Outlaw for Christmas (9781101573020) (18 page)

“You can't change?”

“Some of us try,” Noah murmured, still staring out the window. “But who we are is more than our names or a job or a chance. Our past doesn't die as easily as we do.”

“I don't understand—”

“No, you don't understand, Sheriff.” Jonah made the form of address sound like an insult. To him it no doubt was. “I'm sure you had two parents, a home, food in your belly, schooling.”

Leon nodded, wondering why he suddenly felt guilty about that.

“So you can't understand what it might be like to have no one and nothing all of your life. Days without food. Weeks without a bed. Cold so bad you'd like to die of it. You have no idea.”

“So stealing and killing is the only way?”

“Most of us can't even read. Billy Jo learned back in New York before he ran off from the glorified prison they called an orphanage. He taught me and a few others. But you think we can just walk up to a town and say, Hey, let me work at your store, your bank, your hotel. I ain't got no learnin', but I'll do a good job, yes, surely I will.”

“You could try.”

“We did. We came out here full of hope for a family or at least a second chance. We were willing to work, and we got the shit beaten out of us for daring to dream.”

“Lane isn't the rule, more of an exception.”

“How would you know? Men like Lane are a lot more common than men like Billy Jo.”

Leon glanced at Noah. In his eyes, Billy Jo Kansas had been the worst of the worst. He agreed that men like the Lanes were scavengers, picking on those smaller and weaker than they. But they weren't really breaking the law. For the first time, Leon considered that the law might need some adjustment.

“To survive we had to adapt,” Jonah continued. “We became strong, tough, mean, willing to do whatever we had to do. Who we are is inside of us.” He thumped his fist against his chest. “Folks sense we aren't exactly the best man for the job. We don't fit in—except with each other.”

“And no matter how hard we try”—Noah turned away from the window—“we never will.”

That little niggle of guilt began again in Leon's belly. Jonah was right. He had no idea what it was like to live the life they'd lived.

Leon would like to think he'd have done anything to keep from turning outlaw. But he'd never been hungry a day in his life. He'd always had a family, always known someone was there to help him if he needed them, always felt loved.

The only bad thing that had ever happened to him had been the burning of the Harker home by bushwhackers. Even then, his father's family had taken them in that night, then given them money to start over in Kelly Creek.

Leon could remember watching as the house burned and being downright furious, wanting to hurt the people who had hurt him, wanting to do something terrible. How would he have reacted if his entire life was one rotten bit of luck after another? If he'd had no one and nothing but himself? How long until he'd done what he'd only dreamed of on that long-ago night that followed the war?

He shook his head to make the past go away. What was the matter with him?
He
was a lawman.
They
were the outlaws. He had no right to feel sorry for them, no business sympathizing with anything about them. Because of Noah, Ruth was in danger, and Leon didn't care how awful Noah's childhood had been. There was nothing that could excuse any harm that might come to her.

“The day isn't getting any younger,” he said. “Let's move.”

Noah nodded and preceded Leon outside, where they mounted up.

Jonah struggled down the steps. His gaze flicked from Noah to Leon once more. “You're sure you don't want me to—”

“If I'd wanted him dead, I'd have let Hoxie kill him.”

“Hoxie could have killed him?” Jonah scowled. “What the hell's the matter with you? Hoxie must be mighty mad.”

“He's mighty dead,” Leon muttered.

“You killed Hoxie to save
him?
” Jonah turned his glare from Noah to Leon. “He saved your life, and you're going to do what? Hang him?”

“Not me personally.” Jonah's gaze remained unforgiving. Leon glanced at Noah. “Why
didn't
you let him kill me?”

Noah shrugged. “What good would that have done? I want Ruth to have a life. With me she wouldn't. With you she can. If I'd let you be killed, she'd have no one but her worthless excuse for a father.”

Leon remained silent. Could he have been as selfless when it came to loving Ruth? He wasn't sure, and he didn't like what that said about him as a human being.

“Now,” Noah continued, “as the sheriff said, we have places to be.”

“We could bury him where no one will ever find him.” Jonah was back to petting his rifle. The man just wouldn't give up.

“I'm sure we could.” Noah smirked. “But not today.”

“You act like I'm just going to let you kill me,” Leon pointed out. “I've got a gun, too, you know?”

Jonah snorted. “If he wants you dead, Sheriff, you're dead. No doubt about it.”

