A Texan’s Honor (12 page)

When Will glanced her way, his eyes narrowed as he spied her tears.

Without compunction, the tears kept falling, speeding up and staining her cheeks.

"Stop," Will muttered, giving her arm a slight shake for emphasis.

She tried, she really did, but all she seemed capable of was a ragged sigh.

As Will groaned, two other bandits glowered. A terrible chill coursed through her as she realized that her days were at an end. Though every functioning part of her brain told her to hush and be quiet, she knew her will was not her own anymore.

And right then and there, she began to shed big, noisy sobs.

"Jamie? Jamie, please stop."

But instead of leveling a revolver at her temple, Mr. Walton looked pleased. "Yes, it is a shame, isn't it? And here we showed you to the lawmen, too." Frowning slightly, he looked toward the window. "It is a pity, but I'm afraid everyone is getting restless. This has been a particularly bad trip." He pulled out his gold pocket watch and opened it with a lazy flourish. "And time does move on. Miss Ellis. I do believe something must be done with you." He crooked a finger. "It's time you earned your keep, don't you think?"

She stood, stunned, as the next four seconds floated forward in slow motion.

Will turned to her in shock, Mr. Walton grasped his cigar in surprise, and with a savage curse Kent stepped forward and grabbed her shoulder.

Rough fingernails scratched the tender skin of her neck before clutching the delicate collar of her dress. In vain, Jamie attempted to pull away, but all her efforts did was help him. With a jerk, the collar ripped, its seam tearing apart like newsprint.

Jamie shook as frigid air stung the skin of her bare shoulder. Her tremors increased as she sensed the men's hard gazes settle on her exposed skin.

She knew it was simply a matter of time before her worst fears were realized.

T
rue pain spiraled through Will's body as Kent began to laugh. In front of them all lay Jamie's bare shoulder, its feminine slope and pure white skin more of a temptation than most men could deny.

This group didn't even try. All eyes were drawn to the fine display, like bees drawn to honey.

Though he grimaced at the silly comparison, the facts remained the same—there were some things a man couldn't ignore, and the pale pure skin of an untouched female was one of them.

Especially for men like them.

Will knew it had been a very long time since he'd seen a woman so innocent and delicate. Although her bare shoulder wasn't all that shocking, the hint it gave of other, more private parts of her body made his mouth go dry. Especially seeing how even he, a supposedly God-fearing man, couldn't resist looking at her.

And imagining more.

In front of them all, Jamie crumbled to the floor. Covering her chest with her arms crossed, she curled into a ball, weeping. Against the wall, the three remaining hostages stared. Even their unflappable boss appeared taken aback.

"Git up!" Kent screamed. "If I gotta git you from the floor, I'm going to meet you down there."

Kent's awful words finally spurred Will to action. "Move away from her," Will ordered. "Now."

Kent narrowed his eyes, but glanced at Mr. Walton first. Their leader stared hard at Kent, his expression glacial.

Visibly afraid, Kent stepped backward.

Ignoring them all, Will knelt down and placed his arms protectively around Jamie, retrieving the duster that had fallen and wrapping it around her like a blanket.

When she only cried harder, her body stiff and panicked against his, Will looked up at the man who led them all. "This isn't who we are, James," he said quietly, using Walton's Christian name for emphasis. "This isn't what I signed up for. This isn't who I thought you were."

Anger—and perhaps surprise—flew into Walton's gaze.

Buoyed by that, Will continued. "The Walton Gang hasn't stooped to raping women and children now, have we?"

As James Walton remained silent, Kent scoffed. "What does it matter what we do, McMillan? She's gonna die anyway. We all know that."

The telltale click of Scout cocking his six-shooter echoed in the car. "It matters," Scout whispered. "It matters to me. We're not going to rape any women."

Will turned to the newest speaker in surprise. Though Scout had warned him to take Jamie away, Will had never imagined the outlaw would openly confront Mr. Walton. At least not in front of witnesses.

As Jamie continued to cry and Kent seethed, the smell of their boss's cigar filled the car. Will wondered what was going to happen. Scout wasn't giving their boss much of a chance to recount.

"Shoot him," their leader finally said. "Shoot him or back down."

Will swallowed. Who was their boss speaking of? A hostage? Him?

Eyes cold and completely void of any emotion, Scout leveled the gun at Kent and pulled the trigger.

The repercussions filled the air, shattering the silence while spraying blood and tissue across the floor.

When Jamie's cries turned more shrill, Scout turned toward Will. "Take her out of here."

Will immediately got to his feet. And, seeing how Jamie was in shock, wrapped one arm around her shoulders and the other under her knees. With a sigh, he picked her up and carried her away from the danger and the blood and the humiliation.

Surely nothing in this world could have prepared this woman—this girl—for such a sight. And as he opened the compartment door with one hand, marveling all the while about how light her frame was, Will realized that he would have moved heaven and earth to spare her from this event.

He also knew they were out of time.

Stopping briefly in the next car, he grabbed his knapsack, heavy with two boxes of ammunition and a filled canteen. Not daring to pause, he kept walking.

He opened the next compartment door, stood out on the small balcony, and lightly brought Jamie to her feet. "Put this back on now," he ordered, motioning to the coat.

Without pause, she slipped her arms inside.

"We're leaving. Do you understand?" As if he were speaking to a child, he said, "You can't stay here. Not a minute longer. If you do, you'll die. Or worse."

Jamie tilted up her head and met his gaze. "I know," she said. Her eyes were vacant. Most likely she was in shock.

But if that made her more biddable, he would be grateful for her trauma. His body relaxed with a new sense of purpose.

