Read Outlaw for Free Online

salted beef. She had read about it in Tales of a Mountain Man in the West , but she'd certainly
never thought to find herself presented with some.
    "Thank you," she called out. The bandit
tossed his cigarette into the flames and began to eat. Emboldened
by his example, she licked at one of her pieces. It tasted of salt
and gamey meat.
    "You'd be warmer by the fire."
    Her spirits rose. His concern was
heartening. A ruthless desperado wouldn't have cared if she froze
to death, Amelia told herself. Perhaps her companion only looked
mean, for the sake of his reputation. She got to her feet, still
clutching the beef strips in one hand, and half-limped toward the
fire.
    It was blessedly warm, at least on the side
of her that faced it. The flames crackled, sending an occasional
spark popping into the sky. She managed to bite off a piece of the
beef, but it was devilishly hard to chew. She glanced over at
him.
    He was watching her. Amelia looked away,
chewing madly, trying to keep splinters of the tough meat from
poking out the corners of her mouth. She swallowed, then glanced at
him again.
    At some point, he'd taken off his hat. The
outlaw seemed different without it; a shade less frightening,
maybe. His hair looked dark and untidy, his face clean-shaven
except for a faint shadowed beard. His eyes, dark like his
collar-length hair, glittered at her across the campfire.
    Amelia gasped and quickly recalled her
earlier estimation—his expression looked ominous as ever.
Wordlessly, he picked up the canteen and handed it to her, then
walked away, pulling a whiskey flask from his coat pocket as he
went.
    The canteen smelled of horse. Amelia was
just thirsty enough not to care. She wrinkled her nose, unscrewed
the cap, and took a sip. It tasted warm, but good. After a furtive
glance to make sure she wasn't being watched, she tipped back her
head and gulped some more.
    A few minutes later he reached over her head
to take back the canteen. Surprised at his unexpected reappearance,
she choked on a mouthful of warm water; it dribbled in a most
unladylike fashion down her chin and soaked into the bodice of her
dress.
    "I didn't hear you come back," Amelia
managed to croak, swiping a hand at her mouth. Her eyes darted to
the stoppered whiskey flask in his hand. She couldn't tell if he'd
drank any of it.
    "Obviously."
    The outlaw's gaze fastened on the place
where her sodden pink bodice clung tight to her skin. She couldn't
decipher his expression, but it made a blush warm her cheeks all
the same.
    Chagrined, Amelia looked away and plucked
ineffectually at her clothes. The water seeped beneath the fabric
to wet her chemise as well. She couldn't believe she'd blushed at
his gaze. She was all of twenty-one years old and a spinster—surely
she had no cause to simper and blush at a man's scrutiny.
    His eyes met hers. "There's no fresh water
nearby," he explained in a voice suddenly turned huskier than
before. "That's all there is."
    "Oh." She nodded. "Oh, I'm sorry." Her head
bobbled like a marionette. Amelia made herself stop and looked up
at the night sky instead, pretending great interest in the
stars.
    He put his hand on her arm and turned her
around. She had to look up to see his face. Something in the
outlaw's eyes, some gentling of his expression, drew her closer.
She waited breathlessly for him to speak.
    "I can't take you back," he said.
    She could only stare at him for a second,
absorbing his words. He wasn't taking her back? "I...I'm sure if
you just take me back to the road, then—"
    "No. I've lost too much time already."
    "Well, you could leave me here and
I'll—"
    "And you'll do what?" he interrupted meanly.
"Why the hell do you think I went back for you in the first place,
lady?"
    He glared down at her, bigger, taller,
stronger than she was. The firelight shadowed his face, making him
seem twice as menacing as before.
    "I don't know," Amelia whispered. Judging by
the look on his face, whatever the reason, it was fearsome. He
turned