The Reluctant Outlaw. Karen Kirst

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been kinda busy plotting our next move.”

      “Exactly.”

      Uncomfortable with her astute observations, he sought to distract her. “Is that all, Irish?”

      “Yes, that’s all.” Her eyes narrowed. “What did you call me?”

      “Fits, doesn’t it? Or would you prefer Red?

      “Absolutely not!”

      “I suppose I could try to guess your name,” Evan made a show of studying her, and he gained much satisfaction at seeing her squirm. “How about Matilda?”

      Her finely arched eyebrows shot up. “You think I look like a Matilda?”

      “Hmm … no, that’s not quite right, is it?” He stroked his chin thoughtfully. “I know. Bertha.”

       “Bertha?”

      “That’s not it, either, huh? Okay, a Bible name. Rachel. I like that one.”

      “Me, too, but it’s not mine.”

      “Can you give me a hint? Tell me what letter it starts with?”

      She bit her lip, and he could tell that she was beginning to find some humor in the conversation. A thrill shot through him. Trying to make her smile could become addictive.

      “That would make it too easy. Besides, you don’t deserve the help.”

      “In the meantime, then, I’ll stick with Irish.

      “What? That’s not a proper name!”

      “It’s yours until you decide to quit being stubborn.” He shrugged, tossing her a washcloth. “See those trees over there? I’ll be right on the other side washing up while you do the same here. You’ll have plenty of privacy, but if you need anything just call out.”

      Juliana watched him stride away, her eyes fixed on his broad back. She noted the way the smooth material stretched across his powerful shoulders and biceps. A wall of solid muscle, he moved with purpose and confidence. On the outside, he was every girl’s dream.

      A pity he spent his days terrorizing innocents and taking what didn’t belong to him.

      His horse moved into her line of vision, his majestic black head low to the ground as he nibbled a clump of red clover. He was a fine specimen. Glossy coat, firm flesh, strong legs. Probably a fast runner …

      Juliana clapped a hand over her mouth. Lifting his head, Lucky stared at her blankly for a second or two before resuming his snacking. No … she couldn’t. Or could she?

      She spoke in low, soothing tones as she approached the animal and tried to convey an air of calm she didn’t feel. What would Evan Harrison do if he came back and caught her trying to steal his horse?

      “You’re a fine-lookin’ boy, aren’t you?” she crooned softly, taking hold of his studded bridle and rubbing her palm down his side. He was already used to her scent, and he seemed to welcome the attention. “Would you care to give me a ride somewhere, Lucky?”

      She’d have to ride bareback, since she wasn’t strong enough to lift the saddle with all the gear attached to it. While she preferred a saddle, riding without one was doable. If Lucky would let her, that is.

      “I have to try, right, boy?” She continued to rub his soft coat, her heart thumping in her chest. “I need my freedom.” She laid her forehead against his neck. “Will you help me?”

      Juliana searched the woods where Evan had disappeared. Nothing. Now was her chance. She prayed Lucky wouldn’t throw her.

      Still speaking soft words of encouragement, she led him to a fallen log, where she stepped up, grabbed hold and vaulted up and onto his back. Half lying on her stomach, she scooted closer to his neck, her inner thighs pressing into his sides for balance. She signaled for him to move out.

      The big black obeyed without a moment’s hesitation. She glanced over her shoulder and again saw no sign of Evan. She was sweating—not from exertion but from sheer nerves. Her stomach, already upset, was now a hard knot. Her hands shook.

      As she got farther from the campsite, however, Juliana felt like shouting for joy. Freedom was in her sights. God had surely presented her with this chance at escape.

      The going would be tough, no doubt. She had no supplies of any kind. Her cousins, she thanked God, had taught her many skills that would help her find food and shelter. The only problem, in her mind, was figuring out which direction to go. But even if she couldn’t get all the way back to Gatlinburg, she figured she’d come across a town eventually where she could get help.

      She took note of the sun’s position and rode in the opposite direction. They’d been traveling east, so it made sense that home was to the west.

      “Mr. Evan Harrison is in for one big surprise.” She grinned, ignoring the nudge of conscience. He’s strong and healthy, she reasoned. Wouldn’t hurt him a bit to hike to civilization.

      What she would do with the horse once she got home, she hadn’t a clue. She couldn’t keep him—he didn’t belong to her. She couldn’t very well return him, either. Evan knew she lived in or near Gatlinburg, and it wouldn’t be difficult for him to find her. Although her time with him had been brief, she had a gut feeling that he would come looking for what was rightfully his. The thought of meeting him face-to-face at this point unnerved Juliana.

      Pushing that disturbing thought away, she focused on her surroundings. She couldn’t afford to daydream. Not only did she need to keep Lucky headed in the right direction, she also had to keep a lookout for snakes or wild boars that might spook him.

      She was vulnerable out here alone, she knew. If only she had a weapon.

      I will never leave you, nor forsake you. The words from the book of Joshua reassured her. I know, Father, and I thank You for reminding me.

      After a mile or so of the beautiful yet monotonous terrain—wide-spaced hickory, spruce and sugar maple trees—her thoughts strayed again to Evan Harrison and his concerns about Lenny Fitzgerald and the others. He didn’t have her completely convinced of the danger. If they only planned to be in the vicinity for a week or two, all she had to do was stay home and not venture into town.

      And of course she planned to give Sheriff Timmons a detailed description of Lenny Fitzgerald. Wanted posters would go up all over town. That should send the criminal running in the opposite direction!

      But what about Mr. Harrison? Would she give a description of him, too? William Timmons would want the man who’d kidnapped Juliana. In the sheriff’s eyes, she realized, tracking down Evan Harrison would take precedence over capturing any of the others.

      Juliana wanted justice. Evan deserved to be punished for what he’d done, of course, but somehow she couldn’t place him on the same level as those other men. There was something different about him … she just couldn’t put her finger on what that something was.

      She had a knack for puzzles, though. It might take a while, but she was confident she’d figure it out sooner or later.

      Evan

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