The Innocent And The Outlaw. Harper St. George

from the stitch in her side. But with a trickle of sweat running down between her shoulder blades, she didn’t mind the cold anymore, so she alternated between running and walking.

      She was about halfway home when she heard the sound. It might have been horse hooves hitting the dirt, or it could have been her own imagination. Either way, she decided it was time to delve into the long, brown grass instead of staying on the path. It gave her a better chance of hiding, if she had to. No sooner had she thought that, then the sound became clearer. Definitely horse hooves. Stopping for a moment to try to hear over the wind, the sound became sounds and she realized that it was more than one horse. She’d bet her life that three horses were coming her way.

      Breaking out into a run, she half ran, half leapt over the knee-high grass that tried to slow her down. But the sounds kept drawing closer and she wasn’t getting anywhere fast. Heart in her throat, she decided the only option was to hide. The moon was only half-full, which meant there was enough darkness to keep her hidden if she stayed very still. She chanced a quick look over her shoulder to see a shadow of movement, but it was still far enough away that she was certain they hadn’t gotten a clear view of her position.

      With no choice left, she darted for a thigh-high copse of brown grass and nestled inside it, all the while praying that it was too early in the season for snakes to be out of their dens. Blood pounding through her veins, she pushed her hand inside her coat to wrap it around the locket that hung down low between her breasts. It had been a gift from her father to her mother, passed on to Emmaline years ago when they’d still lived at the brothel. She didn’t know if it had really been from the father she’d never met or not, but she’d always loved it.

      Foolishly hoping the tin trinket had powers of protection, but knowing from years of hoping to get away from Ship and his outlaws that it did not, she clutched it tight and waited. Her wide gaze stayed locked on the shadowy figures coming toward her.

      * * *

      From the moment they had ridden into Whiskey Hollow, Hunter Jameson had known they were in the right place. It was the perfect hideaway for scum like Ship Campbell. Decrepit and forlorn, the town was a blight on an otherwise beautiful landscape. Virtually abandoned when the gold had been scavenged and depleted, he couldn’t imagine why some had stayed. He was more than happy to leave it behind.

      Two weeks and they were no closer to finding Miguel. To make it worse, this mission was a distraction from their real goal, which was to find the men responsible for the death of Castillo’s grandfather and to recover his stolen inheritance. A wild-goose chase in the middle of the night wasn’t helping matters.

      “Dammit, Cas, she doesn’t know anything. We need to track down other men who’ve ridden with Campbell. The girl’s a waste of our time.” And no matter how attractive she was in the dance-hall dress, and how much his body liked her, she was off-limits. Her disturbing blushes and wide, soft eyes made him think there was more to her than met the eye. More to her than he had time to figure out.

      “We’ll see what she knows,” Cas muttered and scanned the tall grass in the distance, hoping to catch sight of her.

      They had caught her trail just north of town, exactly the direction the drunk from Campbell’s gang had said Ship lived. He’d then told them that Ship’s daughter could be found working at the saloon, but that had been all he’d known.

      “I understand your reluctance,” Cas assured him, his voice only slightly accented. “But that was the only saloon in town. That drunk described the girl perfectly, down to her dark hair and light eyes. She’s Campbell’s daughter and she could know something.”

      “He didn’t tell us her name,” Hunter argued. “Could be some other girl. Plenty of dark-haired girls in the world.”

      Cas raised a brow. “Did you see another girl there?” They hadn’t seen any other people aside from those in the saloon; if there were any other residents of the tiny town, they were at home hiding. “You know it’s her. And you know she was lying as well as I do.”

      Hunter couldn’t dispute that. Her eyes had widened at Ship Campbell’s name, and they were too innocent to hide lies. She knew the man they were tracking, but he doubted she knew anything about Cas’s younger brother. “She won’t be good for anything but slowing us down.”

      “She’ll talk before morning. Won’t slow us down for long.” This came from Zane.

      In the years he’d been riding with his half brother Cas, the brooding Zane, and the rest of the gang, they’d never failed to make someone talk who wasn’t so inclined. That was partially what worried him, though they had never been forced to interrogate a woman. There was no doubt in his mind that she knew who Ship Campbell was, but every instinct he possessed said she had no idea about Miguel. She wasn’t a criminal like Campbell. Eyes didn’t lie and hers were deep, blue pools of undiluted innocence. “She doesn’t know anything. I’m sure of it.”

      “I’ll take that bet.” Zane chuckled and spurred his horse forward.

      “That bastard Campbell has Miguel. I know it, Hunter. I’ll do whatever it takes to get him back.” Cas picked up his pace and followed Zane.

      Hunter spared them both a cutting glance. His black faltered slightly in his step, uneasy with the tension he sensed in his master. Patting his neck and murmuring gently to calm him, Hunter turned his attention back to the trail they were following. The drunk hadn’t known any more. If he had, he would’ve talked before Zane’s fist left him unconscious.

      Zane was like that sometimes, too powerful for his own good, too caught up in protecting the family to allow anyone to threaten them. He was loyal to a fault. Generally that power and dedication made him excellent at his job. Men would spill what they knew at the sight of him, or at least with very little persuasion. Hunter cringed to think about using intimidation like that with the girl. Especially a girl who refused to talk because she legitimately didn’t know anything. She wasn’t a criminal. Her innocence wasn’t feigned. It was real. Her father might rob banks and outlaws, and ransom Cas’s younger brother, but that didn’t mean she’d had anything to do with it.

      Or was it just simply his attraction that made him want her to be innocent of Campbell’s crimes? He wanted her. That much he had known from the second her gaze had connected with his. The attraction had hit him low, like a punch to the gut. And dammit if she hadn’t returned his interest. Raking a hand through his hair, he blew out a breath to clear his head. The last thing he wanted was to be involved with a Campbell, so it annoyed him that he found her intriguing.

      He suddenly wanted to figure out why. Slapping the reins, he soon outpaced Zane and Castillo, his sharp gaze taking in the grasslands. There were copses of trees in the distance and if she’d made it that far then they might lose her. But some instinct—the same one that wanted her for his own—told him that they were very close.

      After a minute or two, a movement caught his eye, but it was too shadowed to distinguish from the scenery. He might have disregarded it as unimportant had the moon not decided to aid in his pursuit and shine a shaft of light down on that particular spot. The ivory of her skin shone like a beacon in the night, as if the gods themselves were gifting her to him.

      Smiling, Hunter set a path directly for her, anticipation already warming the pit of his belly.

Chapter Three

      Emmaline’s heart sank the instant she realized they were riding directly toward her. Panic threatened to overtake her, but she managed to keep a grip on herself. There were only two choices: fight them or run and hide. Neither of those seemed to have a chance in hell of working out in her favor.

      If she ran, she could try to make it to the trees to hide, but even as she looked to confirm the distance she knew that she wouldn’t make it. It was too far; the very reason she had opted to hide in the grass. Transferring her grip from the locket to the old Smith & Wesson Schofield hidden in the pocket of her coat, she pulled it out. Like her coat, it was a castoff of Pete’s, given to her when he’d