Beautiful Bandit (Lone Star Legends) (10 page)

She gasped. “The barn roof! Whatever were you doing up there?”

He shrugged. “Aw, just boyish antics.”

“Were you hurt badly? Other than the gash to your chin, I mean?”

“Nah.”

Kate pressed him further. “No broken bones? Not even a cracked rib?”

“Nah,” he repeated. Just like that.

Question.

Answer.

Polite and matter-of-fact.

What in heaven’s name had she done to rile him? She had half a mind to ask him that, too. But since they’d soon be parting ways, perhaps she was better off not knowing. It might make leaving him easier to do. “Are you hungry?” she asked him next.

He sent her a quizzical look. “You fed me two biscuits not more than an hour ago.”

And your point is? She decided not to voice her frustration. “Well,” she began, “it’s hot. And windy. And the past few days have been…well, they haven’t been the easiest. I mean, I seriously doubt that when you left San Antonio, you expected to meet up with the likes of me. Or that you’d find yourself buying clothes and boots and—and wind up stuck with me for days and days. I’m just saying that it wouldn’t seem peculiar at all, your being a big, strapping man and all, if you were hungry, even though you’d only just eaten a short while ago, because—”

“Dinah?”

“Yes, Josh?”

“Relax.”

Relax? What made him think she was tense? Surely not the fact that she’d been rambling nonsensically! “I might be able to—if a certain person around here could speak in more than single-word sentences.”

He glanced left, right, then leaned forward slightly and patted Callie’s neck. “Where’s this taciturn person she’s referring to, I wonder?”

When Callie snorted, Josh chuckled.

“Go ahead. Make fun of me. But you try riding for hours and hours with someone who doesn’t talk, and see how you like it.”

“I have.”

Kate bit back the groan in her throat. Gripping the pommel tightly, she turned in her saddle. “You have what?”

“I have ridden for hours with someone who doesn’t talk.”

He shot her a quick glance, and, in that instant, she recognized the by-now familiar grin. “I can’t think of a time when I’ve let more than a few minutes of silence pass between us,” she protested.

For some absurd reason, he laughed, and lovely as it was to hear, Kate bristled, because she didn’t have a clue what he found so funny.

Once his moment of amusement passed, Josh cleared his throat. “So, let me get this straight—you’ve been chattering nonstop as a favor to me?”

Based on everything he’d said and done since scaring the wits out of her that night at his camp, Kate had no reason to believe he would intentionally insult her. Was it possible she’d misjudged him? That his question had an underlying purpose? Perhaps, his gentlemanly behavior had limits, and because she’d overstayed her welcome, the pressure to maintain the act had grown burdensome. That would certainly explain the silent treatment he’d been giving her!

Lifting her chin, she straightened her spine and stared straight ahead. “Ninny,” she muttered to herself. “If you’d left when you wanted to—”

Josh whipped off his hat so fast, it created enough breeze to muss her bangs. “I knew it!” he exclaimed, startling both horses.

She decided not to give him the satisfaction of asking what he’d meant. She’d let him get a good taste of what it had been like, coping with sustained silence and gruff, monosyllabic responses!

But inquisitiveness got the better of her. “Knew what?”

“That something was up.”

All right, so the man is sleep-deprived. Hungry. Worried. Annoyed at having been thrust into the hero role on the heels of a family crisis. And made poorer by more than a few dollars because he generously insisted on buying me food and clothes and…oh, bother. Kate’s irritation died a sudden death. What sort of ungrateful, heartless, selfish person would allow herself to feel anything even remotely akin to frustration with a man like Josh Neville?

“I saw you packing last night,” he said, interrupting her self-recriminating tirade, “and I had a feeling you might ride off on my horse.”

That had her sitting up straight in the saddle. “Your horse? But—but I—I thought—”

Josh’s grating harrumph stopped her stuttering.

“If you thought I can afford to give horses away, you thought wrong. What I thought was, I’d get you safely to Mexico, just as I promised, dressed in clean clothes and decent boots; I’d make sure you had a job and a place to live; and then I’d lead this horse back to Eagle Pass.”

