Outlaw for Christmas (9781101573020) (10 page)

“Alone?”

“Do you see anyone else?”

His eyes narrowed. “Don't spar words with me, Ruth. When Tim told me you'd gone out alone, my heart nearly stopped.”

He was worried about her. How sweet. “I ride alone all the time. Nothing bad has ever happened.”

“And it won't. Because you're not doing it anymore.”

Ruth's lips tightened. Maybe not so sweet. “Neither Tim nor my father has ever said a word about it.”

Noah growled several words beneath his breath, which sounded suspiciously like curse words applied to her father's name. “They don't know what's out here like I do.”

“What's out here?” She threw out her arm to indicate the rolling expanse of white. “Snow atop dirt atop hibernating snakes.”

“Blizzards. Frostbite. Indians and worse.”

“I've never seen an Indian. Father said they're all confined in the territory or gone north for good.”

“Just because the Kansa and Osage tribes have gone doesn't mean there aren't a few renegades about. This is their land, and they'll never forget it. I've seen some of the women they've taken away. They can never go back to the way things were before.”

“I've heard that some men refuse to take their womenfolk back after they've been kidnapped.” She'd always thought those men were lower than bottom-feeding fish. “Are you one of them?”

“No!” He appeared suitably horrified at her accusation. “Nothing would ever make me deny you. I've seen captives, and they don't
want
to come back.”

“Why not?”

“Once they've accepted a new life, the old life is over. They're as out of place in the white world as they were once in the Indian one.”

Ruth wondered for a moment how he'd seen so much from a farm in western Kansas. But his next words made all questions fly from her mind.

“I don't want to lose you, Ruth.”

Her heart went warm and liquid. “You won't.”

“That's right. I won't. Because there'll be no more riding your horse alone.”

Her heart cooled and hardened. She was thoroughly sick of being told what to do. Even from Noah, orders did not sit well with Ruth anymore.

“Annabelle needs exercise, and so do I. I can't stay cooped up in the house all winter, Noah. I've seen things, too. I've seen women come to Kansas and go back east crazier than bee-stung steers. Days upon days spent alone, trapped inside, listening to that blasted wind blow regardless of the time of year. I have to get outside and move no matter what you say.”

“Then you go nowhere without me.”

“You'll be working every day. Do you plan to take me on my constitutional every evening as you would a dog?” Noah's horse snorted and tossed his head. “Not you,” she snapped, unreasonably annoyed and uncertain why. She never got angry or at least never let it show. There was too much to lose if someone took offense.

Noah blinked and, if it were possible, went redder beneath the windburn. “How did you know his name?”

“So Dog
is
his name?” Ruth couldn't keep the amusement from her voice.

Dog whinnied, and Annabelle turned her back on him, which put Ruth's back to Noah. Exasperated, Ruth guided her mare around again. “How did he get a name like . . .” Ruth hesitated as Dog's ears pricked in her direction. “That one?”

Noah shrugged. He appeared reluctant to share, and that just wouldn't do.

“I thought this courting period was meant for us to get to know each other. The least you can do is tell me why your horse is named . . . you know.”

Noah stared at Dog's ears. “I always wanted one.”

“One what?”

“A pet. But I've never had my own place.”

Ruth laughed. “So you named your horse Dog.” The animal threw his head back and neighed. “How clever.”

Noah appeared surprised. “You don't think it's silly.”

“Why would I?”

The horse in question snorted, pawed, and danced closer to Annabelle, who bared her teeth and snapped at him.

“Annabelle!” Ruth was shocked. “She's never been anything but gentle. I can't imagine why she dislikes him so much.”

Noah's lips curved. “She doesn't dislike him. Far from it. They're courting, too.”

“They have an odd way of showing affection.”

“They're horses. I'm sure they think our ways are odd as well.”

Their gazes caught and held. Ruth remembered certain shows of affection that had taken place between them. Funny, she was no longer chilled, even though the wind had picked up and mist now dewed her cheeks.

“Stop that.” Noah glanced away.

“What?”

“When you look at me, I forget all my good intentions.”

“Maybe they aren't so good. I
want
you to touch me, Noah. It's you who's making everything so hard.”

He choked, coughed, and started to laugh. “Ruth, you'll be the death of me yet.”

She didn't know what she'd said that was funny, but she was glad to hear him laugh. Though the sound was harsh, as if rarely used, it held true amusement and gave her hope that the sadness would soon be gone from his eyes as well as his voice.

She'd do anything to make him happy.

The chill wind, Noah's laughter, the surplus of emotion bubbling within, made Ruth reckless. She wanted to gallop across the prairie, free and alive.

