The Prospect: The Malloy Family, Book 10 (13 page)

They both looked ready for battle. In a way, they were opening themselves up for a war. Jo hoped their escape went unnoticed and they could slip off into the night. She wasn’t fool enough to believe it
would
happen so easily, but she could still hope. What they were doing was dangerous and they could die in the next hour. She considered telling Declan of her dreams of him. She didn’t want to die without confessing how she felt, but she didn’t know if she had the courage to do so.

Before she could make up her mind, Declan snuffed the lantern and he took her hand. “Let’s go.”

They moved toward the door like a pair of furtive thieves. He opened the door and stood in place, peering out into the night. The night held many sounds—low voices, a few dogs barking, the muffled sound of insects singing their songs in the darkness.

“Declan,” she whispered, eager to tell him before they left the security of the tiny shack.

“Shh.” He slipped out the door, pulling her with him.

“I have to—”

He pressed his mouth against her ear. “If you don’t shut up, lass, you’re going to kill us. Shut. Up.”

She wanted to tell him what he could do with his high-handedness, but he was already in motion. Jo was helpless to do anything but keep up. He picked up the saddle sitting at the corner of the house and hoisted it on his shoulder with hardly a sound. With only one horse, having a saddle would be critical to keep the animal, and them, comfortable.

The night creatures sang around them, filling the air with a symphony of sound. Nature provided enough noise to disguise their escape. Jo could hardly see in the dark, and her spectacles made it worse. She hung onto Declan’s belt, her other hand firmly wrapped around the butt of the pistol in her pocket. Nothing could make her let go of either of them.

The low murmur of voices sounded far off. Declan stuck to the outer circle of the fort, away from the other buildings. According to Declan, the livery was at the opposite corner of the fort near the entrance. That was convenient for their escape, but they had to travel quite far to get there.

Each tiny jingle of the saddle, crack of gravel or shuffle of her boot had her nerves on edge. Her heart lodged in her throat, nearly choking her. Her entire body tingled with terror, but she didn’t let even a smidge of a scream out, although she surely wanted to. Her mouth might not ever be able to form spit again and she wouldn’t be able to swallow anything but the howls that threatened.

Declan appeared calm, and for that she wanted to hate him, but she didn’t. He was the anchor she hung onto, the guide in the terror in which she swam. It had been her idea to run, and now she was more afraid than a child with her first nightmare. Jo wasn’t a coward. She was her mother’s daughter. Maman was a woman who embodied what it meant to be strong.

Jo dug until she found the well of courage that hid behind the fear. She straightened her shoulders and clenched her teeth. She would survive. She would escape. She would have a chance to tell Declan how she felt. There was no other acceptable option.

Somehow they made it to the livery without anyone taking notice of them. The sound of horses shuffling their hooves, the smell of equine flesh and their subsequent droppings filled the air. She let out a breath she’d been holding and sucked in a shaky one.

He stopped and waited, and she wondered who or what might be able to hear her heart pounding like a drum. It was certainly deafening her. She thought it might actually jump out of her chest when he touched her cheek. She understood he was trying to ascertain the state of her panic. Jo nodded against his rough fingers, giving him the approval to keep going.

They crept into the barn, the smell now strong enough to make her eyes water. She had learned to take care of the oxen, which smelled worse than horses, but it appeared the farrier was not as adept at keeping the barn clean. Either that or the horses had secretly gorged themselves on oats and left enough droppings for two or three wheelbarrows.

She needed to cough but bit her lip to keep it contained. No noise, not a sound. She almost choked as her throat moved to rid itself of the tickle. She made it her sworn duty to keep that damn cough from escaping. Tears rolled down her cheeks, silent and uncomfortable, but she kept the cough contained.

He led her down the stalls, peering over each stall door until he found what he was looking for. After he eased the latch on the door, he crept in and she followed. A dapple-gray gelding blinked at them. Jo finally let go of Declan’s belt, her fingers cramped from hanging on too tight.

