The Outlaw (7 page)

He actually smiled at her before turning and
guiding the horse to a nearby hitching post. Sarah lost sight of
him when the townsfolk moved on the sidewalk and she turned, making
her way to the telegraph office. It was crowded and the waiting
started to aggravate her when the line moved. The man behind the
counter handed her a form and a pencil.

“Write your message there, Miss. Where will
it be going?”

Sarah mumbled the telegraphs destination as
she tried to think of what to say to her father. She didn’t want
him to worry anymore than he probably already was. Saying she’d
been kidnapped and said outlaw had given her money to return home
seemed—ridiculous. No one would believe her. Who gets kidnapped
then returned home as if it never happened?

A horrible thought occurred to her then.
Would the people in her hometown think she’d left willingly? That
she’d helped plan and execute the robbery? It was her father’s bank
but the money didn’t belong to him. It belonged to the people who
entrusted it to them. Would they think she was in cahoots with the
outlaws?

Another sickening realization dawned on her,
then. She’d been gone for days now. Alone, with strange men. Would
they think she’d been used? Her virtue compromised by choice or
force? Did it matter? She’d be ruined either way.

Her stomach rolled at the thought and she was
instantly nauseous. What would people say when she returned? What
would William say? Would he rescind his marriage proposal? Would
anyone be willing to marry her after knowing she’d spent days with
a group of men doing lord only knows what?

“Miss, do you have a message or not?”

Sarah looked up at the man behind the counter
and nodded. She scribbled a simple, “I’m well and unharmed. Will
return home soon, Sarah,” on the note and passed it to the clerk.
She waited until the message had been sent before paying him and
walking back out onto the sidewalk.

A sense of foreboding hit her as she watched
the townsfolk hurry along their day. Her life was forever changed
by the events that had taken place and she had only one person to
blame for it all. Colt. He’d changed her life the moment he stepped
into her father’s bank. He’d steered her fate by bringing those men
into her town, being taken by one of them, and then by taking her
himself as the other outlaws pursued him across the valley. Him
bringing her so far from home would tarnish her reputation
regardless of the facts. Her virtue was intact but to the average
observer, they would always think otherwise. To the men at home,
she would be damaged goods. Undesirable regardless of the amount of
money her father had.

Her anger built until tears clouded her
vision. Sarah stared down the sidewalk and saw Colt walking on the
other side of the street. He looked as if he didn’t have a care in
the world. His gate was sure, confident, and the longer she watched
him, the angrier she became.

A rush of feminine giggles filled the air.
She looked up at the second floor balcony above the saloon. The
painted ladies waiting on that spindly ledge above the sidewalk
were calling out to men on the street, many of which were grinning
like idiots before venturing inside the building.

When Colt stopped in front of the saloon,
pushing the swinging doors open, something intense burned through
her chest so fierce she could hardly contain it. She recalled the
things Colt had said to her the day before as she watched those
doors swing closed behind him. He’d wanted her, wanted to bed her,
and she’d refused, telling him instead to pay for it. Looked as if
he was going to do as she asked.

Turning away, she sought out the Hotel and
crossed the street when she saw it. She made quick work of
navigating the people on the sidewalks and was at the hotel desk,
staring into the face of a fat-jowled man wearing a pair of reading
specs that didn’t look quite large enough for his face.

He looked down the bridge of his nose at her,
sniffed the air near her, and then raised his eyes to her face.
“Yes?”

Sarah wanted to refuse him the courtesy of a
smile but did so anyway, standing to her full height and flashing
him a smile so bright, her lips ached. “Good afternoon. I’d like a
room, please.”

He stared at her for long moments, his gaze
traveling over her unkempt hair and her dirty dress before he
sniffed again and opened the ledger book in front of him. “Will
your husband be joining you?”

If Sarah knew anything about proper society
it was that ladies did not stay in hotel rooms alone. She smiled
again, baring her teeth before saying, “Yes. He’s seeing to other
things at the moment.”

The man looked as if he doubted her but
handed her a key nonetheless. She asked for clean linens and water
to be sent to the room before leaving the hotel and heading
straight for the nearest dress shop. She counted the remaining
money she had, setting back enough for the stagecoach and sighed at
what remained. She would have to forgo her usual finery and settle
for a simple dress to replace the dirty, torn, one she now
wore.

Greeting the woman inside the store upon
entering, Sarah told her what she needed and hoped she wouldn’t
come out looking like a beggar.

* * * *

The whiskey in his glass tasted like horse
piss but Colt downed it and ordered another, turning to look across
the room. As saloons went, this one was pretty standard. The chairs
were filled with cowpokes and ranchers cheating at cards and vying
for the attention of the soiled doves flitting around the room. The
air was stale with the stench of unwashed bodies and alcohol and
the desire to wash the trail dust from his skin and clothes was
strong. He could get a hot bath, accompanied by a soft feminine
body for a price, and rid himself of thoughts of Sarah.

Thinking of her had him looking out over the
swinging doors to the street. He hadn’t been able to think of much
else since she sashayed away from him, taking his money with her.
He’d given her enough to buy what she needed but from the moment he
saw her, he knew she was a woman used to the finest things in life.
Dresses made from the softest fabrics caressed her body and he
doubted she had enough left over from her telegraph, hotel room and
stagecoach ticket purchases to afford much more than simple gingham
in an unflattering design. Not that he cared but if he were honest
with himself, he’d know her current predicament was his entire
fault. He’d brought the gang to town, placing her in Virgil’s path.
Taking her when he’d tried to outrun them was for her own good but
now she was far from home with no one to protect her but him. And
what had he done? Let her walk away without a word.

