Free Leather and Lace by DiAnn Mills

in the area around her.
    “Yeah, he said he owed you. He told me a story about you not taking money from the jobs they did.” Doc stroked the gelding’s neck as though Tim’s words were common knowledge.
    “True. And I can’t take this, either. He stole the money to buy these provisions.” She started to lift the bags from the saddle, but Doc stopped her.
    “Best you have the provisions to survive than Tim to squander it on women and gambling. A good bit of the money is left, and I placed it in the saddlebag on the bottom, left side.”
    “Keep the money for Morgan’s care.”
    “And have Tim O’Hare after me? I’m smarter than that, sweet lady.” He touched her shoulder. “I also put a small gift in the top saddlebag.”
    “From you?” Apprehension settled upon her. She despised being indebted to anyone.
    “It’s an extra Bible. A rancher gave it to me for birthing a baby. I don’t need two.”
    Overwhelmed, she hugged the big man. “Thank you. I’ll take good care of it. You have my word.” She swung up into the saddle. A part of her wanted to stay and face Jenkins. It would be over then. But she didn’t have the guts to shoot it out with him. She’d rather learn what the Bible said about such things.
    Casey grasped Doc’s huge hand. “I’ll miss you.” She started to add that she’d also miss his cooking, his gruff mannerisms, and his long talks, but a lump formed in her throat. A sense of urgency surfaced. She’d probably never see Doc or Morgan again. She might not see noon.
    *****
    Morgan fought the sleep drawing him into a world where healing took place and reality seemed irrelevant. He was madder than a riled rattler with the realization that Casey had left. He’d known the infamous lady for only a few days, and when he hadn’t been unconscious, he’d despised her. How did one woman get under a man’s skin so quickly?
    She had a rare beauty: red-brown hair that reminded him of a desert sunset and pale blue eyes veiled behind thick, dark lashes. When he walked into her campsite, she looked out of place, as though an angel had taken residence in a man’s world. An angel or a demon? He knew the rumors. A bounty hunter from Missouri said Jenkins had found her in a brothel. One report said Casey and Tim stumbled onto the gang by accident, and Jenkins had to have her. Whatever the truth, she ran from him now.
    Morgan saw the grit in her eyes in the mountains of Utah when he shoved his Winchester under her chin. If she feared him, she didn’t show it. The calm speech and soft voice indicated a woman of confidence. He’d expected Casey O’Hare to use her beauty to wiggle out of his hold, but instead she challenged him with a sharp mind—repeatedly. How else could she have survived all those years with Jenkins? She’d lived among one of the most hardened gangs in American history. Casey might have noble intentions of ridding her life of Davis Jenkins, but without help, that animal would not stop until he caught her.
    Forget her. She’s not worth it. Look at what she’s done over the years.
    Yet she’d put her life on the line for him. Took care of him when anyone else would have left him to die. Risked her life with Jenkins hot on her trail. Morgan had learned just enough to drive him crazy, just enough to wonder if his best-laid plans were wrong. The God he acknowledged in good and needy times might be trying to tell him something . . . or warn him. If he’d have stuck to God’s ways these past four years, then maybe he could decipher the message.
    *****
    Six hours passed, and still the confusion of what began in the mountains of Utah and continued until this morning in Vernal tore at Casey’s heart. She lifted her tearstained face to the late morning sun and willed the bittersweet memories of Morgan to fade.
    This is insane. I hardly know the man. How could I let him torment me so? He had no right to confuse me this way—saying things that most likely meant nothing to