Free Outlaw Hearts by Rosanne Bittner Page A

There was no outtalking this woman, and at the moment no outdoing her physically. “I give up. Just get me that whiskey, will you?”
    â€œAre you going to eat?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œFine.”
    Jake watched her exit the room, his mind already whirling with how he could outsmart this woman. Friend? No woman like that one called a man like him friend, and he still couldn’t quite believe she wouldn’t turn him in if someone came by.
    He had to find those guns! As long as he was this weak, the guns were his only protection. They were all he’d counted on most of his life, and he wasn’t about to be without them now. If he could find them, Randy Hayes would have to live by his rules. He’d never lived by anyone else’s, and he wasn’t about to start now!

Four
    Miranda lugged two buckets of water from the well, setting one down at the door so that she could open it, then picking the water up again and struggling inside with her heavy load. As soon as she got through the doorway she saw Jake standing near the counter under which she kept the potatoes. He had managed to pull on a pair of long johns but was still shirtless, and he held one revolver in his hand; another lay on the pantry. His gun belts, which she had hidden in the bottom of her wardrobe, hung over one shoulder. She moved slowly to set the buckets on the floor, unsure whether or not she should be afraid. She watched Jake’s eyes, saw there a mixture of victory and humor. “Potatoes?” he asked sarcastically. “I thought they’d be under a floorboard or something.”
    Miranda told herself to stay calm. Everything had been fine as long as he was in bed and had no weapons. She had carried her own rifle everywhere with her, leaving it on the porch just now while she got the water. “Apparently I shouldn’t have left those things anywhere in the house.”
    Jake grinned, whirling the chamber of the revolver in his hand and holding it up to blow into it. “Potatoes have dirt on them. I’ll have a time getting these things cleaned up. I usually oil them nearly every day.” He glanced at her, saw the fear beginning to build in her eyes. “Don’t worry, they aren’t even loaded. I took the bullets out so I can clean them.” He frowned then, feeling annoyed at what she must be thinking. “Look, I told you I don’t go around hurting women.”
    Miranda leaned down and picked up the buckets. “I’m wondering why it’s so important to you to have a gun in your hand. I’m certainly no threat, and I told you I have no intention of turning you in.”
    Jake watched her lift the buckets to the counter, seeing that it took great effort, and wondering at the fact that such slender arms could lift anything. “A man like me can’t be too careful or too trusting. A whole townful of people who would love to collect the reward on me is only a half hour from here. Not only do I have civilians and the law after me, but the men I used to ride with are after me too. I’ll rest a lot better with these hanging over the bedpost.”
    Miranda faced him, her arms folded. “Suit yourself. You have a lot to learn about trust, Jake.” She turned away and began adding more wood to the fire in the hearth. “You’d better get back in that bed. Just because you woke up this morning feeling better doesn’t mean you can be up rutting around like everything was normal. You do too much too soon and you’ll just land yourself in bed longer than if you’d stayed there in the first place.”
    Miranda heard another gun chamber whirl, and her heartbeat quickened. She had let herself believe he was telling the truth about not hurting her. She hoped her own basic instincts were right. What convinced her was the day she had shot him, the way he looked at her, the fact that he could have shot back but did not. She had seen a side to him while