Free The Outlaws: Sam by Ten Talents Press Page A

"It's all right, Andy.
You're not bothering me. Is there something on your mind?"
    Andy hesitated a moment, then sidled forward.
"You're not going to die, are you? My real papa died and I don't
want you to die, too."
    An unexpected emotion clogged Sam's throat.
He'd never been around children much and knew little about them,
but this bright little lad had somehow wormed his way into his
affection. He couldn't blame Andy for his mother's sins.
    Sam cleared his throat. "I'm not gonna die,
Andy. My wound isn't even serious. I'll be fit as a fiddle in a
days or two."
    "Promise?" Andy asked tremulously.
    "Promise."
    A grin spread across the child's face.
"That's all I wanted to know."
    "What did you want to know?" Lacey asked from
the doorway. "I thought I told you not to bother Sam."
    "Papa said it was all right," Andy said. "I
didn't bother him. I just wanted to make sure he wasn't going to
die."
    "He's going to be just fine," Lacey said.
"Run along now, I need to tend to Sam's wound."
    Andy skipped off. Lacey waited until he was
gone before rounding on Sam. "You shouldn't encourage him. You'll
never be his father. It will be hard on him when you leave."
    "Who says I'm gonna leave?"
    "I do," Lacey said with conviction. "Turn
your head so I can spread salve on your wound."
    A grimace contorted Sam's face as he moved
his head to comply. "When will this aching stop?"
    "I brought laudanum for the pain. I'll give
you some as soon as I'm finished with the bandaging."
    "No laudanum. I prefer to keep my wits about
me. Perhaps a mild headache powder, if you have it."
    "Men," Lacey said with a hint of disgust.
"Must you always be in control?"
    "I don't like not knowing what's going on
around me."
    "Very well, I'll get you a headache powder
when I finish here. Tomorrow you should be recovered enough to
return to the bunkhouse."
    Sam folded his arms across his chest and
regarded her with amusement. "I'm not going back to the bunkhouse,
Lacey."
    Lacey went still. "Of course you are. What
will the hands think?"
    "They won't think anything after I tell them
we're married, that we have been husband and wife for six
years."
    "You can't do that! They believe I'm going to
marry Taylor Cramer."
    "Not any longer. I'll explain everything, if
that's what's bothering you. I'll tell them we lost track of one
another during the war and that you mistakenly thought I was
dead."
    Lacey squared her shoulders. "I'll not be a
wife to you, Sam Gentry."
    "We'll see about that, Mrs. Gentry," Sam
replied through gritted teeth. His head hurt so badly he could
barely see. He didn't want to argue with Lacey right now. But once
he was recovered he fully intended to make damn sure she didn't get
what she wanted. She was going to pay for betraying him.
     
    The next day Sam felt well enough to get out
of bed and stroll down to the bunkhouse. His head still ached but
with less severity, and his wound was healing nicely. He hoped hair
would grow over the scar in time, rendering it all but
invisible.
    The hands had just returned from the range.
Sam opened the door and walked into the bunkhouse amid a boisterous
welcome.
    "Sam, you old son of a gun!" Rusty greeted.
"I was just gonna go up to the house and see how you were doing.
Are you ready to move back to the bunkhouse?"
    Sam smiled. "As you can see, I'm fine, but
I'm not returning to the bunkhouse, Rusty."
    The other men heard what Sam had said and
stopped what they were doing to listen.
    Rusty scratched his head. "You ain't coming
back? You ain't leaving, are you? Did that shooter scare you
off?"
    "Nothing like that. I'm glad everyone is
here. There's something I want to tell you."
    Once Sam had everyone's attention, he cleared
his throat and said, "I haven't been exactly truthful with you
boys. You see, I had no idea Lacey Gentry was the owner of the
B&G when Rusty brought me here. In fact, I lost track of Lacey
after the war and had no idea she was in Texas."
    "What are you getting at, Sam?" Rusty
asked.
    "I don't