The Innocent and the Outlaw (Outlaws of the Wild West) Page 2

  “Who are they?” she asked the moment Jake stepped through the door to the tiny storeroom filled with crates of bottled beer and barrels of moonshine. “Does their presence have anything to do with Ship?” Though he was her stepfather, everyone called him Ship, even her younger sisters who were his blood.

  “Calm down, Em.” He placed a hand on her shoulder. “I don’t know anything for sure and getting upset won’t help anything. You’ve heard of the Reyes Brothers? That could be them. That one in the middle, the one that looks like a Spaniard, I think he’s their leader.”

  The Reyes Brothers. A chill prickled her scalp and cold ribbons of fear trailed down her spine. Ship had talked about them the last time he’d been home. Though she hadn’t gotten the impression the two had crossed paths, he’d described the successes of the gang with the glee and admiration only someone hoping to rise to those levels could summon. They moved cattle across the border. Lots of cattle. Which was only illegal depending on which side of the border they were on. But to hear Ship tell it, they’d made a fortune guarding mining and land claims and even that wasn’t technically illegal, unless it involved killing. She couldn’t remember anything else he’d said. The only detail she’d taken to heart from that conversation was that no one crossed them and lived to tell about it.

  Had Ship done something stupid like try to steal from them? Had he taken Pete with him?

  “That doesn’t make sense. They work down near the border. Las Cruces, or was it Santa Fe? Damn, I can’t remember. Why would they be here?”

  Jake shrugged. “My buddy down off Green River swears he saw the Spaniard there last month buying supplies. He’d know because he spent some time near the border just last year. Says he was in a saloon down in Perez and in walked the Spaniard with a giant, I suppose that one he brought with him tonight. Both better dressed than normal outlaws. He walked in and called out to a fella playing faro. The man charged him with his gun drawn so they shot him. The Spaniard left and the giant followed him out. No one said a word and the poor son of a bitch was carted out the back and his winnings divided amongst those at the table.” He ran a hand over the back of his neck and glanced at the closed door leading to the bar. “Seems like if they were in Green River last month they could be here now. It’s not that far away.”

  “Is this the same buddy you have to carry out every time he comes in because he drinks an entire jar of moonshine?” When he gave an irritated sigh, confirming her words, she continued, “That man could be anybody.”

  “Sure it could, but how often do you see men dressed like that step foot in here?”

  Not many passed through here if they could help it, not since all the mines had been bought out and the creek picked clean of gold, and certainly none dressed like those men. They were here for a reason. “Do you think they’re looking for Ship? Is he hiding?”

  “I don’t know, Em. I wish I could say. I haven’t heard a word from him. Just go back out there and act as if nothing’s wrong. You don’t know anything.”

  Grabbing a bottle of Old Overholt—how anyone could drink it, she didn’t know—she gave Jake a quick nod and headed back out. A small part of her had hoped they’d left, but there they sat, deep in discussion about something. Perhaps their next murder.

  Jake followed her out and placed three fresh tumblers on her tray. He gave her a nod of encouragement and then she was off to the lion’s den. She kept her gaze down the entire walk over, unwilling to lock eyes with the pretty one again. If she could just get through this, then she could prove to the knot in her belly that nothing was wrong, that nothing had happened to Ship and Pete.

  Without a word, she sat the tray down on the table and unloaded the bottle and three fresh tumblers, before retrieving the tray and turning to go. It was easy, simple. There was absolutely no reason to believe that these men meant her any harm. The pretty one had actually smiled at her earlier. And she knew that smile. He wanted to do something, but it didn’t involve hurting her. Quite the opposite, in fact. Everything was fine.

  But then the Spaniard reached out and put a hand on her arm, his long, tapered fingers curling gently around her wrist. “A moment, please.” His voice was soft and quiet, commanding respect from the confidence and intensity of the tone rather than the volume. Though his grip was gentle, she could feel the strength he held in check.

  She followed the length of his arm up to his face, afraid to hear his next words. But he held silent, waiting for her to meet his gaze. When she did, she was startled to realize his eyes were the exact odd shade of greenish-gold as the pretty one’s. They were striking against his darker complexion. Could the two be related?

  “Yes?”

  “Tell us what you know of Ship Campbell.”

  Chapter Two

  Emmaline froze, focusing very hard on meeting the stranger’s eyes to ensure that she wouldn’t flinch. Though she had known deep in her bones that he was there looking for Ship, it was still a shock to hear the words. A million thoughts went through her mind at once. What did they want with him? Had they really come all this way to find him? If the strangers were looking for Ship, then it meant that Ship was still alive. But what had he done this time? Dear God, the man was too foolhardy to go off robbing banks. Why hadn’t she tried harder to stop him? Lord knows they bumped heads more often than not, but she didn’t want him dead. He’d taken her in like she was his own daughter—though that wasn’t saying much—and they needed the meager supplies he brought them.

  She was staring too long. Say something! Damn Ship and Pete! She was the one in immediate danger just then, not them. Did the men know who she was? Her instinct said no, since they hadn’t immediately noticed her upon coming into the saloon. All three of them had looked over the other customers first. That meant they thought that Ship might be there. Did they know where he lived? Had they already ridden out to the farm and found her sisters alone?

