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The Reluctant Outlaw
Karen Kirst
A Kidnapper—and a Gentleman? The ruthless criminal who took Juliana O'Malley hostage was a thief and an outlaw—or so she thinks. But on a perilous journey through the Smoky Mountains, he becomes her unlikely protector. And when he pledges to return her home safely, she somehow finds herself believing him.Evan Harrison has risked everything to find the men who killed his brother. Saving spirited, strong-willed Juliana could blow his cover with a deadly gang. Yet her courage and unwavering faith make him dream of the home and family he thought he could never have. And suddenly, that future is incomplete—without Juliana in it.



“What’s wrong? Aren’t you hungry?”
“What’s wrong?” Julianna tossed the remainder aside and jumped up to face him squarely. He was tall, but then so was she. Tilting her head back a fraction, she glared at him. “Oh, let me see … I’d intended to go shopping but instead interrupted a robbery. I had a gun held to my head. I was forced to ride for hours with a stranger to an undisclosed destination. To put it in simpler terms—you kidnapped me. Tackled me. Threatened me. Tore my favorite dress.” She indicated the hem with a sweep of her hand. “And worst of all,” she added, her voice wobbling, “you made me miss my mother’s birthday.”
One rogue tear slipped down her cheek, and she blinked fast to dry her eyes.
Before she could comprehend what he intended, he lifted his hand to her face and ever so gently wiped the tear away with the pad of his thumb. His touch was as delicate as a butterfly’s wing.
It confused her. There was more to this outlaw than she had anticipated.
Dear Reader,
Thank you for choosing The Reluctant Outlaw. I hope you enjoyed reading about Evan and Juliana’s journey to love. My favorite heroes are like Evan—tough, determined and loyal—with a measure of tenderness thrown in. Like Evan, many of us struggle with fear in different seasons of our lives. We can find comfort in the fact that God is in control. Nothing surprises Him. I admire Juliana’s ability to cling to God’s promises even in the midst of her ordeal. As His children, we must learn to do the same when trials come our way.
East Tennessee is near and dear to my heart. Born and raised about an hour from Gatlinburg and Cades Cove, I visited the mountains quite often and worked in Gatlinburg for a time. The majestic beauty of the Great Smoky Mountains, as well as the abundance of animal and plant life, draws millions of visitors each year. It was a pleasure to write about such a special place and envision what it must’ve been like over a hundred years ago.
I would love to hear from you! You can write to me at Love Inspired Books, 233 Broadway, Suite 1001, New York, NY 10279, email me at karenkirst@live.com, or visit my website at: www.karenkirst.com.
Best wishes,
Karen Kirst
The Reluctant Outlaw
Karen Kirst


www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
To my husband, Marek—
thank you for your endless support and
encouragement. You are my voice of reason.
Without you, there would be no laughter in my life.
To my parents, Richard and Dorothy Kirst—
thanks, Mom, for all those trips to the library.
I wouldn’t be living this dream today had it not been
for you. And Dad, your generosity
is what I love most about you.
To my critique partners—
my sister Shelly Benson, niece Jessica Price,
and best friend, Danielle Mattson—thank you
for your insights and encouragement
on this journey to publication!
A big thanks to my editor Emily Rodmell!
You took a chance on me and I’m so thankful you did!
My ultimate thank-you goes to my Heavenly Father
God and His Son Jesus Christ!
Apart from Him, I can do nothing.
For God has not given us a spirit of fear,
but of power and of love and of a sound mind.
—2 Timothy 1:7

Chapter One
Gatlinburg, Tennessee June 1880
Blocking the entrance to Clawson’s Mercantile, Evan Harrison tried to blend in with the overhang’s shadows. He’d dressed in head-to-toe black, his hat pulled low to shade his eyes. Leaning against the glass-paned door, arms crossed and one ankle slung carelessly over the other, he could’ve been waiting for someone or simply watching the morning rush of people. What passersby couldn’t see was his heart’s sharp tattoo against his rib cage and the sweat sliding between his shoulder blades to trickle down his spine.
His narrowed gaze flicked to and fro, his muscles bunched and ready to spring should anyone head his way. Hurry up, Fitz. He wondered how Art was doing in the back alley.
This wasn’t his first holdup, so why the unease? He scanned the crowd again, and the burning in his gut grew worse. He was worried about Fitz. The outlaw inside the mercantile was a wild card. Lenny Fitzgerald had proven time and again that he wasn’t afraid to spill innocent blood. And he wasn’t particular about his victims.
Evan had done his best to prevent the violence, but he could only do so much without arousing suspicion. He couldn’t take a chance of blowing his cover. He’d worked too hard and waited too long to have that happen now.
He closed his eyes, wishing he could put off the inevitable. Then he remembered the reason he was there and his resolve hardened. He was on a quest for justice, and he would get it. No matter what.
He snapped his eyes open at the sound of someone approaching. Shifting his head to the right, he caught sight of a young woman striding down the boardwalk in his direction, her boots clipping the weathered planks with determination. She was on a mission, it seemed.
Please let her be headed anywhere else but here, he thought.
As she neared, he couldn’t help but notice her bold beauty. Sleek red hair peeked out from beneath a navy-and-cream floral-print bonnet framing an oval-shaped face. He admired her ivory complexion, so rare in redheads, and the pert nose, regal cheekbones and generous mouth. Her sturdy navy dress outlined a pleasing female form, tall yet graceful.
She must’ve noticed him staring, for she quirked a cinnamon eyebrow, her lips firming in disapproval. Her eyes raked him before meeting his gaze head-on. One jerk of her chin hinted of a stubborn streak.
“Excuse me.” She speared him with her gaze. “You’re blocking the entrance.”
Her eyes were green, not the expected blue. Deep green, the color of spruce trees streaked with sunset gold.
Straightening, Evan plucked the hay from his mouth and tossed it to the ground.
“You can’t go in there.”
A line of confusion formed between her fine eyebrows. “Why not?”
“Mr. Clawson had to step out for a few minutes. He asked me to tell any customers who happened by that he’d be right back.”
Annoyance flickered in those gorgeous eyes. “That’s impossible. Mr. Clawson is dead. His son-in-law, Larry Moore, is the owner now.”
Swallowing his frustration, he struggled to maintain an air of indifference. Could she see the vein throbbing at his temple? “My mistake. Guess I mixed up the names.”
A loud shout, followed by a heavy thump, sounded through the door. Evan cringed, resisting the urge to turn and look. She craned her neck to peer beyond his shoulder, and he sidestepped to block her line of sight.
“Someone is in there,” she snapped, her eyes narrowing. “What kind of game are you playing?”
“Trust me, I’m not playing—”
“Is there a problem, Miss O’Malley?” a male voice interrupted from the street.
This situation was going from bad to worse. Evan turned to see a well-dressed man observing them, his curious gaze shifting from the young woman to settle on him. As a stranger in town, Evan would naturally be regarded with a certain amount of suspicion. He had to fix this. Fast.
“Good morning, Lane,” the young lady greeted the man with a slight smile. “This gentleman and I were just discussing—”
“How rude I was for not opening the door for her,” Evan finished. Grabbing the door handle, he made a slight bow. Surprise flashed across her face. “I do apologize for the oversight, ma’am.” Evan pulled the door open and with a light hand on her elbow ushered her inside, calling over his shoulder, “I apologize for the misunderstanding. Good day, sir.”
“Yes, goodbye, Lane.”
The door closed with a final whoosh, cutting off her farewell. Through the window, Evan watched the man hesitate a moment before planting his hat back on his head and walking away. One problem taken care of. One to go.
“What was that all about?” she demanded.
Evan scanned the room. Fitzgerald was nowhere to be seen, which meant he was probably in the back, tying up the owner.
He took hold of her arm, speaking in low, urgent tones. “You’re in a situation way over your head, lady. I need you to walk back out that door and as far away from this mercantile as you can. Talk to no one. I can’t guarantee your safety if you alert anyone to what’s happening here.”
She stared at him. “What—”
“No questions. There isn’t time—”
“What’s that girl doing in here?”
Evan stiffened at the sound of Fitzgerald’s cold voice behind him. “Keep quiet,” he murmured in her ear. Without releasing her, he faced the outlaw whose features were concealed by a red bandanna.
“She was determined to do her shopping,” Evan drawled. “Looks like her impatience has earned her a stint in the storeroom with the owner. I’ll tie her up.”
“You will do no such thing!” she cried, attempting to pry his hand loose.
Fitzgerald shook his head. “Forget it. She’ll have to come with us.”
“No.” Her chances of survival were slim to none if she went with them.
“She’s seen your face. We can’t leave her here.”
“I thought we agreed—no hostages. I don’t like this—”
“Then you should’ve done your job and kept her away,” Fitzgerald snapped. “Let’s go.”
Evan hesitated in order to give Fitzgerald a few second’s head start.
“A hostage will only slow you down, you know,” she argued, her eyes large in her pale face. “Leave me here. I’ll tell the sheriff I didn’t get a good look at you. You have my word.”
He didn’t reply. What could he say at this point? His mind was whirling with too many scenarios—all of them unpleasant—to attempt rational conversation.
“You’re making a huge mistake! As soon as people realize what’s happened, they’ll organize a posse and come looking for you.”
He sensed her mounting desperation, but was helpless to do anything about it.
“Isn’t the cash enough? Do you really want to add kidnapping to your list of crimes?”
Ignoring her questions, he forcibly led her past the stockroom and the floor-to-ceiling shelves overflowing with goods, past the storekeeper’s office and, finally, to the private quarters. At the rear entrance, he warned her to keep quiet.
“Where’s Mr. Moore?” she demanded. “Is he okay?”
He slipped the Colt Peacemaker out of his holster, making sure she got a good look at it. He wasn’t above intimidation to keep her in line. Her life depended on it. “Whatever you do, stay close to me.”
For once, she didn’t utter a word. Evan hoped that she wasn’t too strong-willed to do as he said. He didn’t know what Fitz would do if she made a scene.
He grabbed the bandanna bunched around his neck and tugged it up to cover his face. Opening the door a crack, he checked the alleyway. Fitz and Art were already saddling up. He hurried her down the wooden stairs to where his horse, Lucky, was hitched, prodding her forward with a hand on her back.
“Get on the horse.”
She dug her heels in the rocky dirt. “Uh-uh.”
“Do it or I’ll toss you up there myself,” he growled from his position directly behind her, letting her feel the tip of the gun barrel near her shoulder. Her resistance irritated him—didn’t she have the good sense to be scared?
