Wilda's Outlaw (16 page)

“More fool he. So then, what good are you?” He glanced once more out the door. “If you coming here’s brought this trouble, it don’t matter what Calder says, I’ll kill you and take great pleasure in the doing. And before I do it, that little poke he didn’t ask for? Well, you understand, don’t you?” He cupped a hand over the pistol he carried on his hip and brushed dirty fingers along the tail of her chemise.

Fear clogged her throat and she clutched both hands over her stomach, staggered backward into the rickety table. “Calder will not allow you to do that.” Swallowing past a lump in her throat, she considered the possibility that she might be wrong about Calder.

The young outlaw already regretted the deal they had made. She had to face it, she didn’t know him well enough to know what he would or would not do. These men had guns, they were going to rob a bank, they had already robbed trains and probably killed people, even though Calder claimed he had not.

She squeezed her eyes closed, wished with all her might she was back in her room at Fairhaven. Suddenly marriage to Blair Prescott looked to be the better of two evils. She eyed the open door, wondered if she could get past Baron, perhaps shout and attract the attention of the by-passers.

Once she escaped, what an exciting tale she would have to tell about her kidnapping and rescue. And all the while she would keep Calder’s identity a secret. All would be well, and no one need ever know she had instigated the plan in the first place. It was a wonderful wish, but it was only that. A wish.

Baron refused to budge from his stance in the doorway. After what he had said, she dare not get close enough for him to lay hands on her. He might not hesitate to carry out his threats while Calder was gone.

Miserably, she waited for the young outlaw’s return, ears attuned to the possibility of a confrontation that might draw Baron away and give her the chance she needed. Her mind spun with ideas, all of which seemed absurd. But what did she have to lose, with her life and honor hanging in the balance?

If Calder would not accept her offer to help with the bank, perhaps this man would. Did she dare make the offer?

She gulped, let the words tumble out. “Mister Baron, I could help you.”

“Yeah, how’s that?”

“With the bank robbery. I mean, it’s not going to be easy to walk into that bank and take all their money. There are guards with guns and there is a huge safe that cannot be carried away, nor will it be easy to open. In England we know how to keep our valuables safe from scallywags.”

As she spoke, he moved closer, eyes snapping like some ferocious animal planning a kill. She definitely had his attention. Perhaps too much so.

“How would you know all this?”

“I’ve been in there with my guardian. When we arrived they stopped to leave their valuables in a safe place.”

“Uh-huh, go on.”

“Well, it is like I said, it will not be an easy place to rob. The safe is in a special room with an armed guard. It is kept locked. Perhaps only one man can open it, I am not sure.”

“This safe, did you see it?”

Now she definitely had his attention. “Yes, for a short time, when he opened the door to that room. I was waiting for Mr. Chesshire to finish and had a clear view.”

“Could you describe it? What was written on it?”

“Yes, I believe I could.” She definitely had his attention now. In town, in the bank, she could get away from these men, pretend none of this had ever happened. He stared at her, took another step and she stumbled backward. “Don’t come any closer to me, or I’ll scream and those people out there will hear and find this place.”

He held up both hands, palms out. “Take it easy. I ain’t hurt you yet. Are you going to tell me what the safe looked like?”

“I think I would rather wait until Calder returns, and tell him.”

His expression darkened, and she thought he was about to strike her. Instead, he clenched his fists and held fast. “You little chippie. I could beat it out of you.”

“And I could scream.” She opened her mouth.

He pounced on her, clamped a filthy hand over her mouth. “Shut up, will you? Shut up or I’ll break your pretty neck.”

His strength overwhelmed her and she could not move. Her nostrils filled with his foul smell, gagging her. She would die. Here. Now.

From outside came the sound of galloping horses, then the clatter as someone mounted the steps and stomped across the porch in a big hurry.

It was Calder and he didn’t waste any time. “What the hell’s going on?” he yelled, yanked Baron away from her and grabbed her arm. “Come on, hurry. It’s those crazy Englishmen on their bob-tailed ponies. Looking for you. Just following the river, with no idea you’re up here, but we gotta go, anyway. Deke’s sent them off on a wild goose chase. We’ve got to make tracks. Now. I’ll deal with you later,” he told Baron, and yanked his holster off the back of the chair, not stopping to put it on.