So, if she had left last night, as planned, Josh could have had her arrested as a horse thief. Kate didn’t know which shamed her more—that he actually thought her capable of stealing from him, or that she’d been foolish—no, stupid—enough to think he’d give her such an expensive gift. The humiliation of it ached all the way to the soles of her oh-so-decent new boots. “Oh, Josh,” she finally managed to say. “I’m sorry, truly sorry.”

His expression said, “For what?” But his lips remained a taut line.

Don’t you cry, you pathetic, little weakling, don’t you dare cry! A sob ached in her throat, but she pressed on. “I’m sorry for everything. For taking your bed that first night. For costing you so much money. For keeping you from your family. For believing you’d—for making the mistake of—for thinking that—for—”

“Whoa,” Josh said, bringing both horses to a halt. He slid from his saddle and, holding his horse’s reins, grabbed hers and pointed at the ground. “Get down from there, missy. I need to have a few words with you.”

It galled her that he was treating her like a spoiled child—mostly, because that’s exactly how she felt. She’d hear him out, and, once he’d gotten a few things off his chest, she’d politely ask him to point the way to Mexico. He had a pencil stub and an envelope in his saddlebag—she’d seen them when she’d been looking for the matches. Kate still had the pistol he’d given her to prove she had nothing to fear from him, and she made a mental note to give that back, too, just as soon as he tore the flap off that envelope and wrote down where she could send the money to repay him.

That is, if she made it to Mexico and found a job.

Would she ever dig herself out of this hole? By the time she sent money to the families of the people Frank had killed, and sent still more to Josh, she’d be lucky if she could afford bread and water for herself. You’ll have plenty of time to feel sorry for yourself later, when you’re alone on the trail, she told herself. She started to dismount, thinking she might as well get this over with.

“Dinah, watch out for that—”

His warning came a tick in time too late, for she’d already rolled her ankle on the rock beneath her heel. Tears stung her eyes as she collapsed onto the sandy soil. The last thing she wanted to do was add to Josh’s burdens. But she’d broken that same ankle as a girl, playing leapfrog on the slippery rocks in her grandmother’s pond. If she hadn’t broken it again, it would be a miracle.

Oh, sweet Jesus, she prayed silently, I know I don’t deserve it, but I sure could use a miracle right about now.

13

No woman in his life had ever exasperated him—or touched him—the way Dinah Theodore did. She’d crumpled to the ground like an empty flour sack, and if she’d hurt herself, well, it would be his fault. If only he hadn’t commanded her to climb down from her horse, as if he were General Houston himself, and she, a lowly private.

Kneeling beside her, Josh said, “Don’t try to move it. If it’s broken, you’ll only make it worse.”

Grimacing, she nodded.

He’d given Dinah his word that she’d be safe with him. Had given her a loaded pistol to underscore that fact. But now, he felt like a bully, a cad, and a heel, because his surly mood had put this scene in motion. The irony wasn’t lost on him, even as he condemned his impatience, that the reason he’d stopped the horses in the first place had been to put an end to her ongoing apologies. Now, he was the sorry one. Sorrier than he’d been in—well, at the moment, Josh couldn’t recall anything he regretted as much.

“Goodness gracious, sakes alive,” she whimpered, her shoulders sagging. “Now look what I’ve gone and done. I’ve upset you. Again.” Lifting her chin, she got onto her knees. “I’ve broken bones before—this very one, as a matter of fact—so please don’t worry. I’m not made of porcelain, you know. I know you’re anxious to get home, so I promise not to slow you down.” She shot him a crooked little grin. “I can still ride. Really, I can! You might have to help me into the saddle, and out of it when we stop, and I’m sorry about that, but—”

“Dinah,” he interrupted her, grabbing her wrists, “for the love of all that’s holy, will you please stop talking?” His mood vacillated between guilt and frustration. “Stop saying you’re sorry. You have nothing to apologize for!”

