Millie And The Fugitive

Watching him, it was hard to believe he was the ruthless outlaw she’d seen murder two deputies with her very own eyes. Yet so much was deceiving about Sam Winter. He spoke like a man of some education, and his manners weren’t unrefined. Not completely, at any rate. Of course, traveling out in the wild didn’t bring out the best in anyone, least of all herself. She was certain her daddy would have some choice words to say to her if he could have seen her traipsing around in her underclothes yesterday morning.

That was another strange thing about Sam’s behavior. In most of the books she’d read, criminals didn’t treat women so...gingerly. Sam had barely even spoken to her unless circumstances forced him, and he certainly hadn’t made any advances on her person. Thank goodness! She didn’t know what she would have done if she’d been kidnapped by someone more unmannerly.

In fact, if Sam weren’t her captor, she would have been tempted to say that his rough edges were rather endearing. True, he was overly gruff toward her at times, and perhaps a little too unconcerned about her comfort, but she couldn’t deny that she found his wry humor charming, in its own peculiar way. And his dismissive way of treating her was a bit refreshing, frankly. Most men she knew made perfect fools of themselves trying to be nice to her and treat her as though she were a delicate flower. Not Sam. The moment he tied her to a tree and threw a horse blanket over her, she’d known he was different from all the others.

Millie sighed. Just as she had expected, it would be a little sad to part company with this strange man. And she would be terribly sorry to see him follow his brother to the gallows, as he no doubt would. Perhaps he might even beat Jesse there. Killing two sworn officers of the law topped wife-murdenng any day, in her book. Even so, she couldn’t deny having fallen under Sam Winter’s spell, just a tiny bit.

What woman wouldn’t? He was handsome in a rugged way that she just didn’t run across among the men she knew. And his voice was deep, melodious. And his gray eyes practically lit up when he teased her. And when he touched her, as he had when he lifted her onto Mrs. Darwimple...

Oh, it was hopeless. What was the use of dwelling on details? They might serve her well when she was relating the events of her exciting abduction to Sally, but in the meantime, she was better off not romanticizing the man too much. After all, he’d be as good as dead once she was through with him.

Right now she had to concentrate on the task ahead of her. She couldn’t forget Sam’s threat; alerting the proprietor of the store that she had been kidnapped was going to be no easy task, with a gun trained on her the entire time. She only hoped that the person who owned the store was big and strong—or at least bigger and stronger than Sam.

As they slowed to a walk in front of the low building, she got a better look at the sign. Ned Sparks’ General Store She felt as if her whole future were in Ned Sparks’s hands

Sam eyed her cautiously. “You remember what I said?”

She straightened. “Of course.”

“Good. Get down—and don’t make any fast moves. And don’t talk unless whoever’s inside talks to you first. Understand?”

She gritted her teeth and nodded. Then she slipped off her horse. There was no other way to describe it. She put one leg back and lost her grip on the animal’s slippery hide and shot to the ground with a thud. As she landed, she half expected to hear gunfire, although that particular fast move hadn’t been intended. But instead, Sam appeared beside her and kindly yanked her back up to her feet.

“Sorry,” he said as she dusted her backside off heatedly. “I forgot that your excellent horsemanship might not extend to the fine art of dismounting bareback.”

“Never mind,” she muttered. She wasn’t going to argue with the man now. She needed him to think she was going to do exactly as he wanted. “Let’s just get this over with.”

“You first,” he said, gesturing for her to walk ahead.

With some trepidation, she pushed open the door of the little store. Once she got a look at the dark, dusty place, she was doubly certain that she needed to be rescued soon. She couldn’t imagine them buying anything there that she would actually want to eat.

“Well, hello there!” a voice cried out.

Millie looked around, but could see nothing — nothing besides old warped shelves stacked with dusty cans and jars, barrels full of who knew what, and bolts of mildewy cloth propped up against the walls. Finally, a head peeked over the long counter to her right — an old, wrinkled, bald head.

“You’re Ned Sparks?” Millie couldn’t keep the disappointment out of her voice. This was the man who was supposed to overcome her kidnapper and rescue her? Not likely! The man was seventy if he was a day — not to mention the fact that he was at least two inches shorter than she was.

