The Outlaw's Secret. Stacy HenrieЧитать онлайн книгу.
Tate shook his head. “Not a peep.”
“Good.” Fletcher situated the saddlebag of money onto one of the horses. “No lawmen will likely catch up to us, then.”
“What’s the plan?”
“We’ll split up again, just in case. You, Silas and Clem can ride together. And me, Jude and the girl.”
Uneasiness churned inside Tate’s empty stomach at Fletcher’s words, though he hid it behind a thoughtful look as he casually crossed his arms. No way was he letting Essie out of his sight. Not yet, and maybe not at all. Though she wasn’t completely helpless, she was still a bit naive, viewing their flight to the hideout as a grand adventure.
“We can do that,” he said with nonchalance. “Though I thought the girl was my responsibility.”
“She is, but I don’t trust you, Tex.” The outlaw leader threw him a level look. “You left her behind yesterday. What’s to say you aren’t gonna try another move like that today?”
Tate’s jaw tightened. “Because I now understand that if something happens to her, I’m to blame.”
Fletcher nodded, a sneer on his mouth. “You got that right, cowboy.”
“Besides.” Tate pressed on. “She’ll likely slow you down today.” Though he doubted it. Essie could ride better than any woman he’d encountered. “And if you do run across the law, you’ll have far less explaining to do if you aren’t riding pell-mell over the hills with a woman in tow.” He let that reason settle in before he finished with, “As the leader of this gang, you’ve got to keep yourself far from the most risk.”
Scowling, Fletcher rubbed a hand over his whiskered jaw. “You may have a point, cowboy.” He pushed up his hat and stared in the direction of the camp. Tate could see Essie working over a pan at the fire. “You take the girl with you. Clem will come with us. Now let’s eat.”
Tate hid his smile, in spite of the relief coursing through him, as he trailed Fletcher and Silas to the fire. The smell of freshly cooked dough filled his nose and made his mouth water.
“Your breakfast, gentlemen,” Essie announced when they approached. “Courtesy of Clem and myself.”
“I only done the beans,” Clem muttered, scooping portions of them onto the tin plates. But his brown eyes glowed with obvious appreciation at Essie for including him.
Tate thanked her as she passed him a full plate. The biscuits looked as light and airy as clouds. Maybe Essie could be cajoled into taking over all the cooking for the duration of her stay.
Lifting a biscuit to his mouth, anticipating the flakiness melting on his tongue, he paused when he caught sight of Essie’s dipped chin and shut eyes. She was giving thanks for the food. He lowered his arm, feeling a twist of regret at not praying himself. He hadn’t known Essie was religious, but he found he wasn’t surprised. And while he couldn’t outwardly show his own faith, not if he wanted to maintain his brother’s identity, no one would hear his Heaven-sent thoughts.
Pushing his beans around his plate, he offered his own silent prayer of gratitude. Lord, thank Thee for this food. Thank Thee for keeping me...and Essie...safe. Guide my actions and bless my efforts. Amen.
He lifted his gaze and found Essie watching him, a puzzled frown on her mouth. Did she suspect he’d also been praying? Clearing his throat, he bit into the biscuit with relish, hoping to throw off her perceptiveness, then grinned at her. “Best biscuits I’ve ever tasted,” he said after swallowing the delicious morsel.
“Amen to that,” Jude and Fletcher admitted at the same time. Even Silas was silently nodding approval.
Essie lowered her gaze from his, her cheeks flushing a pretty shade of pink, and ducked her head. Was it all the compliments that made her blush? Or his in particular? Tate couldn’t help hoping his words had affected her the most.
Once the fire was out and their belongings stowed, it was time to saddle up. “Who am I riding with today?” Essie asked. Still sporting his jacket, she held the handle of her bag between her hands and watched him and the others expectantly.
“You’ll ride with Tex and Silas, on your own horse,” Fletcher said as he swung into the saddle. “We’ll split up one more day and meet up again at the camp tonight.”
“Oh...wonderful.”
Tate thought he detected a note of disappointment in her voice, but he wasn’t certain of its source. Was she wishing she could ride with Fletcher and Jude? Or was she regretting the fact that she wouldn’t be sharing a horse with him this time? He had to admit he wouldn’t mind having her ride with him once more, even at the risk of being badgered by her bag handle and her questions.
Raking his hand over the bristles of his jaw, he reined in his bizarre thoughts. “I’ll help you up, Miss Vanderfair.” Somehow the idea of calling her Essie in front of the others felt too personal.
He helped her onto the horse she’d ridden yesterday and then climbed onto the back of his own mount. Shifting his weight, he flexed his hands around the reins, preparing himself for another long day of riding—this time bareback, since he’d opted to give his saddle to Essie. But to see Fletcher and his gang eventually apprehended, he’d ride twice as far and twice as long.
After picking their way through a short range of hills, Fletcher, Clem and Jude headed northwest, while Tate and Essie followed Silas northeast. Both groups would double back at some point to meet up at the next camp. Looking over his shoulder, Tate saw Essie coming steadily behind him. She rode well, especially with a saddle.
“I can ride bareback,” she said, catching up with him. “I did it yesterday.”
“And I can do it today.”
She arched her eyebrows at him. He was beginning to recognize it as her telltale sign of skepticism. “When was the last time you rode without a saddle?”
Tate glanced at the sky, trying to remember. “I might have been ten.”
“I was fifteen, which means it’s been fewer years for me.”
“Then that’s all the more reason for you to enjoy having a saddle today.” He urged his horse a little faster. Couldn’t she just be grateful at his attempt at being a gentleman? He’d already fended a curious look from Fletcher after moving the saddle to her horse earlier.
To his consternation, she kept her horse in pace with his. “I don’t want to be a burden. I’m a lot stronger than I look.”
Tate shot her a glance. “I wouldn’t say you’ve been a burden so far. Especially not after that breakfast this morning.” He couldn’t help a smile when he thought of her biscuits. It was the first decent food he’d eaten since joining Fletcher’s gang. “I don’t doubt your strength, either.”
Instead of smiling, though, she turned in the saddle, facing away from him. He hadn’t seen her this agitated since he’d found her wandering over the prairie the day before, angry at him for leaving her behind. There was more underlying her words than stubbornness or pride.
Sudden understanding filled his mind. “Who’s told you that you aren’t strong?”
“A great many people,” she murmured, loud enough to be heard over the horses’ hooves but soft enough to convey the hurt behind the words. “Everyone I know, really.”
He opened his mouth to contradict her, to remind her that God knew her strength and He was the only One who mattered. But he forced himself to swallow the truth. Talking about faith with her would only raise her already-heightened suspicion about him.
A cloud of uneasiness settled over them before she twisted to look at him again. “It doesn’t matter.” She offered him a smile, but it didn’t strike Tate as quite as genuine as some of the others he’d seen since yesterday. “And thank you for the use of your saddle.”
He