A Wanted Man (29 page)

Branches slapped at her. Star wasn’t galloping full out, as the forest was too dense for that, but trees flashed by in her peripheral vision. She was dizzy with it, almost sick from the motion, her heart thudding as hard as Star’s hoofbeats.

Then the pounding came from behind her, a rhythm that clashed with Star’s. Someone was after her.

Sam? She dared a glance behind her and nearly slipped off her horse in the process. After a frantic grab for the saddle horn—she’d lost the reins—she hunkered down.

Okay, no more of that. It could be Sam, but she didn’t dare slow down to find out.

If it was Sam behind her, he’d find her. And if not…

The horse behind her pounded closer. And Star was slowing down, laboring beneath her, while she thought her own heart might burst with panic.

“Laura.” He was safe.
Thank God.

Sam pulled beside her when the trees thinned. They settled into an easy trot because the animals needed it. “I didn’t dare shout—I didn’t want them to hear me—”

“He was one of Crocker’s men?”

“Yes.”

“Are they coming?”

“Not yet.” His brown skin gleamed. Sweat, water from the river? The image rose, crystal clear, of him, naked, arching over her in the water. “Soon.”

“You didn’t kill him?”

He frowned, deep lines bracketing the mouth that she now knew could give almost unbearable pleasure. “No.”

“Oh.” She didn’t know whether to be relieved or sorry.

“I tried,” he told her, an honesty he’d never before felt confined by now driving him to tell her the truth. “I missed. I seldom do, but…” The slide of his Adam’s apple up and down his throat was painful. “They’ll all be after us as soon as he makes his way back to them. Good horse. It won’t be long.”

Her eyes widened, fear springing deep into the innocent blue. And then her mouth firmed, and she nodded. “Thank you for not shielding me from the truth.”

Maybe I should have
, Sam thought. Would it have been kinder to let her believe they were well on their way to freedom until the last moment? But he’d lied to her for weeks. He couldn’t do it anymore.

She straightened, lifting her chin, mutinous, resolute. “Go on without me.”

“
What
?” he burst out. “Are you insane? I—”

“Hear me out.” The words gushed from her, as if she were determined to get them all out before he refused to listen to such madness. “If you don’t have to worry
about me, you’ve got a much better chance to escape. You’re faster, you can shoot without being concerned that I’ll get in the way of return fire, which I know has held your hand more than once. And maybe I can draw their attention long enough to give you a chance. And they’re probably not going to kill
me
, anyway.”

Probably not going to kill me
. Veins throbbed in his temple, threatened to burst. “You
are
—”

“Not finished yet,” she said. “And if you’re free, then you can come rescue me.”

She sounded so certain, as if it had never occurred to her that he might fail. She’d never questioned that he would come back for her, had not the slightest doubt that he would manage to get her out.

“Pick it up, Laura. Star’s gotten his wind back.”

“But—” She scowled at him. “It was a good plan.”

“It is a good plan.”

“Then why—”

“Because you overlooked one minor detail.” He leaned forward, near enough that for a moment Laura thought he might drag her off the back of her horse and on to his. “I’m not leaving you.”

Any other time, in any other circumstance, those words from him would have made her heart soar. “Sam—”

“Hang on,” he said, and gave Star a slap on his rump.

Star gave out first. They’d pushed the poor animal past the danger point as it was, and finally he simply refused to follow the commands, planting his feet, sides heaving, head hanging low.

“Get off,” Sam said, bending down, holding out his arm. “You’ll have to come up with me. It won’t be comfortable, there’s no time to take off the saddle, but—”

“Shut up.” She grabbed on, and he pulled, gritting his teeth with the strain, until he hauled her in front of him. He pushed back in his saddle, squeezing her into the narrow space gained. “Go!” she said.

Sam knew they were close. Not close enough for him to hear them riding up, but they must have caught a glimpse of Laura and Sam now and then, for they popped off random, ill-advised shots that had no chance of reaching their target but made Laura jump every time and allowed Sam to make a guess as to their direction and distance.

And they were getting closer. Close enough that he heard the impact when the last bullet slammed into a nearby tree trunk.