He spoke in a hushed whisper to the horse while he put a blanket on its back. The horse sidestepped a few times but didn’t appear to be too upset about leaving his stall in the middle of the night. She didn’t blame him, since there were old piles of manure littered around the floor. The stench was even worse in here, and she wondered if the horse had been neglected along with the barn.

She didn’t know how much Declan had been paying for the upkeep of his gelding, but it was too much. Jo wasn’t much of a horse person, but she didn’t tell him that. Sitting astride on a saddle would be hard enough without confessing she didn’t know how to ride. She had been graceless in her attempts to learn. Now it was too late. She would ride or she would stay at the fort and die.

He cinched the saddle tight and stopped, cocking his head to listen. She froze in place, straining to hear anything beyond her own frantic breathing. After a few moments, he looked at her and gestured to the stall door. Jo fumbled with the latch, her hands trembling like an old woman’s. He touched her back, the heat from his palm soothing her nerves. She finally unhooked the latch and opened the door.

Declan led the horse out, his hand on the beast’s nose. She was curious as to why but didn’t believe it was the right time or place to send queries at him. After they left the stall, she closed the door and crept along behind them, steering clear of the horse’s hind end. The last thing she needed was to smell like manure, particularly considering she was already sweating. It crept down her face, chest, arms and back like tiny streams of fear. They made it outside the barn and again Jo closed the door as quietly as she could. It shocked her that no one had seen nor heard them take Declan’s horse. What if they had been true horse thieves?

The night creatures had been waiting for them, unleashing the full power of their music. The clip-clop of the horse’s hooves on the hard-packed dirt seemed loud as well and she winced with each thump. Shadows moved in the distance, but she was too far away to see what they were. The unknown movement was another thing for her to worry about. She didn’t have enough at the moment, of course.

Declan pulled her to her feet and pressed his mouth against her ear. “We’re going to walk quiet-like to the front gate. You lead the horse and I’ll lean on you like I’ve drunk too much whiskey.”

It seemed like a plausible plan, and she hoped the horse would cooperate. She wouldn’t know what to do with the beast if it didn’t. Jo nodded, and he pressed the reins into her hands. Here was the true test of her bravery and she nearly wet her drawers. This was what real fear was. It tasted bitter in her drier-than-dust mouth.

Declan poked her behind and she started walking, the reins slippery in her clammy palm. He put his arm around her shoulders. She wanted to ask him if he had to put half of his weight on her intentionally or if he had overestimated her capacity. They approached the gate, which was closed, at a sedate pace, as though the stumbling man beside her slowed them down.

She didn’t know if she should speak or remain quiet and chose the latter. It was uncommon for a wife to speak ill of her husband, although in this case, it would have been warranted. A stumbling drunk for a spouse was something no woman would ever want. She couldn’t see if anyone was near the gate or if they would slip through unnoticed.

“Hey now, who is that?” a voice called to them from the blackness.

If she thought her heart thumped fast before, it was racing now, so fast she could hardly distinguish between the beats.

“I’m headin’ home with me woman.” Declan’s brogue was as thick as molasses. “She yanked me from the nectar of the gods, she did.”

A moment of silence ensued. Jo predicted she might lose what little food she had in her stomach.

“Ah, women. If we didn’t need them to cook, clean and fuck, we’d be better off without them.” The man was obviously a misinformed fool. Jo swallowed back the angry retort that danced on the edge of her tongue.

“Ye are speakin’ to the choir, me friend.” Declan lurched forward, nearly taking her down with him. He righted himself, then burped loudly. “Pardon me.”

The stranger in the darkness laughed. “I wish I had a nip of that whiskey and a woman to warm my bed. On duty for another four hours, though.” He was both disappointed and stupid.

“I’m sure there’s a lass out there for ye, boyo.” They were near the gate and Declan had sped up. She kept up, trying to make sure the gelding didn’t step on her feet as they jerked to the left and right, following her husband’s erratic path.

“Not one I want to keep.” Now both men laughed. Jo’s anger helped push out the terror that gripped her tightly.

