Outlaw Wife. Ana Seymour

Tom and I have had some sleep.” He nodded at his companion. “This is Tom Sneed. Deputy marshal.”

      John was opening the cell with a big iron key. “We’ll keep them safe for you, Marshal. You and Mr. Sneed can get yourselves a nice rest over at the hotel. Take your time.”

      Simon’s eyes were fastened once again on the girl. She saw him looking at her and turned away. “What about the others?” he asked the marshal.

      “I don’t know. It was pure dumb luck that we got these two. I’d just gotten Walker’s wire at the stage depot in Prescott when they rode up trying to sell your pinto. We rode most of the night to get here so’s you could identify them. I’ve been trying to get something pinned on Seth Davis for a good long time.” His voice was rich with satisfaction.

      The old outlaw shook his head. “Most danged fool thing I ever done,” he said. He looked from the marshal to the girl. “I guess I kind of knew that I’d just about run my course. But my daughter had nothing to do with any of it.”

      “Daughter!” Simon and the sheriff exclaimed in unison.

      Seth Davis nodded and wagged a bony finger at the papers covering the sheriff’s desk. “Just write down there that it was co-er-shun or whatever fancy legal terms you need. She’s no outlaw.”

      The marshal tiredly wiped the back of his hands across his eyes. “The last three robberies attributed to the Davis gang have reported six outlaws, not five. And Simon Grant here can testify that your daughter was riding with them at the time that he was robbed and beaten.”

      The old outlaw and his daughter both turned toward Simon. Her eyes were blue and enormous. “Well, I…” he began.

      “So, as far as I’m concerned,” the marshal continued, “I’m taking her in. We’ll leave it up to the courts after that.”

      “You heard the marshal,” John said. His gaze was also on the girl, and Simon recognized a hint of sympathy in his expression. But when neither outlaw made a move toward the cell, the sheriff took her arm and pushed her inside.

      Deputy Sneed shoved the tip of his gun barrel into the old man’s back. “Get on in there, Davis,” he barked. He waited while the outlaw went in the cell, then shut the iron door with a clang.

      “We’ll take you up on your offer, Sheriff,” the marshal said, holstering his gun. “I don’t think they can give you any trouble locked away like that. Just be sure you don’t get too close to that spitfire.” He nodded toward the girl, who stood stiffly just behind the bars, her eyes down, arms folded.

      “How about grub?” the sheriff asked. “Have they been fed?”

      “Nope. But I wouldn’t worry about it much. It won’t hurt them to go hungry for a while.” The marshal craned his neck tiredly. “Do whatever you like. I’m heading for bed.”

      Without another word he turned and went out the door, his deputy following closely behind.

      Willow Davis watched the men leave and gave a little shudder of relief. She wasn’t concerned for herself. The deputy had had no compunction about putting his hands all over her when he’d searched her for a weapon, but spending time among outlaws, she was used to men’s rude ways. Her concern was for her father. Seth Davis had prided himself on never being arrested. And she was sure that if it hadn’t been for her presence, he would have shot his way out of it this time. She still expected him to try something foolish any minute, and the marshal didn’t look like a man who would think twice about shooting an escaping prisoner in cold blood.

      “Are you two hungry?” the sheriff was asking. He looked much easier to handle than the marshal and the deputy. His weathered skin was crisscrossed with smile lines and his snowy white hair made him look like a kindly grandfather rather than a lawman.

      Seth Davis approached the bars. “I reckon we could stand something to eat, Sheriff, but I want to ask you again to release my daughter. She hasn’t done anything.”

      The sheriff shrugged. “It’s not in my hands. I’m just holding on to you for the marshal. And it sounds to me like he’s pretty determined to take both of you in.”

      Willow could swear that there was almost an apology in his expression as he glanced at her, in spite of the fact that she had kicked him with the solid toe of her boot. It puzzled her.

      “I’ll take some food, Sheriff,” she said, relaxing her tense stance.

      “I reckon you look like you could use it,” the sheriff replied. “Though you kick hard enough for a scrawny thing.”

      Willow hesitated. “I’m sorry,” she said finally. “I’ve been having a bad day.”

      For the first time she smiled, and Simon felt as if the air had been sucked out of his gut. While it was true that she was almost too slender, she was anything but “scrawny.” And when she smiled, her face lit up like daybreak on a hazy summer morning. He hardly heard the sheriff’s question.

      “Will you be all right while I go arrange some food?”

      “Excuse me?” He tore his eyes away from the girl and turned toward John.

      “Get back down on that bed, Simon. You look as if you’re about to keel over.”

      Simon moved over to the cot and sat down heavily. “I need to see to Rain Cloud.”

      “I’ll take care of Rain Cloud. You lie back down and behave yourself or I’m going to get Cissy over here again to start in on you.”

      Simon smiled. It would be no hardship, he decided, to sit here a spell and feast his eyes on the young outlaw girl. Though it was a pity to think that anything so pretty was on the wrong side of the law. “I appreciate that, John. And I’ll keep a close watch on your prisoners here while you’re gone.”

      John followed Simon’s gaze over toward the cell, where the girl had taken off her hat, letting loose a cloud of thick reddish gold hair. “I expect you will. On one of them anyway,” he muttered, turning toward the door.

      When he’d left, Simon looked back over at the cell. The old man was sitting on one of the cell’s two cots. The girl was ruefully examining the other. “Was it you?” Simon asked softly. “Were you the one who untied me and left me water?”

      Seth Davis’s head came up.

      The girl continued her examination of the bed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

      Simon settled back against the wall. His chest would feel better if he were lying down, but then he wouldn’t be able to watch her. “I think I remember seeing you.”

      “You couldn’t have seen her.” The old outlaw spoke sharply. “She wasn’t there. I’m trying to tell you that my daughter isn’t guilty of anything.”

      Simon shook his head slowly. “It was you, wasn’t it? You probably saved my life, you know.”

      The girl evidently decided that the dirty blanket of the cot was a better alternative than the cold floor and she sank down on it, curling her long legs up underneath her like a child. “You heard my father. I wasn’t there. So I couldn’t very well have saved your life, could I?”

      Simon was fascinated. Her voice was low and remarkably controlled for one so young. “How old are you?” he asked, without even considering the question.

      “She’s fourteen,” the old man said promptly. “A baby. And she doesn’t belong in a jail.”

      “I’m nineteen,” the girl said calmly, throwing her father an affectionate smile. “I’m old enough, I reckon. But that doesn’t make me an outlaw.”

      “Plenty old enough to untie the ropes of an unconscious man,” Simon replied.

      “If I’d been there.”

      Simon gave a nod. He wasn’t going to press the point. What