frustration boiled as her anger flared. “You want to keep me as long as you can.” Dark steady eyes studied her. “I want to keep you as long as necessary, Haley. I’m not doing this because I want to. I’m doing it because it’s the only way to get Stoner to talk to me. When he gives me the information I need, I’ll let you go.” “But I want to go now!” “I’m sorry. I can’t do that.” He sounded sincere, but that wasn’t good enough. She looked around for a rock or a branch. Something with which to threaten him and convince him to let her go. She could feel her promise of happiness disappearing with every passing minute. She’d already waited so long. She wanted to meet Lucas. She wanted to be with him. Jesse finished tucking the length of torn fabric in the tree branch and crossed to her. “Haley, I know this is difficult for you. I’ll turn you over to Stoner as soon as I can. I promise.” “I’m not interested in your promises. You’re nothing but a criminal. You’ve kidnapped an innocent woman, kept her in the woods and Lord knows what else you have planned.” A dull flush climbed his cheeks. He pushed his hat back on his head. “We’ve been over that one already. You know I’m not going to hurt you.” She did know, but she wasn’t about to admit it to him. “I hate this,” she said, turning away from him. “I want to go to town. Just let me go.” “I can’t.” “You won’t.” “You’re right. I won’t.” She stalked over to her horse and waited until Jesse joined her. When he made a step by lacing his fingers together, she wanted to scream in frustration. Why was this happening to her? How dare he treat her like this? Then she was settling onto the saddle. Every part of her body clenched in protest. She did not want to spend one more hour on this horse. “I’m going to get a quick drink of water,” Jesse said, turning toward the stream. “I’ll be right back.” She watched him walk away, hating him and the circumstances that had brought her here. If only she could convince him to— Her gaze settled on him as he crouched at the water’s edge. She glanced in the other direction and saw his horse waiting patiently. This was her chance, she thought suddenly. She could escape and get to town on her own. She urged her horse close to his, then slapped his mount on the rump. The animal jumped and started to move away. Haley didn’t bother waiting to see if it kept going. Instead she collected her reins and kicked her horse hard. The gelding leapt forward. Unlike her first flight yesterday, this time she was prepared for the momentum. She crouched low and hung on, keeping control of the reins. A frustrated cry rose up behind her, but she didn’t bother turning. This time she was going to do it. This time she was going to get away. The countryside flashed by quickly. Haley steered her horse down to the edge of the stream where there was plenty of room for it to run. The wind whipped her hair out behind her and cooled her heated body. The fear and pain faded, replaced by exhilaration. She liked feeling free. At last she was taking matters into her own hands. Up ahead the bank narrowed. She tugged on the reins, urging the horse into the forest. The thick trees forced her to slow the animal. She didn’t want a repeat of the previous day, when low-lying branches had blocked the path. After a few minutes, she drew her mount to a stop and listened for the sound of someone following. But there wasn’t anything except the call of a few birds and the thundering of her heart. She’d done it! Over the next hour or so, Haley let the horse pick its way through the thick grove of trees. She had a general idea of where she was heading because she’d started keeping track of the sun’s slow descent. They were trotting now, a bone-crushing pace that made her want to audibly whimper with each step. But they were also moving toward Whitehorn. Perhaps by sundown she would have made it. She kicked the horse into a faster pace. The animal obliged and soon they were racing along. She laughed at the pleasure of it. Once again she heard the rushing sound of water, but it was too soon to stop. The horse slowed, but she kicked it again, wanting it to keep running. She needed more distance between herself and Jesse. The animal slowed a second time. She leaned forward and kicked harder. Then she saw it. This particular stream had been flowing hard and fast enough to cut a gully through the forest. It was about eight feet deep and three feet wide, with steep muddy banks. There was no way for them to walk down and judging from the bunching of the