With a huff, she grabbed the saddle horn, placed her foot in the stirrup and hauled herself up. He replaced his firearm and swung up behind her.
Art’s eyes bulged when he spotted her. “Who’s that?”
Fitz barked, “Never mind. Let’s ride.”
“Might as well relax,” Evan told his hostage, signaling Lucky to head out. “It’s gonna be a long ride.”
Juliana O’Malley seethed with anger. As the miles between her and Gatlinburg stretched endlessly into the distance, she passed the time dreaming up ways to get even with the man holding her captive—everything from pushing him off a cliff to hog-tying him and leaving him at the mercy of wild animals.
It was either that or succumb to mind-numbing fear. She was familiar with firearms all right, but never in her life had she had one waved in her face.
Lord Jesus, please help me, she prayed. I’m in a bit of a situation here.
If only she’d heeded her instincts. The moment she became aware of the man in black’s blatant scrutiny, she’d known that he was no gentleman. Her cheeks burned even now as she recalled how his intense gaze had taken in every inch of her. Scandalous!
She squirmed in the saddle. His muscled arms tightened in response, imprisoning her against his rock-hard chest. His warm breath stirred the hair at her nape and prickles of awareness danced along her skin.
Juliana squeezed her eyes tight and tried not to dwell on his disturbing nearness. At least he smelled pleasant enough, she consoled herself. Beneath the smell of horse and sweat, she detected the clean scent of soap.
They would have to stop soon, she reasoned. They’d ridden for what seemed like an eternity, yet her kidnappers had given no sign of slowing the horses. She was hot and thirsty, her mouth gritty from the dust clouds stirred by the horses’ hooves.
As desperately as she wanted to get off the horse, however, she wasn’t eager to find out what they planned to do with her once they reached their destination.
As she saw it, she had only one option. Escape. She’d have to try to outrun him, because she was no match for his physical strength. Luckily, she was a fast runner. Just two weeks earlier, her cousin Caleb had challenged her to a footrace and she’d won. Not by much, but she’d won fair and square. He’d been hoppin’ mad—
She gasped. Her mother and sisters would be wondering why she hadn’t returned with the supplies. It was her mother’s birthday, and they had a full day of work to get ready for the big celebration dinner that night. They wouldn’t worry too much at first, but with each passing hour their concern would grow until finally someone would go looking for her.
The horses in front slowed and their mount did the same, veering off the trail into the dense woods. She straightened, nerves taut, thoughts of home scattered. What now? Would the brute release her? Here in the middle of nowhere to fend for herself? Or did he have something more sinister in mind?
“Where are we?” she demanded. They’d used the trail along Baskins Creek heading southeast out of Gatlinburg, but she was in unfamiliar surroundings now. “What are you going to do with me?”
The man dismounted without a word. Reaching up, his hands spanned her waist and swung her down as if she weighed no more than a sack of feathers. The imprints of his fingers against her rib cage were like branding irons.
Fear shot through her, leaving her dizzy and weak.
He stepped away long enough to take hold of the horse’s bridle. He tugged his bandanna down and gestured toward the other men already entering the forest. “Now we walk.”
Juliana resisted, unwilling to blindly follow him. “I’m not moving from this spot until you answer me.”
He spun on his heel and brought his face close to hers, his grip on her arm firm but not bruising. She’d noticed his eyes right off. A brilliant shade—dark, almost purple-blue—put her in mind of the poisonous larkspur blooms that dotted the meadows each spring. Beautiful yet deadly.
“Do as I say, Miss O’Malley,” he said in a near whisper, “and I just might be able to get you out of this mess.”
“You need help, Harrison?” The man who’d robbed Mr. Moore had stopped and was watching them. Something about him disturbed her. “Looks like a handful to me.”
Her captor, apparently named Harrison, didn’t turn around. His eyes never wavering from her face, he drawled, “Good thing I like my women feisty.”
Juliana stiffened. She opened her mouth to protest, but faltered at the almost imperceptible shake of his head. Strangely, his suggestive words were at odds with the grim light in his eyes.
“Not me,” the other man snorted. “I like mine submissive.”
Harrison’s mouth flattened, his features hardening to granite. He was angry, perhaps even disgusted, by the other man.
To Juliana, he said, “There’s a stream straight ahead and some shade. We’ll rest long enough to eat a bite before heading back out.”
Juliana felt a spark of hope. “You can leave me here. We’re not so far from Gatlinburg, after all. Might take me a while, but I can make it back before nightfall. I don’t mind walking—”
He held up a hand. “That’s not an option. Come on, I’m parched and so is my horse.”
“But I want to go home! My mother and sisters will be desperate to find me!”
He glanced over his shoulder. The others had disappeared into the woods, leaving them alone. His eyes bored into hers. “Trust me. I’m going to think of a way to get you home.”
Trust him? A common thief? He was the one who’d forced her from the mercantile and ordered her onto his horse. No, his words were empty, as substantial as a fistful of air.
This was her chance. It might be her only one.
Grateful that she’d chosen to wear her brand-new, hard-soled work boots, Juliana did what she’d done as a child tousling with her cousins—nailed him in the shin with the toe of her boot and with her free arm elbowed him in the ribs. He grunted in surprise and relaxed his hold.
Juliana slipped out of his grasp and sprinted away, uncertain which direction to take. She found herself following the hard-packed dirt trail on which they’d just traveled.
Her bonnet hung by its strings around her neck, and her hair, loosened by the jarring ride on horseback, uncoiled now to stream down her back.
Heavy footsteps sounded close behind and a small scream escaped her lips.
Faster! She pushed her legs to take longer strides. Her temples throbbed. Her side ached. The chase was over as suddenly as it began.
Bands of steel encircled her waist and down she went. Her captor twisted beneath her and she landed on top of him, his body a cushion against the rocky ground. The wind was knocked from her lungs. His arms locked around her.
“That,” he puffed angrily, “was a stupid stunt.”
Using her hands on his chest as leverage, she arched away from him, trying to break free of his hold. Her struggles were useless against his brute strength. He held fast. With a grunt, he rolled over so that he hovered above her, hands pressing her shoulders into the dirt. His face was inches from her own, his breath mingling with hers.
“Listen to me,” he warned through gritted teeth, “if you want to survive the night you’d better do exactly as I say.”
His dark blue eyes turned stone-cold and the look on his rugged face bordered on menacing. She trembled involuntarily.
“I’m not the one you need to worry about. Fitzgerald and the others will not have patience with your antics. They would’ve shot you dead the instant you bolted. In fact, I’m going to have to do some fancy talkin’ to explain why I didn’t.”
At her swift intake of breath, his voice gentled somewhat. “I’m not trying to scare you into cooperating. I’m trying to keep you out of trouble. Understand?”
Juliana nodded.
“No, I wanna hear you say it.”
“I understand,” she managed.
“No more stunts?”
“No more stunts.”
“I sure hope you mean that, lady.”
He stood and pulled her to her feet. Then he marched her back to where his horse stood grazing and guided them both into the woods.
Twigs cracked beneath their boots. Far above them, birds twittered a cheerful song in their nests. Juliana was grateful for the shade. Her neck was damp from the weight of her hair, and the bodice of her dress clung to her skin. Her heart thumped against her rib cage. He’d frightened her there at the last, more even than when he’d aimed a gun at her. His forbidding expression still burned in her mind.
When she finally saw the stream up ahead, she resisted the urge to run and lie down in it.
Two of the bandits turned to stare at them. The skinny one seemed nervous, his gaze shifting between her and the other two. The man she assumed was Fitzgerald looked hard at her. He was not an unattractive man, average really, and built like a bull.
Juliana resisted the urge to hide behind Harrison.
“I thought you said you could handle her.” The words came out as an accusation.
“She didn’t get away, did she?” Harrison shot back.
“We’ll have to get rid of her at some point, you know. She knows too much.”
The cruel words, spoken so casually, washed over her like a wave of icy water.
“Not yet.” Harrison stole a glance at her. “I want some time alone with her first.”
Juliana faltered, suddenly sick to her stomach. After all his promises to get her to safety, she hadn’t expected that. She lowered her gaze to the ground.
Fitzgerald barked a laugh. “Good for you, Harrison. I was beginning to wonder about you. Six months on the trail and you never once joined us at the saloon.”
“Yeah, well, I’ve always been a sucker for Irish beauties.”
Juliana’s head shot up, but he kept his face averted from her searching gaze. A red flush climbed up his neck, indicating what? Embarrassment? No, that would mean he possessed a conscience.
Moving to dig in his saddlebags, he brought out a small tin cup and held it out to her without sparing her a glance. It chafed to have to accept anything from him, but thirst drove her. Careful to avoid his fingers, she grabbed the cup and hurried to the water’s edge to fill it. The cold, crisp water washed away the film of dirt coating her throat.
“Take this.” He appeared beside her with a bulging handkerchief. “We’re only going to be here about fifteen minutes, so if I were you I’d eat fast.”
“I don’t want it.” She stood abruptly and stepped back, wary of his intentions.
“Take it.” He closed the distance between them and loomed over her. “You’ll need your strength.”
She was hungry. Snatching the bundle from him, she marched over to the nearest tree and, moving beneath the branches into the shade, sank down in the soft grass and smoothed her dress to cover her pantaloons.
She watched Fitzgerald and the young outlaw, who were crouched downstream and cramming food into their mouths as if it were their last meal. Harrison didn’t join them. With clean, precise movements, he crouched and dipped his canteen into the stream. Lifting it to his mouth, he swallowed long and deep, his corded neck muscles visible. After refilling and capping the canteen, he retrieved his lunch from his horse’s saddlebag and ate standing up. His hat hung on the saddle horn, providing Juliana with a clear view of his profile.
She noted his strong jawline, stubborn chin and grim mouth.
He wore his sleek, ebony hair short. The conservative style suited him. His clothes weren’t of the finest quality but were in good condition. No missing buttons in the black cotton shirt, no patches or holes in the black pants. The fact that he was dressed in black from head to toe seemed to fit his personality.
He was, in a word, formidable. Impenetrable. Hard. Callous.
He glanced her way and caught her studying him. Juliana felt her cheeks flame, and she immediately dropped her gaze to the food in her lap.
Her lavish breakfast seemed so long ago, although in reality it had only been about five hours. The sun was almost directly overhead, so she guessed it was nearing noon. Unexpected tears came to her eyes as she ate the slabs of ham and hard biscuits, and she had a difficult time swallowing.