He swallowed the remaining whiskey in his
glass and started for the door only to be stopped by a pair of soft
hands on his hips. He turned, his gaze landing on a tiny blonde
with enough face paint on to cover half the women in the
building.

She smiled up at him and fluttered her
lashes. “You’re not leaving now, are you?”

Colt opened his mouth to reply but was joined
by another woman, a brunette, her arms wrapping around his waist
before he could say a word.

She grinned at the blonde before looking up
at him. “You just got here, handsome. Come buy us a drink and we’ll
see if we can’t get that frown on your face to disappear for
good.”

* * * *

Sarah was clean, tucked into a real bed, at
last, and almost asleep when she heard a noise outside her door.
Someone banged on it moments later and her heart nearly jumped out
of her chest. She sat up, pulled the sheets to her chin and
listened. There wasn’t a sound for long minutes but a soft
scratching noise drew her attention moments later.

Rising, she wrapped the sheet around her and
tiptoed to the door, laying her ear against the wood. The banging
started again, nearly deafening her, before her name joined the
noise.

“Sarah!”

She rolled her eyes. She’d know that voice
anywhere. Reaching for the latch, she unhooked it and pulled the
door open. Colt toppled into the room, landing on her feet,
stinking of whiskey and cheap perfume. “What on earth do you think
you’re doing?”

“Falling at your feets, sweetheart.” He
grinned and peered up at her. “Did you miss me?”

“Why would I?”

His mischievous grin was followed by his hand
rising and grabbing the hem of her chemise, pulling it away from
her legs enough to look under it. She reached down and slapped him.
“Stop that.” She took a step away from him and watched him blink
sleepily at her before she sighed. “Are you drunk?”

He made a sound deep in his throat before
shaking his head. “Maybe.”

“Maybe?” She laughed. “I think you are, Mr….,
what is your last name?”

“Avery.” He grinned up at her, tilting his
head back. She suspected to try and see up her shift again. “Colton
Avery but don’t be spreadin’ it ‘round. I’m an outlaw, you
know.”

Sarah laid a hand to her hip when he brought
a finger to his lips and made the “shhshing” noise at her. She knew
full well he was an outlaw, which was precisely why he needed to
go. “Get off the floor, Colt.” She pulled the sheet tighter around
her and pursed her lips. “And then crawl back out into the hall.
This is my room and I intend to occupy it alone.”

He shook his head before rolling over onto
his back. He crossed his hands across his stomach and blinked
lazily at the ceiling. “Can’t do. Done told the man’s my room so I
gotta stay.”

“What man? And you’re not staying in my
room.” He rolled again, lifting himself to his knees before
crawling fully into the room. “Colt, you’re not staying here.”

He ignored her, collapsing at the foot of her
bed. A noise in the hall drew Sarah’s attention and a man peering
inside the door was enough for her outrage to intensify. She
slammed the door in his face.

Colt was facedown on the floor, his hands
tucked under his cheek. The desire to leave him there, lying in
lord only knows what was on the floor was strong but she needed him
gone. People would talk if they found him in her room.

Walking to the small table by the window, she
threw off the sheet she’d wrapped around herself and picked up the
water pitcher before turning and dumping what little bath water she
had left on his head. His howl of outrage was loud enough to wake
half the town.

He sat up, scowled, and blinked bloodshot
eyes at her. His gaze traveled the length of her before resting on
her breasts, his eyes focusing before he threw her a lopsided grin.
“I can see through your shift.”

Sarah gasped and tossed the pitcher to the
bed and snatched her sheet off the floor, covering herself. “Colt,
I need you to go. Now.”

Colt raised his hand, swiping his wet hair
out of his eyes and something in the way he was looking at her
caused Sarah’s pulse to leap. She’d seen that look before. It was
the day he’d kissed her. The day he’d more or less said he wanted
to bed her. The memory of his words caused her stomach to clench as
she realized they were alone, in a room with a bed and she was
standing in nothing but her thin muslin shift and a sheet.

Seeing him sway, she took in his clothes, the
wrinkles deeply imbedded into the material. The top three buttons
of his shirt was undone, the light dusting of dark hair on his
chest visible. A shady smudge of some sort was on his neck. Sarah
tilted her head a bit to see it more clearly. It looked like a
bruise of some kind. She noticed another lower down at the base of
his throat.

Staring at the bruises, realization dawned on
her. She’d seen marks like that before. Her father had nearly
whipped one of the house servants for being loose and coming into
the house with “love bites” as he’d called them, on her neck. The
shape of Colt’s marks, and their location, led her to believe
someone had put them there.

Remembering he’d been in the saloon all
evening, it wasn’t hard to guess how the marks had gotten there.
The painted ladies above the saloon, she’d imagine.

A vision of someone kissing his neck flashed
through her head and the ridiculous irritation she felt then left
her hands trembling. Her heart started racing and she clenched her
fists to keep from knocking him silly. He’d been with one of
those—women and had come crawling back to her. How dare he!

Lifting her chin, she clutched the sheet
tighter to her chest. “What’s wrong, Colt? Did the ladies at the
saloon not satisfy you?”

He laughed and shook his head. “Nope. They
talk too much.” He slid his gaze over her again, lingering on her
bare feet and ankles before rising to her face. “They also smell,
wear too much paint on their face and aren’t half as beautiful as
you.” He stared at her, gave her another goofy grin and called her,
“his sweetheart.”

On any other day the compliment on her beauty
would have flattered her until her face heated and she blushed like
a schoolgirl. Today, the words were followed by a tiny voice inside
her head telling her he was drunk. His bloodshot eyes were
testament to that. He could barely look at her and keep his eyes
open.

She gritted her teeth and crossed the space
between them and grabbed his arm. “Let’s go, Colt. You’re not
sleeping in my room.”