Ruth twirled Annabelle about. “I'll race you!” she shouted, and released the tight rein on her horse.

***

Noah just stared, openmouthed, as Annabelle leaped forward and kicked snow in Dog's face. He'd figured on a nice leisurely walk back to the house while he and Ruth talked of everyday things, as courting couples did.

Of course, Noah knew nothing about courting couples. Still, he did not think racing horses across snow-packed ground at breakneck speed was an approved activity.

Dog jittered and sidestepped, panting with the need to follow his lady love. Noah took pity on the horse and let him go.

The wind from the west and the pace of her horse pulled Ruth's hood from her head, then the pins from her hair. Entranced, Noah watched as fire billowed across the prairie.

She reminded him of a painting he'd seen once in a saloon. Of course, that woman had been naked, her black hair shrouding her body as she rode a pale horse. But the image had stayed with Noah ever since. That picture had haunted him.

The bartender, when asked, had called the woman a goddess—immortal, beyond beauty, freer than free. Noah, not understanding, had snorted and ordered another drink. The bartender had given him a pitying stare and poured a double.

Watching Ruth with her hair unbound and the wind in her face, Noah suddenly understood. There were beings so wild and free and beautiful that mere men should not dare to touch them. But he dared; he burned; he throbbed.

His body had been in a state of constant arousal since death had left his door.
Hell, be honest.
He'd wanted her even when he was half-dead.

How on earth did gentlemen manage their urges? Did they feel less or just hide it more? Perhaps that was why they all wore coats and trousers rather than shirts tucked into blue jeans. Coats hid the front of a man quite well. He needed to buy some.

The house loomed larger and larger the closer they came—the yard deserted, the windows downstairs lit with a welcoming glow. Night had descended already. The mist had turned to snow, and the clouds hung low and heavy.

Dog had not caught Annabelle. Up to now he'd always outrun every other horse he'd raced. Lucky for Noah. Instead of giving in, Dog only tried harder. But it was too late even for an animal with a heart the size of his.

Speeding into the open area between the barn and the house, Annabelle's hooves threw up snow as she slowed, then stopped. Ruth looked over her shoulder, laughing, eyes alight with victory.

Dog, who had put on a final burst of speed for show, tried to stop and skidded on snow covered with dew. Ice flew and nicked Annabelle on her ample behind. She bucked. Ruth, still turned awkwardly in her saddle, flew.

Before she had even landed in a pile of white, Noah jumped from his horse and ran. His heart thundered in his ears, in his chest, in his throat.

“Ruth?” He thought he'd shouted, but nothing came out of his mouth except a hoarse sob that barely resembled her name.

He'd seen horrible injuries, terrible deaths, but nothing had ever scared him so much as the sight of Ruth, too still in the snow.

He knelt by her side. In seconds his knees went numb from the damp. The icy winter air chilled his hands when he tugged off his gloves. Her skin was still warm when he touched her.

“Princess? Princess!”

And the snow felt like needles when Ruth scrubbed his face with a handful.

“
Don't
call me princess.”

Gasping and spitting, Noah couldn't see, so she escaped. But he hadn't lived this long without using his wits. He came to his feet with two handfuls of snow. His eyes cleared, and he fired one at her.

She ducked, but when she raised her head, he hit her directly in her open mouth with the second missile. Shocked, her eyes widened, and she spit snow.

“Ruth? Are you—?”

The gleam in her eye warned him she was fine and dandy seconds before she starting throwing snow at him without even bothering to pack it into balls. She was like a machine as she came closer and closer until he had no choice but to pick her up and toss her into a snowbank.

She held on to his neck, pulling him down with her. They rolled over and over, struggling for dominance. When they came to a stop, Ruth's small, warm body was cradled beneath Noah's. He shook the ice out of his hair, and as the crystals rained all around them, he gazed into her laughing face, surprised to discover he was laughing, too.

“What was that?” he asked.

“A snowball fight. Did you like it?”

“I think so.”

Ruth tilted her head, and the snow scrunched beneath her hair. “You say that as if you've never had a snowball fight before.”

“I haven't.”

She studied him. “Ever build a snowman?”

“No.”

“Eat snow candy?”

“Uh-uh.”

“Make snow angels?”

“I don't even know what that means.”

Her smile faded. She reached up with both hands and drew his face down to hers. He should resist, had sworn he would, but with her body beneath him, warm and soft, Noah lost all sight of his fresh new principles.

She kissed him, gentle and sweet, a kiss that was all Ruth, with none of Noah thrown in, and he lost himself in the magic of her purity. He who had taught her desire now craved innocence. But once such a door was opened, could it ever be slammed shut?