Grit burned his eyes. An insistent ache knotted at the base of his spine.

Both of which were nothing compared to the pain that churned around his heart and throbbed in his brain.

He was going to fail. Fail Griff, fail himself, and, most of all, fail
her
.

If he’d known it would come to this place someday, he’d have rather died in Andersonville than to put her in this danger.

Harry stumbled beneath them, then found his footing again. But he was done.

“Off you go.” He dismounted, stretching up and hauling Laura off immediately. “Run,” he said, and reached for his guns.

Their eyes met.
Don’t argue
, he thought, hoping she’d see. That she’d understand.
Just run.

Live.

She nodded.

“I’ll try and send a horse your way,” he said. “If you see one without a rider, grab it. Grab it and ride.”

Another nod, her face grave, eyes shimmering. He memorized each line, each curve, each shadow. Would this be the last time he ever saw her? And would it be because this was his last day? If it was, he would hold her face in his mind until the last second, taking her memory into eternity.

She turned and ran. Not looking back, weaving around the trees, her legs churning in those stupid bloomers.

He turned, squinting through the screening of the vegetation, and brought up his guns. There, a flash of red. He shot. Missed.
Damn
.

A scuffle of sound to his left. He spun, shot again. Didn’t miss this time.

There—

“Sam!” Laura’s shout cut through his concentration. “Sam?”

He fired off a quick series of shots, no time to wait for a good target, hoping only to get lucky, to give them something to think about before they came charging through the trees. And then he turned and ran.

She hadn’t gone far. He found her standing, stock-still, staring out in the distance. For a moment all he saw was her, his Laura, the relief at finding her whole and unhurt flooding him so quickly his head went light.

And then he saw the cliff at her feet.

It sheered straight down. Way down, a hundred feet, maybe more, to the wide, sluggish green-gray swirl of the river that had carved its plunge.

She reached for his hand as he gained her side. His gaze scanned the land around him. There had to be a way out. Somewhere, anywhere. A ledge, a rock, any-
place to stash her that would give her a bit of shelter while he fought.

She grabbed his hand in both of hers and brought it up to her chest, facing him squarely. “Tell me about your family.”

“What?” he asked, barely registering her question. He’d have to go back, straight at their pursuers. Head them off before they got to her. Give her one clear path—

“Sam.”

A man. There. A thin, young one, huddling behind the trunk of a tree, eyes wide with fear. Maybe another scout, or maybe he just had a better horse. The rest of them couldn’t be far behind. He and Laura had a minute before the rest arrived, maybe only seconds.

“Sam.”

Too late, and he knew it. Another came up from the left, blocking that route; all Sam could see was an elbow poking out from a trunk.

And so he gave in to temptation and looked at her instead. Clear skin, brave eyes, soft mouth. “Oh, Laura, I’m so—”

“Hush. Tell me about your family. Alive, dead? Did you have one?”

“What?”

“I’ve been waiting for you to volunteer the information.” Her eyes were wide, her hands shaking. But her voice was steady. “I want to know. Tell me now.”

Tell me now
before it was too late? She’d been patient before, curbing her curiosity because there seemed plenty of time. But if this was the end, she wanted to know this about him before it was over. Wanted as much of him as she could have.

He wanted to assure her it wasn’t necessary. They’d
find a way out. But he couldn’t promise her that, and so he gave her the only thing he was certain he could. “I had a brother. My hero, my best friend. Died outside Atlanta a month before I was captured, trying to cut off a supply line.” He swallowed hard. “My father owned a dry goods store. My mother…loved us all, more than anything. They died while I was in prison. Influenza epidemic.” Comfortable name that the doc gave to broken hearts.

She nodded, accepting, and drew in a long, shuddery breath. “Okay, then. I’m ready.” Still clutching his hand, she turned toward the canyon.

“Ready for what?”

She glanced at him in surprise. “To jump, of course. To escape.”

“Are you out of your mind?” he shouted. “No way in hell are we jumping off that!”