Today was to have been a day of celebration. Instead, it was a nightmare!
Why, Lord? I don’t understand. What is to become of me?
Her mother’s birthday was ruined. Ruined!
Certainly there would be no celebration now. All that hard work wasted! Fifteen-year-old twins Jessica and Jane had put in more hours than anybody, preparing various meats, pies and, of course, the birthday cake. How disappointed they must be!
She wondered if Megan had gone into town to search for her. Of her four sisters, Juliana was closest to nineteen-year-old Megan. She was the quiet, thoughtful one. The bookworm, her head filled with all sorts of romantic notions Juliana liked to tease her about. Poor Megan. Even she’d have a hard time putting a romantic spin on this situation.
What if Sheriff Timmons had sent someone out to the O’Malley farm to relay the awful news? They would be frantic with worry!
If it hadn’t been for this trio of wastrels, especially Harrison, the scoundrel … that greedy, no good—
Dusty black boots appeared in her line of vision, and she looked up to find the blackguard staring down at her, his brow furrowed in question.
“What’s wrong? Aren’t you hungry?”
“What’s wrong?” She tossed the remainder aside and jumped up to face him squarely. He was tall, but then so was she. Tilting her head back a fraction, she glared at him. “Oh, let me see … I’d intended to go shopping but instead interrupted a robbery. I had a gun held to my head. I was forced to ride for hours with strangers to an undisclosed destination. To put it in simpler terms—you kidnapped me. Tackled me. Threatened me. Tore my favorite dress.” She indicated the hem with a sweep of her hand. “And worst of all,” her voice wobbled, “you made me miss my mother’s birthday.”
One rogue tear slipped down her cheek, and she blinked fast to dry her eyes.
Before she could comprehend what he intended, he lifted his hand to her face and ever so gently wiped the tear away with the pad of his thumb. His touch was as delicate as a butterfly’s wing.
“I’m sorry.”
Juliana couldn’t move. Was that regret darkening his eyes? All coherent thought evaporated. She hadn’t a clue what to think or say. Him? Apologize?
He didn’t give her a chance to respond. The next moment he pivoted on his heel and strode away, making her wonder if she’d imagined the tender moment.
“Time to go,” he called over his shoulder. Apparently he was confident she wasn’t going to try to run away again. And why shouldn’t he be? He’d already proved she didn’t have a chance of escaping him.
She eyed his holster. Her cousin Josh had taught her a lot of useful skills, one of them being how to shoot.
With the gun in his possession, he had the upper hand. But if she should ever get her hands on it …
Juliana determined right then and there to stay alert and watch for her chance to get that gun. It was her only hope of escape.

Chapter Two
“I’ve never understood why some people choose to live on the wrong side of the law,” Juliana said. “Doesn’t it bother you that you’re harming innocent people?”
Harrison didn’t acknowledge the question. No surprise there. Her attempts at conversation had been met with stubborn silence all along.
They were moving deeper into the Smoky Mountains, in the opposite direction of Gatlinburg and the larger towns of Pigeon Forge and Sevierville. The foursome had traveled through lush forests and meadows, beauty she would’ve appreciated in other circumstances. The air here beneath the soaring canopy of tree branches was cooler than in the open countryside, and for that Juliana was thankful. Midsummer temperatures in East Tennessee could quickly become unbearable.
It was late now, though, and the sun’s heat had lost its bite. A soft breeze teased her hair and cooled her skin, rustling leaves whispering secrets above her. The forest was darkening, the shadows lengthening as they trudged on.
Juliana was having a hard time keeping up with Harrison. The trail had long since disappeared, and they were dodging trees and gnarled roots poking out of the ground. Twice she’d stumbled but managed to catch herself before hitting the dirt face-first.
“Poor Mr. Moore,” she said. “I can’t imagine how he reacted to being robbed at gunpoint. I hope he doesn’t have a heart attack.”
“Has he had one before?”
“No, but he isn’t well. Don’t tell me you’re actually concerned?” When he didn’t respond, she continued, “You did steal all his money, you know. What if he’s forced to close the mercantile? I know for a fact he doesn’t have any living relatives, so there’s nowhere for him to go. He’s such a kind, generous man, too. I don’t want to even think about what he would do if he lost the store.”
“If he’s such a fine human being, then I’m sure someone would be willing to take him in.”
“That’s it?” she demanded, her breath coming in puffs. “That’s your solution? You take away a man’s livelihood and the best you can come up with is to let someone else take care of it? What about all the other people you’ve hurt? Do you ever stop and think about the damage you’ve caused?”
The skinny outlaw, whom she now knew was called Art, slowed to match their pace. “I think about it all the time. Even see some of the folks’ faces I’ve robbed in my dreams.”
Harrison’s lips turned down at this, but he remained silent. Juliana studied Art’s features. “Aren’t you a bit young to be keeping company with ruthless criminals?”
“I’m seventeen,” he said matter-of-factly. “Old enough to make my own choices.”
The same age as her sister, Nicole. “Don’t you have a family? Brothers? Sisters?”
“Yes, ma’am, I do,” he responded softly, resignedly. “But my momma ain’t got no idea where I am. Better if she thinks I’m dead than knows the truth. She’d never forgive me …”
Her heart ached for him. “Oh, Art, I’m sure you don’t mean that. Were you and your mother close?”
His chest puffed out. “Yeah. I’m her oldest boy. She always said how proud she was to have me for a son.”
“You know what I think? Your mother won’t care what you’ve done as long as you’re home, living an honest life.”
Art was silent a moment, his brown eyes troubled. “You really think she’d take me back? And forgive me for up and leaving and joining this gang?”
“Yes, I do. But more than your mother’s forgiveness, you need God’s.”
“My momma believes in Jesus. She read aloud from her Bible every morning and prayed with me before bed. But I—” He shook his head in shame. “I didn’t always listen. I daydreamed a lot. Thought I was too young for religious stuff.”
“And what about now?”
His earnest expression startled her. Here was a young man searching for the truth.
“More than anything, I want peace. I haven’t had that in a long time.” He lowered his voice. “I hang with a dangerous crowd. Ain’t no tellin’ when a bullet might find me. I’ve been thinkin’ a lot lately about death. Trouble is, I don’t know where I’m headed when I die.”
“Art, I—”
“Enough yakking.” Fitzgerald scowled over his shoulder. “Harrison, if you don’t shut her up, I will.”
With a shrug, Art moved away. Beside her, Harrison shot her a warning glance.
Frustrated with the interruption, she prayed for another opportunity to speak with Art about Christ. She couldn’t help thinking perhaps he was the reason she’d been placed in this situation.
“How much farther?” she whispered.
Harrison wiped his brow with a handkerchief. “A quarter of a mile. Maybe more.”
Ugh. While her new boots were great for defense, their stiffness tortured her feet. Blisters were already forming. She sighed.
“Take a drink.” He paused to lift a canteen from the saddle. “I don’t want you passing out from dehydration.”
He made it sound as if he was more worried about her possibly holding him back than her health. Scoundrel. Her thirst overrode her distaste at sharing a canteen with a stranger. She took a long swallow of the cool liquid and handed it back to him.
“Watch your step,” he advised. “The last thing we need is a twisted ankle or worse.”
Juliana noticed he slowed his pace after that. When full darkness enveloped them, he lit a lamp to light their path.
God, I don’t understand why You’ve allowed this to happen. I know You love me, but I’m having a hard time believing I’ll ever get home. Please keep me safe. And comfort poor Mr. Moore. Somehow give him his money back. And my family, Lord, give them peace.
In all likelihood, every person in Gatlinburg had heard the news of her abduction. No doubt many of the church members were even now gathered at the church to pray. The thought brought her a small measure of comfort.
Had Sheriff Timmons already organized a posse to pursue her kidnappers? Her uncle and cousins were surely taking a lead in the mission to rescue her. But how long had it taken for someone to discover Mr. Moore?
Since she had no way of knowing what was going on back home, she comforted herself with the fact that at some point her captors would let down their guard, and she would be ready to spring into action.
Time passed more slowly than a snail in a windstorm. Juliana tried not to dwell on her bruised toes or aching calves. Nor did she attempt to start another conversation. What was the point? She would only be rebuffed.
“We’re here.”
The sound of Harrison’s deep, no-nonsense voice in the darkness startled her. In the distance a tiny yellow light flickered. The cabin?
Juliana’s steps slowed as reality slammed into her. There would be more outlaws in that cabin. She was alone. A single, unprotected female at the mercy of a gang of hardened criminals. A relentless procession of unhappy scenarios flashed through her mind, churning up the acid in her stomach. Every cell in her body screamed at her to flee.
She glanced at the enigmatic man walking beside her, recalling his vow to get her to safety. Had he meant it? Or had he said that to keep her from running again?
Her face flamed as she remembered his comments about liking feisty women and being attracted to Irish beauties. What were his true intentions? She was having trouble deciding what to believe.
Harrison must’ve sensed her unease, because he curled his fingers around her wrist and held fast. She glared at him but didn’t try to free herself. Her muscles were weak from fear.
Fitzgerald and Art reached the cabin first. After securing their horses beneath a nearby tree, they waited for her and Harrison.
“Art.” Harrison stopped before the young man. “I want you to stay out here with the lady.”
Art’s eyes bulged, his mouth flopping open like a dead trout. “Me?” His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down. “I don’t know—”
“It’s simple,” Harrison interrupted, his tone meant to instill confidence. “Stand right here beside her and whatever you do, do not let her out of your sight.”
He released her wrist but didn’t move away. Tucking his thumb beneath her chin, he eased her face up. “I’ll be back in a few minutes,” he reassured her in a surprisingly gentle tone. “Don’t try anything foolish.”
Juliana stared mutely at his rugged face, wreathed in shadows. So immobilizing was her fear at this point that stringing two words together seemed like an impossible task.
The cabin door banged open then and half-a-dozen men spilled into the yard, their greetings tapering to a deafening silence when they caught sight of her.
Evan stepped in front of Miss O’Malley to shield her from the men’s predatory gazes. Young, innocent and beautiful, she was a lamb amid ravenous wolves. As they strained to get a glimpse of her, he could almost see them salivating in anticipation.
God, please help me get her out of here.
He stilled, stunned by the spontaneous prayer. He hadn’t prayed in months, not since the day his brother had been gunned down in cold blood.
“It’s about time you boys got back.” Cliff Roberts, the gang’s leader, separated from the rest of the group. The middle-aged man held up his kerosene lamp, casting a muted circle of light about him. “Got the loot?”