Leon scowled, set to argue some more. But Noah put a stop to any more arguments. “No, Jonah. Leave—him—be.”

“Billy Jo, you're not makin' any sense.”

“I can't do it anymore,” he shouted. The anguish in his voice caused a chill to race down Leon's spine. “I'm tired, Jonah. It's over.”

Jonah stared at Noah for a long moment, as if to ascertain if he was truly serious. Finally, he sighed, nodded, and lifted a hand. “Good-bye, Billy Jo. You were the best damned friend I ever had, and I'll never forget you.”

“Same goes, Jonah. Kiss Carol and the children good-bye.” Noah kicked his horse into motion, heading east.

As Leon followed, he could feel Jonah's gaze boring into him, almost smell the man's struggle to keep from shooting a sheriff in the back.

He came abreast of Noah. “Nice friends you have, Walker.”

“Better than you'll ever know.”

Leon didn't answer because Noah was right.

He didn't have any male friends, not that Walker was a friend, mind you, but Leon found himself forgetting at times that the man was the enemy.

And thinking like that was more dangerous than Billy Jo Kansas himself.

Chapter Fourteen

Night approached along the Missouri border. The posse awaited them right where Leon had said they would be. On the horizon, the outline of the once-teeming trading post was gray with shadows.

Noah didn't bother with a greeting. From the sneers on the men's faces, they knew who he was. Instead, he led them directly into the brush.

According to Charlie Lane, he'd confiscated the hideout from rebel sympathizers at the end of the war. Noah had known, even at sixteen, that confiscated meant stolen, and the Rebs were most likely buried in the front yard. He'd also known a perfect hideout when he saw one.

Throughout Missouri there were countless caves and caverns, which often led to sinkholes that could swallow a horse, if not a wagon. But the hideout was unique. A small opening in the red-orange rock formations provided access to one of those caves. A man more brilliant than Lane had ever hoped to be had built a cabin in front of that opening.

To even find the cabin, those searching would first have to know the path through trees, scrub, rock, and brush denser than most. Folks from Kansas, used to flat plains and very few trees, had little idea how to make their way through something like that.

For a man who'd gone this way a thousand times before, and often at high speed, the path to the hideout appeared obvious. But to anyone unfamiliar with the area, it must have looked as if Noah wandered in circles, dragging everyone deeper and deeper into a tangled, thorny forest.

“This better not be a trap,” one of the posse muttered.

“The second I see anything fishy, I'm shootin' Kansas,” replied another.

“How much longer?” Leon asked.

Noah didn't answer as his horse pushed through the dense overgrowth and into a clearing. Quickly, the small space filled with men and horses.

“Well, lookee that,” said the first man. “A little cottage in the woods. Not exactly the kind of place I'd expect to find a murderous, thievin' outlaw gang.”

“Hush, or they'll hear you!”

“No one will hear.”

When Noah spoke, the posse went silent with an audible inhale, as if they hadn't expected an animal to talk. Noah raised an eyebrow at Leon, who shrugged.

Why did it feel as if it were Noah and the sheriff against the world? Leon wasn't his friend, but the man didn't quite feel like the enemy. Noah shook his head. Thinking like that could get him killed—but so what? He was a dead man already.

“There's a passageway through the cabin to the hideout,” he continued. “The cabin's empty. They aren't going to hear us up here.”

Noah should feel uncomfortable to be unarmed as well as handcuffed in the presence of so many men who glared at him as if they'd like to kill him. If they took it into their heads to do the deed now, Noah doubted Leon would be able to stop them without shooting a few. While he and the sheriff seemed to have come to an understanding, Noah didn't think Leon would be willing to shoot any good guys for him.

It didn't matter. As he'd told Jonah, it was over. Now that he'd tried for a life and failed, now that he'd almost had Ruth and lost, he couldn't get himself to care about much of anything except seeing her safe before he died.

So Noah sat on his horse and attempted to appear harmless while Leon explained the plan to the posse. The sheriff from Danville wasn't happy. “Let's just go in and blast them all to hell. I want that money back, too. Now, not later.”

Noah shifted his gaze to the Danville sheriff. He wasn't going to let this man ruin everything. But what could he do about it?

The others shuffled and muttered. They stared at Noah—nervous and somewhat scared. He just didn't look harmless. He couldn't help it. That's what had kept him alive this long, and a lot of other people as well. Noah rarely had to prove how tough he was; he looked tough enough.