S
am and Laura were captured only minutes later, of course, the ranch hands scuttling up once everyone had arrived, approaching reluctantly despite all the guns aimed at Sam. They threatened Laura in order to get Sam to toss his guns away, making anger churn so fiercely inside him he’d barely heard what they said next.

Jonce came up first, wary and scowling, his head low like a turtle on the verge of pulling back into his shell, a pistol in each hand. “Don’t move.”

“Do we look like we’re moving?” Sam asked him.

Jonce frowned at him, faint puzzlement marking his expression. “I know you.”

“’Course you do, chap,” Sam said, his voice as light as he could manage. He ignored the pain in his chest, the heavy responsibility for Laura’s life that weighed on his shoulders. He considered himself cool in battle, unshakable in desperate situations. But that was because, he realized at last, the only life that had ever
been in danger was his own. Hers, he discovered, was incredibly harder to wager.

But her hand still held his. How could she bear to touch him, knowing he’d brought her to this point? But there was no hint of recrimination. She squeezed, supportive, still convinced he’d find a way out.

She’d been ready to jump off a cliff with him, he marveled.

“I know!” Jonce said as the light dawned. “You’re that fellow that was here looking for Judah.” He sneered. “Thought we’d beat that outta you.”

“No.”

“Too bad for you.”

“Where is he?”

The other hands, seeing that it was safe, were gathering, creeping out into the open, their caution easing as the number of guns pointed at Sam increased.

“Let’s get movin’,” Jonce said, gesturing with his gun.

“What happened to Griff?” Sam asked again. “Come on, Jonce. What difference could it possibly make to tell me now?”

“A dyin’ man’s request, hmm?” He bared his teeth. “Why not? But I’ll do better’n tell you what happened to him.

“We’ll give you the same choice we gave him.”

So they weren’t going to kill them yet. Jonce had made it clear, as he and his hands had surrounded Laura and Sam, the canyon’s lip at their back and guns at their front, that Haw Crocker preferred to see to their disposition himself. But if they tried to run, they’d be shot then and there. Laura wasn’t sure she believed Jonce. Haw didn’t seem the type to give his minions a whole lot of autonomy.

It took them nearly twice as long to return to the Silver Spur than it had to flee. The horses were tired. They were two animals short, because no one had been able to chase down Star and Harry. The urgency was gone; the captives weren’t going anywhere, and neither was the Silver Spur.

Laura found herself suspended in a strange, emotionless place between exhaustion and fear. She was in no immediate danger. After a day and a half of constant panic, pushing harder, faster, the constant press of knowing what followed them, aware they weren’t going quick enough, she was drained, wrung of all emotion.

Now they moved at another person’s pace, another’s direction. Once or twice one of the hands looked at her with speculation and something that might have been lust, but it was clear they were far more afraid of Haw than they were interested in her.

She understood that danger awaited them but couldn’t quite bring herself to
feel
it. She couldn’t believe that it was over. That her life might be over. The fever couldn’t kill her. The nightmare of Andersonville and years as a hired gun hadn’t managed to kill Sam. How could someone like Haw Crocker do it?

And, in any case, they weren’t there yet. So they plodded along on the back of the horses that the two youngest hands had been forced into giving up to them, separated by the entire group because Jonce didn’t trust them anywhere near each other.

The world had been washed clean by the storm. They passed damage—broken branches, a stretch of meadow beaten flat, parts of the mountain that had been washed into a slough of muck. But the air was crisp, fresh, the sky scoured into a bright, clean blue.

She slept hard when they stopped, both nights,
longer uninterrupted stretches of rest than she’d had in days. The last thing she saw when she dropped off was Sam’s eyes through the smoky little fire the hands had built to roast a partridge one of them had shot. He was the first thing she saw each morning as well, across a dead pile of coals, staring, brooding, worried.

She wanted to tell him it was all right. He couldn’t have known. He’d given her every opportunity to back out. The world was full of dangers, and the most careful protection did not ensure one would avoid them. She could have died if her train jumped the track going around the curve as easily as she could have during their attempt to escape. Heavens, she’d been headed for the Silver Spur in any case. Even without Sam, she might have discovered something there that put her life in danger.