“Right here, boss.” Fitzgerald held up two bulging sacks.
“Good.” His steely gaze bore into Evan. “Who’s the girl?”
“There was a situation at the mercantile.” Evan held the man’s gaze.
Fitzgerald snorted. “Harrison wasn’t doin’ his job.”
Roberts arched a brow in silent question.
Evan clenched his teeth. “It was either get her inside or risk a scene on the front steps. I figured the mission was more important.”
He heard her sharp intake of breath and wished he hadn’t phrased it quite that way. She didn’t know it yet, but it was about to get worse.
“I’ll take care of her, boss,” Fitzgerald challenged, his leer making Evan’s skin crawl.
“No,” Evan’s tone brooked no argument. “She’s mine.”
“I’ll wager two dollars Harrison can best Fitz!” one of the men hollered.
Murmurs rumbled through the group. “Yeah, fight!”
“Winner gets the girl!”
Ignoring Miss O’Malley’s outraged sputter, Evan settled a heavy hand on his weapon. “No contest. If any of you wants her, you’ll have to kill me first.”
Thick silence settled over the group. Crickets’ buzzes swelled to fill it, as did the odd horse snuffle. His senses on high alert, Evan waited for someone to challenge his claim. He’d meant every single word. She was there through no fault of her own. He would guard her with his life.
John Hooper held up his hands. “Whoa, Harrison. No use gettin’ touchy.”
“Yeah, we didn’t know ya done fell in love!” Another man snickered.
Roberts studied him. “Enough! Everyone inside. Now.”
Mumbling and laughing, the men filed back through the door. Evan’s breath left his lungs in a whoosh. He held back until he and Miss O’Malley were the only ones in the yard.
“You’re not taking me in there, are you?” she demanded in a strangled whisper, her fingers clutching his forearm.
“Not for long, I promise.”
“I’m supposed to believe you?” Her voice went shrill. “After all the foul—”
“Harrison!” someone inside called. “Let’s go.”
“Come on,” Evan said.
Placing his palm against her lower back, he pressed her forward into the small, musty cabin. The smell of unwashed bodies and cigar smoke assaulted his senses, but he quickly masked his distaste.
Most of the men were seated at the table, and at their entrance, their bold gazes locked onto the lady at his side. She hung back, no doubt frightened out of her mind. And for good reason.
Fitzgerald stood in the corner near the door, his lips curled in a menacing smirk and his dark eyes challenging.
“Harrison.” Roberts motioned him toward the cabin’s only bedroom. “We need to talk.”
Evan started forward with Miss O’Malley.
“No, she stays here.”
No way was he leaving her side. Evan opened his mouth to protest. “But—”
“Ten minutes. Gauging from your proclamation just now, I figure she’ll be safe enough.”
Evan changed direction and, leading her to an overturned carton in front of the fireplace, motioned for her to sit. Her wide green eyes begged him not to abandon her, and he almost caved. But he couldn’t defy the gang leader’s wishes without placing her in even greater danger. With a light squeeze to her ice-cold hands, he crossed the room with leaden steps.
Juliana watched him walk away, her heart frozen in fear. Her only ally, if he was truly that—and she had serious misgivings—was leaving her to face the enemy alone. Suddenly she understood a fraction of what Daniel must’ve felt as the guards sealed him in that lions’ den and he awaited the advance of roaring, ravenous lions.
She began to pray in earnest, and to her surprise, the men largely ignored her as they took up their poker game. She kept her eyes downcast, thinking to defer their attention by being as immobile as a statue.
When their conversation faltered a few minutes later, she lifted her head to find out why. All eyes were on Art as he approached and crouched down beside her.
“Oh, go on about your business.” He gestured toward the group. “I just wanna chat with the lady.”
One by one, they turned their attention back to the game.
Art spoke in low tones, and she had to incline her head to hear him clearly.
“You don’t have to be afraid of Harrison, ya know.” His brown eyes appealed to her. “He ain’t like the others.”
“Why are you telling me this?” she whispered. She half wished he’d go back to his corner and let her go back to being invisible.
“I know you must be terrible scared,” his voice dipped even lower, “but if I know Harrison, he’ll try to get you to safety.”
Interesting. Here was one outlaw urging her to trust another outlaw.
“Why would he do that?”
“Can’t rightly say. But I ain’t never seen him harm a living soul. Goes out of his way to avoid bloodshed.” He dipped his chin. “And he’s real respectful of the ladies. Harrison’s a gentleman through and through.”
Juliana smothered an unlady-like snort of disbelief. Gentleman? Hah. Her kidnapper resembled no gentleman she’d ever known.
Thinking perhaps this might be her last chance to broach the subject of faith, she leaned in close. “Remember what you said earlier about peace? And about not knowing where you’re headed when you die?”
His face grew solemn. “Yeah.”
“Jesus loves you, Art. He wants to free you from this life of sin. All you have to do is ask for forgiveness.”
“I ain’t never gonna be perfect.”
She placed a hand on his arm, willing him to understand. “He doesn’t expect us to be. We’re only human, after all.” She rushed to add, “But if we put our trust in God, He’ll help us when we’re weak and forgive us when we mess up.”
“What are you two whispering about?” a gruff voice interrupted. “Hatching an escape plan?”
Art clambered to his feet. “N-no, nothing like that.”
Catching Fitzgerald’s hot glare at the young man, Juliana’s temper took hold and she bolted to her feet.
“Leave him alone,” she cried, “he was just trying to be nice.”
With his bear paw of a hand, Fitzgerald seized her arm in a painful grip. “You watch how you speak to me, you good-for-nothing—”
“Don’t, Fitz,” Art protested. “Harrison won’t like it if you roughhouse his girl.”
Juliana could feel the bruises already starting to form where his fingers buried into her flesh. She winced in pain.
Where was Harrison?

Chapter Three
Evan was having trouble focusing on the conversation. He couldn’t shake Miss O’Malley’s stricken expression. He could only hope that with his challenge fresh in their minds, the men would think twice before approaching her. His ears strained for any sound of distress, but he could hear only the steady hum of voices and the occasional bark of laughter.
“What’s the story with this girl? Why did you bring her here?” Roberts propped an arm on the windowsill.
“Things got out of hand. She was making a scene right there in plain view, and then a gentleman friend of hers approached us. I had to think fast. Defuse the situation.”
“You like her,” he accused.
Evan gave a noncommittal shrug. “I’ve always been partial to redheads.”
Where was Roberts going with this line of questioning?
The older man’s gray eyes narrowed slightly. “She’s a witness. You know what that means.”
Ah. Roberts was probing his motives and trying to decide if he had the stomach to do away with her. With a deep breath, Evan set out to convince his leader that he didn’t have a conscience.
“I’ve been alone too long,” he said, forcing a lusty sigh. “A man needs female companionship every now and then, if you know what I mean. A few nights with her are all I need.”
“Like ‘em unspoiled, I see.” The other man straightened. “Just don’t get attached, Harrison. You understand what you’ll have to do before you head back?”
Swallowing back the bile rising in his throat, he spoke without emotion. “I remember. Dead witnesses can’t testify.”
A malicious grin split Roberts’s bearded face. “Exactly.”
A high-pitched scream pierced the air. Evan’s heart plummeted to his knees. He jerked open the bedroom door in time to see Fitzgerald’s fist connect with Miss O’Malley’s cheek, the force of the blow knocking her to the floor.
White-hot fury shot through Evan, and he unsheathed his weapon. “Outside now,” he growled. “Just you and me.”
“Gladly.” Fitz took a step toward the door.
“No.” Roberts stepped between them. He threw Evan an exasperated glance. “Remember your job, Harrison. Or do I need to leave it to someone else?”
“No.” Evan fought for control over his emotions. So much was riding on the next few moments. “I’ll do it,” he ground out.
Deciding that it was high time to get out of there, he strode to the corner and hauled her up, ignoring her whimpers when all he wanted to do was comfort her. When he spoke, he made sure everyone heard him.
“Come on, sweetheart,” he forced himself to say in as lewd a tone he could manage, “Let’s go have some fun.”
She shivered at his words. Evan felt nauseated, but he kept his expression blank. He looked at Roberts. “Give me a few days. I plan on takin’ my time.”
“Remember, Harrison, don’t come back until the matter’s taken care of.”
Evan tugged the brim of his hat in response, half dragging her out the door and down the steps. Sweat dotted his brow. Adrenaline surged through his body. He had to get her out of there before Fitz talked Roberts out of letting her go.
Her breaths were coming in pitiful gasps. Walking with her body tucked against his side, he kept one hand on each of her arms as he propelled her through the darkness. Her steps were halting, as if trying to slow their progress. He hoped she wouldn’t try to bolt again.
When he heard the cabin door slam open, he urged her to go faster. He didn’t waste a second glancing back. He would not fail her as he’d failed his brother, James. He would get her to safety or die trying.
Reaching his horse, he pushed her up into the saddle and swung up behind her, digging his heels into Lucky’s sides to jolt the big black into action. One hand holding the reins, he wrapped his free arm around her middle and held her snugly against him. They rode out in the opposite direction of the way they’d come. He wasn’t sure of their exact destination at this point. All he wanted was to put as many miles as possible between them and that cabin.
He felt her trembling. In response, he tightened his hold.
He despised what he’d had to do back there. He’d given his word that he wouldn’t hurt her, and look what he’d done. No doubt she believed what he’d said to the others and was scared out of her mind.
As soon as he felt confident that no one was following them, he’d stop and explain everything.
Juliana couldn’t stop shaking. The stark terror flowing through her body rendered her weak and limp. She had no power to fight her fate.
Her captor held her in a steel grip, as if afraid she’d jump from the horse’s back.
She resolutely focused on the movement of the horse’s muscles beneath her, the heavy night air rushing past her face, the sense of light and darkness as they moved between shadows and moonlight. She refused to let herself wonder where he was taking her.
He’d promised not to hurt her. Why had she thought for an instant that she could trust him to keep his word? He was a criminal, for goodness’ sake. How naïve could she be?
He’d seemed to want to keep her out of harm’s way, though. He’d hinted at the cruelty of the men he associated with and had warned her not to try and escape. Had that just been a sly ploy to get her to trust him? Maybe he’d wanted to keep her all to himself, so that after they dropped off the money he could sneak off and do whatever he wanted with her.
Her stomach clenched into a hard, tight ball. She wondered how she would survive the coming hours.
