Christmas for Ransom (8 page)

“Eliza, never thought I’d say these words. But I want to marry up with you.”

His heart pounded. Never expected a nay, but she took a long time to accept.

“All right then. Yes.” Eliza mumbled against his chest. At first she seemed kind of stiff, but right off, she curled against him like two spoons colliding in a silverware chest. Even spent as he was, his fingertips found her nipples and had him almost begging for more. But her soft snore told him she was satisfied. He chuckled in fulfillment against her hair.

While she lay cuddled against him, the poem he’d been imagining started to take root in his mind. That granny poem had so delighted Eliza. Heck, he knew in his heart he could do better. He would arrange words just as good for her Christmas present. Reciting a poem to her on Christmas morning might be just the start of a million poems he’d give her in their long life together.

Eliza, you are to me…strong as a willow tree
.

By the time his brain and body woke up at the same pace, daybreak wasn’t long off. He’d been a man of the wild outdoors long enough to sense dawn even in the dark. God, he had to find Gitts. Ahab even. Let them get on to safety. Let him return to respectability and take on a bride.

Wound so tight against him, her body almost screamed at him not to leave. Eliza might be his future, but Ahab and the boys were his past. Both needed his full attention. With a solemn kiss of promise on her forehead, he scrambled into his clothes and near melted, seeing her curled up warm and safe. Parting from her even for a day or two broke his heart. But all would soon be well. He’d warn the gang and get on with his own life.

He kissed her one last time, grateful when she stirred against him, saddled up Nitro so quietly the other horses didn’t stir. From her saddlebags, he took the grub she’d got from Miz Letha May, and set off in the falling snow. A good thing, that. He’d leave no trail behind.

She’d said something about her granny’s reward money, and for a flash, Ransom was tempted. Having some significant cash in hand could let him start out a new life, a new life worthy of a wife. Might let him somehow restitute the crimes he’d spent half his life doing.

The icy morning air bit into his skin, and he longed for her warmth almost with desperation. But Ransom wasn’t a turncoat. Not even for money, not even for Eliza. He’d get his warning done, and come back for her.

Chapter Seven

All night long, Eliza had pretended sleep, choking back tears and soaking up Ransom’s warmth. Her life had been perfect for that little space of time, and now what?

At Thanksgiving, Jack Ransom had mauled her, thieved granny’s horses. Lied to her every step of the way since she’d invited him to Stony Brook for Christmas. Knew the whole time she was Eliza Willows. Hid his true voice as easy as he disguised stolen animals.

Oh, all the pretence, all his silly comments about what he reckoned outlaws might do. He knew full well what they’d do. Because he’d done it himself.

But all during the night, her heart softened with unbidden love, and her body screamed with desire as he snored softly next to her. He had proposed. Even knowing who she was, he’d asked for her hand. He must have known she’d find him out someday. Maybe he planned to confess, right his wrongs, mend his evil ways.

Then why leave her now? She no longer believed for a second he was after some two-timing husband.

It smacked her in the gut. He was rejoining the gang. Whatever reason he’d had for leaving them the last few days had come and passed. He certainly hadn’t left Ahab Perkins to come find a wife.

Her heart cracked. The proposal must have been a sham after all. Likely to soften her up when she found out who he really was. That was it. Of course. What well-satisfied woman could bear to see her lover’s neck stretched?

In the dawn, the ugly image of him swinging from a noose burst in her head as she scrambled awake, unsurprised to find the hayloft empty. Desolation swamped her. He might have treated her right and kept her warm last night, but he also might have filled her head with false promises. But if he hadn’t…

What if he truly meant his love, his proposal?

She chewed her lip as she held down shivers and climbed into her clothes. Oh, it could be sweet satisfaction upon Granny’s sensibilities to return to the Stony Brook with an outlaw as her mate. But buttoning her vest, Eliza realized she wasn’t that granddaughter anymore. Granny was an old woman, and they needed to be friends.

And the best way into Granny’s good graces once again would be getting Ransom arrested and convicted. Her heart smashed beyond fixing this time.

Spirits heavy, Eliza climbed down the loft ladder and saddled up Firewalker. The paint nuzzled Oneida as he passed the mare, and Eliza’s heart panged. Of course Nitro’s stall was empty, and the barn door unlocked. She shoved away the delicious memories of last night.

