A Texan’s Honor (19 page)

After a moment's reflection, he replied, "I think that's the truth. God gives every one of us gifts. All a person has to do is use them."

"And you think I have some of those gifts?"

"I know you do."

She looked at him steadily, truly looking like she was weighing the pros and cons of his words, then shrugged. "I can't think of anything I have that's still decent. I'm afraid your God's going to take one look at me when I show up in heaven and point me someplace else."

His heart clenched. For a moment, he paused. It took everything he had not to walk those three paces, turn her in his arms, and hold her close. Just to give her comfort. As a brother would. As a father would hold a child.

But she didn't know what a comforting touch was like. So he strode away, choosing to concentrate on what an unexpected difficulty she was in his life. That was easier than recalling that it had been a very long time since he'd felt the quiet comfort of another person's arms.

"Mr. McMillan?" Jamilyn said into the middle of his back.

Her hands were resting lightly on his waist as the surprisingly steady gelding continued his journey underneath them.

But though her touch was familiar, her use of his name still grated like gravel on bare feet. "My name is Will. I told you, honey, my name is Will."

She didn't listen, or else she was just as stubborn as he'd been guessing she was.

"Mr. McMillan?" she said again, leaning closer to his back. So much so that if Will closed his eyes he was sure he could feel her warm breath coaxing its way through all the layers of his clothes.

"Hmm?"

"Well, I hate to ask you this, but why did you take me off the train?" Will felt himself stiffen, and he felt her body notice it. "Forgive me," she said quickly, her voice a little louder, a little farther away. "Forget I asked. It's none of my business."

Though he ached not to tell her anything that was in his mind, he knew that wasn't right. She deserved to know.

Of course, he'd thought his reasons would have been evident. So, because it was her business, and it was painfully obvious too, he said, "You were going to be killed. Or, uh, worse."

"Oh, I know that. I knew from the moment Kent grabbed my upper arm and placed that gun to my head that I was either going to be injured, violated, or flat-out killed. I didn't expect to survive. Not really."

"I wasn't going to let that happen."

"That's what I mean. What I'm asking is, why did you get involved? You're going to get in trouble for taking me, aren't you?"

He was going to get killed—after a long and personal relationship with Scout Proffitt's knife. Or, more likely, perhaps a bullet from Scout's infamous pearl-handled Colt.

"Mr. McMillan?"

Her questions—mixed with her formality—were trying his patience. "Jamie, why the heck won't you call me by my first name?"

"I can't. I know you want me to, but I can't do that. I'm sorry, but I just can't."

He closed his eyes briefly, remembering again that to her, he was an outlaw.

"So, will you get in trouble?"

"Yes." He looked out over the plains, toward the west, and gazeded at the majestic mountain chain sprouting up out of the snow in the far distance. The land looked so clean and pristine. With some surprise, he realized any number of men who he'd served with were probably only a day's ride from where they were.

For a moment he imagined taking Jamie to one of their homes. Instinctively, he knew most of them would welcome her with smiles and open arms. Even though he hadn't seen any of them in years—and certainly none of them since he'd taken up undercover work—that was the kind of bond they had. They'd fought side by side and had starved together. They'd buried good men in their company, and women and children who'd gotten lost in the war's path. They were full of an immense ability for forgiveness.

But after the first moments of reuniting, they would realize what he'd become, or at least what they'd thought he'd become. A man like Major Merritt probably wouldn't be feeling as welcoming then. No, he would lay those cool gray eyes of his over Will, over Jamie, and assume the worst.

And because he was unable to remove his alias, he would have to let Merritt believe that.

Jamie shifted behind him. Her hands at his waist relaxed a bit. Though he couldn't see her, he knew she was disappointed and frustrated by his lack of conversation. Feeling like the words were being pushed out of him by someone else, he spoke. "Jamie, you needed to be saved . . . and I was ready to leave. You were a good excuse."

"Ready to leave the Walton Gang?"

He couldn't help smiling as he heard the complete surprise in her tone. "Yep."

"Why?"

Why? Well, the right answer was to tell her that he'd never really been a robber or a true member of the gang. That he now had more than enough evidence to testify against James Walton and make sure he was hanged.

But their future was still too uncertain for complete honesty.

Or maybe honesty had been vacant from his life for so long that he hardly remembered what it felt like.

"I wasn't born robbing trains, you know. I served honorably in the war."

"And then we lost."

Her voice sounded bittersweet, as if it were filled with things that might have happened if fate had intended them to be different. "And then we did," he agreed. The simple explanation told nothing, yet summed up just about everything, too.

"What did you do in the war?"

For a moment he was tempted to dodge the question. Though he knew of some men who never failed to bring up stories about those hard, lean years, he'd never been one of them. But perhaps she'd seen enough bad in her life not to be surprised that his memories were full of bad things, too. "At first, I was what any man was—nothing. Just a greenhorn soldier. But later, I was an officer. I was good at leading people. I became a captain. In Texas."

"That was your rank. What did you do?"

"What do you think? I killed Yankees," he blurted. "Tried to, anyway." Before she could blast him again with her need for more information, he continued. "I rode with John Merritt. He was bear of a man. Ended up marrying a woman real near here. We were stationed in Texas. Fought a lot near Galveston and on the Louisiana border." Even as he named the places, he felt the blistering ache of remembrance. Their time in Galveston had been especially filled with pain.

"I guess you saw a lot of action?"