Noah broke the kiss and lifted his head. Ice sprinkled through her hair like sugar atop strawberries. Two bright spots of color flared in her cheeks; her skin was as pale as the snow. When she opened her eyes, they shone like the first spring grass sprouting after a long winter's night.

“I'll teach you, Noah. We'll do every one of those things and more. Together.”

Noah blinked, uncertain at first what she was talking about. He hadn't voiced his question about lust and innocence out loud, had he?

Then he understood she was referring to snow angels, snowmen, and snow candy, and he laughed, then kissed her chin, which was like ice against his lips. So he had to kiss it some more until she giggled and squirmed and her skin warmed beneath his mouth as his body hardened beneath his clothes. Ruth might be innocent and sweet, but no matter how he tried, he could never be either one.

Noah rolled free of temptation and onto his feet in a single motion, pulling Ruth up with him. She blinked, dazed. “What—?”

“Snowmen before dinner. Candy beneath the stars. Angels in the sun. Promise?”

Her smile was as bright as the moon on the snow. “You know I always keep my promises?”

“Unlike me.”

Her smile disappeared, like that moon gone behind the clouds. “That's not what I meant.”

Why couldn't he keep his mouth shut, let her be happy, let himself be? Because, just like building snowmen, he'd never learned how.

“I can't say I won't break a promise, but I can say I won't make any promises I don't intend to keep. Is that enough?”

“You're here, Noah.” She took his hand in hers. Both were as cold as ice, but together they generated a certain kind of heat. “That's enough. Now let me teach you about snowmen.”

She started to walk away, but he pulled her back. “Can you teach me one more thing?”

“Perhaps.”

He wrapped his arms around her and pressed his forehead to hers. “Teach me to be happy, Ruth. I'm not sure I know how.”

Her face became pensive; then she brushed her lips across his—one gentle whisper. “I'm not sure I do, either, but I bet we can learn together.”

“Together,” he repeated. “I like that word.”

Chapter Nine

“Mr. . . . Mr. . . . Hawker, is it?” Noah started at the shrill voice. “Could I have some attention, please?”

Noah's lips automatically curved into a smile for the robust, elderly woman in front of his window. “Walker. Yes, ma'am. What can I do for you?”

He'd nearly been asleep again. It was a toss-up whether smiling all day exhausted him more than being bored to distraction. He'd decided the first morning at the Kelly Creek Bank that he much preferred taking the money to counting it.

That realization had disturbed him enough that he'd thrown himself wholeheartedly into his new position. He was trying to start a new life, become a new man, so why did the same old urges crop up over and over again?

For instance, every night after dinner Noah sat in the parlor with Ruth. Despite the company of Robert Kelly, Noah had the damnedest time keeping his hands off her body and his mind out of the bedroom. Same old urges in a brand-new man.

“I'd like you to put this egg money into my account, Mr. Gawker.”

“Walker,” Noah corrected.

“Are you getting fresh, Talker?”

“No, ma'am.”

“I didn't think so.” She pushed a bag of coins at him, and Noah began to count. These days, eggs sold for less than a bit a dozen. From the amount of money, the lady must have a near mountain of chickens, or else she rarely brought her egg money into town. Most likely the latter.

After a week at work, Noah figured that everyone in Kelly Creek had come in to stare at, if not do business with, him. The gossip about himself and Ruth had spread fast, probably because it was more news than Kelly Creek had been gifted with in a long, long time.

But as Noah had predicted, a word or two from his boss and any malice had quickly dissolved. Noah had even gone into Harker's Store—there
was
no place else—to buy appropriate clothes for a banker. When he'd bought the coat and trousers he'd hungered for not so long ago, along with a linen shirt and silk bow tie, he'd been treated if not like a long-lost relative, at least like a customer with money.

But with the whispers that followed him, on the street, at lunch, in the bank, Noah almost felt sorry for Harker.

Almost.

Harker was one of the few people who hadn't been in to see him, and that made Noah twitchy. He'd taken to wearing his guns to work. Prepared to snarl and stomp to keep them, he'd been left gaping when Kelly had glanced at his pistols and shrugged.

“Walker!” Kelly called from his office. “Get in here.”

Noah wasn't used to being ordered about, and he didn't much care for it. Oh, Kelly did it to him a lot less than he did it to anyone else, but Noah still bristled every time his employer called his name as if he were a pet.

Trying not to grind his teeth, Noah finished counting the egg money. “Three dollars and seventy-five cents. Thank you, ma'am.”

“You'd best get a move on, Parker, Mr. Kelly isn't an easy man.”