She laughed bitterly. Last night had been her idea. Ransom would merely think her an abandoned female bent on revenge. Outside, she waved to a ranch hand she knew, ignored his curious expression, and headed to the house to bid farewell to Crusty and Ida. A couple of inches of snow hugged the ground, but flakes had stopped falling.

“Where’s your man?” The codger winked at her, his breath white on the air.

“He’s not my man,” she said with a lie she hoped Crusty was too deaf to hear. “Just business. But I’ll be on my way.” Her heart was too heavy to tell the old man her plans to turn Ransom in. Christmas was the time for miracles, and maybe, just maybe, she’d come across one.

“You ought to get some breakfast in you,” Crusty said, forehead furrowed. “And you ain’t seen Mother yet.”

She ought to eat and greet, but she didn’t want to take the time. Besides, Letha May had sent food. “Hallo her for me, won’t you? I’ll stop by before the New Year, I promise.”

Crusty frowned. “You taking Oneida with you? Don’t much like you alone on the trail with thieves about.”

“No. No. You keep hold of her until we sort things out. And I’ll be fine.” With her shoulder, she gestured back to Firewalker with a nudge. “I’ve got a Winchester in my gear. And…” she patted her thigh. “A Colt strapped to one leg underneath my skirt, and a knife on the other.” She hugged him and rushed away. Her gun-toting habits were another behavior that insulted Granny, but Pleasure Stakes and its confines were not always diplomatic.

Outside the gates of the Southern Star, she tried to read Ransom’s tracks. Indeed, he seemed headed east for Cahoots, but after following him to Wolftail Creek, she realized he’d doubled back. At his attempt to outwit her, her heart sank to the bottom of her boots. Her intuition had been right. He hadn’t been headed to find the scar-faced man in Cahoots at all, but the opposite direction toward the Canadian River and the ravines and gullies of Backbone Hollow with a million places to hide.

Now came the most important decision of her life. Should she head for Cahoots and the sheriff? Or get to Backbone and give Ransom a chance to reveal himself? True, he was a hooligan and a bandit, but he did possess the strength of character to admit his ignorance and declare he wanted to learn to read. It took something of a man’s man who could admit something like that. Her heart softened.

And he had asked to wed up with her.

For much of the morning, snow lay over the saltbush and nutgrass like any downy counterpane. It wasn’t as bad a winter as others she’d known. By noon, the snow had turned the consistency of grits, reminding her she was starving. When she paused by an ocotillo tree, leafless with clumps of snow, its prettiness reminded her of the Christmas tree Ransom hadn’t seen for years and years, even though the shrub shaped opposite of a pine, in a V. Her heart tugged, thinking of a small boy who’d lost everything way back when.

Firewalker licked up some snow until Eliza could find a spring, and she reached inside her gear for a chunk of Miz Letha May’s ham. It was gone, her good feelings fled, and she cussed Ransom out loud as she kicked at a drift.

“Sorry, ’Walker,” she hugged the gelding’s neck. “That was most unladylike of me. But he’s left me to starve. I feel like skinning that scoundrel alive. Which I ought to do to some poor jack rabbit and fry him up.” She grimaced, for such was an activity she most disliked performing.

But like shooting, she knew how, thanks to Stony Brook ranch hands, and did so, crying the whole time. The little critter was tasty but reminded her too much of Eastertimes long ago with Granny helping her color eggs with brown onion skins. But hunger was a powerful thing.

For a silly flash, she longed to be a child again, except that would make last night impossible, and at least she had the memory of Ransom’s unselfish loving to hold close to her heart forever and ever.

Amen.

Respectfully, she buried the little bones, then washed her hands by rubbing snow between them. Gloves on, she warmed herself by her fire just a little longer before heading to Backbone. It might be just a whim, the tracks were long melted, but he had definitely not been headed for civilization.

A weak sun pulled out from the clouds, making the ocotillo into a skeleton of shade as she approached Firewalker to mount up. She heard, then saw, a rider approach across the snow-patched grasses. Alert, she rested her hand on her rifle, but the newcomer dismounted, stalking over with confidence if not exactly friendliness.

“Howdy, honeysuckle. No need for that gun.” He stuck a small spyglass in his pocket and then touched his brim. “Been following you for a while. Didn’t recognize ya’ll in time to join you for grub.” He kicked at the fire. “You’re prettier’n ever, sugar. What brings you way out here? A site far from the Stony, I’d declare.”