  Before she could let her fear run wild, she licked her suddenly parched lips and tried for a nonchalant tone. “The name sounds familiar, but I don’t believe I know him.” Partial truths. That way the lies sounded more believable. Pete had told her that once and she’d wondered why it was something she’d needed to know. Apparently he’d been preparing her for the day someone came looking for them. Oh, God, what had they done?

  The Spaniard stared at her as if trying to decide if he believed her. With careful precision, she removed her gaze from his stare and looked to the pretty one. He’d moved forward, elbows resting on the table with his hands cupped around the tumbler he’d just splashed whiskey into. He stopped swirling the liquid around the clouded glass to watch her. His gaze was narrowed on her face, trying to catch a tell, anything that proved she was lying.

  And then he smiled. A small, almost imperceptible upturn of his lips on the left side. It was followed by a clarity in his eyes, a softening of the intensity that had been leveled on her as he’d tried to figure her out. That clarity was a knowing that hadn’t been there before. That’s the moment she suspected that she was a terrible liar.

  “Can I get you anything else?” She did her best to level her gaze on the Spaniard. He didn’t bat an eye as he stared her down, but knowing that she was quickly losing her grip on her composure, she raised an eyebrow and glanced to her wrist where he still held her. She needed to get away from them.

  After a moment, when she would have sworn her heart stopped beating, he let her go. Giving them a tight smile, she somehow managed to keep her walk steady all the way back to the bar. She couldn’t tell if they knew that she was Ship’s stepdaughter. She couldn’t tell if they’d bought her lie. The only thing she knew was that she had to get home to her sisters. The thought of Ginny and Rose home alone, vulnerable to those dangerous men, made a jolt of panic threaten to suck the air from her lungs. At twelve and nine, she hated to leave them home alone anyway, but she had little choice in the matter when
they needed food and Ship left them with so little. Sometimes the meal she brought home from Jake’s was all she and the girls had. The small garden she managed to tend during the warm months barely kept them supplied with enough vegetables to last through the winter, and the chickens wouldn’t lay when the days got shorter. Not that they had many hens left after Pete’s last drunken binge when he’d demanded a feast for himself and the men.

  Stifling her anger along with the disturbing images of what might happen if the outlaws found her sisters alone, she set her tray on the bar and tightened her hands into fists to stop their shaking. “I have to go home, Jake.” Trying to appear casual and in control, she dared not look back over her shoulder at the table.

  “What did he say to you?” Jake topped off the beer he was pouring and set it on the bar, careful to not look too interested in what she had to say.

  “He asked about Ship. I don’t know if they know who I am, but I have to get home and check on my sisters.”

  He nodded in understanding, but in the very next breath warned her against leaving. “They’ll get suspicious if you turn tail and run now.”

  “Maybe, but what if they sent someone there already? He could be hurting them.”

  “Yeah, what if?” He wiped at a drop of beer on the unvarnished bar and slanted her a dubious look. “You think you can help them now?”

  “I think my revolver could do some damage.”

  Jake sighed and looked out at the men talking in small groups near the stove, anywhere but at the table with the three strangers. “You shouldn’t go alone, Em. I don’t like it.”

  “Me neither, but I have to. I’ll wait a few minutes and pretend it’s the end of my shift.”

  He grimaced, but didn’t argue. “At least take Bette. She’s over at the stable.”

  Bette was a swaybacked horse that was at least thirty if she was a day. Emmaline figured she had a better chance of making the four-mile trip faster on foot. “Thanks, but you know how I feel about horses. Besides, it’s too dark to see the road and I’m afraid I’d break both our legs before I made it home.”

  “I’ll come out after closing and check on you and the kids.”

  “I’d appreciate that.”

  He gave her a nod and she made herself look busy until she could slip out the back. She didn’t even take the time to change as she would have on a normal night. Instead, she pulled Pete’s old coat on over her costume and tucked her winter dress under her arm as she stole out the back door, heart beating wildly, her only thoughts of getting home.

  The hastily erected buildings of the town showed their age. Even in the light of the half-moon, it was clear they were nothing more than unpainted clapboard held together by a few nails. The alley she stepped into was a mess of mud and muck left over from the storm that had rolled through almost a week ago. She took in a breath as she stepped off the back stoop and into the bog, grimacing as it sucked at her boots and thankful the trail leading out of town would be an easier walk. Everywhere else had dried out, while the town’s roads stubbornly held on to the mud.

  Her little part of the world was still cold in early April, particularly at night when the sun disappeared, leaving the valley to languish in the shadow of the mountains. A bitter wind blew in over those peaks and often didn’t let up until morning. Sometimes it blew so long, Emmaline feared that it would never let up, that it would just keep blowing until it blew every trace of their lives away. She’d oblige it and leave if she could ever scrape up enough money. But with Ship’s schemes, Pete’s drinking, and everyday expenses like food and clothing, it didn’t look like that day would ever come. Besides, there was only one way to get the kind of money she’d need to take her sisters with her and ensure their safety, but it was so abhorrent, she couldn’t consider it.