Sam’s hand clamped firmly around her arm, a reminder of his don’t-speak-unless-spoken-to rule.

“Sure, I’m Ned,” the man replied genially, plainly not realizing his reply sank Millie’s hopes completely. “How do?”

“Just fine,” Sam said, his manner equally friendly. “We just stopped for a few provisions.”

“Are you the only person here?” Millie asked boldly, ready for gunfire. At this point, she hardly cared. She couldn’t believe her bad luck.

“Sure am, little lady. Would ya’ll be headed east or west?” Ned asked curiously.

“West,” Sam replied.

“Well... I just come from the east myself!” The man beamed a partially toothed smile at them. “Fort Worth. You folks are lucky you found the store open. Just got back this morning.”

“You don’t say?”

“Yessir. Got me a ride on a fast wagon yesterday. Drove all night.”

Sam nodded. Millie could feel the tension in his hand on her arm, the fear that this brush with the store proprietor was costing him. Was he worried that the man had heard about the kidnapping, Millie wondered, or was he concerned that she might blurt something out to the old man? If it was the latter, she would be perfectly willing to put Sam’s mind at ease. She didn’t see much point in trying to enlist the old fellow’s aid.

When Sam failed to respond further, Ned continued, “I was off visiting my married sister. Lives in Fort Worth. How ’bout you? Where out west are you headed, exactly?”

Sam hesitated, his mouth slightly opened, then blurted out, “We’re eloping.”

Millie shot him a shocked glance, her mouth agape. Not only had he not answered the man’s question, he’d come out with something totally unexpected. Yet she soon saw the wisdom in Sam’s improvisation. If he’d intended to get the proprietor’s mind off precise destinations, he couldn’t have said anything better. When she looked back at Ned, he was all smiles.

“How ‘bout that!” he cried. He let out a little whoop, then winked at Millie and leaned forward to whisper confidentially, “I was wonderin’ why he was holdin’ on to you so tight, but now I know. He’s scared a handsome fellow like me’s gonna steal his little bride away!”

He chortled merrily and winked again as Millie laughed limply along with him. Even Sam managed to force out a chuckle or two.

“Well, well,” Ned went on. “What can I get for ya?”

Sam smiled, relaxing a little at Millie’s continued silence. “Well, Ned,” he said, shooting her a satisfied smile, “we just stopped by to get the wife a little grub.”

“Don’t want to take time off from the honeymoonin’ to go huntin’, is that it?”

“How did you guess?” Sam replied, squeezing Millie around the waist.

Millie felt her face flame at the implication — as if she would honeymoon with a desperado! Yet at the same time, she kept her tongue. This poor old man didn’t know about her predicament, and couldn’t do anything about it even if he did. The best she could hope for at this point was some good food.

She scanned the dusty shelves, full of jars with questionable contents, hoping to see something that caught her eye. Instead, her gaze alit on something far more interesting.

“A newspaper!” she exclaimed.

Ned turned to it with interest. “Just brought it back from Fort Worth.”

“Would you mind if I read it some while my husband does the shopping?” she asked, squarely returning Sam’s unamused stare. “I’d like to see if anything was written about our elopement.”

Sam’s eyes sparked in warning, but Ned remained oblivious as he handed over his precious paper. “Go right ahead,” he urged. “Me and your husband will round you up some real nice vittles.”

Millie’s heart raced excitedly as they moved away, leaving her to leaf through the pages in private. There was sure to be news of her kidnapping from Fort Worth. If she could just figure out a way to scrawl a message across the newspaper, maybe the old man could help after all....

She didn’t have far to look. Prisoner Escapes in Chariton , the story beneath the fold on the first page began. The next line in bold read, Young Lady Abducted, Two Deputies Escape Attack Unharmed. Millie quickly scanned the story, looking for her name, which wasn’t mentioned. Just that she was a daughter of Old Lightfooted Lively. Now wasn’t that silly? How was anyone expected to find her if the paper didn’t print her name?

Her eyes were moving quickly across the page when suddenly she stopped, then looked back up, certain she had misread. Two Deputies... Unharmed.

Unharmed. But how could that be?

