Wildfire in His Arms (32 page)

It had been a long time since anyone had taken care of him the way she had. He could get used to it, could get used to living with her. Never a dull moment. A life full of surprises and sweetness and strong passions. Being with Max, in or out of bed, was like holding wildfire in your arms—or trying to. They wouldn't live in a rustic cabin like this, but in a house, in town, any town would do. Nashart came to mind. He wondered, how much trouble would he bring to that town if he accepted Sheriff Ross's offer and settled there?

It was dawn and he lay in bed while light slowly entered the cabin. There were no sounds, inside or out, except for the early birds singing, which meant Max was still asleep. Usually, she started a fire first thing to get the chill out of the cabin. He could do that for her this morning.

He sat up and immediately saw that she wasn't there. When he went outside to find her, he saw that her horse was gone, too, so he started walking toward the pond. She wouldn't have gone hunting, not this early. Besides, she'd gone out yesterday and had brought back all sorts of game. She'd told him that she'd spotted a lone buffalo, which he'd been relieved to learn she'd left alone. So he knew she wouldn't have to hunt for another day or two. He hoped they wouldn't be here that long. He was sure he could ride now with minimal discomfort. Well, at least he wouldn't fall off the horse because of it.

It was early for her to be bathing, but where else could she be? As he approached the pond, he called out to her. There was only silence. She wouldn't leave now that he had recovered. No, that thought shouldn't even have occurred to him. The woman wouldn't help him as many times as she had, then abandon him when it was his turn to help her. She just wouldn't.

When he reached the pond, he immediately saw the tracks in the dirt that surrounded it, a lot of them, bootprints much larger than hers. One or two men, maybe more. There were too many bootprints for him to ascertain the number. And evidence that a horse, most likely hers, had been led south through the trees. With the ground being dry, these tracks could have been made yesterday before dark.

Degan didn't like what he was feeling. It was alien to him. It resembled panic and dread, emotions that weren't going to help get Max back, so he pushed them aside and returned to the cabin. He gathered his things, and hers, saddled his horse, and ignored what turned out to be a little more than minimal discomfort as he followed the tree line until he found the spot where more horses had left the woods, heading south. He rode hard in that direction.

He reached Bismarck just before dusk. He went straight to the sheriff's office to see if bounty hunters had turned Max in for the reward. But she wasn't in jail, and the sheriff had left a note that he would be out of town for a few days. If bounty hunters had taken her, that could be why she hadn't been turned in yet. They might still be in town waiting for the sheriff to return.

He went to the train station next. It was closed for the night, but the short schedule was posted on the wall. A westbound train left early every morning, one bound for the east every evening. It appeared he wouldn't find out until tomorrow morning how many passengers had departed today and in which direction. But he could search the hotels in the meantime. If Max was still in Bismarck, he would find her.

He stabled his horse first, which turned out to be a stroke of luck. His horse was familiar with Max's. They nickered at each other in passing, which made Degan examine the chestnut gelding more closely. While her horse wasn't distinctive, it did have a small white patch on the neck just under the mane where it wouldn't usually be noticed. But he'd rubbed down her horse enough times to notice it.

He called the stableman over to him and nodded toward the chestnut. “Who left this horse here, a man or a woman?”

“Jackson Bouchard did.”

“Who was with him?”

“No one. He came in this morning with his horse and this one. Mr. Bouchard always stables here. He asked if I wanted to buy the gelding off him, but I didn't. Don't want more horses than I need.”

Degan's panic spiked so he reverted to instinct and simply ran to the boardinghouse nearby where he'd been directed when he asked around for a scout after he and Max had arrived in Bismarck. He was afraid she was dead. Nothing else occurred to him as an explanation for why she no longer needed her horse, but then nothing sensible was running through his mind just then, no thought other than getting his hands on Jackson Bouchard.
She
hadn't trusted the supposed half-breed. She knew Jackson had been working with the train robbers. He wouldn't want to leave loose ends like that. But why wait so long to come back for her? Unless it took him that long to find men willing to help him. No, if Jackson had wanted to kill Max, he could have killed her when they'd come back to the cabin and Degan was passing out.

Degan didn't knock, he just kicked Jackson's door in as soon as he got to it. The man was sitting in a small tub naked. No one else was in the room. He'd started to reach for his rifle on the floor next to him, but stopped when he saw Degan's gun was already drawn and aiming at his heart.

“She's not dead!” Jackson blurted out.

“Where is she?”

“On the train heading west.”

Degan cocked his gun. “You're lying. She wouldn't leave her horse.”

“She didn't have a choice!”

“Talk fast, Bouchard.”

“I thought you were wounded.”

“Wounds heal. Say something I need to hear while you still can.”

“They were lawmen, a sheriff and two deputies. I heard they were asking around town for you and her. I found them and asked why. They showed me her wanted poster. That was a lot of money to ignore.”

“So you led them right to us?”

“To her. They didn't want to deal with you if they didn't have to. We rode all night so they could catch the train this morning.”

“They're taking her to Texas?”

“That's what they said.”

“Why would they go west to go to Texas?”

“They wanted the first train out so they wouldn't be here when you arrived. They figured you would go east.”

“Why is her horse still here?”

“They didn't have horses themselves. They came all the way from Texas by stage and train, so they didn't need them and thought they wouldn't—until they got here. Took half a day to find them a few they could rent or borrow. They didn't want to buy them. When we got back to town, they tossed me her reins and said I could keep her horse as a bonus for helping them finish their business without bloodshed.”