And, if her life were to end in the next few days, next few hours, after all, she was glad that she’d had Sam in it. For she understood that brief time she’d had with him was more than some people were gifted with in a lifetime.

And she couldn’t help but believe that, somehow, he’d find a way to save them.

But then she heard the mining camp, long before they reached it. Near dusk, while a lead gray bank of clouds scudded in from the west, muddying up the colors of the sunset. A steady, ominous thudding, the grinding screech of gears, the earth groaning in protest of its invasion. And the fear began, a low, nauseous churn that grew with every step.

The corrosive orange glow of the mining camp rose above the foothills. It was midshift as they rode in, straight through the densely packed infestation of tents that held the workers.

A few of the workers slouched outside their tents. Finishing supper, sipping earthy-smelling liquid from small bowls that steamed into the cool night air. Others clustered around a game of dice, another small group simply slumped around a weak fire, staring blankly into the flames.

Only a couple even bothered to glance their way as they rode through, their eyes dark and flat, utterly drained of emotion. So exhausted they’d even given up on curiosity, Laura thought. Apprehension weighed on her, pressing down on her shoulders so that it became an effort to lift her arms.

She tried to pick out the man she’d drawn. Had they simply sent him back to the mines? Or had they killed him to discourage any other attempt at escape? She couldn’t find him.

She’d believed his face was so clear in her memory, each detail so distinct, she’d recognize him in an instant. But they all shared that desperation, that palpable hopelessness, and she was no longer certain she’d know him amongst all the others.

They emerged from the tent city and gained the main part of the complex. There was an empty yard in the middle, reddish earth packed plate-flat by constant foot traffic, ringed by supply buildings and the poles that held the lanterns. The guards were more curious than the workers, but they’d been well trained, remaining at their posts around the perimeter. After a quick glance at the new arrivals they resumed scanning their assigned area.

Laura closed her eyes briefly, trying to draw in enough breath to steady herself. Her head had gone light, the world expanding and contracting around her, insubstantial, unreal.

“Off you go,” Jonce said, signaling with his gun.

Laura’s legs wobbled beneath her as she slid to the ground.
Dammit
, she thought,
be strong
. If an opportunity presented itself, she had to be ready to take advantage of it. Sam would never leave her behind, and she refused to slow him down.

He wasn’t looking at her. Had rarely glanced her way during the entire trip back to the ranch, his concentration relentlessly focused on their guards, on the land they passed. She understood he was searching for the slightest opening. But right that moment she would have given anything to have had him beside her, her hand in his, his strength to lean on.

“End of the line,” Jonce said.

Sam edged toward Laura.

“Oh, no you don’t,” Jonce said.

“Not even going to let me say good-bye?” Sam asked. He had a dozen guns trained on his head. But there was nothing in the way that he held himself, the set of his shoulders or the dark expression on his face, that betrayed any fear or concern. Instead, his eyes burned, his fists clenched, as dangerous as dynamite only waiting for the lit fuse to reach powder before the detonation.

“You’d better take good care of her,” Sam said.

“Oh?” Jonce chuckled. “We’ll take excellent care of her, don’t you worry.”

“Because you know her father’s going to want to see her body.”

“What?” Jonce’s head jerked back, as if that was the last thing he expected to hear.

“We both know you’re killing us. There’s not much choice, is there, if you want to keep your little operation going? Me, it doesn’t matter much.” He shrugged,
dismissing his death as if it were merely a tin of spilled milk. “But you know who her father is. Did you know that she’s an only child?”

“So?”

“And did you know that Baron Hamilton’s a good friend of President Arthur’s?”

“So?” he said carelessly, but his brows drew together. “Why the hell would I care?”

“So you can’t just have her disappear somewhere out here. If she’s missing, he’s going to have half the army crawling over this ranch until he finds something.”

“So we give him a body.”

Bile launched up Laura’s throat, and she swallowed hard, perspiration springing out on her forehead. She understood Sam’s intent. But hearing him discuss her death so dispassionately might just save them the trouble, because her heart threatened to give out at any second.

