Outlaw Hearts(25)

She began scrubbing his hair. “A few weeks ago my father was killed by raiders and we lost everything of value, which left me with this excuse of a farm and the draft horses my only collateral. Since the farm isn’t worth much, all I really have left is some money my father had in the bank and what I can get for the two draft horses of mine. I intend to load most of my furniture into the wagon in a few days and take it and the wagon and horses into Kansas City and sell everything. The bank is going to take over the farm and sell it for what they can get, and I’ll be on my way to Nevada.”

Jake enjoyed the gentle massage of her hands. He struggled against growing feelings for this woman whom he admired for her courage and fortitude. She was no fainting flower, in spite of her size. She had strength and determination, and she was not easily frightened. Never had he fought manly urges as much as he was right now, for besides his great admiration for her, he also could not help feeling a sexual attraction. She was bending close, her nicely rounded breasts not far from his face. He wanted to take hold of her, touch those full breasts, taste them, take pleasure in her mouth, feel her body against his own. It had been a while since he was with a woman, and he’d never bedded one like Miranda Hayes, a woman of virtue and gentleness, the kind of woman who only gave herself to a man out of love and devotion. He almost laughed out loud at the idea of her thinking of him that way.

“You’re quite a woman,” he told her. “Most would have gone into town a long time ago just for the protection of civilization, maybe married the first man who came along who could provide for them.”

“I’ll find a way to provide for myself. I married Mack because I had deep affection for him. He was a good man. It had nothing to do with wanting someone to look after me. I wanted to take care of him, give him children.” She began rinsing his hair. “Have you ever thought of settling, Jake? Having sons?”

He chuckled. “Me? I’ve given it a thought a time or two, but a wanted man isn’t one who can settle, let alone find a woman who would be willing to be on the run the rest of her life. As far as children…” He paused for a moment, losing his smile. “I got no teaching in how to handle children. I’d be too afraid that somehow I’d be like my own father. I’d shoot myself if I ever found myself doing that to my own kid. The way I was raised, and the way I’ve lived, I’d make a pretty rotten father. I’m better off leaving things just like they are.”

Miranda took a towel and motioned for him to sit up straight. She began drying his hair with the towel. “Where will you go when you leave here?”

“I don’t know. Indian Territory, I expect. That’s the best place for wanted men to hide out. I might go on farther west from there. It’s a lawless land out there. A man can make his own rules. I was on my way when that bounty hunter found me.”

Miranda went to her father’s washstand near the cot and returned with a comb and a pair of scissors. Pulling the comb through Jake’s tangled hair, she said, “Do you want to know something funny?”

“What’s that?”

“I think I’ll miss you a little when you go. I don’t even fully trust you yet, and I am firmly against the way you live. But I have actually enjoyed taking care of you. It has kept me busy, kept my mind off my grief. You have brought a strangely exciting element to things lately—I’ve never shot a man before, never taken a bullet out of a man, never known a real outlaw. It’s too bad it was your kind who killed my father. I could never fully forgive that, but I truly would like to understand it, if you would share your past with me. I feel it might be good for you to talk to someone about it. And where is the harm?”

She began snipping at his hair, thinking how full and wavy and pretty it was, so black it almost looked blue. “Once you leave here, you’ll never see me again, so why not use me as a sounding board? You already did a while ago when you lit into me about how your father treated you. Were you a bastard, or was that all in his head?”

Jake thought about his mother, as beautiful a woman as any man could want, a dark, exotic beauty. “My father was white, from Connecticut. He came from a very poor family. His own father abused him, kicked him out when he was twelve years old, or so he told me. I used to feel sorry for him, until he kicked or beat out any feelings I had for him.” The last statement was spoken bitterly, and he paused a moment before continuing.

“At any rate,” he finally spoke up again, “he wandered to Texas, worked for a while, joined Houston’s army to fight for Texas’s independence. He was at San Jacinto when Santa Anna surrendered. After that he wandered around northern Mexico and southern Texas, bought a young Mexican girl off her drunken father and lived with her, never married her.”