Liz Ireland (23 page)

Then he heard the hoofbeats of an approaching rider galloping toward him. When he could finally focus on the sound, his eyes narrowed in the direction it was coming from. Every nerve tensed, he drew his gun in anticipation, and within moments the rider appeared. He’d been prepared for Gunter, for a battle, even for death. But not for this.

Cecilia!

Cecilia, garbed in an elaborate blue getup with ruffles and a floppy-brimmed hat to match, was thundering toward him, the yards of material in her skirt flying out behind her like a battle flag. Jake couldn’t believe his eyes—especially when he saw the rifle she held in her arms.

He rested his revolver on his saddle horn and exhaled a sigh that was equal parts relief and annoyance. What was she doing here? Why had she been shooting?

She skidded to a stop not ten feet away from him, her horse lathered from its wild ride. “Hold it right there, Reed.” Her lips pursing in a thin, determined line, she lifted the gun and aimed it straight at him. At the same time, she looked him over, obviously taking in the fact that he had changed back into the clothes that he hadn’t worn since leaving Guthrie all those weeks ago.

“Cecilia, have you turned lunatic?”

She smirked. “No, I’ve finally wised up—right after talking to Rosalyn Pendergast.”

Jake attempted to swallow his anger. Cecilia had every right to be mad as hell at him, but having her out here with Gunter on the loose scared the bejesus out of him. He urged his nag forward slowly, and Cecilia’s eyes widened in alarm over the barrel of the gun.

“Stop right there!” she warned. A light breeze blew a flounce from her bodice to her chin and she shrugged it away. Her bent knuckle whitened as it tightened over the trigger. Jake suddenly found himself wondering nervously just how well Cecilia could handle that rifle, though it wasn’t likely that even a child could miss from this short distance.

“I said stop,” she ordered again.

Jake obliged her. For now. “I have a gun, too, you know.”

“I’m fast, Reed.”

“Not as fast as I am, sweetheart.”

Though the endearment made her spitting mad, his tone, an assured drawl, got Cecilia’s attention. She hadn’t thought this through, but now she realized he did have a point. If he was a wanted man, he might very well be a quick draw. Sparing just a glance for the Colt revolver, she looked into those coal black eyes for some hint of his intention and saw an amusement in them that irritated her. “Do you think this is funny?”

“No, I was just thinking that I’ve never seen you looking more beautiful. What do they call that shade of blue?”

“Periwinkle,” she replied hastily, “and don’t think you can distract me by talking fashion. I want to know what you did with Pendergast.”

“Nothing.”

“Then where is he?”

“In a town called Guthrie, dead. Somebody else killed him by accident. They were aiming at me and missed.”

“So you decided you’d run around pretending to be a dead man?”

Jake nodded. “I had to lie low.”

One dark blond eyebrow shot up. “Why? Did you rob a bank...kill somebody? I want the truth this time!”

Jake sighed. He hadn’t wanted to confront Cecilia with all this until his business with Gunter was finished. What good did it do her to know? But now he could see that she wasn’t going to let him move on without some answers. The sooner he gave them to her, the sooner he could try to catch up with Darby and Gunter—and then come back to her. If he managed to come out of it all alive.

“Contrary to your hopes, I’m not a crook,” he defended. “Those men responsible for Pendergast’s death were after me, have been for years. One of them spoke to Rosalyn Pendergast on the train today, so he knows where I am. His father-in-law lives south of here—he’s the head honcho. I intend to put both of them off my trail permanently.”

Cecilia assessed the situation quickly. That meant one man was at their front and one at their back, and they were sandwiched in the middle. “Are you going to kill them?” she asked, her eyes intent on him.

“They’re murderers themselves.”

He didn’t flinch to admit it, Cecilia thought. Didn’t flinch, but didn’t appear to relish his mission. Her body relaxed in the saddle. She’d been wrong about him, as had Rosalyn. “You’re actually avenging Pendergast’s death.”

Jake bit back a laugh. “My motives aren’t that noble, Cecilia. I’m going to save my life. It’s either them or me.”

“How long will you be gone?”