She had seen the “attack” with her very own eyes — had seen Sam brutally fell the two men, beating them repeatedly. They hadn’t moved a muscle after that. Not when he’d dragged them over to that tree and—

The blood drained out of her face so quickly that she thought for a moment that she might faint. She refolded the paper, then leaned back against the counter, attempting to gather her racing thoughts.

First he’d beaten the deputies. Then he’d dragged them to a tree and tied them up. Tied them up! Why would he have bothered to tie up two dead men? Or shoo away their horses?

The answer was so simple. They had never been dead at all. Sam hadn’t murdered anyone.

Oh, how could she have been so silly? How could she have made such a terrible misjudgment?

Across the small room, Sam and Ned conferred over various jars and kegs. At one point, Sam sent her a worried glance, as if he could tell that all was not right with her. But then he was forced to haggle with Ned over some sadlooking dried meat that made Millie’s stomach lurch once again.

This new development threw everything into confusion. Sam was innocent of what she’d accused him of. She had proof of that now. Was his story about his brother being innocent also true?

She looked again at Sam. His proud, straight back. His head of dusty hair, his sun-darkened skin, his intelligent gray eyes. Was he an honest man, as he had claimed? Could she have misjudged him so completely?

It appeared she had.

She blushed to think about the hateful things she had said to him, the names she had called him. So many times he had told her the truth and she had turned a deaf ear, unswerving in her certainty about what she had witnessed. Only what she had seen had been entirely wrong.

His gray eyes were watching her again, and his forehead was creased with worry. He was worried about her? Something in her breast fluttered, and she looked away, stunned by the suddenness of it all.

Sam was innocent. That didn’t change the fact that she was his hostage, of course, although it seemed to change practically everything else. How strange to think that she really had nothing to fear from Sam Winter after all. How strange... and how wonderful!

Chapter Four

“Isn’t this just the loveliest day you’ve ever seen?”

Sam sent his charge a doubtful glance. Up till now, Millie had said not a word after they left Ned’s little shack — just hummed and smiled — and though he appreciated the novelty of her silence, he knew the gears of deception must be grinding away in that twisted feminine mind of hers. The perky tone she chose when she finally spoke confirmed it. Something was up.

“I don’t know when I’ve seen such a lovely day,” she went on enthusiastically, sending him yet another of her beatific smiles.

That was another thing. Why was she looking at him in that simpering, cockeyed way? “You were cranky enough this morning.”

Frankly, he was surprised that she hadn’t attempted some sort of escape back at the store. She’d had ample opportunity to try to get Ned Sparks to hear her story, or to leave him some furtive message. Not that the old fellow could have been much of a help to her.

He frowned as they neared the place where he’d deposited her saddle. After knowing Millie only two full days, the idea of her not having an ulterior motive behind all this sudden complicity struck him as unlikely. These rich girls learned to use all sorts of roundabout tactics to get what they wanted from men.

Unfortunately, forewarned wasn’t always forearmed. He found himself increasingly vulnerable to those thick-lashed dark eyes of hers. While he rode, he often thought about them — and how they would look just before he kissed her. Which wasn’t going to happen, although his rambling thoughts did explain why he’d told that old man back there they were newlyweds. And probably why the old man could believe it, too. When Sam put his arm around Millie, there’d been nothing fake about the fierce stab of desire he felt for her.

Poor kid. She’d probably go screaming into the horizon if she knew what a case he had for her. He glanced warily at her.

Millie beamed. Her dark brown eyes seemed almost to sparkle at him with something that he would have sworn resembled admiration...if he hadn’t known better. That was why it was so important to get his mind off her lips and focus on what was going on inside that brain of hers.

At the top of the hill, Sam reined in his horse. Millie stopped right next to him, and slipped off without his even having to ask her. Carefully he dismounted himself, certain now that she must have some trick up her sleeve.

He walked over to the saddle and lugged it back over to Millie’s horse.

“Here, let me help you with that, Mr. Winter,” she said, coming forward with outstretched hands.

This was too much. “Don’t let’s stand on formality, Millie,” he answered politely. “You can just call me Mr. Murderer.”

She blushed and cast her eyes modestly toward the dirt at his feet. “Oh, no,” she said earnestly, “I would never call you that.”