She wasn’t sure how to react, or what to do or say, for this was the last man she’d ever hoped to see again.

“Howdy yourself, Royal Gitts,” she said at last.

“Why, I’ll take that as a welcome.” He grinned the grin that one time had sent her toes tingling. Even with a new raw-looking scar, he was a fine-looking man.

“What you doing all alone out here?” he asked.

Royal’s tone set her nerves rustling like dry mesquite in the wind. Unlike her erstwhile lunch, the soft wild-eyed rabbit, she wouldn’t let her fear show.

“On my way back to the ranch for Christmas,” she said. “I teach school now, uh…” She scrambled for a location, being off-kilter from Pleasure Stakes and forced a cough while she considered. “Not far off. Cold Spring.”

Royal nodded at her stammered explanation, seemed to accept it. “Heard tell you were a ’marm now.”

“I’ll get to Cahoots by nightfall,” she said.

“Ain’t stopping in at the Southern Star?”

Eliza realized her mistake at once. Of course Royal had known the Willowses and Bowdens were great friends. “Uh, no. They’ve had illness of late, and I don’t want to disrupt their healing.”

Royal tossed her a smile, and she read relief in his expression. Bypassing the Star meant she wouldn’t recognize Oneida, the stolen horse he’d sold Crusty.

Then he leered, eyeing her up and down in a way she didn’t recognize and didn’t like at all. Before, he’d been tender even if he hadn’t satisfied her. Not now. Her clothes were muddy and snow-damp, but she recalled he knew full well what she looked like without any at all. He stepped closer and she moved back, hard against ’Walker’s flank.

“Why, all this chit-chat reminds me of what we had between us, sugarplum. Sure puts me in the mood,” Royal drawled. “I’m about to kiss you. Reckon you’ll like it like you did once before.” He laughed out loud. “Make that twice.”

Fear assailed her, for she was fearfully alone. Best to act like the snooty Eliza Willows he remembered. “You get near me without my invitation, Royal Gitts, and I’ll bite off your tongue.”

With a deadly grin, he hauled her close. “That suits me right fine, sugar. I’ll sure enjoy having you try.”

He held her chin firm while he bent his face to hers.

****

“I’m giving you good advice, Ahab.”

Squatting by a puny fire in a busted-up fireplace, Ransom blew on his frozen fingers, reckoning them kin to the icicles that hung down Gram-maw’s roofline way back when. In his rush this morning, he’d mislaid his gloves in the Southern Star barn. Recollecting last night with Eliza spooned against him got him hard just at the thought and warmed him right up. Truth to tell, if he’d waked Eliza to bid good-bye, he’d never have left at all. He decided to hold off announcing his betrothal to the gang.

Ahab Perkins had made a cozy-enough nest in a burnt-out homestead at Backbone. He lolled against his saddle, two or three others grumbling over cards in what looked to have been a pantry. His little sister, Jessy Belle, sat at his side, wrapped in blankets like a cocoon. For a flash, Ransom wondered at the woman she might have grown into had her brother not led her into a life of transgression.

Ahab pointed outside in a random way. “Pocus, Rattler, and Banjo are sleeping it off in that lean-to.” He guffawed. Ransom had seen the shreds of a one-time shed that provided no shelter whatsoever. “Horses get what’s left of the barn.”

Ransom nodded. One thing about Ahab, he respected horseflesh and usually gave it better treatment than his men.

The decision to turn in Ahab for reward warred in Ransom’s head again, like it had done with each of Nitro’s hoof beats on the trail from the Southern Star. Clip-clop. Re-ward. Clip-clop. Re-ward.

“You best get a move on, Ahab.” He made up his mind fast. Loyalty was a powerful thing. Before Eliza, Ahab and the boys had been all Ransom had.

“I’m comfortable right here, Canyon.” Ahab puffed on a long nine cigar. “Christmastime. Fine hiding, too.”

That it was. Backbone with its shrub-lined arroyos and deep ravines. Even in winter, thick hackberry and cottonwood trees lining the Canadian River provided good cover. Nothing and nobody around, and no need for civilized folk to pass through a forsaken hide town. For those reasons, Ransom knew well, it was likely one of the first areas the local law would look after Crusty alerted them.

Ransom ground his teeth. “I’m telling you, Ahab. I’m warning you. You’re gonna have the law on your ass within a day. You need to hightail it out of here. Now, and fast.”