horse’s muscles, her mount planned to jump the distance. Haley screamed, but it was too late to stop. She bent as low as she could and wrapped her arms around the horse’s neck. Even as the animal leapt out into nothingness, she felt herself being lifted and flying. Fear exploded into her, a heartbeat before she hit the ground. There was a moment of silence, then the world spun once and disappeared into blackness. * * * Daisy opened the door to the land office and stepped inside. She heard voices, but didn’t worry about interrupting. If Stoner didn’t want anyone listening, he would have turned the lock. She walked to the counter and placed her covered basket on top, then looked at the two men standing next to Stoner’s large desk. Stoner glanced up, saw her and smiled. She returned the greeting, knowing her pleasant expression would mask the hatred in her heart. “I’ll just be a minute, my dear,” he told her. She nodded and turned to glance out the front window, as if the conversation in progress held no interest for her. But in truth she strained to hear every word Stoner told Vernon Lindsay, Whitehorn’s excuse for a sheriff. “I want him found,” Stoner said. “Do whatever you have to as far as Kincaid is concerned. In fact, I would consider it excellent news if he was killed while you were trying to arrest him.” “I can’t just shoot him if he doesn’t put up a fight.” “I doubt Jesse Kincaid will come quietly, Lindsay. But if you don’t have the stomach to do it yourself, I’ll take care of it later. The point is, I don’t want the girl hurt. I haven’t decided what I’m going to do with her.” “I’ve got men out looking for them now,” Lindsay said. “But he spent two years on the trail and I’m sure he’s learned a trick or two. It might be a while.” “I’m aware of your limitations,” Stoner said. “If he’s not found in the next couple of days, I’ll decide what I want to do.” “I heard all he wants is to talk with you, Mr. Stoner. He’s not asking for ransom.” There was a pause and Daisy wondered how the sheriff would pay for the insolence of offering a suggestion. The man was saved by the land office door opening again and three large, burly men walking in. Daisy forced herself to smile politely at the unwashed, hulking brutes. They were Stoner’s cousins and the trio he sent out to clean up anything he might consider untidy. They had fingered Jesse’s father, Michael, as the man supplying guns to the mysterious renegades who had begun to plague the neighboring ranches. “Miss Daisy,” they said as one and tipped their dusty hats to her. She nodded. Stoner glanced up. “I want to talk to you,” he said. “Lindsay, let me know if you hear anything.” “Yes, Mr. Stoner.” Lindsay waited for the three larger men to make their way past the counter before he headed for the door. Daisy watched to make sure Stoner took his cousins out back for some privacy before she stepped toward Lindsay and touched his arm. “Do you really have men out looking for Jesse?” she asked. Lindsay turned to look at her. She could smell the alcohol on his breath and seeping from his body. His skin was a shade somewhere between white and gray, and his blue irises were surrounded by yellow instead of white. “They’re looking,” he said. “But Jesse’s not going to be easy to find.” “You can’t let them bring him in,” she said, her voice low but heated. “Stoner has been looking for an excuse to kill Jesse and this is all he needs. If you arrest Jesse Kincaid, he’ll be dead in less than two days. You know that.” Lindsay brushed his too-long blond hair from his forehead. His hands were shaking. “I’m doing what I have to.” Daisy leaned closer and lowered her voice. “Jesse hasn’t done anything wrong and you know it. He’s trying to clear his father’s name. If you don’t want to help him, then at least have the decency to stay out of his way.” Lindsay started for the door. Daisy went after him. “You won’t help, will you?” “I can’t.” She shook her head. “Bought and paid for by Stoner. What kind of man are you?” Lindsay straightened. The drink might have defeated him for the moment, but he wasn’t completely vanquished. “I know what I am, madam. And I’m not the only one Stoner bought and paid for.” She shouldn’t have been surprised and yet she was. His words shocked her, sending color to her cheeks. It took all her pride to keep from ducking her head in shame. Whitehorn was a small town. No doubt everyone knew about her affair with Michael Kincaid and how she now allowed Lucas Stoner into her bed. “I understand that I’m little more than a whore,” she said stiffly. “But at least I’m doing all I can to see that the Kincaid family is vindicated. What are you doing?” Lindsay reached out toward her, then dropped his hand back to his side. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Newcastle. I shouldn’t have said that.” “Don’t bother, Lindsay. We’re both sorry excuses for decent folks. We fight our demons in different ways. But know this. While I understand you have a job to do, I won’t let you or anyone hurt Jesse. If you do, I’ll kill you myself.” Lindsay reached for the door, then paused. He turned his watery gaze on her and nodded. “You know,” he said at last, “that would be a true act of kindness and I would thank you for it.” * * * Jesse cursed loudly. His horse flicked its ears as if trying to understand what he was saying. “Dammit all to hell,” he muttered again. “Where is she?” Bad enough that she’d caught him not paying attention. He’d known she was angry, frustrated and sore; he should have realized that she would try to escape. He couldn’t even comfort himself with the fact that she’d broken her word. When he thought about it, she never promised anything that morning. He’d just taken her silence as assent. He’d been married long enough to know that wasn’t true. Women were stubborn creatures. Haley was tougher than most and one determined lady. He should have seen this coming and been prepared. Instead he’d been caught like a doe trapped in a mud bank. He swore again, even though it didn’t accomplish anything. She’d come this way and judging from the stripped branches and stirred earth, she’d been traveling quickly. He glanced around at the trees and the close branches, wondering why she’d gone from a trot to a full-out gallop. She and her horse had been making good time. She was even heading toward Whitehorn...sort of. Jesse glanced up toward the sky. The sun would set within the hour. She would be safe on her horse, but eventually she’d have to stop and once she was on foot, she was in danger. A faint rustling caught his attention. He reined in his mount and listened. Then he grinned. She was right up ahead, making enough noise to alert a deaf man. He had to give her credit for making it this far. She was one scrappy woman. His horse moved forward. Jesse headed for the sound but before he could break through the trees, Haley’s horse nosed its way out first. Jesse stared at the riderless horse. Something cold and tight squeezed in his chest. Haley hadn’t made it this far. Somewhere, somehow, she’d been thrown. He wanted to think she’d dismounted to get a drink of water, but his gut told him otherwise. She would have kept on going for as long as she could. All she wanted was to get to town and find Stoner. Nothing would have stopped her from that. He tried to convince himself she’d been rescued by the men undoubtedly following them, but he knew better. Even if they had a carriage for her to ride in, they would have taken her horse with them. So she’d been thrown and was out there now wandering around alone. Unless she’d been injured. The pressure in his chest increased. He told himself his concern was because he needed Haley healthy so he could use her to bargain with Stoner. He didn’t really care about her. Except he knew he did care, at least a little. Despite everything, he didn’t want her injured...or worse. He got down from his horse and began to study the ground. The trail he’d been following was still clear and fresh. She’d been on her horse when the animal had come this way earlier. He could tell by the depth of the hoofprint in the soft ground. The gelding had been carrying a rider. So all he had to do was continue to follow the trail. Eventually he would find Haley. At least that was what he told himself as he swung back in the saddle and headed west. Every few minutes he glanced up at the darkening sky. Tonight the temperature would again drop below freezing. Without a fire, Haley would die. If the wolves and bears didn’t get her first. If she didn’t fall and break something, or if she hadn’t already. He urged his horse on faster, studying the ground with an intensity that made his head throb. It was, he told himself, because he needed his prisoner alive and well, and for no other reason at all. CHAPTER SIX (#ulink_f0888f03-c1c7-5632-a00e-e55b60545ed5) Haley clung to the side of a tree. The world had finally stopped spinning. She wasn’t sure how long she’d been unconscious, or if she really had blacked out at all. She couldn’t think straight. If the pain of being on a horse was