Liz Ireland - Millie And The Fugitive

Ed shook his head. “Nope. Fact, it’s practically the exact opposite.”

“Practically,” Toby agreed. “Sam here ain’t never even said a word against anybody. Not that I’ve heard.”

“Me neither.”

“He just done what anybody would have done.”

On this much, at least, the two seemed clear. Sam decided to give them a little mental shove. God knew, they needed it.

“Well, I suppose that’s just the way with the law,” he said nonchalantly. “If you start making exceptions...”

“Where would it end?” Toby finished for him.

“Why, sure.” Sam was silent a moment, then mused absently, “I wonder whether counterfeiters have to wear handcuffs”

Toby and Ed suddenly looked at each other, their eyes wide and almost alarmed, as if the unexpected question had mentally flummoxed them.

“I don’t know,” Toby said, his voice filled with wonder. “Do you know, Ed?”

“No, I sure don’t.”

“Counterfeiter. I ain’t never run across one of those.” Toby bit his lip and squinted in thought as he stared across the horizon. It was morning still, and the sun was just now beginning to beat down upon them. “I bet they do.”

“Bet so.” Ed frowned. “But then again, maybe they don’t.”

“Funny thing is,” Toby said, “Sam here is even less dangerous than a counterfeiter, when you think about it.”

“He’s not even a thief or anything like that.”

“Hell no. He’s just a brother-hider.”

“I mean, who’s he hurt?”

“Nobody I know of.”

The two looked at each other again, communicating silently over Sam’s shoulders.

“And if somebody like a counterfeiter doesn’t have to be tied up, then why should Sam?”

“You got me stumped,” Ed declared.

“Whoa there, boys,” Sam said graciously, hoping the triumphant surge he felt didn’t show in his face. They weren’t even three miles out of town yet. This was too easy. “I don’t want to get you in trouble with your boss man.”

“With Sheriff Tom?” Ed asked incredulously.

“Why, Tom trusts us!” Toby protested, as if the idea itself were plumb crazy.

“Would he have let us take you all the way to Huntsville by our lonesome if he didn’t trust us to use our, you know...”

“Discretion?” Sam prompted.

“Sure, that’s it,” Toby said. “We’d just be using our discretion. It’s not like you would try to escape.”

“You certain of that?” Sam asked, darting his eyebrows up.

“Ha! That’s a laugh!” Ed said with another wheezing chuckle. “Hold up there, Toby, let’s let old poker face here out of these iron traps. He’s right, it’ll make for faster travelin’.”

Easy, it was too easy, Sam thought, proffering his wrists with an admirable show of reluctance.

Toby tossed a large ring of keys over Sam’s horse to Ed. “Here, take care of it, will you? I’ve got to water a bush.”

“Already? Hell, it’s gonna be slow goin’ anyway, even without Sam cuffed.” Ed laughed heartily as Toby disappeared to the other side of a scrubby little elm.

After only minimal fumbling, the bonds fell away in a noisy clatter to Sam’s saddle. Far too easy. Providence couldn’t have sent him two more gullible jailers.

“Now we just have to wait for old leaky-drawers,” Ed mused, shifting in his saddle and looking off in the direction where Toby had disappeared. “I swear, the man’s as bad as—”

The sound of the cuffs hitting the back of Ed’s head made a dull clump sound, and then the deputy slumped over and listed to the side, falling from his horse. Sam jumped down and eased the man’s way to the ground. He wasn’t a violent man, normally; ordinarily he would have felt a sting of guilt for taking advantage of the two men’s kindness this way. But these weren’t ordinary circumstances he was in. He grabbed the rifle off Ed’s saddle and held it up toward the tree Toby just then appeared from behind.

“Hey! What’s goin’ on here?” Toby demanded.

“Ed had a fainting spell,” Sam said, keeping his voice raw and cool, his muscles tense. The time for friendly patter had passed. “Drop your gun, Toby.”

“Sure thing, Sam,” the second deputy said, scooting forward obligingly with one hand stiffly in the air while the other pulled a derringer from its holster and lowered the gun to the earth. “Heck, you know I don’t blame you none. I’d do the same if’n I was you.”

“Maybe so,” Sam said, picking up Toby’s derringer and tucking it into his belt. “I don’t have time for making excuses. Now get over here and drag Ed back to that tree.”

“Whatever you say, Sam,” Toby said, grabbing Ed by the armpits and dragging him backward. His frightened eyes never left the barrel of Sam’s rifle. Sam grabbed a coil of rope from Ed’s saddle and joined Toby by the tree. “I hate to do this to you, friend....”

“You ain’t gonna—?” Toby winced and fell to his knees in supplication. “Please, Sam—I’ve got a widowed mother.”

“You’ll see your mother again,” Sam assured the man, moments before his rifle butt came down on his head. Soon Mama Jenkins would be treating her boy for a nasty bump on the head.

Quickly Sam cuffed the two men together, then propped them up against the tree and bound them tightly to its trunk. He had enough rope for the job and then a good length left over—yet another sign that the Fates were with him this day.

Feeling magnanimous, he trotted back to the horses and retrieved a canteen of water from one of the saddles. He returned to the two men and propped the water between them.