"Action? You mean fighting?" Was that what it was called nowadays? "We saw a lot of Yankees wanting to put us in our place. We did our best not to make things too easy on them."

"Did you have a horse?"

Will wondered if she really cared or just liked him to be talking so they wouldn't be alone with the silence. "I did. She was a beauty. Black. And as brave as any man I've known."

"Perhaps that gave you some comfort?"

Who asked such things? No one in his life cared about sweet things like comfort and feelings. But obviously Jamie had learned those things somewhere. He wasn't even sure how to respond to it. There had been too few females in his life. And most of the ones he'd encountered weren't fit for company. "I liked the horse," he said shortly.

Again, like she was tethered to him, he felt her disappointment.

And his respect for her continued to grow. Jamie was lovely, and she had a spirit and a fire that was admirable.

And he thought about who he was taking her to—to a man who'd dodged battles and who communicated through old women. "Why would a woman like you be willing to marry a man you haven't seen? Don't you reckon you deserve better?"

"Because this woman wants to make even a few dreams happen—even if what happens isn't quite as sweet as the dreams."

"And those dreams involve marriage?"

"Marriage and children. I want to raise a family." Her voice turning wistful, she continued, "One day, I want to do something of worth. More than simply surviving. Somehow that doesn't seem enough anymore."

Her words struck a chord with him. For the last ten years, surviving had been more than enough. It had been all he'd asked for. But now, he figured she had a point. Perhaps it would be better to have other goals than simply living. "Maybe one day I'll have another dream too."

"You don't have one now?"

"Other than seeing you safely to Kansas City? No. But that's enough. The journey's going to be hard enough, I reckon."

She sighed against him. As she did so, he felt her soft curves against his spine. He imagined what it would be like to be the man who had the right to hold her for real.

Imagined what that fool in Kansas was going to do with a woman like Jamie. Did he even realize how lucky he was? To have a woman who wasn't afraid? Who was willing to ride across the plains with a known outlaw in order to get to him?

He doubted it. Few men were aware of the extent a woman would go to protect what was right.

As she leaned closer and her body loosened up even more, Will realized she was falling asleep. She was trusting him enough to rest.

That made him feel good. Which, of course, made him feel all twisted inside.

After all, she was promised to another, was afraid of him, and only looked at him as something to endure.

He was slowly falling in love. Which was a terrible thing, considering he'd most likely be dead very soon.

R
ider coming," Will stated. Just as calmly as if he were commenting on the weather.

Jamie started, almost losing her balance. Immediately, his hand snaked out behind him, grasping her thigh hard. His touch made her jump.

"Easy now," he said, his voice deeper and slightly more raspy than usual. "Settle yourself. I can't help you if you go falling off the horse."

Even though she didn't think she had any more fortitude inside of her, she did her best to pull herself together. "I'm not going to fall off the horse. I'm made of sterner stuff than you give me credit for, Will."

"Listen to you."

"What?"

"Finally, you called me Will. I have to tell you I never thought I'd hear my first name on your lips."

His voice had a smile to it. "Well . . . never's a long time," she quipped.

"So they say."

She gazed out into the distance. At first, she didn't see anything, but then, flickering in and out of the shadows, filtering in, mixing with the dark shadows of the coming night, she saw a faint cloud of dust. Little by little, the information registered. "That's more than one horse."

"I believe so. At least two riders. Maybe three."

"Do you think we'll have to stop?"

"Most likely. I don't see how we won't."

Jamie noticed his voice didn't have a bit of fear in it, more likely a hint of resolve. Of inevitability. As though he knew what was in store for them couldn't be stopped. "Do you think it's someone from the train?"

"No. If it was someone from the gang, they'd be closing in faster. Mr. Walton doesn't like his men to lollygag much. I have a feeling those men are trying to figure out who I am."

That caught her by surprise. "You?"

"Doubt they realize there's a woman sitting behind me." He paused, then his voice grew darker. "Don't take this the wrong way, ma'am, but I sure wish you weren't here right now."

Since she felt the same way, she didn't mind him saying that in the slightest. "What are we going to do?"

"There is no 'we,' Jamie. You are going to sit as quietly as you can while I do the talking."

"Will—"

He just kept talking as if she hadn't said a thing. "Then, you are going to do your best to act like you're not here."

Jamie knew even in her dreams she was never going to forget this day. "I don't know how to do that."

"Then you better figure it out—and soon." His voice hardened. "I don't want you doing anything to attract their notice, do you hear me? Don't speak, and for God's sakes, don't leave my side."

His warning created a new knot of fear inside her. She felt like a fool for even trying to act with bravado. Once again, she was at everyone's mercy. And so far the only man she trusted was over six-feet tall, had muscles on top of muscles, and the type of clear blue eyes that looked like they never warmed up—not even in the middle of July.

"I'll try to do my best."

"Try isn't good enough."

"I will?"

He slowed their horse, clearing his throat impatiently as he did so. "Listen. I know you don't trust me, but you're going to have to believe that those men are probably up to no good. You're going to be safer with me. You'll be safer with me than with just about anyone else on this earth right now."

Her eyes widened; she couldn't help it. Especially since she was feeling the same way. How had that happened? How had she begun to trust her captor so much?

But, as she was coming to learn, Will McMillan didn't leave anything up to doubt. "Do you understand? I don't want to have to worry that you're going to start acting foolish."

She peeked around him. What had been once a cloud of dust was now three shadows. Three large shadows. Three large men. Capable of doing just about anything they wanted.