The Outlaw's Bride. Carolyn Davidson

place, and brought my mother here when they married. When he died, she took the deed with her. He’d made it out to me, and it was my legacy after my mother was gone.”

      “How long have you been here alone?” And how had she survived? How had a young woman alone been able to cope with the running of a farm?

      “Three years, since I was sixteen. It hasn’t been simple, but I’ve managed to support myself. And now I have the beginnings of my herd of horses.”

      “Where did you get the mares?”

      “Bought them from a man who sold his place and moved farther west. He had too many animals to take along, and gave me a good price on the three out back. One is already bred.”

      “I can see that.” He looked out beyond the corral line she’d drawn in the dirt, out to where the meadow grasses grew and flourished. Where one of her mares stood apart, her sides bulging a bit with the foal she would drop months from now. She might one day have a herd of horses if luck was with her and the mares she cherished produced colts and fillies of merit.

      “Have you thought of expanding? Buying more horses?”

      She laughed, a short, sharp sound that scorned his idea. “And what would I use for money? Horses are expensive. I was fortunate to get the ones I already have.”

      “Where did you get your mare? The one you ride.”

      “I brought her with me from the tribe. She’d been running wild and I caught her and tamed her for myself. Then after my mother was gone, I left and came back home, brought the mare with me.”

      “You tamed her?”

      Her chin tilted and a look of pride lit her eyes. “Yes. The finest day of my life was when I got up on her back and rode away from the village of my mother’s people.”

      “They weren’t your people?”

      She tossed him a look of scorn and disbelief. “I don’t fit there, any more than I do in town. I’m an outcast, Tyler, as you well know. I don’t have a place in this world, but the one I make for myself.”

      “Will you take my help, Debra Nightsong? Will you let me give you a hand, and work for my keep for a while?”

      “Why?” It was a single word that asked for more than he was willing to give.

      “Maybe because I’m an outcast, too.”

      She gave him a measuring look. “Are you? Or are you on the run?”

      “You might say that. There are those who’d like to find me, and if I can find a safe place for a while, I’d be more than happy to earn a few weeks of peace.”

      “Should I ask who is looking for you? Or am I better off not knowing?”

      “Just know that I mean you no harm, Debra.” And with that she’d would have to be satisfied, he thought. For knowledge of his past would only frighten her, perhaps put her in danger.

      “I’m foolish, I fear,” she said slowly. “But I’m smart enough to know that your help would benefit me greatly.” She inhaled deeply and let the breath escape slowly. “I’ll take a chance on you. You can stay, I’ll give you your safe place for a while, and you’ll work for me.”

      His hand shot out, silently asking her to take it, to seal their bargain, and she responded as he’d thought she would. Her slender fingers formed to his palm, and he held them there, firmly, yet carefully, as he might shelter a small, helpless creature in his grasp.

      But the woman who met his look with a level gaze of her own was not a creature who would ask for anything but what was due her. Respect, first and foremost. A measure of friendship, perhaps an honest day’s work. He could do all of that. So long as she understood that the rules were his to make, hers to follow.

      “I’ll be staying in the house with you,” he said firmly. “You’ll not put up a fuss about me sharing your home. And I’ll be sleeping in your bed.”

      She was silent, as though she accepted his terms, and then her head turned and he met the challenge in her gaze. “I’ll not be tied to you at night, nor will I let you touch me during the day.”

      It was almost a dare on her part, for she lacked clout, and they both knew it. He was stronger by far, she perhaps more devious, but without the power to make him abide by her wishes.

      “I won’t tie you, Debra, and I’ll keep my hands to myself. That far I’ll go, not because I fear your knife or your skill with a gun, but because I respect you. Does that suit you?”

      She nodded, slowly, but with a definite acceptance of his terms. “If you build my corral and set posts for a pasture fence for me, I’ll give you a place to stay and cook for you.”

      His nod was a tacit approval of her terms, and he breathed more easily. Staying one step ahead of the man who followed him had been nerve-wracking. A respite would be welcome.

      “Who are you hiding from?” Debra asked, as if the question had been fermenting in her mind and now begged to be spoken aloud.

      If he expected her to give him refuge, he owed her an explanation, Tyler decided. “I killed a man.” It was the truth so far as it went, and he watched as she digested his words, her eyes widening a bit, her mouth forming a soft “Oh” of surprise.

      CHAPTER THREE

      SHE LOOKED AT HIM with the level gaze of a woman set on having answers to her questions. And her query was what he might have expected. “Did you have a good reason?”

      She indeed had the ability to cut through the deed to find the justification for his action. And he could do no less than answer her truthfully.

      “I thought so. Still do, for that matter. He broke into my home while I was away, and killed my wife and son.” The words were blunt, their message harsh, and he awaited her reaction.

      Her hand reached for him, the sympathy in her action obvious and she spoke quickly. “No one could blame you for taking revenge on him, Tyler. Surely the law didn’t accuse you of murder.”

      “The sheriff said I had no proof that he’d killed them. Said it could have been anyone, and I’d taken out my anger on the first available prospect.”

      “Had you no proof?” She awaited his words and he was willing to tell her what she wanted to know.

      “His watch was attached to a braid of her hair. And he didn’t deny the killing to me, in fact he bragged about his taking of her body before he killed her. The fool waved his gun at me and told me how my son had run for his life, how he’d shot him down.”

      His voice broke on the words, and Debra’s hand touched his, the warmth flowing from her bringing him back from the scene that haunted him still. He turned his hand to grasp her fingers and held them tightly within his own.

      “He would have killed me,” Tyler said, “but I was quicker than he’d expected. I shot the gun from his hand and then fired again. I didn’t miss.”

      “How long ago?” she asked, and he looked beyond her, as if his eyes saw the past clearly.

      “Almost two years ago. I was put in jail, and when there was a general jailbreak, I took advantage of the fact and escaped. The rest of the prisoners stayed together and were caught.”

      “You kept to yourself?” she asked, knowing already that he would not have relied on others to protect him.

      “I ran as far and as fast as I could. Climbed into the first boxcar I saw at the train station and set off on my own. Been traveling alone ever since.”

      She felt herself leaning toward him, not physically, but somehow able to see within his actions to the man who still felt the pain of his loss, who didn’t regret the life he’d taken in revenge.

      He stood before her, tall, muscular, yet slim, as though his meals had been sparse of late, and she