“You're not keeping it.”

“No, of course not.”

“I'll take that money they gave you, too. You don't get to profit from this.”

“But she's an outlaw!”

“No, she isn't, and I was going to get that cleared up for her. Your interference has done nothing but make me want to shoot you right now. If they've hurt her, I will come back and kill you. Now where's that money?”

“I don't have it,” Jackson admitted. “The sheriff wasn't here to help them out with that. And their town doesn't have a telegraph. But they said they would send the money here as soon as they got home.”

“Gullible as well as despicable.” Degan turned to leave.

“Hey! What about the money
you
owe me?”

“You're kidding, right?” Degan didn't pause to hear the ­answer.

“Y
OU
'
RE NOT FROM BINGHAM
Hills, are you?”

It was Max's first opportunity to talk to Saul Bembry alone, well, at least without Grady or Andy within listening range. And they'd finally removed the gag from her mouth. Grady had gotten annoyed pretty quick at her yelling at him so much. He also didn't like her describing how Degan was going to kill him when he caught up with them, so he was keeping her gagged unless she was being fed.

They were at a stage stop on the long stretch east of Bozeman. There had been many stops after they'd left the train at Billings. Not all of them were in towns. Unlike Boulder, which had grown up around a stage stop, this stop only had a trading post next to it. They only had about fifteen minutes to eat and relieve themselves before the stage departed again with fresh horses and a new driver.

Saul had been left to guard her while she was sitting at a table, since only her hands were tied in front of her, not her feet. Grady and Andy were getting them some food.

“Am now,” Saul answered her. “Moved there this year with my wife and kids. Never been made to feel so at home in a place so fast. I'm a carpenter by trade.”

“Then what are you doing with these two?”

“I moved to Bingham Hills because I heard it was growing, but it wasn't by the time I got there. I tried making furniture for a while, but there wasn't much call for that either.”

Max didn't like hearing that. It confirmed that Carl wasn't around any longer, and Evan must not be carrying on with his father's agenda. Evan might even have moved away. Rich now and out from under his father's thumb, why would he stick around? But if the town was stagnating now, everyone would blame her for that, too.

“But I got talked into staying,” Saul continued. “Was promised that building was going to start up again soon. And I was offered the deputy job in the meantime. Didn't expect to have to travel for it, though. I miss my family.”

She almost snorted at him. He'd been gone less than a month, while she'd been gone nearly two years.
She
missed her family. She wondered if they would let her see Gran, or if they would lynch her immediately.

“Have you met my grandmother? Your wife probably cooks with her eggs.”

He grinned. “Who hasn't met Widow Dawson.”

“How is she?”

He shrugged. “She was fine the last I saw her.”

More proof that her grandmother's letter had been tampered with. “What about my brother, Johnny?”

“Can't say if I've met your brother.” Saul glanced at Grady and Andy, then down at the table. “I think you should stop—”

Stop what? Asking? Worrying? Caring? Probably asking. He obviously had orders not to tell her anything, even about her family. Grady's orders. And with Grady sitting down next to her right then, she wasn't going to be able to ask any more questions of any kind.

She picked up a piece of bread from the plate Andy had put before her, then glanced behind her at the entrance as if she'd heard something outside. She'd started doing that a few towns back. It got results. It made them nervous and they'd started watching the door of whatever canteen or restaurant they were in. It was her little way of getting even, reminding them that Degan might be following them. That
really
worried them.

If he was following them, he wouldn't be able to catch up. Common sense should have told them that, considering they hadn't run into a single delay. If Degan even took the right train, somehow figuring out that Grady was going west before heading south in order to keep him off their trail, he'd be a day behind them. He couldn't outride one. The stages were slower than trains, but still faster than a horse because they didn't slow down to rest their animals, just swapped them out at each stage station. He could outride a stage, but only if he left his palomino behind, swapping for new mounts along the way, and she couldn't imagine him doing that. Besides, he'd have to sleep sometime, and the stages weren't stopping for that, either. At only one stop had a fresh driver not taken over for a tired one. So any way you looked at it, they would still be a full day ahead of Degan—if he was following.

She needed to escape so she could hide out along the road somewhere and wait for Degan to pass, or delay them somehow. But escape didn't look promising. If she wasn't sitting down with a guard next to her at the rest stops, Grady's hand was clamped to her arm, taking her in and out of them. Even in the coach she ended up sitting between two of the three of them. Grady expected her to try something and was making sure she couldn't.

She'd barely finished her meal when Grady stood up. “Get up, it's time to go,” he said before he tied the gag back over her mouth.

As Grady practically dragged her to the stagecoach with Andy and Saul following close behind, she tried to come up with a plan. They'd probably reach Butte sometime tomorrow or late tonight and be back on a train again. Butte would be her last chance to escape. She was going to have to feign some sort of sickness in advance of their arrival there, like today. Something that would require Grady to take her to a doctor when they arrived in Butte. If she could make them miss just one train departure, Degan might roll into town on the next stage. But without some obvious symptoms such as a fever or vomiting, Grady wouldn't buy it. She'd been unable to think of anything else except maybe fainting. But she wouldn't put it past Grady to punch her to see if she was faking. That's how despicable the sheriff had become.