Leon could be tough, too, especially when it came to Ruth. He drew his gun and pointed it at the sheriff. “You'll stay right here and do what I say. According to Walker, there's one man and one woman in there.”

“Why you listenin' to him? There could be ten men in there, set to kill us all. And he's Billy Jo Kansas, not Walker. Best you remember that. Hand over the money.”

“Shut up.” Leon's voice was quiet but no less commanding for the lack of volume. The second sheriff blinked and shut up. “Regardless of how many men are in there, we stay out here. Walker's going in with the money. I won't take any chances with Ruth's life. Once he's out with her and in my custody again, you'll get the money back. But not a minute before.”

The man sputtered as his face went red. His men appeared shocked. Leon didn't seem to care. Noah wondered if the sheriff had been traveling with him too long. He was certain of it when Leon jerked his head, indicating the overgrown brush. “If any of you don't like it, you can turn around and head on home. Good luck finding your way out.”

The Danville sheriff opened his mouth, shut it again, then glared at Leon, his eyes bugged out like a fish on the shore.

“That's what I figured.” Leon nodded to Noah. “Go ahead.”

Once Noah dismounted, Leon tossed him the keys to his handcuffs.

“What the hell are you doing?” the Danville man shouted.

Leon fixed him with a glare worthy of any outlaw. The other sheriff swallowed. “I can hardly send him in there with handcuffs on. The bad guy will know we're out here.”

“But he'll run off.”

“How? He has no horse, no gun, and no way out of here but through us.”

Shaking his head as if he couldn't fathom how the guy had become a lawman, Leon tossed the saddlebags to Noah. “I'll wait right here with the town idiot.”

“I thought you might.”

“Don't be a hero, Noah.”

“Leon, I wouldn't know how.”

***

When Ruth had first entered the cavern, the rich mineral deposits of all shapes, sizes, and colors had struck her dumb with their beauty. Used to the flat, angular landscape and earthy tones of Kansas, she had stared at the gently curved walls and spiked ceiling for hours. It was better than looking at Dooley, anyway.

Though the place was a wonder, huge enough for men and beasts—as Dooley had informed her, they could hardly leave their horses up top if they were hiding, now, could they? The fact that there were men
and
beasts presented a problem. She couldn't imagine living in this place for very long with too many horses for company.

“It's a hideout,” Dooley sneered when she mentioned the scent. “For men. We don't care about no ‘scent.' We're tryin' to
hide.
And we never stay here long, anyways. We got places to go, people to rob. We can't lay around all the time.”

Dooley was starting to make sense, and that kind of worried her.

Where was Noah? Or Leon? The cavalry? Someone?

She'd managed to cook a meal, upstairs in the kitchen of the cabin. Hot meals were eaten only when they weren't hiding, and since Ruth and Dooley were
waiting
, not
hiding
, they'd been able to eat warm beans instead of cold.

They'd slept and awakened, then consumed coffee and hard biscuits. The food was as sparse as Ruth's patience. When Dooley had suggested poker, using their clothes for bets, she'd given him her best princess-of-the-manor glare, and he'd gone away. But not far. There just wasn't any faraway to be had.

Ruth lay on a bedroll in the middle of the communal area. Dooley lay on the bedroll two feet over.

Pretty soon he was going to get as tired of waiting as she was. Then there might be trouble. Because no matter what she had to do, she wasn't going to entertain Dooley—not with poker or anything else.

Suddenly, he sat up, tilted his head, then jabbed it forward like a strutting bird.

Ruth sat up, too. “What—?”

“Shh,” he hissed. Then pointed upward. “Someone's coming,” he mouthed.

Their gazes fixed on the cavern entrance, where a steep earth-and-rock path led up to the cabin. Dooley got to his feet, drew his pistol, and slowly cocked it.

Who did she want to appear? Noah? The man who had tempted her to believe in a long-ago dream, then stomped all over her love with his lies?

Or Leon? A man who would give her everything she'd never dreamed of? A man she did not love but could at least trust?

Ruth drew in a breath. Dooley had told her that anyone entering the cavern without calling out the password first would be shot as soon as they stepped into the light.

Should she shout a warning? She just might get killed for it. Right now, she didn't much care. But before she could open her mouth, the footsteps stopped.

“Dooley?”

Noah's voice. Ruth's breath flew out in a rush. The joy that filled her was completely inappropriate, but she couldn't stop it. Until this moment she had not believed Dooley when he said Noah would come.