The entire right side of her face ached where Fitzgerald had hit her. The blow had been unexpected—she’d had no time to brace herself or move away. The pain was excruciating.
When he slowed the horse to a walk, she stiffened her back and tried to hold herself away from him. He didn’t seem to notice. Pulling his arm away, he slid off the horse and tied the reins to a low-slung tree branch. Then he was standing there with one hand on the saddle horn, waiting for her to dismount.
“Please,” she pleaded, unable to look at him, “don’t do this.” She was not above begging.
“Come here,” he said in a voice as smooth as velvet.
“I can’t.” She stared straight ahead, refusing to go willingly.
He moved closer, his chest pressing against her thigh. “Look at me.”
Angling her head down, she obeyed, fearing that if she didn’t he’d yank her out of the saddle. Standing in a patch of moonlight, his face was clearly visible except his eyes.
“I’m not going to hurt you. I’ve never in my life laid a hand on a female, and I don’t aim to start with you.” He spoke each word slowly and distinctly, as if addressing a small child. “Please get down. We need to talk.”
Juliana hesitated. She’d always thought of herself as a good judge of character. Now she wasn’t so sure. His manner was straightforward enough. But he’d handled her roughly and had insinuated vulgar things in front of the other men.
“I know I scared you back there.” He grimaced, his white teeth glinting in the pale light. “Please believe me—it was all for show. I had to convince them that I meant business. I didn’t want to take the chance of one of them challenging my claim on you.”
“Your claim?”
“I’m the new guy. They don’t know me, and they don’t trust me. They have seniority. If any one of those men had decided he wanted you, Roberts would’ve sided against me. I would’ve had no say in the matter.” He watched her for a moment, then dropped his hand and stepped back. He held his palms up in front of his chest. “If I promise not to touch you and not to come within three feet of you, will you come down?”
He certainly seemed to be telling the truth. If not, he was an accomplished actor. There was the other matter of his weapon. He didn’t have to waste his breath being polite. He could’ve pulled his gun on her and ordered her down.
Juliana dismounted. When her feet hit the ground, her knees buckled. He moved to steady her, only to freeze midstep when he remembered his promise. She sagged against the horse’s side for support. To his credit, the large animal didn’t sidestep or flinch, just swished his tail at her.
Harrison passed a weary hand down his face, drawing in a deep breath. “Can I at least help you sit down?”
She shook her head. “No.”
Straightening, she managed to walk, albeit unsteadily, to what looked like a good spot before sinking to her knees. She didn’t take her eyes off him as he kneeled in the grass opposite her, his forearm resting across one bent knee.
She clasped her hands and remained silent, her eyes lowered to her lap. Her heartbeat was beginning to settle into a more natural rhythm. Surely if he intended to hurt her, he would’ve done so by now.
“This is going to sound dumb, but how is your face? I can’t see it—that’s why I’m asking.”
Her first instinct was to examine the area with her fingers, but she was afraid to touch it. “I don’t think my jaw is dislocated, though it hurts when I talk.”
“And the pain? Is it bearable? Unfortunately, I don’t travel with whiskey, but I can make a poultice in the morning that will draw out some of the sting.”
At this point, the pain was so great that Juliana would’ve gladly accepted whiskey if he’d had any. Her cheek throbbed in time with her heartbeat, and each time she opened her mouth to speak, it felt as if she was being punched all over again.
He spoke before she had a chance to respond. “It’s that bad, huh?” He dropped his head. “This wasn’t supposed to happen.” Then he looked at her. “I’m sorry. If I’d known—” He broke off midsentence, standing to his feet in one fluid motion. He began to pace.
“What happened with Fitzgerald? Why did he hit you?”
“You mean, what did I do to provoke him? You think I deserved this, don’t you?”
Juliana gasped when he dropped to his knees before her. “Never.” He raised his hand as if to touch her. Instead, he let it drop back to his lap. “You are not to blame for what happened.”
Staring at the man before her, she struggled to reconcile his gentle concern with the harsh intensity he’d displayed earlier in the day. Her mind flashed back to the moments before the other outlaws tumbled out of the cabin, and she remembered his reassuring words, his tender touch. Who was he, really?
“Art and I were talking,” she said softly. “Fitzgerald didn’t like it.”
His jaw hardened, his hand curling into a tight fist. “He tends to lose his temper on a whim.”
“Actually, I lost my temper first.”
“What?” Harrison’s gaze sharpened. “Why?”
“He was bullying Art. I couldn’t sit by and watch him do it when Art had done nothing wrong except befriend me.”
He said nothing. Just stared at her as if she had suddenly sprouted an extra head.
“Aren’t you going to say anything?” she queried at last.
“Frankly, I’m at a loss for words. I don’t know whether to compliment you or give you a good scolding. Standing up for Art was a sweet gesture, Miss O’Malley.” He cocked his head to one side. “On the other hand, it was an extremely foolish thing to do, given your situation.”
Juliana couldn’t argue with that. Still, she wasn’t sure she’d do anything differently given the chance to do it all over again. Art struck her as an impressionable young man who’d been caught up with the wrong crowd.
“He’s awfully young. How did he come to be with a gang of outlaws?”
“He’s been with them longer than I have. Nearly a year, I believe. He was a good friend of Roberts’s son, Randy.”
“Was?”
“Yeah. About a month after I arrived, Randy and his father had an argument. A very loud, very contentious argument. Rumor has it Randy wanted Fitzgerald gone, but the old man wouldn’t go for it. So Randy left.”
“Why didn’t Art go with him?”
“I can’t answer that.”
“Answer me this, then. Why are you with them?”
“Ah, that’s a story for another time,” he stood abruptly. “We need to get going.”
Her heart lurched. “Where?”
He glanced away. “Home.”
Home. How she longed to see her family, to feel their comforting arms about her. She knew instinctively it would be a long time before she felt safe again.
“How do I know you’re telling me the truth?”
His expression was unreadable. “I guess you’ll just have to trust me.”
Juliana realized she didn’t have a choice. She didn’t like it one bit that he was in total control of her fate.
No. That wasn’t true. God was in control.
Evan appeared uncertain as he stood next to the horse, waiting for her to approach. He was obviously debating whether or not he should help her up. His behavior led her to believe he’d been taught to treat women with respect and that, despite his descent into criminal activity, he adhered to some ingrained habits.
Juliana made the decision to accept his help. Holding out her hand, she didn’t miss the way his black brows shot up as he boosted her into the saddle. After untying the reins, he swung up behind her and spoke to Lucky in encouraging tones.
At first, Juliana sat ramrod straight in the saddle. Then her shoulders began to ache. And the horse’s gait over the uneven terrain kept knocking her into Harrison. When her head bumped his chin, he curled an arm around her waist and tugged her back against him.
“Relax, Miss O’Malley.”
His low, mellow voice washed over her, and very slowly the tension left her body.
Her lids grew heavier with each swaying step, until they fluttered closed and she surrendered herself to sleep.
Relaxed now against his chest, her head tucked against his shoulder, Miss O’Malley was a warm weight in his arms. The heady scent of lavender tickled his nose. Captivated, Evan lowered his face to her hair and inhaled her sweet fragrance. He sighed. How long had it been since he’d been in the company of a female? He’d certainly never courted one.
After his parents’ sudden deaths weeks after his nineteenth birthday, he’d funneled all his energy into running the farm. His brother, James, just seventeen at the time, had put in the same grueling hours as he had. Side by side, they’d worked long and hard, determined to make a go of their father’s homestead. Then the day came that changed everything. The news of James’s murder had driven all thoughts of the future from Evan’s mind. At twenty-five, he was long past the typical marrying age. Still, settling down and starting a family seemed about as likely as a fish sprouting legs.
Evan shifted in the saddle. His neck and shoulder muscles burned from overuse, and his lower back was stiff. Knowing it was past time to give his body a break, Evan decided to stop for the night. They’d spent most of the day in the saddle or walking, and tomorrow would be no different. They both needed rest.
Heading off the trail, he searched for shelter. He settled on a protected spot tucked in the midst of a stand of mature trees. The night air was comfortable enough that he wouldn’t need to build a fire. The blankets in his bedroll would provide ample warmth.
Careful to balance Miss O’Malley’s sleeping form, Evan slid off the stocky horse’s back. It wasn’t easy, but he managed to get her off Lucky and into his arms. Stepping carefully through the low grass, he lowered her to the ground. Then he returned for the bedroll.
Tucking the thickest quilt he owned around her body, he made certain every inch of her was cocooned in the material. Crouched beside her, he paused when she began to mumble words he couldn’t quite make out.
With unsure fingers, he smoothed the silky strands away from her forehead. The action caused her to smile in her sleep, and she turned into his touch. Evan sucked in a breath. Her cheek, soft and cool, rested against his open palm. What now?
He didn’t dare move a muscle. What if she woke and found him like this?
She’d panic, that’s what!
With the steadiness of a surgeon extracting a bullet, Evan slid his hand free.
Then he bolted.
Relief flooded him when, looking back over his shoulder, he saw that she remained oblivious to her surroundings. Great. He’d avoided an awful scene. If she’d awoken to find him hovering over her, well, she surely would’ve assumed the worst.
Evan crossed the meadow and sank down at the base of a tree. The nervous energy surging through his body made him restless, edgy. Jerking off his hat, he slapped it against his thigh.
His mission had hit a major snag. Ten months with the gang and he had nothing. No leads and no suspects. While his brother lay in a cold, lonely grave, his murderers were living full and fancy-free. Bitterness left a bad taste in his mouth.
A wave of loneliness washed over him. How he wished he could turn the clock back to that fatal night and force James to abandon the trip! Maybe if he’d been more convincing in his arguments or outright refused to let his brother leave, James would still be alive today.
Evan had made the decision last night to go through with the robbery and then head to Knoxville on his own. James had been killed near the Tennessee River, on the outskirts of downtown. He planned to visit each and every saloon and tavern until he found the information he sought. No matter how long it took, he would never stop searching.
He glanced at the beautiful lady asleep in his bedroll. For now, though, his plans would have to wait until she was back with her family.
He gripped the rifle lying across his lap. He’d get little sleep this night. If Fitz or any of the other outlaws intended on coming after them, he would be ready.
Juliana woke shortly after sunrise to the smell of frying salt pork and coffee. Disoriented, she stared up at the patchwork of green leaves and blue sky. Where was she? Her sisters’ animated chatter had been replaced by birdcalls and her comfortable bed by dewy grass and unyielding earth.