  But then there were the nights that came later into spring and summer. The wind could be gentle and warm, and the moon was clear, lighting stars in the sky for as far as the eye could see. On those nights she loved it here in her quiet part of the world. On those nights she didn’t mind the long walk home. On those nights she could actually begin to think that everything would be all right, eventually.

  This wasn’t one of those nights.

  Casting a harsh glance toward the swells in the distance still covered in snow, she took a deep breath and pulled the collar of her coat up to cover her ears. It was going to be a long walk.

  * * *

  She had ended up half running the familiar path home, until she had to slow down a little while later from the stitch in her side. But with a trickle of sweat running down between her shoulder blades, she didn’t mind the cold anymore, so she alternated between running and walking.

  She was about halfway home when she heard the sound. It might have been horse hooves hitting the dirt, or it could have been her own imagination. Either way, she decided it was time to delve into the long, brown grass instead of staying on the path. It gave her a better chance of hiding, if she had to. No sooner had she thought that, then the sound became clearer. Definitely horse hooves. Stopping for a moment to try to hear over the wind, the sound became sounds and she realized that it was more than one horse. She’d bet her life that three horses were coming her way.

  Breaking out into a run, she half ran, half leapt over the knee-high grass that tried to slow her down. But the sounds kept drawing closer and she wasn’t getting anywhere fast. Heart in her throat, she decided the only option was to hide. The moon was only half-full, which meant there was enough darkness to keep her hidden if she stayed very still. She chanced a quick look over her shoulder to see a shadow of movement, but it was still far enough away that she was certain they hadn’t gotten a clear view of her position.

  With no choice left, she darted for a thigh-high copse of brown grass and nestled inside it, all the while praying that it was too early in the season for snakes to be out of their dens. Blood pounding through her veins, she pushed her hand inside her coat to wrap it around the locket that hung down low between her breasts. It had been a gift from her father to her mother, passed on to Emmaline years ago when they’d still lived at the brothel. She didn’t know if it had really been from the father she’d never met or not, but she’d always loved it.

  Foolishly hoping the tin trinket had powers of protection, but knowing from years of hoping to get away from Ship and his outlaws that it did not, she clutched it tight and waited. Her wide gaze stayed locked on the shadowy figures coming toward her.

  * * *

  From the moment they had ridden into Whiskey Hollow, Hunter Jameson had known they were in the right place. It was the perfect hideaway for scum like Ship Campbell. Decrepit and forlorn, the town was a blight on an otherwise beautiful landscape. Virtually abandoned when the gold had been scavenged and depleted, he couldn’t imagine why some had stayed. He was more than happy to leave it behind.

  Two weeks and they were no closer to finding Miguel. To make it worse, this mission was a distraction from their real goal, which was to find the men responsible for the death of Castillo’s grandfather and to recover his stolen inheritance. A wild-goose chase in the middle of the night wasn’t helping matters.

  “Dammit, Cas, she doesn’t know anything. We need to track down other men who’ve ridden with Campbell. The girl’s a waste of our time.” And no matter how attractive she was in the dance-hall dress, and how much his body liked her, she was off-limits. Her disturbing blushes and wide, soft eyes made him think there was more to her than met the eye. More to her than he had time to figure out.

  “We’ll see what she knows,” Cas muttered and scanned the tall grass in the distance, hoping to catch sight of her.

  They had caught her trail just north of town, exactly the direction the drunk from Campbell’s gang had said Ship lived. He’d then told them that Ship’s daughter could be found working at the saloon, but that had been all he’d known.r />
  “I understand your reluctance,” Cas assured him, his voice only slightly accented. “But that was the only saloon in town. That drunk described the girl perfectly, down to her dark hair and light eyes. She’s Campbell’s daughter and she could know something.”

  “He didn’t tell us her name,” Hunter argued. “Could be some other girl. Plenty of dark-haired girls in the world.”

  Cas raised a brow. “Did you see another girl there?” They hadn’t seen any other people aside from those in the saloon; if there were any other residents of the tiny town, they were at home hiding. “You know it’s her. And you know she was lying as well as I do.”

  Hunter couldn’t dispute that. Her eyes had widened at Ship Campbell’s name, and they were too innocent to hide lies. She knew the man they were tracking, but he doubted she knew anything about Cas’s younger brother. “She won’t be good for anything but slowing us down.”

  “She’ll talk before morning. Won’t slow us down for long.” This came from Zane.

  In the years he’d been riding with his half brother Cas, the brooding Zane, and the rest of the gang, they’d never failed to make someone talk who wasn’t so inclined. That was partially what worried him, though they had never been forced to interrogate a woman. There was no doubt in his mind that she knew who Ship Campbell was, but every instinct he possessed said she had no idea about Miguel. She wasn’t a criminal like Campbell. Eyes didn’t lie and hers were deep, blue pools of undiluted innocence. “She doesn’t know anything. I’m sure of it.”