Noah slid his window shut and headed for the office. Perhaps he was getting fired. Whereas such a prospect should displease him, Noah couldn't prevent a certain lightening of his heart.

He wasn't a banker. He preferred to spend money rather than save it. He liked the out-of-doors. He could practically feel himself becoming pale and wan from too little sunlight. He missed Dog. Hell, he missed Tim. He'd rather be the groom. But then he couldn't have the princess.

Noah sighed. Ruth was worth anything. He glanced around the dark office that smelled of old ink and new paper. Even this.

The past week should have been the closest thing to heaven that Noah had ever known. He could touch all the money he wanted, and no one shouted or shot at him. He was getting paid an honest day's wage for an honest day's work. While it might be a dull job, it was his job, and he had never been able to say that before. He
should
feel a certain pride. But he didn't.

The only thing that made the days worth enduring were the nights with Ruth. If her father would only go away and the bank would burn down and his past would stay buried, then everything would be perfect.

“Sir?” Noah stood in the doorway to Kelly's office. “You wanted to see me?”

“Walker. Good. Come in and shut the door.” Noah did. “Sit, son, sit.”

Son?

Noah sat. He wasn't getting fired.
Damn.

“You've done an excellent job this week. Here's your pay.”

Kelly handed Noah an envelope. Noah glanced inside. From past experience he could tell there was more money in there than he'd earned.

Noah looked up. “Mr. Kelly, you gave me an advance for clothes. This is too—”

“Never mind. We'll take the clothes out of next week's pay.”

“How do you know I'll be here next week?”

Kelly laughed. “I sit across the dinner table from you night after night and in the parlor with you after that. You think I'm blind?”

Noah's face heated. He'd done his best to treat Ruth as a gentleman caller would treat his lady. Obviously, he had as little idea of how to do that as he had about everything else in this new world.

“You'll be here next week.” Kelly nodded. “Where else do you have to be?”

Since the end of a noose, prison, or hell itself were his only choices, Noah merely shrugged.

“Take Ruth out to dinner tonight at the hotel.”

Orders again. Noah couldn't stop himself from asking, “Why?”

Kelly gazed down his nose at Noah. “Because she'd like it?”

“Since when do you care what she likes?”

The older man sighed. “You don't think much of me as a father, and I can't blame you. But I'm trying to make amends as best I can.”

“By giving me a job?”

“You earned that on your own. The bank is too important to this town for me to allow anyone I don't think is appropriate to work here.”

Noah managed to keep himself from choking at the thought of how inappropriate he was. If it ever came out how thoroughly Kelly had been duped, Noah figured his life would be forfeited due to the man's embarrassment alone.

“Take Ruth out,” Kelly encouraged. “In fact, go buy her a present. Women like that.”

Noah knew very well what women liked. Rather, what the women he'd known had liked. He couldn't recall ever taking one of them to a fancy dinner or buying any kind of present. But since Robert Kelly had lived as a gentleman most of his life and married a lady, perhaps Noah should consider his advice.

“Maybe I will,” Noah allowed.

“Excellent. I won't say a word when I get home. Women like surprises, too. Close up your window and get to the store.”

Noah frowned. Why was Kelly so damned pushy? Why was he pushing Noah at Ruth? Not that Noah minded. He certainly didn't want to have to fight for every moment in her presence. But things that came too easily always made him nervous.

However to question Kelly would only reinforce the idea that Noah wasn't good enough for Ruth. Though he wasn't, he certainly didn't want Kelly thinking that.

With a nod in lieu of thanks, Noah took his pay and headed down Main Street.

In twelve years of existence, Kelly Creek had become a thriving city. Many towns came into being as a result of booms based on the cattle trade, the expansion of the railroad, or the influx of soldiers associated with building a new fort, then staffing the same. Those places just as easily reverted to the prairie when the boom was done.

Kelly Creek had been affected by all three booms, but when each faded, many of the folks who had come because of it stayed, and the reason was Robert Kelly. He had money, and he loaned it to anyone who helped his town succeed. Oh, a lot of people went bust. They always did. But Kelly just took back their land, got richer, and loaned money to more people.

He was the founding father, and while people didn't exactly love him, they respected and admired him. Of course, since all the folks who went bust and lost everything to him left town afterward, Kelly's popularity was not adversely affected by his propensity to foreclose on loans without so much as the whisper of a second chance.

As Noah walked down Main Street, he touched his hat to the ladies and nodded to the gentlemen. The more he practiced such niceties, the easier they became. With each day he felt less on edge in this role he played and more comfortable playing it.

On his way to Harker's Store, Noah passed a newspaper, a barber, two saloons, a hotel, a millinery, and a dress shop. Something in the nearest window caught his eye, and Noah backed up.