Then it all came rushing back. The mercantile. The kidnapping. The cabin.
Her stomach rebelled, and she thought she might retch. Holding very still and taking even, shallow breaths, she waited until the sensation passed.
Her cheek throbbed. She gingerly probed the area with her fingertips and winced at the pain. She didn’t need a mirror to tell her what it must look like.
Propping herself up on her elbows, her hair falling in waves about her shoulders, she surveyed her surroundings. Her gaze locked onto Harrison, so intent on his task of tending the fire, and apprehension skittered down her spine. Should she trust this enigmatic stranger to stand by his promise to see her safely home?
Watching him now, she had to admit that under ordinary circumstances she would be curious about him. He was one of those men who commanded attention based on his calm self-assurance, the unleashed power in his muscular form and his dark, forbidding good looks. He was like no other man she’d ever known.
He looked up then from the cast-iron skillet and caught her staring.
“Good morning,” he said matter-of-factly, as if they were old acquaintances.
He loaded up two trenchers with the pork and hoecakes. He rose in one fluid movement and approached her with long strides. Crouching beside her, he offered her one. “Can you eat something?”
His nearness intensified the queasiness in her stomach. Still, they’d skipped supper last night. “I’ll try.”
Juliana sat up, self-conscious about her disheveled appearance. When he didn’t move away, she lifted her head. She read the displeasure in his expression.
“What?”
“Your cheek,” he stated darkly. “It looks pretty bad. Is the pain worse this morning?”
Was that remorse in his voice? Surely he hadn’t developed a conscience overnight.
“Not very.” She wasn’t being exactly truthful, but she wasn’t about to admit to him the pain she was in. What was the point?
His eyes narrowed. “I don’t believe you.”
“Believe what you want.” She shrugged, lifting her trencher of untouched food. “Can we please eat now?”
“Be my guest.” He hesitated a moment before turning to his own breakfast.
Stubble darkened his jaw, and his eyes were bloodshot. Had he not slept? She quelled the urge to ask. What did she care whether he’d slept or not?
They ate in silence. Juliana nibbled at the slightly sweet hoecake, thankful that her stomach didn’t protest. One taste of the salty meat was one too many, however, and she tossed it back on the plate. Gulping down coffee to rid herself of the aftertaste, she grimaced. She didn’t like black coffee. Her mom had made sure to always have cream and sugar on the table for Juliana, the only one of her five daughters who drank coffee.
“Is something wrong?” he asked midchew.
“I’m not used to the strong stuff.”
He swallowed. “You’ll get used to it.”
“Considering I’ll be home in a few hours, I doubt it matters.”
He didn’t meet her eyes as he stood to his feet. “I’m going to rinse these off,” he said, gathering the dirty utensils. “If you’re done eating, you can come with me. You’ll have a chance to wash up if you’d like.”
What a difference a day makes, she thought. She supposed he felt guilty for what had happened and that was the reason he was acting kind. Rising to her feet, she tried in vain to smooth her wrinkled dress. “I don’t suppose you have a brush in those saddlebags, do you?”
“There’s a comb.” He rifled through the leather bags and produced a simple black comb. “Will this do?” he asked, his eyes raking her mass of auburn hair.
Her cheeks warmed at his inspection. “Yes.”
Falling into step beside him, she ventured a side glance. “How long have you been living like this? I mean … have you always been a thief?”
One black brow quirked up. “Yeah, it all started when I was three. I just had to have that lemon drop at the mercantile, so I swiped it.”
“Ah, a sense of humor. I’m surprised, Harrison.”
“Harrison is my last name. Call me Evan.”
“Oh. Okay … Evan.”
Her gaze drifted down to where the top two buttons of his cotton shirt were undone. His tanned neck shone with a fine film of perspiration, his steady pulse visible in the hollows above his collarbone.
Juliana wondered at her absence of fear in his presence. His close proximity made her feel unsettled, even nervous. But she didn’t believe he would harm her.
“And your name is …” he prompted. His blue eyes, so distinctive and intense, were fastened onto her face in open scrutiny. His dark hair and clothes only made his eyes seem brighter.
“I don’t believe I’ll tell you, Evan Harrison.”
“Why not?” his brow furrowed. “Miss O’Malley is a bit formal, don’t you think?”
“Why should I? You and I will never again clap eyes on each other after today.”

Chapter Four
Bone-weary from passing the night drifting in and out of sleep, Evan was in no mood to argue. So he clamped his mouth shut and continued down the path.
Contrary woman! He could only imagine how she was going to react when he told her the bad news—that she wasn’t going home today or any day soon. His mind was made up, though. She could get angry, cry or throw a fit. Didn’t matter. She would not sway his decision.
Leaving the cool shade behind, he stepped out into the bright sunshine. A wide ribbon of shimmering green meandered through the clearing, the sound of rushing water filling his ears. While not deep enough to bathe in, the stream was adequate for a quick wash.
He glanced back at Miss O’Malley, his eyes drawn to her sleek red hair glinting in the sun. Then he caught sight of her discolored cheek and winced.
He reached into his back pocket and pulled out his bandanna. He rinsed the black material in the cool water, wrung out the excess and folded it in a neat square.
He went to stand before her and, lifting the compress, lightly placed it against her cheek. For a moment she didn’t blink. He lost himself in her impossibly green eyes. There was a flash of apprehension which she quickly masked. That he’d caused her unease made him feel ill. He pressed the compress into her hand and stepped back abruptly. Of course she would be wary of him. He was her kidnapper, after all.
“Keep that on for a few minutes,” he murmured. “It probably won’t help much with the swelling, but the cold will feel good. As soon as we get washed up, I’ll make you a poultice.”
His concern for her, a stranger whose name he hadn’t bothered to ask until a minute ago, was a foreign emotion. He’d been consumed with his own needs for so long—his desire for revenge and his well-thought-out plans to get it.
Evan felt ashamed. Selfish. Hard-hearted. Almost like an entirely different person than he’d been before his brother’s murder. His cousin certainly had tried to convince him to let the authorities handle it, had warned Evan of the hazards of settling old scores.
The faith he’d grown up with and cultivated as an adult—the same faith he’d considered the foundation of his existence—had splintered beneath him in the space of a day. He’d fallen into an abyss of suspicion and inner turmoil.
“How long will it take to get back to town?” she asked, interrupting his thoughts.
Evan weighed his words carefully. “We’re not going to Gatlinburg. I’ve decided it’s too risky to take you back there. For now, anyway.”
“I don’t understand.” Although her voice remained calm, he sensed the brewing storm.
“I’d planned to take you straight home to your family, but since the men know about you … we can’t risk it. I figure the safest spot for you right now is my place—”
The hand holding the compress against her cheek went limp, and she looked at him in horror. “Your place? The home of a thief and kidnapper? No! I am not sleeping one night under your roof!”
Goodness, but she was stunning when riled up. A faint blush stained her cheeks, her pink mouth puckered in disapproval and graceful hands propped on her slim hips. She looked eager for a fight.
“You’ll be safe there. That’s what matters.”
“Safe?” Her expression turned disbelieving. “With the man who held a gun on me, forced me from my family and is currently planning to whisk me away to parts unknown?”
“Why don’t you calm down so we can discuss this rationally?”
“When it comes to my freedom, I don’t feel particularly rational!”
“I brought you here. It’s my duty to get you home safe and sound—”
“Oh, I see …” she scoffed. “You’ve got it all planned out. The triumphant return! You deliver me to my front doorstep and my family will fall to their knees in gratitude—a true hero.”
“I’m no one’s hero,” he shot back. “Remember that.”
Bitter regret rose in his throat like bile. He’d failed to protect his only brother—tried and failed.
He lowered his voice. “The men go into town once or twice a week for supplies. With your flame-colored hair, you might as well wear a sign around your neck. If I take you back now, I’d be risking your life and mine.”
“I’m not the only redhead in town, you know.”
“Gatlinburg isn’t exactly a big town.” He paused, trying to think of a way to make her see reason. “What about your sisters?”
She stilled. “What about them?”
“Suppose one of the men—let’s say Fitzgerald—spotted you in town and followed you home. You wouldn’t be the only one in danger.”
She looked away, evenly spaced white teeth worrying her lower lip. He could see that she was torn. At last, she crossed her arms. She didn’t appear pleased with the change in plans.
“Do you realize the anguish my mother must be feeling right now? And my sisters? I’m the oldest. They depend on me.”
“You haven’t mentioned your father.”
Her eyes darkened. “He died four years ago of a heart attack.”
“I’m sorry.” Evan understood the pain of losing a parent. “We can send a telegram from Cades Cove, let them know you’re safe and will be home soon.”
She closed her eyes, distress twisting her lovely features. “This is a nightmare.”
“A nightmare that will soon be over.”
Resigned, she sighed. “What do you have in mind?”
“We’ll pass by Gatlinburg and make our way to Cades Cove. My farm is there. We can make the trip in about three days if the weather holds. You’ll have the place to yourself while I ride back to the hideout and convince the men I got rid of you. They’ll be heading out in a week or so. Then I’ll come back for you and escort you home.”
“Why would you do that? Why go to so much trouble on my behalf when you’re partly responsible for my kidnapping?”
He deserved that. “That’s right. I’m responsible.” He jammed a thumb in his chest. “As I said before, I got you into this mess and I intend to get you out of it.”
“Something’s not right.” She studied him, a speculative gleam in her eye. “Little details about you that don’t quite add up.”
Intrigued, he crossed his arms and waited. “Such as?”
“Well, for starters, you talk funny.”
He hadn’t expected that. “Excuse me?”
“No, no, that’s not the right word.” She began to pace, and he could practically see the wheels in her brain whirling. She snapped her fingers. “Educated! That’s it! You don’t use foul language. And you don’t speak as if you were raised in a saloon, as one would expect from a common criminal.”
“And you’re acquainted with common criminals, I take it?”
“Thanks to you, I am now.”
“Yes, that’s unfortunate. I apologize.”
“There.” She pointed a finger at him. “That’s the other thing. You shouldn’t be apologizing to me.”
“I shouldn’t?” This woman was beginning to confuse him.
“You treat me as if I have value. Those other men …” She shuddered. “What I mean to say is that, for the most part, you’ve treated me with respect. A truly hardened criminal would’ve done as those men suggested and gotten rid of me.”
“Wait just a minute—”
“Shh! Don’t try to distract me. There’s one more thing, and it’s a doozy.”
