The Reluctant Outlaw. Karen Kirst

berries and nuts. An apple tree would go a long way toward filling her stomach. Lucky’s, too.

      In all likelihood, Evan would laugh at her situation. After what she’d done, there’d be no room in his heart for compassion. It was an unwritten rule of their society—a man simply didn’t mess with another man’s horse. She supposed that rule applied to women, too.

      While Juliana was thankful that she’d been able to escape her kidnapper, she couldn’t deny that men came in handy sometimes. Especially out on the open trail.

      At long last, when Juliana was near to the point of falling off the horse, she reached the trees. She heard the sound of rushing water and sagged with relief. Past the point of all care, she ran to the water, flopped down on her stomach and submerged her face. Her unbound auburn hair floated on the surface like an intricate spiderweb.

      Rolling over on her back, she lay there half-in, half-out of the water, arms spread wide. Lucky was there nearby, noisily drinking his fill.

      “What a sight we must be.” She chuckled, reveling in the cold wetness and blessed relief from the relentless sun. Thank You, Lord. I was about to suffer a sunstroke, I do believe.

      Reluctantly she sat up to survey her surroundings. Water sluiced down her back, but she didn’t mind. It felt divine. Nothing about her surroundings triggered a memory. Of course she’d slept in the saddle last night, so it stood to reason that she wouldn’t recognize the landmarks.

      Butterflies filled her stomach at the memory of being held in Evan’s strong embrace. She’d fought to keep her eyes open, but between Lucky’s loping gait and Evan’s warmth enveloping her it had been an impossible battle. The fact that he’d carried and settled her in for the night made her face flame with embarrassment. Disgusted at herself for letting the outlaw affect her, she addressed his horse.

      “Are you hungry, Lucky?”

      The black had already searched out a patch of green grass and was chomping away.

      Juliana scanned the brook, disappointed to find only minnows in the shallow depths. There weren’t any frogs, either. Not even a turtle. A flash of white caught her eye, and she glanced up to see a cottontail hopping past. “You sure are a cute little guy. I hate to say this within your earshot, but if I had a gun I’d be having you for lunch.”

      Squeezing the excess moisture out of her hair, she used Evan’s comb to smooth the long locks.

      Lucky didn’t protest when she led him deeper into the woods. He was such a sweet horse. A prize, really. Evan must be heartsick at having lost him.

      Well, if he hadn’t kidnapped her in the first place, she reasoned, he would still have the horse in his possession.

      They came upon a blueberry patch, but someone or something had beaten them to it. Few berries remained, which only seemed to amplify her hunger. It also brought to mind her mother’s birthday cake, piled high with blueberries and strawberries. She’d never gotten a taste of that magnificent dessert.

      When I get home, she promised herself, I’m gonna ask the twins to make another one just for me.

      Daydreaming about her homecoming, Juliana thought her mind was playing tricks on her when she caught the scent of meat roasting over an open flame. Her mouth watered. Someone was nearby—with food.

      As much as she longed to go crashing through the underbrush and demand to be fed, she decided not to announce her presence before getting a look at whomever was out there. A woman alone had to be cautious or risk serious harm.

      With Lucky following close behind, she ventured closer to where she believed the scent was coming from. Unexpectedly, a raucous male voice broke the silence. She halted midstep and goose bumps skimmed along her skin. He was singing a ditty unfit for a lady’s ears.

      Juliana continued her approach, however, determined to see for herself what he looked like. Dense weeds and bushes provided cover so that she could get close without him spotting her. Looping the reins around a tree limb and issuing a command for Lucky to stay, she crawled into the bushes.

      The pop and sizzle of meat made her mouth water. A fat brown spider landed on her hand and, gasping aloud, she flung it away. She detested spiders. Once, when she was a little girl, she had been playing in the hayloft when she disturbed a whole nest of them. Tiny spiders—hundreds of them—scurried in all directions and, of course, some of them crawled over her shoes. Screaming at the top of her lungs, she ran to climb down the ladder and, in her haste, fell to the hard dirt floor below. She suffered a broken arm and spent half the summer confined to the house.

      Juliana searched the branches above her head and the grass below for more of the wretched things. Satisfied that she was safe, she crept deeper into the bushes. A dark form was visible through the leaves, and as she neared she saw that his back was to her. Unfortunately, he was still singing in a loud, off-key voice, sitting cross-legged before the fire and guzzling whiskey from a half-empty bottle. His clothes were wrinkled and stained and the edges ragged.

      He looked harmless enough. Probably a down-on-his-luck drifter. And the demands of her empty stomach were starting to override her hesitation. What could she offer him in exchange for a share of the meal? All she had was the comb in her pocket, and from the looks of him, he wouldn’t be interested. Did she dare hope he would help her out of the goodness of his heart?

      All he could do is say no, she supposed.

      Her mind made up, she retraced her steps and approached the campsite.

      Rounding the bushes, she collided with a tall, thin body. She jumped back with a startled gasp.

      “Miss O’Malley!”

      Juliana glanced up into Art’s shocked face. “Art! What are you doing here?”

      “The boss sent us. Didn’t trust Harrison—” His gaze skittered away for a brief second before returning to her face. “I’m mighty glad you’re okay, miss. ‘Course, I never believed any of that stuff Harrison said. Where is he anyhow?” He glanced over her shoulder at Evan’s horse.

      “He, um …” She stalled, racking her brain for a plausible story.

      “Oh, miss.” Art groaned, brown eyes going wide, “You didn’t give him the slip, did ya?”

      “Well, I—”

      He slapped his head. “This ain’t good at all! He’ll be hoppin’ mad! And there’s no telling what Fitzgerald will do.”

      Juliana took an automatic step back. “Fitzgerald? He’s here? With you?”

      “Yep, that’s him singin’ like a drunk bullfrog.”

      Oh, no. What now? Harrison was right!

      Her pulse skyrocketing, she pivoted on her heel and strode toward Lucky. “I have to find Evan!”

      She had one foot in the stirrup when she heard the click of a gun hammer.

      “Stop right there.”

      Juliana froze. Dread settled like a leaden weight on her shoulders.

      “Step away from the horse,” Fitzgerald ordered with a wave of his pistol.

      She was in big trouble, and Evan was miles away. Too far to rescue her this time. Not that he would after what she’d done to him. Silently, she did as she was told.

      “Where’s Harrison?” he demanded, all joviality of a few moments ago gone.

      “He’s not here.” She looked him straight in the eye, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing her fear.

      “I can see that,” he snapped. “Where is he?”

      “A few miles back at camp.”

      Juliana jerked when he barked a harsh laugh.

      “Harrison underestimated you, I see. I’m beginning to understand his preference for spirited women. Maybe I’ll keep