Gunshots sounded in the distance. No doubt Deke’s distraction hadn’t worked.

She stumbled along behind Calder, spat away the terrible taste of Baron’s dirty flesh. Across the porch and down the steps, him practically dragging her off her feet.

He stuffed the pistol in its holster, threw it across the horse, leaped into the saddle and reached down for her. “Hurry, get up here.”

Her heart swelled into her throat, threatening to choke her senseless. Gasping, she caught at his hand, stabbed at the stirrup with one foot, missed, tried again and then he hauled her up behind him, the great horse already moving.

She shook so hard her teeth clattered and clung to his waist. Behind them, the gunshots faded. If Baron had left as well, he wasn’t following them. The lonely thudding of Gabe’s hooves broke the silent darkness of the night.

Chapter Ten

Calder kept Gabe below the ridge so as not to be a target against the moonlit sky. Where could he take Wilda where she’d be safe? Alone, he could escape, hide in a cave or just about anyplace. But he couldn’t take her along. This joke about a kidnapping had gone far enough, in spite of his reaction to her arms wrapped around his waist, her body pressed against his. Or maybe because of it. He hadn’t counted on caring for this so-called kidnap victim, yet damned if he hadn’t took to her right away. Why, God only knew.

“Let me take you back home. This kind of life isn’t for you. Better you marry that remittance man with his allowance from Daddy and be safe than a life on the run.” He’d almost said “come with me,” but held back. He didn’t want to give this headstrong girl any ideas she hadn’t already come up with herself.

“No, please…please.” She breathed in his ear, held on tighter. “I can’t. I will run away the first time you turn your back. Anything will be better than his marriage bed.”

He reined Gabe into a crevice, spoke to her in a low, urgent voice. “Listen to me. If they find us, they won’t hesitate to hang me from the nearest tree.” Maybe that would convince her to go back.

“Hang you? Calder. No, I will not allow that. If that should happen, then I shall tell them the truth.”

“You think they’d believe you? Not in a pigs eye.”

She took a deep breath, her firm breasts teasing the muscles along his back. “I am so sorry. I didn’t mean for this to happen. But please do not take me back there. Isn’t there any place I can go? Hide? Then I won’t be a burden and you can escape. I don’t want you to hang.” The last word hung on a sob.

Damned if it didn’t sound like she cared for him, though why that should be he had no notion.

Mind racing, he stared out across the valley, silver with early dawn. “Well, maybe there is, but I’m not sure. I mean, it’s a poor place by contrast to what you’re used to, but you might be a big help to her.”

“This place you have in mind could be no worse than St. Anne’s, believe me. Take me there. I’ll go anywhere.”

Heels dug into Gabe’s flank, he urged the animal on, headed in the direction of Rachel Johnson’s place. A woman who certainly could use an extra hand.

“Tell me, Wilda, have you ever helped care for children? If you mean what you say, this could be the perfect solution for everyone concerned.”

“My goodness. Children, no, but I can try.”

“Well, I reckon you can learn.”

“Oh, dear,” she sighed, and laid her cheek against his back. After a while he felt her relax. Poor girl had fallen into an exhausted sleep.

Wilda awoke when Calder reined up in front of an odd looking residence with grass growing on the roof. The first glow of sunlight lit the eastern sky and spread across the prairie like a flameless fire. They had seen some of these unusual grass houses from the train coming through Kansas, and had been told they were soddies, made mostly by digging “bricks” from the grass that grew on the plains and stacking them. A crude roof jutted from the front to form a porch of sorts. She had never imagined she would actually go inside one. And who on earth would keep children here? Calder was right, it was a poor place indeed. But better than a castle with his lordship holding sway.

Her muscles ached and for a moment she could not move to dismount. With a groan, she finally lifted her leg and slid into Calder’s arms after he dismounted.

“Oh, I’m so sore.”

He chuckled and took her arm. “You get used to it. Come on.”

“I don’t think I can move.”

“Sure, you can.” He wrapped an arm around her waist and guided her forward. She leaned against him, welcoming the solid strength he offered.

“Hold up right there,” came a voice from the house.