A no-nonsense expression stole across her face and, straightening to her full height, she focused her entire attention on him. He felt like a witness under cross-examination.
“Well? What is it?”
“Money.”
“What about it?”
“Where is the money you risked your life and mine for? You walked out of that cabin without a moment’s hesitation. Have you even given it a second thought?”
“I’ve been kinda busy plotting our next move.”
“Exactly.”
Uncomfortable with her astute observations, he sought to distract her. “Is that all, Irish?”
“Yes, that’s all.” Her eyes narrowed. “What did you call me?”
“Fits, doesn’t it? Or would you prefer Red?”
“Absolutely not!”
“I suppose I could try to guess your name,” Evan made a show of studying her, and he gained much satisfaction at seeing her squirm. “How about Matilda?”
Her finely arched eyebrows shot up. “You think I look like a Matilda?”
“Hmm … no, that’s not quite right, is it?” He stroked his chin thoughtfully. “I know. Bertha.”
“Bertha?”
“That’s not it, either, huh? Okay, a Bible name. Rachel. I like that one.”
“Me, too, but it’s not mine.”
“Can you give me a hint? Tell me what letter it starts with?”
She bit her lip, and he could tell that she was beginning to find some humor in the conversation. A thrill shot through him. Trying to make her smile could become addictive.
“That would make it too easy. Besides, you don’t deserve the help.”
“In the meantime, then, I’ll stick with Irish.”
“What? That’s not a proper name!”
“It’s yours until you decide to quit being stubborn.” He shrugged, tossing her a washcloth. “See those trees over there? I’ll be right on the other side washing up while you do the same here. You’ll have plenty of privacy, but if you need anything just call out.”
Juliana watched him stride away, her eyes fixed on his broad back. She noted the way the smooth material stretched across his powerful shoulders and biceps. A wall of solid muscle, he moved with purpose and confidence. On the outside, he was every girl’s dream.
A pity he spent his days terrorizing innocents and taking what didn’t belong to him.
His horse moved into her line of vision, his majestic black head low to the ground as he nibbled a clump of red clover. He was a fine specimen. Glossy coat, firm flesh, strong legs. Probably a fast runner …
Juliana clapped a hand over her mouth. Lifting his head, Lucky stared at her blankly for a second or two before resuming his snacking. No … she couldn’t. Or could she?
She spoke in low, soothing tones as she approached the animal and tried to convey an air of calm she didn’t feel. What would Evan Harrison do if he came back and caught her trying to steal his horse?
“You’re a fine-lookin’ boy, aren’t you?” she crooned softly, taking hold of his studded bridle and rubbing her palm down his side. He was already used to her scent, and he seemed to welcome the attention. “Would you care to give me a ride somewhere, Lucky?”
She’d have to ride bareback, since she wasn’t strong enough to lift the saddle with all the gear attached to it. While she preferred a saddle, riding without one was doable. If Lucky would let her, that is.
“I have to try, right, boy?” She continued to rub his soft coat, her heart thumping in her chest. “I need my freedom.” She laid her forehead against his neck. “Will you help me?”
Juliana searched the woods where Evan had disappeared. Nothing. Now was her chance. She prayed Lucky wouldn’t throw her.
Still speaking soft words of encouragement, she led him to a fallen log, where she stepped up, grabbed hold and vaulted up and onto his back. Half lying on her stomach, she scooted closer to his neck, her inner thighs pressing into his sides for balance. She signaled for him to move out.
The big black obeyed without a moment’s hesitation. She glanced over her shoulder and again saw no sign of Evan. She was sweating—not from exertion but from sheer nerves. Her stomach, already upset, was now a hard knot. Her hands shook.
As she got farther from the campsite, however, Juliana felt like shouting for joy. Freedom was in her sights. God had surely presented her with this chance at escape.
The going would be tough, no doubt. She had no supplies of any kind. Her cousins, she thanked God, had taught her many skills that would help her find food and shelter. The only problem, in her mind, was figuring out which direction to go. But even if she couldn’t get all the way back to Gatlinburg, she figured she’d come across a town eventually where she could get help.
She took note of the sun’s position and rode in the opposite direction. They’d been traveling east, so it made sense that home was to the west.
“Mr. Evan Harrison is in for one big surprise.” She grinned, ignoring the nudge of conscience. He’s strong and healthy, she reasoned. Wouldn’t hurt him a bit to hike to civilization.
What she would do with the horse once she got home, she hadn’t a clue. She couldn’t keep him—he didn’t belong to her. She couldn’t very well return him, either. Evan knew she lived in or near Gatlinburg, and it wouldn’t be difficult for him to find her. Although her time with him had been brief, she had a gut feeling that he would come looking for what was rightfully his. The thought of meeting him face-to-face at this point unnerved Juliana.
Pushing that disturbing thought away, she focused on her surroundings. She couldn’t afford to daydream. Not only did she need to keep Lucky headed in the right direction, she also had to keep a lookout for snakes or wild boars that might spook him.
She was vulnerable out here alone, she knew. If only she had a weapon.
I will never leave you, nor forsake you. The words from the book of Joshua reassured her. I know, Father, and I thank You for reminding me.
After a mile or so of the beautiful yet monotonous terrain—wide-spaced hickory, spruce and sugar maple trees—her thoughts strayed again to Evan Harrison and his concerns about Lenny Fitzgerald and the others. He didn’t have her completely convinced of the danger. If they only planned to be in the vicinity for a week or two, all she had to do was stay home and not venture into town.
And of course she planned to give Sheriff Timmons a detailed description of Lenny Fitzgerald. Wanted posters would go up all over town. That should send the criminal running in the opposite direction!
But what about Mr. Harrison? Would she give a description of him, too? William Timmons would want the man who’d kidnapped Juliana. In the sheriff’s eyes, she realized, tracking down Evan Harrison would take precedence over capturing any of the others.
Juliana wanted justice. Evan deserved to be punished for what he’d done, of course, but somehow she couldn’t place him on the same level as those other men. There was something different about him … she just couldn’t put her finger on what that something was.
She had a knack for puzzles, though. It might take a while, but she was confident she’d figure it out sooner or later.
Evan dried his face and neck and wondered if Miss O’Malley was finished. He’d decided on a whim to give her some privacy. She’d already endured enough on account of him, and to be honest, she was handling the situation with unusual grace. It wouldn’t kill him to show her a little kindness.
Deciding he’d been gone long enough, he ambled back toward camp. The weather was fine for travel, he noted with relief. Not a cloud to be seen in the pale blue sky. The temperature was climbing—it would be a scorcher—so they would stick to the forest as long as possible. He hoped they made good time. The sooner this whole mess was behind him the better.
When he emerged from the trees into the clearing, it didn’t at first register that anything was amiss. A few seconds was all it took for him to realize his grave error.
He stood there slack-jawed for the space of a full minute.
She was gone. Gone! And so was his horse!
“Why that—” He clamped his mouth shut. He’d learned his childhood lessons well, and his mother had taught him not to disrespect women. Still … the woman had stolen his horse!
What did she expect him to do? Walk to Cades Cove?
He let out a low growl. Who did she think she was? Didn’t she know the punishment for stealing a horse was a hangman’s noose?
He set about packing his gear, only what he couldn’t live without. His eyes fell on the saddle. She was riding his horse bareback? How had she managed to mount him?
She couldn’t have gotten far, he reasoned. Irritation warred with concern. This was mostly uninhabited country—no place for a woman alone. How did she plan to feed herself? He checked the canteens. They were all there, which meant that she was traveling without water. In the height of summer. In the heat of the day. Great. He kicked a tin cup and it arced through the air. Just great.
He’d promised to return her home safe. It was his attempt at righting a wrong. If he failed at this, it would be like losing James all over again. Maybe worse.

Chapter Five
Juliana was thirsty. And hot. Her throat was so dry it hurt to swallow. In her haste, she hadn’t thought about the need for water or protection from the sun’s rays. Her bonnet was probably where she’d left it—tossed on top of her blanket. Her fair skin felt tight and was sensitive to the touch, especially her cheeks and forehead.
Gauging the sun’s position, she guessed it to be near eleven o’clock. She’d left the forest behind about two hours into the journey and had been traveling through open fields ever since. In the distance, she saw another forest and hoped it wouldn’t take long to get there.
Her stomach was empty and urgently protesting that fact. If she didn’t find a place to fish, she would stop and search for berries and nuts. An apple tree would go a long way toward filling her stomach. Lucky’s, too.
In all likelihood, Evan would laugh at her situation. After what she’d done, there’d be no room in his heart for compassion. It was an unwritten rule of their society—a man simply didn’t mess with another man’s horse. She supposed that rule applied to women, too.
While Juliana was thankful that she’d been able to escape her kidnapper, she couldn’t deny that men came in handy sometimes. Especially out on the open trail.
At long last, when Juliana was near to the point of falling off the horse, she reached the trees. She heard the sound of rushing water and sagged with relief. Past the point of all care, she ran to the water, flopped down on her stomach and submerged her face. Her unbound auburn hair floated on the surface like an intricate spiderweb.
Rolling over on her back, she lay there half-in, half-out of the water, arms spread wide. Lucky was there nearby, noisily drinking his fill.
“What a sight we must be.” She chuckled, reveling in the cold wetness and blessed relief from the relentless sun. Thank You, Lord. I was about to suffer a sunstroke, I do believe.
Reluctantly she sat up to survey her surroundings. Water sluiced down her back, but she didn’t mind. It felt divine. Nothing about her surroundings triggered a memory. Of course she’d slept in the saddle last night, so it stood to reason that she wouldn’t recognize the landmarks.
Butterflies filled her stomach at the memory of being held in Evan’s strong embrace. She’d fought to keep her eyes open, but between Lucky’s loping gait and Evan’s warmth enveloping her it had been an impossible battle. The fact that he’d carried and settled her in for the night made her face flame with embarrassment. Disgusted at herself for letting the outlaw affect her, she addressed his horse.
“Are you hungry, Lucky?”
The black had already searched out a patch of green grass and was chomping away.
Juliana scanned the brook, disappointed to find only minnows in the shallow depths. There weren’t any frogs, either. Not even a turtle. A flash of white caught her eye, and she glanced up to see a cottontail hopping past. “You sure are a cute little guy. I hate to say this within your earshot, but if I had a gun I’d be having you for lunch.”
Squeezing the excess moisture out of her hair, she used Evan’s comb to smooth the long locks.
Lucky didn’t protest when she led him deeper into the woods. He was such a sweet horse. A prize, really. Evan must be heartsick at having lost him.
