Millie’s Outlaw

  Millie’s Outlaw

  Jillian Hart

  Contents

  Copyright

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Epilogue

  Copyright © 2017 by Jillian Hart

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Chapter 1

  Leo Ryder had a headache that bore through his right eye straight through the back of his skull. That wasn't the least of his problems.

  Damn this being on the run. It had blown his quiet life all to hell.

  He should have skipped the poker tables last night one town over. But it was too tempting. It had been a time when he could drink to forget.

  And thanks to dodging a rare U.S. Marshal in this lawless land, he'd spent the night and half a day hiding. He didn't like creeping home in the low, bright rays of the setting sun.

  He tugged the brim of his hat low over his eyes and kept walking through the dry grasses in the shade of the trees. On the lookout, always on the lookout for trouble.

  He wanted to find it before it caught up with him.

  The slightest noise crackled behind him in the shadows of the lonely, desolate road up ahead.

  He froze, his senses sharp. Trouble. He could feel it gut deep. Was it the killer he'd come here to find?

  Then he thought of the gold and money he'd won at the tables last night.

  Taking no chances in this mostly lawless country, he unsnapped his holsters. Now his .45s, one strapped to each thigh, were ready.

  There was something in those shadows, no doubt. He squinted into the glare of the setting sun.

  Was that a horse and wagon up ahead, pulled over at the side of the road?

  A shadow moved, and a horse neighed. Was trouble waiting for him?

  Well, he wasn't taking one single chance. He ducked for cover and drew one revolver.

  The figure moved closer. He knelt down against a tree trunk, heart pounding.

  He didn't want to go to jail, that was for damn sure, and he'd drop any son of a bitch who thought he could bring him in dead rather than alive.

  But the rather short, skinny man didn't look armed. In fact, he was a rather graceful man—not a man at all.

  Not with the elegant way she knelt beside the sparkling creek and laid a hand on the beautiful black gelding's neck.

  The two drank side by side, water glinting like diamonds in the last rays of the sinking sun. Well, didn't that beat all?

  A woman traveling by her lonesome in these dangerous hills.

  Worse, she was not paying attention to her surroundings. A blond braid swished against her slim back as she rose, swiping her mouth on her button-up shirt's sleeve.

  Didn't the female have the sense to notice the dark figure looming behind her in the shadows?

  Leo grimaced as the figure stalked closer and raised a rifle. The barrel shone black as death as it pointed at the woman.

  Well, hell. Now he had to get involved. Leo didn't hesitate.

  He pulled the trigger, his Colt Peacemaker fired a second before the gunman's rifle, and a woman dressed as a man gave a stifled scream.

  Hard to tell if his aim had been true, at least from this angle. Adrenaline gave a little kick.

  Just to be sure the woman was safe, he broke out of the underbrush and stepped into the line of fire.

  No gun shots zinged through the air. So far, so good. He dashed into the open, risking exposure. Risking arrest.

  There was no fallen gunman.

  Only shadows and forest. And a splatter of blood in the dust.

  Where did he go? Leo's chest cinched up tight. This wasn't right.

  Maybe this was no horse thief. Was it the killer he was hunting?

  Leo spotted something up ahead. It was a rifle, dropped on the shoulder of the road.

  He crouched to examine it, alert to any danger he couldn't see. The stock was wet with blood.

  So, he had got in a good hit. That meant the gunman hadn't gone far.

  He wanted to chase down the shooter, but what about the woman near the creek, defenseless and likely terrified?

  He gave a heavy sigh. She needed his help, whoever she was.

  Despite the wanted poster with his face on it, he was still a deputy marshal at heart. Would always be.

  His first concern was to make sure the woman was unharmed. Then he would get her to safety and then back to hunting down his father's friend's killer.

  He retrieved the rifle from the side of the road and approached the woman. His knees weakened at the sight of the single female on the ground.

  She sat in the shade of her new wagon. Her horse stood next to her, nibbling the side of her face with concern.

  "Don't to be afraid," he called. "I won't hurt you."

  No answer. She merely glanced up at him.

  Well, now he had problems, didn't he? He shifted the rifle into his other hand, watching her sitting so still.

  She was a fresh-faced young lady, with a full rosebud mouth and small creases of pain in the corners of her closed eyes.

  Oh, she might be hurting, but Leo could see the softness of her skin, pearl-smooth, even in the waning daylight.

  She wore a man's hat, the new brim straight and crisp, shading her sweet face and all but a hint of her golden blond bangs.

  Her gray, man's button-up shirt sleeves were rolled up to reveal the dainty line of her forearms. She wore no jewelry, no other adornment.

  No pretty touches.

  Hell, what was wrong with him that he looked lower than that perfectly curved chin? The material of her shirt stretched across her perfect breasts.

  Don't think of that, he told himself, although he could not stop his gaze from roaming downward.

  Beautiful. Slender. With a slender waist he could have spanned with both hands. Her man's denim trousers outlined lean, long legs.