“It’s me, Miz Johnson, Calder Raines. Just me and a friend.” To Wilda, he whispered, “Wait just a minute, don’t want to scare her. She might shoot one of us.”

Dear God, what kind of people lived out here in this godforsaken place, that they would shoot visitors?

The door swung open cautiously. “Calder?”

A petite figure in a white gown stood in the opening. “Why, it is you. Never expected to see you so soon again. Who’s that you got with you?”

“This here is Wilda. And we want to ask…I mean, she needs a place to stay and you could use some help with the young’uns, I’d reckon. I thought…well, could we come in a minute?”

“Surely can, come on.”

Calder shoved Wilda in the direction of the door. “I’ll just put old Gabe out of sight, in case someone comes along. Be right with you. Go in, go on in. She won’t bite.”

Maybe not bite, but would she shoot? The woman held an extremely long gun at her side. It was almost as big as her.

“Calder, she has a gun.”

“Just a shotgun. It’s okay, she ain’t going to shoot you. Go on in.”

Miserable, Wilda limped across the bare earth and followed the woman Calder called Miz Johnson inside.

To her great relief Miz Johnson stood the gun near the door, which she left ajar. Wilda didn’t much blame her for that. There were no windows and the gloomy room held the heat of the day before. It smelled of something not unlike damp soil.

“My name is Rachel Johnson,” her hostess said, her tired face lighting with welcome. She lit a candle in the center of a table.

“I am Wilda Duncan.”

Rachel nodded. “What would you be doing with our Calder?”

“Doing with him? Why, nothing, really.”

“What a lovely accent, where are you from, dear?” Rachel said, stifling an outright giggle.

It was certainly easy to entertain these people. All she had to do was open her mouth. So she did. “I’m from Manchester, England.”

Rachel clapped her hands. “Wonderful. You must live in Victoria City, then.” Another charming laugh.

What had she said that was so humorous? She didn’t get to find out, for Calder crept quietly into the room.

“You two getting acquainted?”

Both nodded at him.

“Good, that’s good.” He rubbed his hands together, evidently quite well pleased with himself. “What do you think, Miz Johnson?”

“About what, Calder?”

He glanced from one to the other. “Didn’t you tell her?”

“I told her nothing. We have not had time,” Wilda replied.

“Well, tell me now. What have you hatched this time?”

It was easy to see the woman was fond of the brash outlaw. Strange, how a perfectly respectable person, a woman with children, could take up with someone like him. Here in this country things were indeed different from back home. Though, the way this woman lived, she was no doubt a serf and perhaps indentured. There was no sign of a man about. Oh goodness, suppose these were Calder’s children. She stared from him to the woman.

“You tell her, Wilda.”

She glared darkly at him. “It’s your idea, so you do it. I am not even sure I should be here.”

“Why are you?” Miz Johnson asked.

“Because he…” Wilda began.

“I thought she…” Calder said at the same time.

Rachel smiled. “Whatever you’ve been up to, it’s plain to see you need a bit of help, Calder Raines.”

Before he could reply, Wilda did it for him. “It’s simple. I need a place to stay and he thought perhaps I could help you in return for staying here a few days. Though, I’m not good at caring for children, or the like, I certainly do know how to clean and launder clothes and scrub floors.” She glanced down at the earthen floor. “Uh, well, that is…”

“Dirt floor saves a lot of work,” Rachel joked. Her eyes lit, then her expression saddened. “That would be wonderful, but I…can’t feed an extra mouth. Almost everything you brought last time is gone, Calder. Three kids can eat a lot, they need a lot.”

“Three?” Wilda stared at Calder.

“You didn’t tell her about my kids?”

He held out his hands and took a step backward, as if the two of them might attack him at any moment. “Easy, both of you. I told her, just not how many. I’ll get some food, don’t worry about that. I’ll bring you something to eat, something to keep you all until, well until later.”

Miz Johnson put her hands on her hips. “Where would you find us food? Steal it?”

He shrugged and grinned sweet enough to melt the heart of any woman. “Stealing bread for a hungry child is not exactly a terrible thing, is it?”

“You get caught it is. The law don’t much care why you steal, most especially
you
,” Rachel retorted.