“Better not have an unnatural mark on that body,” Sam said. “Or he’s going to ask questions. And you’d better make sure that you pay whatever undertaker you use more than Hamilton can.” He chuckled. “Though I don’t know how anybody could do that. Because if there’s one thing Baron Hamilton knows, it’s how to get the answer he’s looking for. Hell, how do you think he got a chunk of Haw’s profits? You think Haw gave up part ownership in this place out of the goodness of his heart?”

Jonce exchanged quick, worried glances with his men.

“Better have a great story,” Sam said, shaking his head sadly. “Heck, if I were you, I’d let Haw handle it himself. I wouldn’t want Hamilton on my tail, y’know? I wouldn’t sleep again if I knew he was after me. Man like that…he’s not bound by laws any more than
Crocker is. Less, I’d wager. If he suspected someone of hurting his family…well, I’d take a gun to my own head rather than let him get his hands on me.” He shuddered.

A couple of men shifted uneasily. Jonce’s complexion went chalky beneath his tan.

Finally, Jonce jerked his head in the direction of a small, raw shack that huddled at the far end of the yard. “Put her in the office. Red, go fetch Crocker. He’s the boss, after all. Might as well let ’im prove why.”

Mac, who couldn’t claim either five feet in height or less than sixty years, winced. “He don’t like to be woke up.”

“So wake Fitch and have him do it. He gets paid more’n we do, anyway.”

Mac nodded and headed off in search of a fresh mount. The two youngest hands came up on either side of her. One put his hand on her upper arm to draw her away and she shook him off.

“Ma’am,” he said softly, “come with us.”

“What are you going to do with him?” She snapped out the question like the strike of a whip. “What are you going to do with Sam?”

“Oh, yeah. Sam.” Jonce strolled closer, until the snub of his gun rested against the flat surface of Sam’s belly. Sam didn’t flinch. “You’ve caused us no end of trouble, you know that?”

“Glad to be of service,” he said. “Looking forward to causing you a fair bit more.”

“Don’t get your hopes up.”

Sam glared down at Jonce. If a man could have murdered with a look, Jonce should have dropped dead
right then. Jonce leaned back a fraction, an inch of space sliding between the gun and Sam’s stomach.

“Where’s Griff Judah?” Sam bared his teeth, the feral snarl of a hunting cougar ready to bite.

Jonce’s smile was cruel and satisfied. “’Bout three hundred yards west and six feet down.”

Sam lunged, with a low howl of rage that froze the blood in Laura’s veins. Jonce swung, his rifle catching Sam on the side of the head and knocking him to the ground.

He brought his gun to his shoulder, his finger on the trigger. “Try that again, and I’m shootin’. Not much sport from this distance, though.”

A dark, shiny line of blood trickled from the corner of Sam’s mouth. Laura took a step toward him but her guard held her back.

“What happened to Griff?”
Sam ground out.

“He didn’t like our…employment methods. Got a conscience, your friend.”

“Inconvenient things, aren’t they? Lucky I’ve never been troubled with one.”

“We gave him a choice.”

“How considerate of you.”

“Thought so, too,” Jonce said. “He could join those Chinamen he was so worried about down in the mines. Or we could shoot him right here.” Jonce shrugged. “He picked the easy way out.”

Laura’s knees gave out beneath her.
Sam. Oh, dear God, Sam.

No one else would have known how it affected him. His mouth did not tighten, his eyes did not well with tears. But she knew. As if she could feel his own pain, as if his heart howled out to hers in its agony, and hers
answered, drawing in his pain. Perhaps it did; her body had learned to respond to his days ago. If an emotion could be that strong, whether joy or mourning, how could she not feel it, too?

“So,” Jonce said. “How about you? You wanna work, or you wanna die?”

Sam rose slowly to his feet. Up, and up, his shoulders back, chest thrust forward as if daring Jonce to fire.

The mines. They wanted him to go down there, into that fathomless hole in the ground, where it was dark and cold and close. Griff Judah had chosen to die rather than enter that pit.

Sam would do the same. She knew it in her bones, in his face, in the way his body had trembled when confronted with the necessity of shelter in that cave. And this was worse, a thousand times so.