  She'd been shot. A bright stain stained the fabric of her jeans, upper thigh. Blood.

  Alarmed, his heart kicked with concern. He knelt down to study what he could see of the torn skin.

  The small bullet hole revealed a raw tear in the side of her leg and several layers of opened flesh.

  She'd only been nicked by the bullet.

  Whew. What a relief. It looked like a superficial wound. Nothing life threatening. Hardly even serious. Minor flesh wound.

  Leo hung his head. She was lucky and he was damn grateful, since there wasn't a doctor brave enough to set up practice in the notoriously rough town of Willow Glen.

  Now that he knew she wasn't dead or dying, larger questions troubled him. Where did she come from? Who was she?

  And more importantly, why? Why was she alone and driving through this godforsaken country?

  Not his business. But it was time to take care of business.

  He eased the knife from his pocket and glanced around.

  Best to keep an eye out for trouble, one more check, before he got down to the business of helping the woman.

  The silent woman.

  At least she had not scooted away from him or beaned him in the head with the rock her right hand was inching toward.

  He exposed the knife's blade. Its steely edge caught the fading light and flashed. He
was no doctor, but he would do what he could.

  Listening for the return of the gunman he'd shot, he reached for a length of the woman's starched denims and sliced off a good bit of one pant leg's hem.

  "Get off me, you sweaty thief." Her fingers curled around the palm-sized rock, she lifted her hand and swung. "I've had just about enough of bad men."

  Before he could duck, the hard edge of granite clonked him in the side of the head. Right above the temple near the cheekbone.

  Man, that hurt. What the hell was wrong with her?

  "Stop that. I mean it." His hand shot out, stopping her before she could smack him again.

  Which only made her try harder.

  He grimaced, frowning as he tightened his hold on her slender forearm. "I'm no bad man, and I've had just about enough of women."

  "Then why did you shoot me?"

  "I didn't shoot you."

  "I heard your gun fire." Her deep blue eyes filled with pain. With fear.

  If only her dainty little curve of a chin didn't hike up a notch, as if full of fight. As if with a challenge.

  "I shot the asshole who shot you. Didn't you notice? Or weren't you paying attention?" He couldn't believe this.

  He was gonna need more whiskey. Already he was starting to get a headache.

  A killer one.

  "If you try and hit me one more time," he said, "I'll take your horse and leave you out here."

  "I knew you were a horse thief the second I caught sight of you. Slinking up the road." She blinked, emphasizing the long curl of her lashes.

  Such a pretty face. Such fear in her eyes. A fear she tried to hide.

  She gulped. "I'm armed. If you know what's good for you, you will leave right now."

  "Is that so? Where's your gun?" He arched one eyebrow.

  Ignoring her threat, he forced the rock from her hand, gave it a toss and caught a swipe from the horse's tongue against his jawline.

  "Beauregard, don't do that. I've warned you about kissing perfectly strange men." She reached for the dangling length of driving reins. She'd obviously unhitched him for that long cool drink in the creek.

  A bad mistake. A horse like that was worth a mint. Worth his weight in gold.

  Leo eyed the fine, careful line of the horse with a practiced eye. His father had owned a horse not so different once.

  Before he'd died.

  Emotion bunched up in his chest, a hard knot of grief. Best not to think of that now, not out in the open like this.

  Besides, stealing her horse wasn't that bad of an idea. Nice of her to suggest it.

  Riding was gonna be a whole lot better than walking.

  His hideout wasn't a great distance, but he was beat. It had been a hell of a night, a heck of a day and judging by the looks of it, it was only gonna get worse.

  "Would you mind controlling that horse? He's an animal." He bit the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling.

  It was wise for an outlaw on the run to seem grim, you know, not prone to humor of any kind, especially the occasional pun.

  Okay, fine, it was a bad pun. But still, he enjoyed amusing himself.

  It was about the only comfort he had left to him during these dark days.

  One wrong move and he'd wind up behind bars again, looking a death penalty in the face.

  "Don't lick that grimy face again, Beau." The woman clutched the reins with a death grip, protective fury vibrating in her voice. "He looks like poison to me. One lick and thud, you're dead."

  "I'd never harm a horse. Not ever. But I can't say the same about a woman. Hush up and let me take care of this, before that gunman I shot to save your skinny butt comes back."

  "I do have a gun, you know, but it's in the wagon." She scooted backwards and planted her foot on the ground.

  Not new riding boots, but not old battered ones either. They looked comfortable, just right.

  She must be used to wearing those pants, he figured. A woman who rode horses astride, he'd bet.

  In fact, he'd put good betting money on it. And on the fact she was about ready to stand up and run for that weapon of hers.

  "Not a good idea." He caught hold of her good ankle and gave it a tug, keeping her from standing up.

  "Why, I've tangled with varmints like you before."

  Her fist swung out, hit him right blow the left eye and knocked his head back a bit.

  His hat went flying.

