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into these men’s camp last night looking for a meal and they asked me to stay with the horses this morning.” He shrugged. “I knew better, but I was in no hurry to go anywhere.”
    She sucked in a quick breath. “Right now I don’t care. I’m going to bleed to death if you don’t do something.”
    “I’ll take my mask off and help, but you’ve got to promise you’ll never tell anyone what I look like, or point me out if you see me in Tombstone.”
    Christy lifted a determined chin. “Fine. I won’t tell anyone what you look like. But please hurry and bind this wound.”
    Nevada jerked off the mask, thankful for the fresh air and better vision with the musty piece of burlap removed. “I need to cut your sleeve.”

    Christy nodded but didn’t speak, afraid to trust her voice now that the bandit had removed his mask. Deep brown eyes tried to probe the veil. Her heart jumped to her throat, and she struggled to breathe. The outlaw was undoubtedly one of the handsomest men she’d ever encountered. She’d always thought Alexia’s husband Justin attractive, but this man with his broad shoulders, narrow hips, cleft in his chin and dark, wavy hair was downright rugged and masculine.
    She stared up into his rich brown eyes, thankful he couldn’t see hers, because she was embarrassed at the direction her thoughts had taken. He was an outlaw, for goodness’ sake! There was no place in her life for interest in a man like this. No, five years ago she’d sworn she’d never again be duped by a handsome face, no matter the circumstances. Especially not someone who carried a gun and appeared to know how to use it.
    A slight shudder shook her body, as she remembered the man who’d coerced her into traveling to Last Chance in the first place. He’d been no good, and she hadn’t been strong enough to stand against him. That Christy no longer existed, and she’d found the strength to do the right thing in the end. She’d grown and changed in the intervening years, and nothing would make her waver from the path she’d chosen now—caring for her mother and younger brother, and hopefully making their lives better.

    Nevada squinted at the veil, wishing he could see beneath it and into the face of the woman standing so calmly before him. He’d seen the color course up her neck and then noticed the slight shiver that shook her body. Was it shock from the bullet wound or fear of further injury at his hands that consumed her? Best finish this as soon as possible and hightail it out of here. He cursed himself for getting hooked up with this crew and drawn into this mess.
    Then another notion penetrated the dark thoughts swirling in his mind and drew him up short. What would this woman’s fate have been if he’d not come along when he had? Based on the greed and uncaring attitudes of the group robbing the stage, he doubted any of them would’ve seen to her wound.
    He pulled a finely honed knife from a sheath on his belt and sliced the material, then spread it wide. A deep gash in the fleshy part of her arm continued to ooze blood, but the bullet didn’t appear to have cut deep enough to hit a bone. He dug into his back pocket and withdrew a clean bandana. The one around his neck was covered with trail dust and wouldn’t do to cover the wound but would tie off the blood flow. “Here, hold this for a moment.” He shoved the bandana into her hand and yanked off the one around his neck, then tied it a couple inches above the bleeding.
    She winced when he tightened the cloth and knotted it but didn’t utter a word.
    He cut a corner off the clean bandana and made a pad, placing it over the gash, and then tied the rest of it around the area where she’d been shot. “There. That should do it.”
    A tiny smile tipped up the corner of her mouth. “Thank you. I won’t forget your kindness, even if you are a bandit.”
    Nevada started to reply, then tightened his jaw. He’d already explained, and she didn’t believe him, so