The Outlaw (15 page)

Colt entered the parlor and took the seat
across from him. He looked about the same as he had last time he
saw him. His face was still etched with lines, his hair a wild mass
of snow-white strands and he looked as if he’d dressed himself. His
shirt was buttoned wrong and he wore nothing but his long legged,
red underwear on bottom. Colt grinned while looking at him,
wondering what Sarah would say. He couldn’t imagine her banker
father ever went about the house in his drawers. At least his pa
still insisted on wearing them. He could only imagine the outrage
that would cause if he didn’t.

He reached out, laying his hand on his
father’s leg and patted it a time or two. “Hey pa. I bought you
that tobacco you wanted but the damn Indian’s took it from me.”

His father stopped mumbling, his eyes
clearing a fraction but he never turned his head to look at
him.

“They took my saddle too. Didn’t leave me
with anything but the clothes on my back and my horse.”

A scowl covered the old man’s face before he
made a spitting gesture toward the fireplace. It was no secret his
father disliked the Indians. As many times as they’d ridden through
their pastures and stole as many horses as they could wrangle, it
was no wonder.

Colt continued to talk as if his father heard
every word. He told him of the outlaws he’d help round up, the
stagecoaches and banks he’d robbed and how he’d been tempted a time
or two to just split town with all that money and never be found
again.

Isaac walked into the room twenty minutes
later, smiling a greeting at him and told him supper was about to
be put on the table. Colt stood and grabbed his father’s arm. “Time
to eat. What do’ya think Isaac cooked today? I’m starved half to
death.”

He helped the old man to the dinning room and
sat him at the head of the table. Colt had always hated the formal
dinning room. His mother made them wash up, change their clothes,
comb their hair and act as if the president himself was dining with
them in that room. But since the day she died, his father refused
to eat anywhere else. This room was his mother’s. She’d entertained
many a guest within its walls and the table was set with her fine
china at every meal.

There hadn’t been a day since she’d died that
Colt didn’t walk into the room and feel her presence. She was in
every crystal glass, every silver spoon. The fresh flowers that
were always on the center of the table reminded him of the rose
scented soap she’d been so fond of. His mother’s spirit still
lingered here. It’s probably why his father refused to let go of
it.

Alex bounded her way into the room and Colt
left her with his father to wash up and change his clothes. Old
habits died hard and besides, he hadn’t seen a bar of soap in days.
His beard was growing in too. He could only imagine what he looked
like.

Grabbing a pitcher of water from the kitchen,
he took the back stairs two at a time, ignoring Holden as he passed
him in the hall, and went straight to his room. It looked exactly
the same as it had the last time he’d been there and from the smell
of it, someone had sense enough to air it out every once in a
while.

He wondered where Holden put Sarah and he had
half a mind to look for her. Knowing Holden, he’d put her in the
room Holden and his bride used to share, which happened to be next
to the room Holden occupied now.

Colt shook his head in disgust. Knowing
Holden, that’s exactly what he did. He’d do it for no other reason
than to piss him off.

* * * *

Sarah wanted to sleep for a week but her
stomach grumbled again. A dull aching pain ran through her middle
and she knew, if she didn’t get food soon, she’d be nothing but a
heap of petticoats on the floor. She didn’t think she’d ever been
so hungry and wasn’t sure she’d be able to remember her manners
once there was food in front of her.

She descended the stairs and smiled to
herself as the swish of satin followed in her wake. Holden had told
her to help herself to the dresses in the bureau and she’d been
amazed when she looked and saw them. Every color of the rainbow, in
every fabric she could imagine was inside that piece of furniture
and she’d delighted in seeing them until she learned where they had
came from. They’d belonged to Holden’s wife. Alex’s mother, a young
bride who died in childbirth.

Pushing the thought aside again, she
straightened the collar on the dress, ran a hand over the skirt and
looked in every direction once she reached the bottom of the
stairs. She patted her hair, making sure it was still pinned at the
back of her neck and pinched color into her cheeks. She didn’t need
to do much as the sun left a rosy glow over her features.

She heard the chatter of multiple people
talking and followed the noise, finding the doorway to the dining
room. Everyone was there and looked up at her when she stopped at
the entrance.

Colt stood, followed by Holden, and she
smiled a greeting to them both. Colt had changed his clothes,
cleaned up a bit, and even shaved. Seeing him like this, standing
beside Holden, you really couldn’t tell the two of them apart other
than the difference in their hair.

He smiled at her and she knew, even in the
dark, she’d know that smile. It held secrets she wanted to find out
and given the time, she knew she would.

She noticed an older man at the head of the
table, Holden and Colt’s father, she assumed. He was staring at the
empty plate in front of him and didn’t look up until she reached
the end of the table and started around it. He stood immediately
and she smiled in his direction.

Colt and Holden looked toward him and it
wasn’t until Holden frowned and Colt raised an eyebrow that Sarah
stopped. She’d been making her way to the empty seat beside their
father but thought better of it now. When he stepped around the
table, Sarah’s eyes widened. He was in his long-legged drawers and
a button up shirt, barefoot and smiling at her as if he’d seen an
angel.

The old man ambled toward her, a huge smile
on his face and took her hand when he reached her. “I been
wondering when you’d get back. Come sit next to me.”

Helping her to the chair on the right of his,
he held it in place while she sat. Once she was situated, she
turned to him. “Thank you.”

He stared at her in wonder, the smile on his
face causing a burst of joy to fill her heart. Colt hadn’t talked
much about his father and she’d wondered why. He seemed pleasant
enough. When the older man sat, she turned to Colt, who was still
standing, along with Holden. They were gaping at their father as if
he’d done something outrageous.

“Pa, this is Sarah,” Holden said. “She came
in with Colt.”