Jake shrugged regretfully. God, it was going to be hard to leave her again, even after seeing her only this briefly. He couldn’t even promise that he would return, much less give her a day. And now he had to worry about getting her back to her ranch.

“Never mind,” she said. “I’m going with you.”

“Like hell you are,” Jake replied. “You’ve got to go home—in fact, I don’t want you riding out here alone, so I’m going to have to take you back myself.”

“There’s no time for that,” Cecilia argued. “You said yourself that this man...”

“Gunter,” Jake supplied.

“If he spoke to Rosalyn Pendergast, it’s most likely he’s somewhere hereabouts.”

Dear God, why had she followed him? Cecilia was the last person he wanted out here. “You don’t understand, Cecilia,” he said, deciding to lay it on the line for her. “This is dangerous. For you, too.”

“I
know
that,” she said impatiently.

“I might not come back alive.”

She leveled one of those haughty looks. “Precisely,” she said coolly. “But if you have me along, the odds for survival will be much better. I’m a good shot.”

“I’m sure that hoity-toity school in New Orleans taught you plenty about shoot-outs,” Jake quipped.

A secretive smile appeared on her lips. “I just might surprise you someday.”

This was a new one. In all his years, even his law years, he’d never met a woman to throw herself in danger’s path with this much gusto. But then, Cecilia wasn’t just any woman. He could never forget that, no matter how hard he tried. In fact, now that he thought about it, it might not be so bad having Cecilia along for company....

Jake gave himself a mental smack. “Absolutely not.”

Her eyes shone steely blue. “You can send me back or take me back, but I’m just going to turn and follow you whether you like it or not.”

“You’re going home.” If anything happened to Cecilia, he wouldn’t be responsible for his actions.

Silently, she shook her head from side to side, uncompromising. She really was crazy enough to follow him, and that chilled him to the bone.

It also gave him no choice.

* * *

Rosalyn had never seen a town so empty.

She scanned the deserted main street and felt her heart begin a heavy erratic thudding in her breast. When she had seen Cecilia Summertree go riding off, she’d been certain she had ridden back to town. Now she suspected she’d been mistaken. Cecilia Summertree was not in Annsboro. Nor, it appeared, was anyone else.

No sooner had Rosalyn’s head hit the pillow at the Summertree ranch than she’d pieced the whole mystery together. Miss Summertree had asked if the man Rosalyn saw in town was Pendergast—as if she’d been waiting for him. Then, when Rosalyn had shown her the letter from Jake Reed, a man Miss Summertree said she had never heard of, the girl’s entire manner had changed. Unfortunately, Rosalyn had figured out too late that the lone man in town who had given her the directions to the ranch had probably been Reed; when she got up from the bed, she had seen Cecilia racing down the road toward town.

Where was Miss Summertree now?

A cold, clammy feeling overtook her. Could it be that the man named Reed had abducted the young woman she’d spoken to? What a horrible thing that would be! She should have impressed upon Miss Summertree what a dangerous character this Jake Reed was.

Rosalyn began to regret that she had left the Summertree ranch without speaking to anyone. Unless she found Miss Summertree, not a soul here knew who she was.

At the far end of town was a large wooden building with a sign that read Grady’s above the door. Rosalyn, her eye practiced from traveling through this odd state, guessed this to be town’s drinking establishment. Her first thought was that she could use a drink herself. Her second was that surely someone was inside the saloon, perhaps even a sober someone who could give her advice.

Behind her, she heard the sound of hoofbeats. Relieved, she turned on the hard wooden seat to get a glimpse of the rider. Oh, she hoped it was Miss Summertree, or someone who could help.

But when she looked around, she was startled to see the white-haired man from the train. For a split second, they simply stared at each other. As she caught the icy blue glint in his eye, however, even from a distance of over a hundred yards, Rosalyn’s relief at encountering another human being was quickly replaced by an intense desire for solitude. There was evil intent in those eyes.

The rider moved forward, and her heart started a tripping beat that sped up as the white-haired man closed the distance between them. In vain, she scoped out the emptied buildings around her, but there wasn’t time to hide or even to try to run. Crying for help would be equally pointless. There was no one to hear.

