Outlaw Hunter. Carol Arens

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ

      The marshal reached the wagon, then turned his horse to trot beside it.

      “There’s a place I’d like you and the children to see. It’s a few hours out of the way but worth it. We’ll stop there for the night. If the weather’s not too cold we won’t have to sleep in the wagon.”

      His voice sounded deep and smooth. It made her think of fertile soil, tilled and ready for gardening, or a hearth fire banked low but still sending warmth into the night.

      Somehow, with all that had happened over the past few days, she hadn’t noticed the rich timbre of his voice.

      She noticed it now because it stirred something in her. A little finger of hope tickled her insides, faintly, as though wondering if it was safe to come out.

      When she thought about it, it had not been days, but years since she had felt joy over common things, like a bare tree or a deep, masculine voice.

      There had been joy over her babies, of course, along with a great deal of worry about their futures. Loving them, and the fact that they needed her, was what had kept her going during the dismal days at the ranch. For their sakes she had kept on, singing when she wanted to weep and smiling when there was only anxiety behind it.

      “I know I’ve said it before, Marshal, but it deserves repeating...I thank you...we all do.”

      The marshal didn’t seem to be a man who filled empty space with words. When he said something, though, folks listened.

      She listened now, hoping that he wouldn’t answer with only a dip of his hat. Now that she was aware of the husky, virile tone of his voice, she wanted to hear it again.

      “No need for thanks, Mrs. Travers.”

      Mrs. Travers. She wanted to spit.

      Even when spoken in his wonderful voice and delivered with a slightly lopsided, completely handsome smile, she hated that name.

      Curse it, if her boys would carry it.

      * * *

      Steam curled into the frosty night air. After seven hours of camping near the hot spring, Hattie still could not believe that heated water bubbled right out of the earth.

      It was as close to a natural miracle as she could imagine.

      And all around it, there were woods! Sitting beside the campfire, she peered up through the bare branches, watching the show of stars creep slowly across the sky.

      Even though it was cold on the ground, it was a relief to be out of the wagon, where nights had been spent dodging elbows and pushing away invading knees.

      The Broken Brand was a world away from this magical place. If only she could bathe in the spring, let the hot water cleanse away the dust clinging to her, she might be able to put the past to rest.

      Of course, there hadn’t been time for bathing, or the proper privacy. Truly, she couldn’t possibly strip down to her skin with the marshal close by.

      While there was no doubt that he was brave and self-sacrificing, he was still a man. From her own pitiful experience, she had discovered that men took what they wanted. A woman’s body was his to do with as he pleased, especially when the woman was his wife.

      Oh, but the simmering water of the spring did call to her.

      She glanced over to the far side of the campfire. Libby, wrapped up in a coat with Pansy, slept deep and sound. A foot away, Joe slumbered with his face toward the sky as though he had fallen asleep gazing at the branches scratching against each other in the breeze. Flynn slept in the wagon to insure he wouldn’t wander during the night.

      Marshal Prentis sat with his back propped against a tree and his rifle across his lap. She couldn’t see his eyes because his Stetson was tugged over them. Judging by the slow even pace of his breathing, he was asleep, too.

      She stood up quietly, tucking the coat around Seth and making sure the pocket of warm air surrounding him didn’t leak out.

      After a brief peek into the buckboard to make sure Flynn was covered, she made her way toward the spring.

      Fifty feet away from the campfire, she sat down on a large rock beside the water, listening to the peace of the night.

      The surface of the water moved with the warm current, the breeze shuffled through the tree branches and the fire crackled. Someone began to snore. She thought it was Joe.

      Now was the time to shed her filthy gown, step through the warm mist and slide down into the water. She couldn’t, of course, not with Seth nuzzling his warm little head on her breast.

      That didn’t keep her from imagining how it would be, though. First the warmth would kiss her toes, then it would ease the chill out of her calves.

      She would sigh at the pleasure of it.

      “Go ahead, Mrs. Travers.” She heard the marshal’s footsteps crunching the dirt close behind her. “I’ll hold the baby while you soak for a bit.”

      It wouldn’t be proper, undressing in front of him and sinking blissfully into the water. She shouldn’t even consider it. Putting aside propriety was what had landed her at the Broken Brand in the first place, a prisoner of Ram.

      “I thank you for the offer, but...” She shrugged and shook her head, wishing with all her heart that she could say yes.

      “I won’t drop him.” She might, though, if he came any closer with that smooth-sounding voice. “I have three younger sisters, and nieces, too, if that puts you at ease.”

      “It’s not that. Mercy, you wedged yourself between Flynn and that mad coyote. I’m sure you won’t drop Seth.”

      “Like I said, I have three younger sisters. I’ll turn my back.”

      “I don’t think—”

      “Keep him wrapped in the coat when you take it off so he doesn’t get chilled.” He reached out his arms, waiting for her to hand over Seth. Moonlight caught the glow of his badge where it formed a circle over his heart. “I’ll turn my back while you decide what to do.”

      It wouldn’t hurt to do that much. She could pretend to consider the offer for a moment then carry Seth back to the fire.

      Wriggling out of the coat, she handed him the baby. He turned around. Behind her, she swore she heard the bubbling water call her name. There would be nothing wrong with taking off her boots and her stockings. That could be modestly done beneath her skirt.

      At least her feet would be clean.

      “Where does your family live?” she asked to make polite conversation.

      “Indiana.”

      She sat on the rock, dangling her feet into the pool. Warmth caressed her toes. It hugged her ankles. Wouldn’t it be pure heaven to feel it all over her body?

      She turned to glance behind at the marshal. His back was still to her. So far he had kept his word. His broad, leather-clad shoulders tipped side to side, rocking СКАЧАТЬ