Sarah smiled at him again and held her hand
out for a formal introduction. “It’s very nice to meet you.”

He took her hand in both of his and smiled at
her again.

“His name is James,” Holden told her. “He
doesn’t talk much.”

“Oh.” Sarah watched him and patted his hand
before pulling hers away. The food arrived and Colt finally sat
back down. He looked at Holden, who shrugged his shoulders, and the
conversation that followed ranged from the horses to another
brother, Morgan, they said, who’d been married a few months back.
His wife was expecting a baby come winter and Holden told Colt to
make sure he saw him before lighting out again.

Alex chattered on about her pony and still
not being able to lasso the thing and Sarah listened as she tried
to take as many small bites of food as she could. The urge to slam
her face into her plate and eat like a rabid dog was severe. Every
bite tasted like heaven and by the time she was finished, she
wasn’t sure she’d be able to move.

Colt’s father stood as soon as they were
finished, offering Sarah his arm. She looked to Colt, who was
giving his father a quizzical look. She stood and took the older
man’s arm, letting him lead her to the parlor, a room decorated in
lace, and furniture with soft fabrics. Guiding her to a chair near
the fireplace, he sat opposite her and just stared.

The ease at which she’d felt earlier was
fading. Something was very wrong with this man. She could see that
in his eyes, in the way he looked at her and in his lack of desire
to speak. Not to mention his odd choice of clothing. Or his lack of
clothing, period. She wished Colt had warned her. Not knowing
exactly what she was dealing with left her feeling a bit off
kilter. Remembering her manners, she folded her hands into her lap
and gave him another friendly smile. “Your home is very lovely.
I’ve never been to a working ranch of this size.”

He glanced at a portrait above the fireplace
and Sarah looked as well. What she saw shocked her. The woman in
the painting could have passed for one of her relatives. Her bone
structure was similar to her own, the color of their hair the same.
She looked regal, sophisticated and wore her beauty like a badge.
“She’s quite beautiful,” Sarah said. “Is she your wife?”

James looked back over at her and Sarah
noticed a sadness on his face that nearly broke her heart. His eyes
took on a glassy appearance, the corners of his mouth turned down
into a frown and when he looked away, back at the painting, Sarah
knew what this man suffered from. Heartbreak. He was devastated by
it.

She turned to the parlor door, saw Colt and
Holden hovering near the entryway and her heart went out to both of
them. They looked like lost children wondering what to do. Two
grown men and they had no clue what was wrong with their
father.

Smiling at them both, she straightened her
shoulders and turned back to James. “Its still quite warm out,
would you like to take a walk with me?”

He lifted his head, his frown turning into a
smile, and when he stood and walked away, she stared after him
confused. A door slammed somewhere in the house and he appeared
moments later wearing a pair of boots and his hat. Sarah laughed,
the sight of him in his red drawers and boots too much. Standing,
she walked across the room and took his arm. “Where shall we
go?”

James looked up as if thinking. “I’d like to
see the garden.”

She nodded her head, patted his hand and
turned to the door. “The garden it is.”

Chapter Eleven

Colt watched Sarah and his father from the
porch. His father was smiling. He shook his head at the sight and
sat down on the railing. “I can’t remember the last time I’ve seen
him smile.”

“Me either.” Holden walked to the railing,
bracing his hands on top. “He does nothing all day but sit in his
chair and talk to himself. He hasn’t said a word to me in two
months.” He glanced at Colt and smiled. “Two minutes with her and
he’s down right chatty. Where’d you find this girl?”

“I robbed her daddy’s bank.”

Holden laughed. “Naturally. Did you kidnap
her as well?”

“Not exactly.” He told Holden the story, how
he’d found her with the outlaw gang and left her there. About
riding out with those ruffians and leading them right into the
hands of US Marshals. The exchange had gone from bad to worse when
Virgil pulled his gun and shot one of the officers. It went all to
hell then. The shoot out was bloody and when they all scattered,
him being chased by those men he’d befriended, he’d seen Sarah
running and scooped her up so none of the others would.

“So you save a girl by kidnapping her,
dragged her through two territories and brought her home with you.”
Holden gave him a lopsided smile. “You’re in love with her, aren’t
you?”

Colt laughed and leaned back against the
corner post. “Why the hell would you think something like that? I
was trying to protect her. She can jump on the next stagecoach and
be back home outside a week.”

Holden shook his head. “And how many towns
have you passed through that had a stagecoach line? You know every
piss-ass settlement from here to Texas. Every stagecoach road and
train depot.” He grinned at him and turned, leaning his hip against
the railing and crossing his arms over his chest. “Fess up,
brother. Why do you still have this girl with you? There’s got to
be a reason.”

Raising his hand to adjust his hat, Colt
looked out across the dooryard at Sarah and decided not to answer.
He’d been asking himself that same question and had yet to find a
good reason. Why did he still have Sarah with him?

Holden was right about being able to put her
on a stagecoach before now, yet he hadn’t. He liked to rationalize
it all by thinking Virgil would have expected him to hit the bigger
towns along the way and that’s why he’d avoided them. Or that he
took the shortest path from there to here.

That knowing feeling in his gut when he
looked at her twisted in his chest and if he were honest with
himself, he’d say the reason he kept her around was purely selfish.
He’d wanted her the moment the gun smoke cleared in that bank. When
she lifted that arrogant chin and dared him to make a move. When he
showed her his face and her eyes lit up enough to let him know she
liked what she saw.

His own arrogance is why he kept her. He
wanted her and he’d planned on having her. Plain and simple. Now
that he’d had a taste of her, albeit a very small one, he couldn’t
think of much else. The sounds she’d made when he’d been between
her legs had made his cock so hard he thought it’d break. His blood
had sang through his veins like a locomotive barreling down a
dead-end track.