Each night, he and Ruth sat beneath the forever youthful smile of the baby doll over the mantel. The picture of Susan Kelly didn't seem to bother Ruth, but it gave Noah the chills. Especially the way Robert stared at the portrait when he thought no one was watching.

After the first night in the parlor, Noah had figured out why all of Ruth's clothes belonged on a blonde woman, and it made him angry. But he'd been unable to think of anything he could do about it.

Smiling, Noah walked inside. “I'd like to buy what you have in the window.” His gaze swept the store. “And these, one of those and . . .” He grinned, then pointed. “That, too.”

***

Noah was late, and Ruth was worried. Even her father was home, and he always arrived an hour later than Noah. But when she'd asked where Noah was, her father had only grunted and locked himself in his office.

Ruth didn't like this at all. What if Noah was gone? He'd said he wouldn't leave without saying good-bye. But should she believe him? Would she be waiting another ten years to see him again? How could she go from happiness to despair in the space of a single hour?

If she were being honest, at least with herself, she wasn't completely happy. She was a bit bored. Now that the holidays were over, there was little for her to do all day but read, stitch, and beg Tildy for chores. Not that her life was any different this winter than any other. But with Noah here, she'd hoped for more.

Their evenings together were pleasant enough. However, she couldn't help but remember the excitement of Noah's kisses at the farmhouse, the thrill of dancing barefoot in the barn, the last fiery embrace they shared before everything had changed.

What kind of woman was she to miss being kissed and touched as no lady should allow? She knew what her father would say. She also knew that she didn't care. She missed Noah's mouth on hers and his hands everywhere else. She missed the secrets, the danger, the naughty little thrills.

And sometimes when she glanced at him in the shadows of the fire, right before she said good night and he gave her the chaste, dry peck he allowed himself these days, she thought he missed those times, too.

Ruth paced the parlor, looked out the window again and again, then paced some more. Did he miss the life he'd lived before enough to leave her now?

A horse whinnied. Ruth ran to the front door and threw it open just as Noah came up the steps, his arms full of boxes.

He grinned, and her fears dissolved. Noah couldn't smile like that and hate it here too much.

“What have you got?” she asked.

“Presents.”

“For everyone?”

He moved past her, and the fresh, cool scent of the out-of-doors, of the night, of him, brushed her face. In the parlor he set the stack of boxes on the couch and straightened. “No, just for you.”

“Me?” Ruth couldn't keep the excitement from her voice. Before the age of ten she'd never gotten a single present. Since then she'd received plenty, but never so many at once.

The poor orphan child within her jumped up and started to clap. The demure lady she was supposed to be felt compelled to point out the truth. “Christmas is over.”

“For you, Princess, it's only just begun.” He picked up the top box and held it out to her. “Open your gifts; then I'm taking you to dinner in town.”

“What's the occasion?”

“I got paid.” He shook the box. The objects inside shifted from one side to the other with an enticing slither and slide.

Ruth bit her lip and forced her treacherously itchy fingers not to snatch the box. “Oh, Noah, don't spend your money on me. I don't need anything.”

“Yes, you do. You need what's in these boxes almost as much as I need to give them to you.”

Ruth studied his face. He appeared younger tonight, almost the boy she'd known. No, that wasn't true. The boy she'd ridden to Kansas with had never appeared this young. He had never smiled with such joy, never had hope gleaming in his eyes. Maybe he didn't miss other places, other people, other times. Maybe what they had together now was enough.

He shook the box again. “Open it, Ruth. I've never bought a gift before. Never had anyone to give anything to.”

“No one?”

“Ever. Until you.”

Ruth understood his excitement. The first time she'd given a gift had been as much of a joy as the first time she'd received one. Half the fun of a gift was in the giving. And when you gave to someone you cared about something you had chosen just for them, the delight of the gift began in you.

Noah moved closer, still holding out the box. Ruth took it, but he didn't let go. Their eyes met over the present.

“You'll be my first,” he murmured.

The allusion in those words made her blush. She could never be his first in the way she wanted him to be hers.

Noah released the box. Ruth sat in front of the fire and pulled at the ribbon. Excitement made her fingers shake. What had he bought her that meant so much to him?

Ruth lifted the cover and nearly swallowed her tongue. Inside lay a tumble of black silk and lace—a chemise, drawers, and stockings. Garments she shouldn't even talk about with a man, let alone accept as a gift from one.

Considering the magnitude of the indecencies she contemplated learning from Noah whenever her mind wasn't occupied with other things, she shouldn't be shocked. But she was.