difficult, the pain of falling twice in two days was many times worse. Knowing she had only herself to blame for her present circumstances didn’t make them any easier to bear. She drew in a deep breath. The action didn’t hurt as much as it had just a few minutes ago. She leaned heavily against the rough, scratchy bark because it was too much effort to stand on her own. She’d been walking for what felt like hours. Stumbling really, calling for her horse, for Jesse, for Lucas. At this point she would be happy to see savage Indians. It was cold and getting dark. Soon the sun would set completely. Then what was she going to do? She didn’t have any food, or the means to start a fire. How was she going to survive? The questions made her head ache more. Weariness settled on her like a damp cloak, sucking out the last of her reserves. She sank to her knees and fought against the urge to cry. She would not give in to tears, she told herself. She was strong and tough and she would make it through this. “Jesse,” she called out, knowing in her heart that he was her only hope. “Jesse, where are you? I’m over here. Jesse?” Had he given up? Was he even bothering to look for her? Maybe he’d decided she was too much trouble and that he would find another way to get what he wanted. Maybe— “Stop it!” she said aloud. “You’re trying to scare yourself. Just stop it! Of course he’s looking for me. He needs me to bargain with Lucas. And if nothing else, Jesse isn’t the kind of man who would leave me out here alone.” An odd opinion to have about her kidnapper, but she believed it and that belief comforted her. She shifted on her knees, trying to find a less painful position. The ground was chilly and the cold seeped in through her skirt and petticoats. A shiver rippled through her. It was going to get worse, she knew. There were many poor in Chicago and she’d seen what happened to them when they slept outside in the winter. The lucky ones only lost fingers and toes. Those not so lucky died. Something rustled in the brush to her left. She looked toward the sound. “Jesse?” There was a soft yipping in reply. An animal! “Oh, God.” She leapt to her feet and stood with her back to the tree. “Get out of here,” she screamed. “Shoo, run away. Leave me alone!” The creature rustled again. Haley glanced around and saw a good-sized rock a few feet away. She picked it up and heaved it into the bushes. The animal yipped again, then the rustling stopped. “It’s gone,” she told herself, as she wrapped her arms around her chest. “It’s gone and I’m fine.” She was fine. She was going to be fine. What was the alternative? Slowly, even as it got darker and colder, some of the fear left her. Perhaps it was because she would rather be afraid out here than afraid in the city. To die in the wilderness wasn’t as terrifying as being attacked in the street, or burned alive in a dark, windowless room. So she huddled by her tree and occasionally called out Jesse’s name. The pain in her head subsided to a manageable throbbing. He would come for her, she told herself again and again. He wouldn’t leave her out here. But as time passed, she grew less certain. And the realization that she was going to die out here, all alone, made the tears come. She crouched with her back up against the tree, brushing the drops away as they fell. The cold crept up her skirt and made her shiver. Her teeth chattered. She tried to think about being warm, about a blazing fire, but that only made her discomfort worse. She shouldn’t have run away. She should have stayed put and found another way to— A gunshot cut through the night. Haley jumped and pressed her hand over her mouth to hold in a scream, not knowing what the sound meant. Had the men who must surely be looking for them found Jesse? Was he dead? Maybe it was Indians, or outlaws or someone frightening and she would be better off staying quietly here by the tree. Maybe she should— Another sound drifted to her on the chilly breeze of the night. The faint whisper of her name. And then she knew. Jesse had fired his gun to let her know where he was. He was looking for her and couldn’t find her, so he wanted her to find him. She took off in the direction of the shot and his voice. She screamed for him. “Jesse! Jesse, I’m over here.” He called back an answer. She raced through the trees and the brush, ignoring the branches that caught at her clothes and scratched her face and hands. She stumbled over a tree root, fell to her knees, then righted herself and kept running. Her chest ached from