Wild West Wife. Susan Mallery
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“You won’t.”
“You’re right. I won’t.”
She stalked over to her horse and waited until Jesse joined her. When he made a step by lacing his fingers together, she wanted to scream in frustration. Why was this happening to her? How dare he treat her like this?
Then she was settling onto the saddle. Every part of her body clenched in protest. She did not want to spend one more hour on this horse.
“I’m going to get a quick drink of water,” Jesse said, turning toward the stream. “I’ll be right back.”
She watched him walk away, hating him and the circumstances that had brought her here. If only she could convince him to—
Her gaze settled on him as he crouched at the water’s edge. She glanced in the other direction and saw his horse waiting patiently. This was her chance, she thought suddenly. She could escape and get to town on her own.
She urged her horse close to his, then slapped his mount on the rump. The animal jumped and started to move away. Haley didn’t bother waiting to see if it kept going. Instead she collected her reins and kicked her horse hard. The gelding leapt forward. Unlike her first flight yesterday, this time she was prepared for the momentum. She crouched low and hung on, keeping control of the reins. A frustrated cry rose up behind her, but she didn’t bother turning. This time she was going to do it. This time she was going to get away.
The countryside flashed by quickly. Haley steered her horse down to the edge of the stream where there was plenty of room for it to run. The wind whipped her hair out behind her and cooled her heated body. The fear and pain faded, replaced by exhilaration. She liked feeling free. At last she was taking matters into her own hands.
Up ahead the bank narrowed. She tugged on the reins, urging the horse into the forest. The thick trees forced her to slow the animal. She didn’t want a repeat of the previous day, when low-lying branches had blocked the path. After a few minutes, she drew her mount to a stop and listened for the sound of someone following. But there wasn’t anything except the call of a few birds and the thundering of her heart. She’d done it!
Over the next hour or so, Haley let the horse pick its way through the thick grove of trees. She had a general idea of where she was heading because she’d started keeping track of the sun’s slow descent. They were trotting now, a bone-crushing pace that made her want to audibly whimper with each step. But they were also moving toward Whitehorn. Perhaps by sundown she would have made it.
She kicked the horse into a faster pace. The animal obliged and soon they were racing along. She laughed at the pleasure of it. Once again she heard the rushing sound of water, but it was too soon to stop.
The horse slowed, but she kicked it again, wanting it to keep running. She needed more distance between herself and Jesse. The animal slowed a second time. She leaned forward and kicked harder. Then she saw it.
This particular stream had been flowing hard and fast enough to cut a gully through the forest. It was about eight feet deep and three feet wide, with steep muddy banks. There was no way for them to walk down and judging from the bunching of the horse’s muscles, her mount planned to jump the distance.
Haley screamed, but it was too late to stop. She bent as low as she could and wrapped her arms around the horse’s neck. Even as the animal leapt out into nothingness, she felt herself being lifted and flying. Fear exploded into her, a heartbeat before she hit the ground. There was a moment of silence, then the world spun once and disappeared into blackness.
* * *
Daisy opened the door to the land office and stepped inside. She heard voices, but didn’t worry about interrupting. If Stoner didn’t want anyone listening, he would have turned the lock. She walked to the counter and placed her covered basket on top, then looked at the two men standing next to Stoner’s large desk.
Stoner glanced up, saw her and smiled. She returned the greeting, knowing her pleasant expression would mask the hatred in her heart.
“I’ll just be a minute, my dear,” he told her.
She nodded and turned to glance out the front window, as if the conversation in progress held no interest for her. But in truth she strained to hear every word Stoner told Vernon Lindsay, Whitehorn’s excuse for a sheriff.
“I want him found,” Stoner said. “Do whatever you have to as far as Kincaid is concerned. In fact, I would consider it excellent news if he was killed while you were trying to arrest him.”
“I can’t just shoot him if he doesn’t put up a fight.”
“I doubt Jesse Kincaid will come quietly, Lindsay. But if you don’t have the stomach to do it yourself, I’ll take care of it later. The point is, I don’t want the girl hurt. I haven’t decided what I’m going to do with her.”
“I’ve got men out looking for them now,” Lindsay said. “But he spent two years on the trail and I’m sure he’s learned a trick or two. It might be a while.”
“I’m aware of your limitations,” Stoner said. “If he’s not found in the next couple of days, I’ll decide what I want to do.”
“I heard all he wants is to talk with you, Mr. Stoner. He’s not asking for ransom.”
There was a pause and Daisy wondered how the sheriff would pay for the insolence of offering a suggestion. The man was saved by the land office door opening again and three large, burly men walking in.
Daisy forced herself to smile politely at the unwashed, hulking brutes. They were Stoner’s cousins and the trio he sent out to clean up anything he might consider untidy. They had fingered Jesse’s father, Michael, as the man supplying guns to the mysterious renegades who had begun to plague the neighboring ranches.
“Miss Daisy,” they said as one and tipped their dusty hats to her.
She nodded.
Stoner glanced up. “I want to talk to you,” he said. “Lindsay, let me know if you hear anything.”
“Yes, Mr. Stoner.”
Lindsay waited for the three larger men to make their way past the counter before he headed for the door. Daisy watched to make sure Stoner took his cousins out back for some privacy before she stepped toward Lindsay and touched his arm.
“Do you really have men out looking for Jesse?” she asked.
Lindsay turned to look at her. She could smell the alcohol on his breath and seeping from his body. His skin was a shade somewhere between white and gray, and his blue irises were surrounded by yellow instead of white.
“They’re looking,” he said. “But Jesse’s not going to be easy to find.”
“You can’t let them bring him in,” she said, her voice low but heated. “Stoner has been looking for an excuse to kill Jesse and this is all he needs. If you arrest Jesse Kincaid, he’ll be dead in less than two days. You know that.”
Lindsay brushed his too-long blond hair from his forehead. His hands were shaking. “I’m doing what I have to.”
Daisy leaned closer and lowered her voice. “Jesse hasn’t done anything wrong and you know it. He’s trying to clear his father’s name. If you don’t want to help him, then at least have the decency to stay out of his way.”
Lindsay started for the door.
Daisy went after him. “You won’t help, will you?”
“I can’t.”
She shook her head. “Bought and paid for by Stoner. What kind of man are you?”
Lindsay straightened. The drink might have defeated him for the moment, but he wasn’t completely vanquished. “I know what I am, madam. And I’m not the only one Stoner bought and paid for.”
She shouldn’t have been surprised and yet