How had he gotten here? Jail break? More murders? Was Kelly Creek even now a pile of ashes in the snow?

“Who's that?” Dooley shouted.

Ruth rolled her eyes. “It's Noah.”

The outlaw frowned and lifted his gun a little higher. “Who's Noah?”

“Billy Jo,” Noah answered.

“If it's you, then what's the password?”

“The night before Christmas.”

“The what?” Ruth asked.

“Billy Jo always said that was the most special night of the year.”

Ruth blinked as her eyes began to burn. How could she hate him when he said and did things like that?

“And no one would spout those words off by chance. Which makes 'em a good password. I
told
you he'd come. Is you alone, Billy Jo?”

“No, I brought along two sheriffs and a posse.”

Dooley laughed. “You can come on in.”

Noah stepped into the light, and his gaze went directly to Ruth. Despite all the little talks she'd had with herself over the past day and a half, just the sight of him stopped her breath. His mere presence banished the icy knot of panic she'd been pretending she didn't have.

“Are you all right?”

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak, afraid she'd beg him to hold her and then hate herself even more.

This man had lied to her about who he was, what he'd done, and she didn't even know now if a single thing he'd said, a single kiss, a single touch, was the truth.

“Of course she's all right!” Dooley shouted. “I'm no fool.”

Slowly, Noah turned toward the outlaw, and Ruth frowned. Something was out of place. He didn't look quite right.

He wasn't wearing his gun belt! He must have been forced to escape without it. Luckily, Dooley wasn't so observant. Perhaps because, even without a gun, Noah appeared more dangerous than any man she'd ever known.

“Most would say that just taking her was foolish.”

His voice sent a chill down Ruth's back. His face was set and cold. He was different, and not just because he lacked his guns.

The boy she remembered had disappeared from his eyes. The man she'd dreamed of did not exist. Even the gentleman he'd attempted to become was gone, lost beneath the veneer of an outlaw, which wasn't a veneer but truly him. Ruth did not know this man at all.

Dooley paled. His Adam's apple bobbled. “Wh-what did you expect me to do, Billy Jo? We thought you was dead, thought the money was lost.”

“Anyone else left but you and Hoxie?”

“Nope. And not Hoxie now, either. You shot him! How could you do that?”

Noah sighed. “I don't know.”

“We was sad when we figured you was dead, and not just because of the money. Then we find you in Kelly Creek, acting like you belong there, and you've got a woman, too. What was I supposed to think but that you'd turned agin us?”

“I didn't even know you were alive to turn
agin.
Here.” Noah tossed the saddlebags at Dooley's feet. “Take your money. I'll take Ruth.” He grabbed her arm and tugged her close. “Have a nice life, Dooley.”

“Wait!”

Noah's sigh was short and full of frustration. Ruth glanced quickly into his face. She wouldn't want to be the recipient of that scowl.

Dooley didn't like it, either. He began to stutter again. “B-but aren't we going to start agin? Now that you're free, we can go back to how it was.”

“We can never go back to how it was. I've been seen. Party is over. You want a gang, Dooley? Be my guest.”

“Really?” He looked like a kid who'd just been given a second Christmas. “I can have a gang of my own and do what I want? None of that namby-pamby no killin' unless absolutely necessary, no shootin' in a bank unless they shoot first, no blastin' lawmen just for the fun of it?”

Noah shrugged. “Sure.”

Ruth gasped. “Noah! How can you—?”

“Shh,” he snapped.

Dooley's look turned cagey. “That sounds good now, but who's to say you won't come back and take over.”

“Me? I'm not going to stick around here.” Noah smiled, but there was something as off about that smile as there was about his lack of guns. “You can bet on that.”

“Oh!” The cagey look turned knowing. “Goin' off to Old Mexico. Good idea, Billy Jo. Have a nice life with your little
señorita.
” He winked at Ruth.

“Let's go.” Noah pushed her toward the exit, watching Dooley as they went.

Dooley was so happy to have all the money and the prospect of a brand new gang, crazy as loons and led by him, that he barely noticed they had left.

Darkness closed around them. The path led upward. Noah just kept tugging Ruth along beside him. She dug in her heels. The events of the past few days caught up to her, and the fear turned to anger—at him and his lies, at herself for believing them, at the whole world for being the way it was.

“How did you get here? How can you let him go merrily off to kill people? Where are we going?”