He didn’t want them to die — he just didn’t want them to be found for at least a day or two. After a final whack on the head for each of them, he turned and drove two of the horses away, saving the gamest one for his own flight.

The black would have to ride hard in the days ahead. It was nearly four days to the south and west to Little Bend, the town where he had business. Dead-serious business. And Jesse’s date with the hangman in two weeks left him precious little time.

He mounted the black and kicked him into an easy lope, due west. In spite of the tension that ate at his insides, a wide smile broke out across his lips. At least he was off to a good start. Yes, sir. Things couldn’t have gone much better if he’d planned it step by step.

Then he heard a noise. A horse’s whinny, high and shrill.

He sawed the reins of the black and brought him to a stop, turning in his saddle. The other two horses had galloped off in the opposite direction from where the sound had come from. Tense, alert, he surveyed the landscape around him. There wasn’t much to it. Just a sloping, grass-covered hill, dotted with elms and other unremarkable trees. Except one...

His eyes caught sight of what he’d been looking for. On the other side of the tree stood a horse, a pretty little dappled gray mare. Raising his rifle with one arm, he rode slowly toward the tree where the horse was tethered. A pear tree. Its branches sagged with fruit.

Sam stopped. He didn’t like this at all. A riderless horse practically within spitting distance of where he’d clunked two deputies over the head... Maybe his luck wasn’t so good today after all.

“Who’s there?” he asked, his finger tense on the trigger. Having come this far, he was ready to shoot his way out of trouble if he had to.

But as his eyes scanned the area once again, he noted something interesting. The mare was outfitted with a sidesaddle, polished to a high gloss. Sam had seen few of those ridiculous-looking things in his twenty-eight years. Yet the sight of it made him relax a little. It was only a woman.

He hoped she was alone.

Where the hell could she be?

Just then, his gaze alit on precisely what he’d been looking for—a dainty tan boot peeking out from beneath a limb of the pear tree. The woman was treed...but she’d also been in a perfect position to witness him clobbering two deputies.

“All right, lady. Come on out.”

A branch rustled nervously, sending a brown pear dropping to the hard ground below. But fruit was all that appeared.

“I know you heard me,” he said, riding forward a few more steps. He doubted the person who belonged to those kid-leather boots rode armed.

The closer he came, the more that tree shook, until, as Sam sat directly beneath a bright yellow dress covering a host of frilly starched white petticoats and a tantalizing peek of shapely, pantalet-clad legs, every branch on the tree was quivering. Looking up, he discovered a pair of the darkest, most frightened eyes he’d ever seen staring down at him. She’d heard him, all right. She just wished she hadn’t.

“All, right, little lady,” he said in the same gruff voice, “come on down now.”

In a split second, even though her gaze never left his face, the young woman’s entire demeanor changed. A bright, fetching smile broke out across her rosy-red lips, even if the fear remained in her eyes as she hugged even more tightly to the tree trunk.

“Well, my goodness!” she cried, in an overly friendly tone that was betrayed only by a slight anxious crack in her voice. “I thought I heard someone!”

“Right,” Sam said, lacking the leisure to be amused by her little show of innocence. “You might also have thought you saw a man tying two deputies to a tree.”

“Deputies?” she asked. “What deputies?”

“Come on, lady,” he said, raising the rifle another notch.

Her expression turned deadly earnest, and she shook her head fervently. “Oh, no, I swear. I didn’t see a thing. My—my lips are forever sealed.”

“If you didn’t see anything, what are they sealed against?”

“That’s just it,” she insisted. “They won’t be able to get a single solitary word out of me, Mr. — I’m sorry, what is your name?”

“Not a chance,” he told her.

Desperation crossed her face. “You’ve got to believe me,” she pleaded. “I wouldn’t tell a soul I saw anything, even if I did. Which I didn’t. Ask anyone. I’m honest to a fault. I never break my word. Never, never, never, never—Ooooh!”

He grabbed her booted foot and tugged. “Are you coming down, or am I going to have to drag you?”

“No!” It took her a moment to regain her composure, not to mention her equilibrium, as her right foot struggled for balance on a narrow limb. “I mean, of course I’ll come down,” she said, trying the pleasant tactic again. “I’m most eager to make your acquaintance.”

“I’ll bet.”

He leaned against the saddle horn for a moment as the young woman fussed and fidgeted, alternately shooting nervous glances at him and studying with some confusion her position in the tree. “My goodness...” she mumbled absently. “I got up here so fast, I never considered how to get down....”

Sam sighed. He didn’t have time for this. “Do you want some help?”

“No, no—Oooh!”

Before she could waste any more precious moments, Sam reached up with both hands, grabbed her about the knees and pulled firmly. It didn’t take much effort. In a cascade of starched cotton and pears, the young woman landed across the saddle in front of him, her keen dark eyes rounded in shock. Both Sam and the girl sucked in surprised gulps of air in reaction to his bold maneuver.

She had to be the lightest woman he’d ever held in his arms—not that he made a habit of lifting females. As he looked into her pretty face close up for the first time, he felt a stab of disappointment. This was hardly time for a leisurely getting-acquainted chat with an attractive girl. Seeing the momentary curiosity in the young woman’s expression return quickly to fear as she stared back at him reminded him of his purpose.