lack of air, her legs were heavy, but she pushed on. “Haley? Are you all right?” “Yes,” she called back and broke through a few waist-high bushes. Jesse stood in a clearing, the two horses behind him. In the darkness, she couldn’t make out his features, but she recognized the size and strength of him. “Jesse.” He turned toward her. “Dammit, Haley, what were you thinking? You could have been killed.” She recognized his anger as concern and once again she fought the tears. “I’m fine,” she murmured, barely able to form the words. He strode over to her, put the rifle on the ground and grabbed her forearms. “Are you hurt? What happened?” Before she could answer, he pulled her roughly against him. She went willingly because she had no thought to protest. He was warm and she felt so very cold. Strong arms came around her and despite his strength, his embrace quickly gentled. She leaned against him, absorbing his heat. He rubbed her back. “Running off was damn stupid,” he said. “You could have died.” “I know.” She buried her face in his shoulder. “But I had to try.” “Don’t do it again.” “I won’t.” She could smell the pleasant scent of his body. As she snuggled closer, she tried to remember if she’d ever been this near a man. She didn’t think she had, and felt a pang of loss. It felt nice to be hugged. Especially by Jesse. “You could have died.” She raised her head and found him staring at her. In the darkness, she could barely make out his eyes boring into hers. She thought she read concern there, but she wasn’t sure. His mouth twisted. “We’d better get camp set up and a fire started.” He shifted until his arm was around her, then he led her toward the horses. “Did you fall off the saddle? Are you hurt?” “No. My horse jumped over a stream and I couldn’t stay on. When I hit the ground, everything went black. I’ve been wandering around for a while, waiting for you to find me.” He grabbed the coat draped over her saddle and wrapped it around her. “Sit down,” he said, pointing to a fallen tree. “I’ll get the fire started, then we’ll eat.” As he worked, she huddled inside the sheepskin coat. Gradually the shivers faded. By the time he got the coffee brewing, she was nearly thawed, although her feet felt as if they would be frozen forever. “Did I get close to town?” she asked as he opened a can of beans. “I know I was heading west. At least I thought I was.” He dumped the beans onto two tin plates and set them close to the fire. The light illuminated his features and she saw the corner of his mouth turn up in a smile. “You were heading due west, but Whitehorn is a little north of here. If you’d kept in that direction for a while you would have eventually run into an outpost.” Well, that was something. At least she wasn’t completely lost. “How far is the outpost?” “About fifty miles.” The hint of a smile turned into a grin. She opened her mouth, then snapped it shut. “Fifty miles? I wouldn’t have made it.” “I know.” He looked very pleased with himself. “You think you can tell me what to do just because you’re the only one who knows where we are and where we’re going.” “Don’t you forget it, either,” he said. Without wanting to, she smiled in return. She’d made her escape, which at least salvaged her pride, and now she was safely back in camp. Perhaps it was better this way. She believed that Jesse wouldn’t hurt her, so for now she could be patient. Eventually she would get to Whitehorn and be with Lucas. The thought of her fianc? brought a familiar gladness to her heart. How lucky she was. Lucas Stoner was everything a woman could want in a husband. Tall, kind, gentle, loving. She continued to recite the familiar list, and as always the words brought her a measure of comfort. But the thought of marrying Lucas also made her feel slightly wistful, and for the life of her, she wasn’t sure why. * * * Haley kept her word and didn’t try to run away again. Probably she hurt too much, Jesse thought as he reined in his gelding and waited for her to catch up. It was their third day on the trail and she was barely keeping pace with him. As her horse tramped along next to his, Jesse glanced over at her. She’d given up trying to keep her hair in a tidy bun at the base of her neck. Instead, she wore it in a long braid that hung down her back. The sun had left freckles on her nose and cheekbones and fatigue had left shadows under her eyes. None of the scratches she’d gotten wandering in the forest had become infected although a few red marks still marred her otherwise smooth skin. She looked at