Well, if he hadn’t kidnapped her in the first place, she reasoned, he would still have the horse in his possession.
They came upon a blueberry patch, but someone or something had beaten them to it. Few berries remained, which only seemed to amplify her hunger. It also brought to mind her mother’s birthday cake, piled high with blueberries and strawberries. She’d never gotten a taste of that magnificent dessert.
When I get home, she promised herself, I’m gonna ask the twins to make another one just for me.
Daydreaming about her homecoming, Juliana thought her mind was playing tricks on her when she caught the scent of meat roasting over an open flame. Her mouth watered. Someone was nearby—with food.
As much as she longed to go crashing through the underbrush and demand to be fed, she decided not to announce her presence before getting a look at whomever was out there. A woman alone had to be cautious or risk serious harm.
With Lucky following close behind, she ventured closer to where she believed the scent was coming from. Unexpectedly, a raucous male voice broke the silence. She halted midstep and goose bumps skimmed along her skin. He was singing a ditty unfit for a lady’s ears.
Juliana continued her approach, however, determined to see for herself what he looked like. Dense weeds and bushes provided cover so that she could get close without him spotting her. Looping the reins around a tree limb and issuing a command for Lucky to stay, she crawled into the bushes.
The pop and sizzle of meat made her mouth water. A fat brown spider landed on her hand and, gasping aloud, she flung it away. She detested spiders. Once, when she was a little girl, she had been playing in the hayloft when she disturbed a whole nest of them. Tiny spiders—hundreds of them—scurried in all directions and, of course, some of them crawled over her shoes. Screaming at the top of her lungs, she ran to climb down the ladder and, in her haste, fell to the hard dirt floor below. She suffered a broken arm and spent half the summer confined to the house.
Juliana searched the branches above her head and the grass below for more of the wretched things. Satisfied that she was safe, she crept deeper into the bushes. A dark form was visible through the leaves, and as she neared she saw that his back was to her. Unfortunately, he was still singing in a loud, off-key voice, sitting cross-legged before the fire and guzzling whiskey from a half-empty bottle. His clothes were wrinkled and stained and the edges ragged.
He looked harmless enough. Probably a down-on-his-luck drifter. And the demands of her empty stomach were starting to override her hesitation. What could she offer him in exchange for a share of the meal? All she had was the comb in her pocket, and from the looks of him, he wouldn’t be interested. Did she dare hope he would help her out of the goodness of his heart?
All he could do is say no, she supposed.
Her mind made up, she retraced her steps and approached the campsite.
Rounding the bushes, she collided with a tall, thin body. She jumped back with a startled gasp.
“Miss O’Malley!”
Juliana glanced up into Art’s shocked face. “Art! What are you doing here?”
“The boss sent us. Didn’t trust Harrison—” His gaze skittered away for a brief second before returning to her face. “I’m mighty glad you’re okay, miss. ‘Course, I never believed any of that stuff Harrison said. Where is he anyhow?” He glanced over her shoulder at Evan’s horse.
“He, um …” She stalled, racking her brain for a plausible story.
“Oh, miss.” Art groaned, brown eyes going wide, “You didn’t give him the slip, did ya?”
“Well, I—”
He slapped his head. “This ain’t good at all! He’ll be hoppin’ mad! And there’s no telling what Fitzgerald will do.”
Juliana took an automatic step back. “Fitzgerald? He’s here? With you?”
“Yep, that’s him singin’ like a drunk bullfrog.”
Oh, no. What now? Harrison was right!
Her pulse skyrocketing, she pivoted on her heel and strode toward Lucky. “I have to find Evan!”
She had one foot in the stirrup when she heard the click of a gun hammer.
“Stop right there.”
Juliana froze. Dread settled like a leaden weight on her shoulders.
“Step away from the horse,” Fitzgerald ordered with a wave of his pistol.
She was in big trouble, and Evan was miles away. Too far to rescue her this time. Not that he would after what she’d done to him. Silently, she did as she was told.
“Where’s Harrison?” he demanded, all joviality of a few moments ago gone.
“He’s not here.” She looked him straight in the eye, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing her fear.
“I can see that,” he snapped. “Where is he?”
“A few miles back at camp.”
Juliana jerked when he barked a harsh laugh.
“Harrison underestimated you, I see. I’m beginning to understand his preference for spirited women. Maybe I’ll keep you around for a while.” His full lips curled into an insolent sneer. “See for myself what all the fuss is about.”
Art spoke up. “What are you planning, Fitz?”
Juliana squelched the urge to squirm beneath the outlaw’s lewd stare. She clasped her hands together to stop them from shaking.
“Give me time.” He looked over at the young man. “I’ll come up with something. For now, nature calls. Make sure she doesn’t escape. Or else.”
Art gulped. He watched Fitzgerald disappear into the woods. Then he approached with eager strides.
“You have to go now!” He urged her in Lucky’s direction.
Staring up at his boyish face, years away from manhood, Juliana felt like weeping. Here was her chance at escape, and she couldn’t take it.
She placed a restraining hand on his arm. “I can’t,” she whispered. “Who knows what he’ll do to you?”
Art shook his head, his fine blond hair sliding into his eyes. “Don’t you worry about me. Go back to Harrison. He’ll help you—I just know it.”
Evan’s handsome face swam before her eyes, and she wished with all her being that she’d trusted him.
“I’m not so sure about that,” she choked out. “In any case, I can’t leave on your watch.”
Straightening to his full height, Art gave her a stubborn glare. “And I say you can. And you will.”
Unaccustomed to seeing the awkward teen so sure of himself, Juliana’s jaw dropped. He was maturing before her very eyes. Too bad it was a wasted effort. She could not in good conscience leave him to the mercy of Fitzgerald’s wrath.
“I appreciate what you’re trying to do, Art. But I just can’t do it.”
“Do you know what Harrison will do when he finds out Fitz has you?” he demanded. “I’d almost rather face Fitz. Please. Go.”
A loud whistle threaded through the trees, and they jumped apart as Fitz strolled back into the clearing. He looked from one to the other.
“I’m starved. Let’s eat.”
Evan hated to admit he’d been outsmarted by a female. He’d gone over the morning’s events a couple of times, drawing the conclusion that he’d gone soft. Give her some privacy, he’d told himself. Be a gentleman!
The kicker was he’d left his horse in the care of a stranger. When was that ever a smart thing to do? He had let his guard down, and now he was minus one first-rate horse. It was a costly mistake in more ways than one.
Where was she?
He’d seen horse droppings and broken shrubs, even spotted some fresh tracks in the soft earth. He was confident he was on their trail, so why hadn’t he found them yet?
He’d been walking for hours. What he needed was a cup of coffee to perk him up. With the little sleep he had to go on, he was dragging. His feet hurt. There was a permanent dent in his shoulder from the saddlebag strap. He had every right to be irate. Somehow … he wasn’t. Not at her. If anything, he blamed himself for getting her into this situation in the first place.
If only she had waited a little longer to do her shopping yesterday.
If only he hadn’t been too ill to take his brother to Knoxville ten months ago.
There were too many twists and turns in life that could lead a man down the wrong path.
Especially when the man was doing the leading and not God.
Evan stopped walking, one hand on his hip and the other hanging on to the strap. Where had that thought come from? He’d been running from the Lord for a while now—since James’s death. Evan’s faith had shattered the moment he heard the news. Guilt was his constant companion these days, not the Lord.
Tilting his head back, he watched tiny robins hop from branch to branch, singing merrily to each other. Squirrels darted up the broad, grooved tree trunks, searching for acorns. Buttercups and dandelions dotted the forest floor.
God’s touch was evident in every insect, every petal, every leaf.
Oh, Father, I miss You so much sometimes it hurts.
Evan shook his head, wondering how much longer he could take living like this.
He scanned the forest, noting that the trees were beginning to thin and that it appeared brighter in the distance. He was headed for a clearing. Lifting his hat, he wiped his forehead with his sleeve, too lazy at this point to dig in his pocket for a hanky.
Where was she?
He took a long swallow from his canteen, screwed the lid back on, and started walking again.
Ignoring Art’s sidelong glances, Juliana stared into the fire. What now?
“Sit down.” Fitz motioned with his half-empty whiskey bottle.
Her appetite had fled at the sight of him. Now bile rose up in her throat at the thought of having to share a meal with the outlaw.
When she hesitated, he leaned over and seized her upper arm, forcing her to sit down hard. Ducking her head, Juliana swallowed an anguished groan. Surely any sign of weakness would only stir his anger.
Art was silent. Still, she sensed his frustration as he plopped down beside her.
Fitz sat opposite her. With his bare fingers, he snatched the meat from the still-sizzling skillet, tore off a big hunk and dropped it on a flat green leaf. “Enjoy it.” He leered viciously. “Might be your last.”
Juliana ignored him. She pulled off tiny bits and somehow managed to swallow without choking. Nauseous from the rush of adrenaline, her stomach protested but she managed to keep it down.
Lord Jesus, please help me think of a way out of this mess. Give me wisdom and courage. I need You desperately.
“Did you leave Harrison alive or dead?” Fitz grunted, wiping his sleeve across his greasy mouth.
She lifted her eyes to meet his and was shocked by the coldness and hatred there. This was a person with absolutely no morals, a person who wouldn’t think twice about hurting or even killing another human being.
How foolish she’d been to leave Evan Harrison’s protection! He was an outlaw, yes, but he hadn’t harmed her. He had even promised to escort her home!
With Lenny Fitzgerald calling the shots, her life could be over in the blink of an eye.
“Last I saw him, he was alive and well,” she said.
“How did you manage to steal his horse?”
“He let his guard down.”
“We won’t do that, will we, Art?” Fitzgerald shot Art a warning glare.
Juliana swallowed hard. This conversation was going nowhere fast. Her gaze darted around, looking for a weapon of some kind. If she could delay him just long enough for her to get a head start, she was sure Lucky could outrun his mount. Besides, the man was half-drunk. He’d be slower than normal.
Her gaze landed on the cast-iron skillet resting above the flames. Melted fatback popped and hissed. An idea seized her, and she acted on it before she could change her mind.
Leaning forward, she reached out a hand. “Mind if I help myself to some more meat?”
He eyed her a moment, then shrugged his beefy shoulders.
Inhaling deeply, she grabbed the handle and slung the skillet upwards, the burning hot liquid spilling out to splatter across his face and neck. He yelped in pain, his hands clawing at his face.

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