  Chapter 2

  The woman could throw a punch. He couldn't argue there. Leo rubbed his cheekbone, grimacing as he watched her take a step, knees wobbling.

  She didn't look too steady there, standing on both feet. The trickle of blood staining the denim fabric suddenly changed.

  A good stream sluiced out of the bullet wound, her knees wobbled.

  She went down like a rock. Boom.

  Little clouds of dust fanned up into the air. Alarmed, her gelding whinnied and went to nose away her hat.

  Well, at least she wouldn't argue with him now. Or try and knock him out with a right hook.

  She seemed to be okay otherwise, so he quickly tied the band of cloth around the wound and knotted it tight. Immediately blood began to seep through, but not fast.

  There. That did the trick. Leo studied the horse's concern over his lady.

  Well, hell. It wasn't as if he could just leave her here in the road. If he took off with her horse, then he'd better bring the wagon too.

  And the woman.

  With a sarcastic grin, he shook his head. Yep, it had been a hell of a day. Judging by that sunset, it was almost over. With any luck, this was as bad as it would get.

  He glanced over his shoulder, senses sharp. Wind rustled through the cottonwoods, where the creek gurgled as if nothing on earth could ever go wrong.

  He knew better. This wasn't paradise. This was a land with little law and the wilderness between town was even more dangerous.

  Especially for a man like him with a big fat bounty on his head.

  They had no time to waste. Leo wondered where the gunman he'd shot had disappeared to. He listened for the sound of him in the woods, but heard nothing more.

  He tucked his one arm beneath the woman's knees and the other beneath her shoulders. He could feel the curve of her ribs and the rounding of her bottom.

  All female.

  Her head bobbed from side to side, then gently rolled to rest against his shoulder. Her lustrous blond hair felt like silk against his chin.

  Don't react. He tried not to remember when he held a woman last, his wife.

  His chest ached. Hell, now why did he want to go and, think of that?

  It wasn't a long drive back to his hideout, but the growing twilight wrapped silently around him. With the reins gripped in both hands, he watched the landscape roll by.

  He feared that he sensed the shadowy presence of the wolves.

  The human kind.

  Leo urged Beauregard faster, always aware of the woman unconscious on the seat beside him.

  * * *

  I'm dead. Millie began to surface from a deep sleep. Yes, dead.

  She was certain of it.

  First, there was the complete and utter weightlessness of her body.

  Second, there was the absolute darkness around her when she opened her eyes.

  Pain. Sheets of it, sharp and biting, right along the outside of her thigh. Her entire body tightened against the torture.

  Ouch. Major ouch. She clenched her jaw until her teeth hurt. She drew air into her lungs and realized a great truth.

  Since she was breathing, she must not be dead after all.

  Well, one thing was for certain. She wasn't sitting alongside the dusty road anymore. There was no smell of that powder-dry earth, no sound of a breeze through leafy trees.

  And no daylight. Where was she? One whiff told her she was in no good place.

  Whew, what was that smell? Day-old greasy cooking and something that smelled rather, well, bad.

  Millie sniffed again. It was the scr
atchy blanket that covered her—an unwashed blanket. Realization skittered over her.

  She remembered the shots ringing out like a thunderclap. A sensation bit through her leg. Her knee had buckled, and she'd sat straight down into the dirt.

  There hadn't been pain then, only a cold wave of recognition that she'd been shot, washing over her with the fury of a prairie twister.

  She was in some cabin somewhere in Montana Territory, near that Wild West town, of which her uncle's attorney had told her about.

  Be very careful, he'd warned. There's nothing there but villains, outlaws and thieves.

  Clearly, he'd been right. Millie summoned the strength to toss off the odoriferous blanket.

  Good riddance. Now it was time to get the heck out of here and keep going as far and fast as she could. Don't look back.

  She remembered the demon-man dashing up to her in the road, but that was all. Panic pulsed through her chest.

  She had to calm herself. She had to think rationally.

  She'd learned in her twenty-six years of living that there was always a logical solution to any problem, great or small, if only one took the time to think about it.

  Not that it took much pondering.

  There was only one thing to do. Escape.

  The bed ropes creaked when she shifted her weight. Millie froze, waiting, but no one moved, no one spoke.

  Relief washed over her. She was alone. No sign of her captor, so she dared to stand.

  A light-headed buzz fluttered through her head, but she fought it. A little dizziness wasn't going to stop her.

  No way, no how.

  Stabbing pain pierced her thigh when she put weight on it. Millie drew in a slow, steady breath, refusing to give up.

  She hadn't failed at anything before this, and she wasn't about to lose her gumption now. What was a little pain when compared with losing one's life?

  Silvery moonlight crept through the cracks around the door, guiding her way. The door whispered open to the sounds of the night.

  She heard crickets and owls and wind blowing through the leaves of many trees. The wood creaked beneath her feet as she limped across the threshold.

  A nearly round moon peered between scattering clouds, casting light upon the land. She could make out tall, majestic trees and a faint ribbon of a path.