He let out a sharp laugh as he hefted the silly saddle onto Mrs. Darwimple’s back. “Changed your mind about me, have you?”

She batted her thick black eyelashes twice before looking back at him. “Yes, I have.”

What kind of game was this? “If you think a lie like that is going to make me let my guard down, think again.”

That pointy chin lifted a little higher. “It’s not a lie. I know with perfect certainty that you didn’t kill those two deputies.”

“Did a little bird tell you?”

“No, the newspaper did.”

He looked at her in alarm.

“There was a whole long article on the front page about us — only I guess they didn’t mention my name because that would have been detrimental to my reputation.” She planted her hands on her hips in irritation. “Now I ask you, does that make sense? How else do they expect me to be found?”

Sam’s brows knit together worriedly. Being front-page news didn’t flatter him half as much as it did Millie. “Did the paper have a description of us?”

She sent him a look that let him know precisely how absurd his question was. “Most people in the area know what I look like.”

“Sure, but we’re not in the area. Ned Sparks didn’t suspect us — but maybe he hadn’t read the article yet.”

“That old man? He probably couldn’t see us well enough to identify us, anyway. Besides, he thinks we’re newly married.” She laughed. “And didn’t I play my part well? I thought you would have mentioned that.”

“You were fine,” Sam said, distracted. “You should have snatched that paper, though. That old guy might be better at putting two and two together than we give him credit for.” Sam took to his task more hurriedly. “We’ve got to put some distance between ourselves and this place.”

“Good,” Millie said cheerfully, “I’m anxious to get home.”

Sam stopped in the middle of tugging on the girth. At first, he wasn’t sure he’d heard her right. But the breezy way she stood nearby, inspecting her fingernails, convinced him that he had. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Aren’t we going back to Chariton?” Her wide, dark eyes were unfazed by his gruff words. “Surely you see this changes everything. I believe you, Sam.”

“That’s wonderful,” he said. “What do you want, a medal?”

“No, I merely want to go home, and now there’s absolutely no reason for us not to. Why should we be gallivanting across the countryside, now that you have a witness who can vouch for what happened? This has all just been a big mistake, and I’m perfectly willing to tell everybody so.”

At first he was dumbfounded. Just a big mistake? Finally, after staring in shock for a few minutes at her standing in front of him, her face the picture of complacency, he bit out a bitter laugh. “Oh, now that’s a relief.”

Her thin shoulders squared proudly. “I should think it would be. I’m willing to explain to my daddy, the sheriff and even a judge if need be that there’s been a terrible miscarriage of justice. I’m sure they’ll understand.”

Sam couldn’t think of what to say. She really seemed to believe that all they had to do was go back and all would be forgiven. “Don’t you realize that your father has probably organized a posse to hunt me down?”

“Oh, yes!” Millie nodded. “The story mentioned that. Twenty men, it said.”

“Twenty men, all with orders to shoot to kill.”

“To kill?” The idea seemed to startle her. “But you’re innocent! I can tell them that.”

“Princess, you don’t understand. They’re going to shoot first and ask questions later. If we go within two counties of Chariton, you’ll be explaining my innocence over my carcass. It won’t be a pretty sight.”

Millie frowned distastefully. “My daddy is a reasonable man. Maybe if you sent me first—”

“Oh, no,” Sam said. “Knowing you, you’ll start talking, and soon as you know it you’ll be leading that posse straight to me.”

She rolled her eyes in exasperation. “But if you don’t go back, or at least send me, we’ll just have to keep running.”

“That’s right,” he said. “But it’s not going to be we, Princess. It’ll just be me.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “And where will I be?”

“With friends,” Sam told her.

“Oh, thank heavens!” she said, obviously relieved. “I’ll go directly to Sally Hall. She’s a notorious gossip, but if I twist her arm and tell her how absolutely imperative—”

Sam shook his head in disbelief. “Are you completely addlebrained? I’m not sending you to your friends,” he informed her.

Millie blinked. “Oh.”

“Actually, Gus Beaver was a friend of my father’s, but I count him as one of my own, too.”

Her expression, so recently smug and self-assured, now flushed with confusion and just a touch of panic. “Where does this Gus Beaver live, if I might ask?”

“About a day’s ride from here.”

