The Reluctant Outlaw. Karen Kirst
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nearest tree and, moving beneath the branches into the shade, sank down in the soft grass and smoothed her dress to cover her pantaloons.
She watched Fitzgerald and the young outlaw, who were crouched downstream and cramming food into their mouths as if it were their last meal. Harrison didn’t join them. With clean, precise movements, he crouched and dipped his canteen into the stream. Lifting it to his mouth, he swallowed long and deep, his corded neck muscles visible. After refilling and capping the canteen, he retrieved his lunch from his horse’s saddlebag and ate standing up. His hat hung on the saddle horn, providing Juliana with a clear view of his profile.
She noted his strong jawline, stubborn chin and grim mouth.
He wore his sleek, ebony hair short. The conservative style suited him. His clothes weren’t of the finest quality but were in good condition. No missing buttons in the black cotton shirt, no patches or holes in the black pants. The fact that he was dressed in black from head to toe seemed to fit his personality.
He was, in a word, formidable. Impenetrable. Hard. Callous.
He glanced her way and caught her studying him. Juliana felt her cheeks flame, and she immediately dropped her gaze to the food in her lap.
Her lavish breakfast seemed so long ago, although in reality it had only been about five hours. The sun was almost directly overhead, so she guessed it was nearing noon. Unexpected tears came to her eyes as she ate the slabs of ham and hard biscuits, and she had a difficult time swallowing.
Today was to have been a day of celebration. Instead, it was a nightmare!
Why, Lord? I don’t understand. What is to become of me?
Her mother’s birthday was ruined. Ruined!
Certainly there would be no celebration now. All that hard work wasted! Fifteen-year-old twins Jessica and Jane had put in more hours than anybody, preparing various meats, pies and, of course, the birthday cake. How disappointed they must be!
She wondered if Megan had gone into town to search for her. Of her four sisters, Juliana was closest to nineteen-year-old Megan. She was the quiet, thoughtful one. The bookworm, her head filled with all sorts of romantic notions Juliana liked to tease her about. Poor Megan. Even she’d have a hard time putting a romantic spin on this situation.
What if Sheriff Timmons had sent someone out to the O’Malley farm to relay the awful news? They would be frantic with worry!
If it hadn’t been for this trio of wastrels, especially Harrison, the scoundrel … that greedy, no good—
Dusty black boots appeared in her line of vision, and she looked up to find the blackguard staring down at her, his brow furrowed in question.
“What’s wrong? Aren’t you hungry?”
“What’s wrong?” She tossed the remainder aside and jumped up to face him squarely. He was tall, but then so was she. Tilting her head back a fraction, she glared at him. “Oh, let me see … I’d intended to go shopping but instead interrupted a robbery. I had a gun held to my head. I was forced to ride for hours with strangers to an undisclosed destination. To put it in simpler terms—you kidnapped me. Tackled me. Threatened me. Tore my favorite dress.” She indicated the hem with a sweep of her hand. “And worst of all,” her voice wobbled, “you made me miss my mother’s birthday.”
One rogue tear slipped down her cheek, and she blinked fast to dry her eyes.
Before she could comprehend what he intended, he lifted his hand to her face and ever so gently wiped the tear away with the pad of his thumb. His touch was as delicate as a butterfly’s wing.
“I’m sorry.”
Juliana couldn’t move. Was that regret darkening his eyes? All coherent thought evaporated. She hadn’t a clue what to think or say. Him? Apologize?
He didn’t give her a chance to respond. The next moment he pivoted on his heel and strode away, making her wonder if she’d imagined the tender moment.
“Time to go,” he called over his shoulder. Apparently he was confident she wasn’t going to try to run away again. And why shouldn’t he be? He’d already proved she didn’t have a chance of escaping him.
She eyed his holster. Her cousin Josh had taught her a lot of useful skills, one of them being how to shoot.
With the gun in his possession, he had the upper hand. But if she should ever get her hands on it …
Juliana determined right then and there to stay alert and watch for her chance to get that gun. It was her only hope of escape.
Chapter Two
“I’ve never understood why some people choose to live on the wrong side of the law,” Juliana said. “Doesn’t it bother you that you’re harming innocent people?”
Harrison didn’t acknowledge the question. No surprise there. Her attempts at conversation had been met with stubborn silence all along.
They were moving deeper into the Smoky Mountains, in the opposite direction of Gatlinburg and the larger towns of Pigeon Forge and Sevierville. The foursome had traveled through lush forests and meadows, beauty she would’ve appreciated in other circumstances. The air here beneath the soaring canopy of tree branches was cooler than in the open countryside, and for that Juliana was thankful. Midsummer temperatures in East Tennessee could quickly become unbearable.
It was late now, though, and the sun’s heat had lost its bite. A soft breeze teased her hair and cooled her skin, rustling leaves whispering secrets above her. The forest was darkening, the shadows lengthening as they trudged on.
Juliana was having a hard time keeping up with Harrison. The trail had long since disappeared, and they were dodging trees and gnarled roots poking out of the ground. Twice she’d stumbled but managed to catch herself before hitting the dirt face-first.
“Poor Mr. Moore,” she said. “I can’t imagine how he reacted to being robbed at gunpoint. I hope he doesn’t have a heart attack.”
“Has he had one before?”
“No, but he isn’t well. Don’t tell me you’re actually concerned?” When he didn’t respond, she continued, “You did steal all his money, you know. What if he’s forced to close the mercantile? I know for a fact he doesn’t have any living relatives, so there’s nowhere for him to go. He’s such a kind, generous man, too. I don’t want to even think about what he would do if he lost the store.”
“If he’s such a fine human being, then I’m sure someone would be willing to take him in.”
“That’s it?” she demanded, her breath coming in puffs. “That’s your solution? You take away a man’s livelihood and the best you can come up with is to let someone else take care of it? What about all the other people you’ve hurt? Do you ever stop and think about the damage you’ve caused?”
The skinny outlaw, whom she now knew was called Art, slowed to match their pace. “I think about it all the time. Even see some of the folks’ faces I’ve robbed in my dreams.”
Harrison’s lips turned down at this, but he remained silent. Juliana studied Art’s features. “Aren’t you a bit young to be keeping company with ruthless criminals?”
“I’m seventeen,” he said matter-of-factly. “Old enough to make my own choices.”
The same age as her sister, Nicole. “Don’t you have a family? Brothers? Sisters?”
“Yes, ma’am, I do,” he responded softly, resignedly. “But my momma ain’t got no idea where I am. Better if she thinks I’m dead than knows the truth. She’d never forgive me …”
Her heart ached for him. “Oh, Art, I’m sure you don’t mean that. Were you and your mother close?”
His chest puffed out.