him and rubbed her left cheek. “Do I have dirt on my face?” He shook his head. “You look tired.” “I am. The ground is hard and I’m not used to sleeping outside.” She glanced at the sky, then at the trees around them. “Although I think I could get to like it around here. Maybe a little bit more if I could actually sleep under a roof.” “Soon,” he promised and wondered if he was telling the truth. “Go on with your story.” She thought for a moment, then nodded. “As I was saying, this poor woman was about to give birth to what later turned out to be twins and her husband kept swaying on his feet. The doctor told him to leave, but he’d promised her to be with her through the birthing. It was her first time and she was so afraid. Anyway, sure enough, his eyes rolled back in his head and he dropped to the floor like a stone. The whole house shook.” She chuckled at the memory. “He was a large man, too. Tough. Worked in the railroad yard. The doctor was so surprised, he went over to the man to see if he was all right. Which left me to deal with the mother. Of course the twins decided they were ready to be born, so there I was, juggling slippery babies and one excited mother while the father was out cold through the whole thing.” “Was he all right?” “Sure. He had a bump on the back of his head, but otherwise he was fine. And very proud. Two beautiful baby boys had come into the world.” She grinned. “I told the mother that next time she should tell her husband to stay outside the room, where he belonged.” Jesse urged his horse forward and hers followed suit. “Didn’t that frighten you?” “What?” “Delivering babies by yourself?” “The first time it did. But I’ve done it many times since. When the doctor is busy with something else, I take care of whatever comes up. My nursing is good experience. I’ve heard there aren’t a lot of doctors around here, and it can be a long trip to town. I’ll be helpful to Lucas.” Jesse didn’t want to think about her with Stoner because he didn’t want to think of any woman cursed with that fate. Especially not Haley. She was bright and funny, and she deserved more. She had spirit and an inner strength he respected. “Your face is all scrunched up,” she said. “What are you thinking?” “That you’re very different from my wife.” “Your wife?” Haley’s eyes widened. “You’re married?” He shook his head. “I’m a widower. Claire died about four years ago. She was...” His voice trailed off. For the first time since he’d lost her, he found himself willing to talk about her. Maybe it was because he knew he wasn’t going to be with Haley very long. Or maybe it was because Haley was in a similar situation and he wanted to warn her of the pitfalls. “Claire was the youngest daughter of my mother’s second cousin. She was from the South—a small town near Atlanta, Georgia. She wanted to get married and I needed a wife, so our family arranged the match.” Haley tilted her head as she studied him. “So you had a mail-order bride, too.” “Yes.” He shrugged. “What happened?” A simple enough question. What had happened? “We weren’t well suited to each other and she wasn’t prepared for the life here.” Not suited didn’t begin to tell the truth. Claire had been as delicate and fragile as a soap bubble. All pale skin and slender build, she’d never worked a day before in her life. The reality of ranch life had frightened her and she’d spent much of her time wandering through the rooms of the house, as if looking for a part of herself. “She didn’t like Montana?” Haley asked. “Not really. She thought it was too cold and the ranch was too isolated.” He wasn’t willing to say more, or tell Haley how his wife had actually died. He didn’t want to think about that day, or any of the days before. He didn’t want to picture Claire in his mind. She always wore white and that was how he remembered her. A slender, wisp of a woman in a pale gown, as if she’d already turned into a ghost. “You must miss her very much.” He had regrets but little else. “No, I don’t miss her at all. That’s the tragedy of Claire’s death. Once she was gone, I rarely thought of her.” He glanced at the sky. “We’re going to be stopping early today.” “Really?” She sighed. “I’m glad. I’m still sore from riding. I just want to take a nice walk around and stretch.” She was still talking as she slid off her horse. Jesse didn’t want to do it, but he had no choice. She’d already proved she was more than capable of running off. While she was occupied with her horse, he walked up behind her. In one quick movement, he captured her wrists