"I'm going to get you off of here. Okay?"

She nodded.

Of course, what he didn't say were false promises. He didn't promise to protect her, or offer her a pretty future. All he could do was vow to himself to stay by her side.

But perhaps that was enough.

Grabbing her hand and throwing his knapsack over his shoulder, he said, "Look. I know it's dark, and I know this train is moving, but listen to me good. I do believe there's a thicket of trees just to the east of us. At the count of three, we're going to jump off this train, and then we're going to run hell-for-leather to that thicket. Understand?"

She nodded.

"Promise?" Still too worried about the state she was in, he hardened his voice, turning his tone almost violent. "Say it. Say what you're going to do."

"I'm going to jump and run to the woods."

She sounded unafraid, almost like she didn't expect to survive anyway. That, of course, made him feel even more on edge.

But it was too late to go back. Will breathed in. Then, with a mighty exhale, he counted. "One. Two. Three."

And with a yank and pull, Will jumped.

In doing so, he pulled the finest female he'd ever set his eyes on off the train and into his sole protection.

Right then and there he knew his life had just twisted again. Onto a path he had no control over.

Only God knew how he'd keep her alive and safe.

Only God knew where they were headed.

Only God knew how they'd survive.

The last thing he thought of, as the cold air whipped his skin and his past sins flashed before his eyes, was that God knowing was probably enough.

L
ong ago, Jamie had seen a tumbleweed sweep across the western plains of Colorado. Pushed by the wind, it was turned in every direction imaginable. Each time, it left both a part of its body behind and picked up more debris. By the time it flew out of sight, it had looked battered, beaten up, and ill formed. Decidedly lopsided and used.

And that was exactly how she felt.

The moment they'd jumped off the locomotive, Will had grabbed her elbow. Almost immediately, she'd reached for him, taking hold of his arm just so she could have something to touch. They'd sailed through those few feet toward the ground as two halves of a whole, then fallen with enough force to knock the wind right out of her.

When she forced her lids open, the stars in her eyes mixed with the ones in the night sky and blinded her. She whimpered.

"Hush!" Will cautioned.

Biting her lip, she nodded as she got her bearings as best she could. Her arm burned and stung from the force of his hold on her when they fell. Her knees throbbed from her awkward landing on the hard, frigid ground.

The ground was vibrating from the train's passage. When her eyes cleared, she saw the shape of the train moving on, but she still felt as if they were stranded in its shadows.

What was going to happen to her?

She was sure Scout or any number of men were going to appear from behind a rock, aim their guns, and shoot to kill.

But it was only Will who clambered to his feet. "Come on," he ordered.

When she'd looked around in confusion, he linked his fingers through her right hand and half guided, half dragged her from the tracks and toward the dark copse of trees.

The rest of the short journey to the thicket was a blur of pain. Her right ankle felt sprained; her left elbow felt pulled out of joint. Everything in between felt bruised and battered. And it was terribly cold. Oh, so cold. The frigid temperatures bit through her clothes and skin and snapped at her bones.

But none of those painful physical ailments held a candle to the complete desolation that was weighing in her heart. What had she done? Was being alone and stranded with one outlaw better than being in the company of many on a train?

After pulling her deeper into the brush, Will finally loosened his grip. Without his support, she sank to the ground, wrapping her arms around her legs and tucking her head into her body. Afraid to think, afraid to look, she kept herself in a ball and tried to pray.

But all that seemed to come to mind were regrets. How could she make a prayer out of that to the Lord?

Minutes passed. Maybe thirty. Maybe sixty.

All the while, Jamie half expected to hear the sharp sound of a shotgun being fired. She couldn't fathom that they were actually free. That she wasn't going to have to worry about being accosted or beaten by those horrible men.

No, now all she had to do was worry about one. Doubts rolled into fear, fueled by the dark and a throbbing wrist.

"You okay?" Will asked softly.

Warily, Jamie looked his way. Since he'd ordered her to keep still and quiet, she'd done just that. In the shadows, she'd watched him position his Winchester at his shoulder and keep watch.

"Are you?"

As his question set in, a hasty retort flew to her lips. Just as quickly, she pushed it back. What she was thinking was best left unsaid, because she most certainly wasn't fine. Truthfully, she didn't know if she'd ever be okay again.

So she lied. "I'm okay. You?"

Though only part of his face was illuminated by the glow from the snow, she felt his surprise just as easily as if she'd witnessed his reaction completely. "Good enough," he said, his voice hoarse and deep.

For a split second, the clouds left a gap wide enough for a ray of moonlight to reach their spot. And in that brief moment, their eyes met. Will McMillan's eyes were blue and caring and kind looking—just like he was asking her to trust him.

Jamie felt herself sinking deeper into his world, leaving her former ties and restraints in the past. Worrying about social norms or who was good and who was bad hardly mattered now.

All that mattered was that she was alive. For the moment, that was enough.

The air between them grew tight, almost tangible. Her body tensed as she waited for Will to say something—anything—of merit.

But of course he didn't.

Just as quickly as it had come, a blank stare replaced the burn in his eyes, making her wonder if she'd imagined a connection between them at all.

As he turned from her, Jamie scooted her knees up to her chest and tried to think of something to say. But of course there was nothing in her head worth saying. So she huddled into herself and waited.

And then waited longer still.

As Will watched Jamie through the corner of his eye, a thousand regrets filled his soul. What was he doing? What had he done? On the train, he'd agreed wholeheartedly with Scout. It would have been tragic if Jamie had come to harm under their supervision. That worry had slowly filled him, until he'd been sure that there was nothing else he could do except get her away.