“This one has beautiful tits and an ass I could grab on to for days, but she’s a terrible cook.” Declan didn’t value his life very much if he made statements like that. Her ass and tits were no one’s concern, particularly a foolish, ignorant guard. “Burnt biscuits and undercooked vegetables. It’s a hard lot in life for me.”

Jo bit her cheek to keep from kicking him. The man seemed to do the opposite of what she expected, and in this case, he spoke of her like a piece of chattel. She had to let it pass since she knew he did it to throw off the guard’s sense of danger. Not that the two of them were dangerous criminals, but they were breaking the law, escaping a quarantine and sneaking out in the middle of the night. Still, Declan’s words riled her like nothing ever had in her life. Was that the passion he referred to?

“Then I wish you luck, my friend.” The squeal of the hinges preceded the left-hand gate opening. Jo could hardly believe Declan’s ploy had worked. Then again, she had already concluded the guard was stupid, and it had been quite easy to fool him. Her husband was an accomplished actor.

“Goodnight to ye. May the whiskey gods smile on ye soon.” Declan hiccupped, then farted and tugged them out the door. Jo might have made the mistake of shouting at him for his behavior but she was too shocked by the last five minutes to do anything but try to sort it all out in her mind. What had happened? Had they escaped from the fort with nary a whistle of alarm?

They walked onward, Declan keeping the pretense of stumbling, for another ten minutes. Jo counted the seconds, as though she could wish away the danger and bizarre quality of the situation. When she neared six hundred, he straightened and let go of her shoulders.

“Let’s mount up and get the hell out of here.” He plucked her from the ground and placed her in the saddle as though she weighed no more than a five-pound sack of coffee. Before she could catch her breath, he was behind her, urging the beast into motion.

Jo hung on for dear life as they raced blindly across the Wyoming prairie. She closed her eyes to keep the wind from making her eyes tear. It was only the wind. She wasn’t crying.

Chapter Six

The knot in Declan’s gut might not ever unravel. It was so goddamn tight he might not shit for weeks. He knew to head southeast as fast as they could go, which wasn’t as fast as he wanted. The horse couldn’t carry both of them for long, yet they could not risk stopping. Parker or Drummond could, and likely would, come after them. That threat was very real, and very prominent on his mind.

Jo had escaped beside him as though she were a natural thief. However, she’d trembled in his arms since they began riding. He didn’t know if she was cold or scared, neither one of which he could solve while keeping control of the horse. It angered him that she was afraid, that they had to sneak off like criminals and he couldn’t protect her. Declan hadn’t been able to protect his mother either.

He wanted to keep Jo safe from anything that could hurt her, including himself. Of course, he had no idea how to go about doing that. His life had been about keeping himself alive, waking up each day not knowing what to expect and not caring. Now he’d been turned inside out by a woman. Taking care of Jo, falling in love with her, had been like locking the door of his former life behind him and stepping into a big, dark room. He was feeling his way along, hoping he wasn’t going to break his neck or, worse, hurt her. The helplessness was hard to accept.

So did having Jo’s ass pressed against his groin as they rode across the prairie.

She might have lost weight when she was sick, but she still had an amazing ass—he hadn’t been lying about that or her tits. Jo was round in all the right places, and currently one of those places was rubbing him up and down until he had an erection that she must have noticed. He tried to will it away—even thought of disgusting things, like raw liver—but it was no use. Declan wanted to bed Jo, and everyone, including his dick, knew it.

The horizon turned a light gray as dawn approached. They had to find shelter to hide for a few hours in case folks from the fort had decided to chase them down. Out on the prairie, there wasn’t much. With the coming light, it would be easier to spot something useable to hide in for a time.

Now that he could see, he noted what could only be the outline of trees. Relief swept through him. A forest could shield them from view. He didn’t want to attract any undue attention, but he also didn’t want to find out what kind of critters inhabited the forest. There were plenty of four-legged dangers in the West. Being as tired as he was, he wasn’t ready to encounter any of them. Declan was a city rat, not a goddamn cowboy. If he couldn’t punch it or stab it, he didn’t know what to do with it.