“In a town?” she asked, her voice growing shrill with concern.

“Nope. He’s about as isolated as can be. That’s why I’m taking you there—so you’ll stay put.”

“Well, I won’t go!” she said, coming forward, some of the old anger flashing in her dark eyes. “This is the most ridiculous plan I’ve ever heard of. Here I am offering—no, practically begging!—to tell the world that you’ve been wrongly treated, and your only reaction is to abandon me alone out in the middle of nowhere with some old man you barely know!”

“I trust Gus. And you won’t be alone—he’s married.”

“Why can’t I at least go with you? That way, if you’re caught, I could —”

“Because without you along I stand a better chance of not getting caught. You stick out, Millie. Somebody’s bound to notice you sooner or later. I’ll move faster on my own.”

“But as I was trying to explain, if you were apprehended, I could vouch for your character.”

Sam was anxious to get going again. “We don’t have time to stand here all day arguing, so listen tight. It’s not only my own hide I’m concerned about. I have a brother in jail, and he’s going to be swinging from a noose in eleven days if I don’t manage to bring in the man who really killed his wife. That’s going to be a hard feat in itself, but saddled with you, Princess, it becomes nigh on impossible. Do you want to be responsible for a man’s death?”

She drew back, stung by his blunt words. “I only wanted to help.”

He handed Mrs. Darwimple’s reins to her. “Fine. Just keep doing what I tell you to do.”

“You don’t have to treat me like a hostage anymore,” she assured him, grudgingly accepting the reins. “I’m on your side.”

Somehow, her words failed to give Sam the solace he suspected was intended. Having Millie Lively on his side was about as comforting as having an ant in his boot. And, to his way of thinking, about as helpful.

Millie wrinkled her nose and, with her fingertips, held her once pristine white ruffled pinafore away from her person. The garment was letting off a dreadful odor that she felt sure not all of the scrubbing in the world could get rid of.

She couldn’t really complain. It had been her idea that Sam teach her how to clean the fish he had caught that evening in a stream they had stopped near. She’d been so excited at the process of a square meal — not to mention a chance to prove how helpful she could be to Sam—that she had eagerly volunteered for the task. But that was before she’d known what a smelly, disgusting experience it would be. Sam could have at least warned her! Her poor pinafore, a mess from all the fish guts and the wounds Sam’s knife had inflicted on her own poor hands, had been rendered unwearable, not to mention unattractive to anything but a swarm of flies.

No doubt Sam would tell her to wash it a couple of times. But with what? The man had thought to pick up things like fishhooks and a knife and ammunition for his stolen arsenal at Ned Sparks’s store, but had he thought of soap? Millie had no intention of lugging a stinky, sticky pinafore around until she got to the Weavers’ or the Beavers’ or whatever their name was. She didn’t care if Sam did think only a spoiled rich girl would be so shameful and wasteful. It was her pinafore, and she was leaving it here.

She just wouldn’t let him know about it.

She scoped out the ground around her. Everywhere the earth was dry and hard, or covered with thick yellow grass she would never be able to claw through to bury the pinafore. The only thing left to do was stash the thing away under a bush and hope Sam didn’t see it. It was nearly dark, anyway, and they would leave well before sunrise. Chances of him spotting it and forcing her to bring it along were slim.

She wasn’t certain why Sam’s opinion suddenly mattered so much. Maybe it had something to do with the quavery feeling she got every time she looked into those hard gray eyes of his—like her knees were about to collapse underneath her. No man she’d known had been capable of making her feel so fluttery inside.

After hastily pushing the pinafore beneath some leafy branches of a low bush and covering it with loose dirt and dried leaves, she hurried back to their makeshift camp.

Sam barely glanced at her as she returned. He was hunched over the smallest campfire she’d ever seen, fanning what little smoke the burning embers of mesquite wood gave off by waving a leafy branch over the fish, which, after she had scraped and mutilated the poor thing, now seemed pathetically small. Hardly worth the effort, really.

“You were gone long enough,” he said.

Sam obviously didn’t want to admit it, but Millie was certain he was glad she believed his story. In fact, she had a vague hope that she was winning the man over. Didn’t that comment about her being gone a long time indicate he had been restless for her return?