In this position, they were eye to eye for the first time, and the intense glow of the sun left little to the imagination. He noticed the sprinkling of freckles across the bridge of her nose. Saw for the first time blue flecks that glittered in her green eyes. Despite her womanly features, she seemed so young, so inexperienced, and so innocent.

Dinah looked as transfixed as he felt. She swallowed, hard. Widened those remarkable, riveting eyes. Raised her perfectly arched brows. He could tell she was holding her breath, and he could feel her pulse pounding through the fingers of his gloves. Josh frowned with self-loathing at the doubt that was etched in her delicate features. But there was no time for lingering here, gawking at her pretty face. “We’d better head out.”

One corner of her pretty mouth lifted in a tiny grin. “’Cause we’re burnin’ daylight?”

He wanted to say, “No, ’cause if we don’t head out, I’m liable to kiss you right where you sit.” Instead, he said, “Yeah, ’cause we’re burnin’ daylight.”

Josh wanted to gather her close and admit how much he’d come to care for her. Wanted to pledge that he’d never speak a cross word to her again. That as long as they were together, he’d protect her from rain and wind, from whatever might—

“Then, I guess we’d best get going.”

“First, let’s have a look at that ankle. If it’s broken, it might need a splint.”

“And if it isn’t, it’ll puff up like a bullfrog’s throat, and I’ll never get my boot back on.”

“Good point,” he said. “I’ll have a look at it when we stop for the night.”

She nodded, and as Josh held out a hand to help her up, she didn’t hesitate to take it. So, he was furious with himself for not thinking to use both hands, because Dinah lost her balance when she stood up and had to lean on him for support. Not that he minded having her so close, of course.

He held on tight, determined not to let her fall again. But he knew without a doubt that if they stood this way a minute longer, he’d find out firsthand if those extraordinary lips felt as soft and tasted as sweet as they looked. “Let’s get you back on the horse,” he said. “Start out sidesaddle, so you won’t bang your ankle on the horn.”

Dinah took a deep breath.

With one hand on either side of her waist, he said, “Ready?”

Another nod. Then, with her eyes closed tight and her lips taut, she said, “Ready when you are.”

“Up you go.”

Once her backside hit the saddle, a high-pitched yet barely audible “Ouch” squeaked from her mouth. And then, she laughed. “Whew,” she said, fanning herself. “I’m glad that’s over!”

Well, I’m not, he thought, heaving himself up onto Callie’s back.

“You want to hear something funny?” she asked as they cantered south.

Leave it to Dinah to find something comical about an injured ankle. “Sure.”

“I’m famished.”

He grinned. “Want to hear something funnier?”

She matched his smile, tooth for tooth. “Sure.”

“Me, too.”

A moment of silence ticked by as they stared into each other’s eyes. Their laughter started slow and low, escalating in pitch and volume, until both Dinah and Josh were breathless and wiping tears from their eyes. How long had it been since he’d laughed like that? Had he ever laughed as long or as hard? If so, he couldn’t remember when.

“Think I can dig some food out of my saddlebags without falling off my horse?”

“A man can hope.”

Half an hour later, after polishing off a stale biscuit and a strip of jerky, Josh found that his good humor had soured like milk left too long in the sun. Every clip-clop of the horses’ hooves moved them closer to Mexico, and he couldn’t imagine saying good-bye to Dinah; he didn’t want to think about the fact that, once he did, he’d probably never see her again.

He would cross the river with her, accompany her into some little border town, help her find a job and a room to rent. He’d check the place out to make sure it was safe for a woman on her own, and, if it wasn’t, he would insist that they move on to another town. That way, at least he’d know where to find her, if he had a mind to.

“So, who do you know in Mexico?”

“No one.”

“I don’t get it,” Josh admitted. “Why Mexico?”

Something akin to a shadow darkened Dinah’s expression before she looked away. Shrugging, she said, “It’s just—it’s just something I have to do. Call it a girlish dream.”