and quickly secured them. “What do you think you’re doing?” she demanded, tugging at the bindings. “You’re tying me up. You can’t do that. I don’t understand. You haven’t tied me up in a couple of days. I’m not going to run away. Jesse, why are you doing this?” He swept her into his arms and set her on the ground. She started kicking, but he quickly subdued her, then tied her ankles. Green eyes spit fire. “Jesse Kincaid, I demand an explanation. I have obeyed your every order.” “You ran away,” he reminded her, his voice calm. “Twice.” “I know, but—” Her words were silenced by the bandanna he slipped into her mouth. He secured the ends behind her head. She worked at the material, trying to spit it out, but it didn’t budge. Shrieks of outrage cut through the afternoon, but they weren’t as loud as her screaming and Jesse knew it was the best he could do. “I have to go talk to a friend of mine,” he said, crouching in front of her, careful to stay out of reach of her bound but kicking feet. “I won’t be gone long, but I need to make sure you’ll be here when I get back.” He motioned to the ties at her wrists and ankles. “I’m really sorry, Haley.” Muffled sounds exploded from her. Obviously she wasn’t impressed by his apology. He stood up. “You’ll be safe enough here. I’ll be back before sundown.” She shrieked. This time he thought he made out what she was saying. What if you don’t come back? She had a point. Bound and gagged, she was as vulnerable as a newborn. It was a risk they were both going to have to take. “I’ll be back,” he promised. “You’ll see.” He secured her horse to a tree, then got on his mount and headed out. Her muffled screams of protest faded quickly. Less than an hour later, he’d reached the meeting place. A few minutes after that Bart Baxter rode up on his black gelding. Bart grinned. “I don’t have to ask if you got her,” he said. “Everyone’s talking about it. You made a real impression on a couple from back east. They’ve been talking up a storm about how you held up the stage and attacked poor innocent passengers.” Jesse grimaced. “The man pulled a gun on me.” “I saw it, Jesse. It wasn’t much of a gun.” “Agreed, but he was less than a couple feet from me. Even a fool like that wouldn’t have missed.” “Did you have to go and break his wrist?” “I just kicked him. How was I to know he was delicate as an eggshell?” Bart’s grin broadened. “To hear him tell it, he wrestled you to the ground like a bear, but ultimately you got the better of him.” He’d raised his voice slightly so it sounded cultured and easternlike. “Great,” Jesse muttered and pulled his hat lower over his forehead. “Lindsay got men out looking for me?” “Some. I asked around and so far they haven’t found your trail.” “A blind man could see it,” Jesse said, wondering how on earth they’d missed the very obvious clues he’d left. He looked at his friend. “Anything from Stoner?” Bart shook his head. “Nothing. I got him word that I was the one he should come see and I was real obvious when I was in town today, but he didn’t talk to me. You want me to go to him directly?” “No. You’re in this too deep already. I don’t want to give Lindsay an excuse to arrest you. So far there’s just a rumor that you’re involved.” He frowned. “I wish you’d change your mind about helping me. I don’t want anything to happen to you. Christine would kill me.” “My wife understands and wants to help, too. Don’t worry. Lindsay isn’t going to do anything to me. You’re the one in danger here.” Maybe, Jesse thought. But so far the plan wasn’t working. Stoner was supposed to be frantic over the loss of his bride and willing to talk. Or at least pretend he was. “Stoner hasn’t said anything about Haley?” he asked. “Not that I heard.” “You think he’s going to want her back?” Bart grimaced. “He paid for the ticket. You can bet he’s going to want to get his money’s worth. He’ll want her. I think he’s trying to wait you out. He’s probably hoping you’ll get nervous and make a mistake.” Maybe he already had, Jesse thought grimly. Maybe the kidnapping hadn’t been a good idea, although it was too late to change that now. Bart shifted in his saddle. “How’s it going? Is she giving you a lot of trouble?” “Not if you don’t count her trying to escape twice in two days.” Конец ознакомительного фрагмента. Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес». Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию (https://www.litres.ru/suzen-melleri/wild-west-wife/?lfrom=688855901) на ЛитРес. Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.