All she really had time to do was send a quick prayer up to heaven before the stranger thundering toward her reached out and yanked her off the buckboard. Pain shot through her hip as she landed awkwardly against the saddle in front of him; her right arm felt as if it had been torn from its socket and ached where he had a lock on it still. Her heart hammered from unmitigated, blinding fear as the powerful horse beneath her galloped toward the open range.

* * *

“I can’t get used to calling you Reed,” Cecilia said over the bay’s gracefully arched neck.

Nor was she accustomed to how Reed looked. After three hours of hard riding, she was still amazed at the transformation brought on by his trading in his brown suit for denim pants and a well-worn white work shirt. On top of his head was a gray felt hat that looked like it had been born there.

“So try Jake.” They had stopped at a pond to water their horses and stretch their legs.

It was strange to think she’d known him for so long as Pendergast, a whimsical-sounding name that didn’t fit the man she was beginning to know. While Pendergast had been offhand in manner, with a gentle mocking attitude, Jake Reed was wry, suspicious, always on the alert. His demeanor was a curious mixture of prey and predator, and the wary coldness in his eyes as they rode swiftly across the range nearly broke her heart.

Yet both men were one and the same, and equal in mystery. She knew nothing about Jake Reed, except what his present circumstances were—and those were pretty grim.

“Who are you really?” she asked as she stroked the bay’s neck.

Jake broke his alert gaze from the horizon. “Do you really need to know right this minute?”

“Yes, I do,” Cecilia said.

“‘Cause we probably shouldn’t have stopped even this long.”

Cecilia took a steadying breath. “So far I’ve taken you at your word for a lot of things, but I’m not getting back on this horse until you tell me who the hell you are.”

Jake stared into somber blue eyes that usually were so sparkling and felt a fresh pang of guilt. He’d dragged her into this mess because it was the only way he knew to watch over her, but having her here made him feel suddenly vulnerable. Whereas before he had been single-mindedly bent on finally getting revenge, seeing her riding alongside him, her face as tense as his own as she now shared the danger, made him feel defensive yet again.

It also made him realize that he owed her the truth.

He heaved a sigh and looked away across the grassy land, watching. “I spent most of my life in Redwood.”

Her eyebrows knit together as she tried to remember the name. “That’s south of here, right?”

“That’s where we’re headed, sweetheart.”

“Oh.” Cecilia continued to stare at him evenly, waiting for him to go on.

“I’m not a teacher.” All this confession warranted, however, was a snicker. Jake took another breath, screwing up his courage to continue. In all the weeks he’d been on pins and needles trying to keep his identity from her, he had never been so filled with dread as now, worrying that she would despise the person he really was. “For a few years, I was the sheriff’s deputy.”

Cecilia’s mouth flew open in shock. “You’re the law?”

“Was. It wasn’t much work, but the sheriff had offered it to me after my father died.”

“That’s so exciting!” she prodded encouragingly.

Jake’s frown deepened. “Burnet Dobbs, a family friend, gave me an old badge from the bottom of a drawer somewhere, and as a result of doing what I thought was right, I ended up in a crazy situation where I was being hunted down like a jackrabbit. I wouldn’t call that exciting.”

Her lips puckered in thought, and Jake longed to take her into his arms and kiss her the way he had the other night, in her room, when they were alone. She was so sweet, so full of vitality...so eager to run headlong into trouble.

“I should have made you go home,” he said.

“I’m glad you didn’t.” She made a stab at levity. “Besides, I told you, I would have hunted you down. Then you would have had three people to worry about.”

He shook his head. “I should have told you who I really was before now. That way you might have known better than to follow me.”

Smiling shyly, she sidled up close to him. “I gave myself to you when I didn’t know who you were. Do you think I’d leave you now that I do know?” She put her palm against his chest tentatively, and he stepped back in response.

“Don’t,” he bit out, feeling his gut tighten uncomfortably. He focused his eyes across the expanse of land around them, trying desperately not to look into those blue eyes that could cause what little willpower he had to dissolve like so much sugar in water. As they’d been riding, he had resolved not to touch Cecilia until this whole mess was cleared up, even though every inch of him just wanted to take her into his arms.

“We need to get a move on,” he said, ignoring the hurt in her eyes at having her flirtatiousness rebuffed.