Free [Montacroix Royal Family Series 03] - The Outlaw by Joann Ross

of Black Jack's horse hitched to the rail. She instinctively leaned forward to gather up the reins as he swung onto the back of the mare.
    "And since that horse stealing just happens to be a hanging offense around here, let's try to get away without you messing things up again."
    Her response was cut off by a loud shout coming from behind her. Looking back over her shoulder, Noel saw a man standing in the doorway.
    At the same time that the first rifle shot cracked high above them, Wolfe wheeled his mount.
    "Ride!" he shouted.
    When a second shot splintered the wood of a nearby tree, Noel ducked her head and took off like the wind.
    To cover her, Wolfe kept his mare behind Noel. Winchester in hand, he rode a zigzag path as bullets kicked up puffs of red earth all around them. When he felt the burn as one of those rapidly fired bullets grazed his arm, he urged the mare to run faster.
    The horse's hooves pounded on the dry earth, thin trails of dust roiled just above the ground behind them as they galloped away from the Road to Ruin. Behind them, the clouds of gun smoke drifted away as Wolfe took the lead. With her heart pounding in her throat, Noel followed him into the woods.
    The rain had stopped, a brisk breeze from the west had blown away the clouds, allowing sunlight to stream through the tops of the towering Ponderosa pine trees.
    Wolfe cast a glance up at the sun and determined that it was not yet noon. And he'd already packed one helluva lot into a single morning.
    When thirteen-year-old Brady Loftin had shown up at the jailhouse window, bringing word from Fat Nell down at the Branding Iron Saloon that a bunch of cowboys were getting liquored up and planning a little necktie party to lynch the "Injun" who'd coldbloodedly murdered innocent settlers in their soft feather-beds, Wolfe had come to the conclusion that he'd overstayed his welcome in the territorial jail.
    Breaking out had been a cinch.
    Staying out hadn't seemed all that tough a problem. Until a lissome female had been dumped in his lap.
    As they made their way through the woods, headed toward the relative safety of the reservation, Wolfe's mood, already blacker than coal dust, got even filthier. Thanks to this woman who'd literally fallen into his life, his situation had taken yet another deadly twist.
    It was not easy sitting a horse with yards of scarlet silk piled up almost to her chin. It wasn't fun riding hellbent for leather up the side of a steep cliff nearly as vertical as a stone castle wall back home. Fortunately, Black Jack's pinto proved both fast and surefooted, keeping up with Wolfe's mare as he took them both higher and higher up the Mogollon Rim, deeper and deeper into the forest.
    It didn't take long for the adrenaline rush to fade. And when it did, the image of Black Jack began dancing in front of her eyes. Noel imagined she could still see the shock in those cruel dark eyes when he realized he'd been shot. Along with that bright red stain on the front of his grimy shirt. If that wasn't bad enough, she imagined she could smell the dark, dank scent of the gunfighter's blood.
    Her stomach churned. She tried to ignore it, but the images grew more vivid, the gagging worse. Finally, unable to hold back another minute, she slid off her horse and dropped to her knees on the floor of pine needles. And threw up.
    At the sound of her coughing and sputtering, Wolfe reined in and turned the mare and observed her, on her knees, bent over, as ill as a camp dog. Something moved inside him. Something he steadfastly ignored as he reached down and silently handed her a canteen.
    If she'd been hoping for sympathy—which, Noel assured herself, she most definitely wasn't—she would have been disappointed. As she sipped the water, willing it to calm her rebellious stomach, she risked a glance upward. His eyes were every bit as expressionless as his lean sculpted face.
    "Thank you," she murmured, handing the canteen back to him.
    "Save your thanks for when we