appreciate that.”
He gave her a nod and she made herself look busy until she could slip out the back. She didn’t even take the time to change as she would have on a normal night. Instead, she pulled Pete’s old coat on over her costume and tucked her winter dress under her arm as she stole out the back door, heart beating wildly, her only thoughts of getting home.
The hastily erected buildings of the town showed their age. Even in the light of the half-moon, it was clear they were nothing more than unpainted clapboard held together by a few nails. The alley she stepped into was a mess of mud and muck left over from the storm that had rolled through almost a week ago. She took in a breath as she stepped off the back stoop and into the bog, grimacing as it sucked at her boots and thankful the trail leading out of town would be an easier walk. Everywhere else had dried out, while the town’s roads stubbornly held on to the mud.
Her little part of the world was still cold in early April, particularly at night when the sun disappeared, leaving the valley to languish in the shadow of the mountains. A bitter wind blew in over those peaks and often didn’t let up until morning. Sometimes it blew so long, Emmaline feared that it would never let up, that it would just keep blowing until it blew every trace of their lives away. She’d oblige it and leave if she could ever scrape up enough money. But with Ship’s schemes, Pete’s drinking, and everyday expenses like food and clothing, it didn’t look like that day would ever come. Besides, there was only one way to get the kind of money she’d need to take her sisters with her and ensure their safety, but it was so abhorrent, she couldn’t consider it.
But then there were the nights that came later into spring and summer. The wind could be gentle and warm, and the moon was clear, lighting stars in the sky for as far as the eye could see. On those nights she loved it here in her quiet part of the world. On those nights she didn’t mind the long walk home. On those nights she could actually begin to think that everything would be all right, eventually.
This wasn’t one of those nights.
Casting a harsh glance toward the swells in the distance still covered in snow, she took a deep breath and pulled the collar of her coat up to cover her ears. It was going to be a long walk.
* * *
She had ended up half running the familiar path home, until she had to slow down a little while later from the stitch in her side. But with a trickle of sweat running down between her shoulder blades, she didn’t mind the cold anymore, so she alternated between running and walking.
She was about halfway home when she heard the sound. It might have been horse hooves hitting the dirt, or it could have been her own imagination. Either way, she decided it was time to delve into the long, brown grass instead of staying on the path. It gave her a better chance of hiding, if she had to. No sooner had she thought that, then the sound became clearer. Definitely horse hooves. Stopping for a moment to try to hear over the wind, the sound became sounds and she realized that it was more than one horse. She’d bet her life that three horses were coming her way.
Breaking out into a run, she half ran, half leapt over the knee-high grass that tried to slow her down. But the sounds kept drawing closer and she wasn’t getting anywhere fast. Heart in her throat, she decided the only option was to hide. The moon was only half-full, which meant there was enough darkness to keep her hidden if she stayed very still. She chanced a quick look over her shoulder to see a shadow of movement, but it was still far enough away that she was certain they hadn’t gotten a clear view of her position.
With no choice left, she darted for a thigh-high copse of brown grass and nestled inside it, all the while praying that it was too early in the season for snakes to be out of their dens. Blood pounding through her veins, she pushed her hand inside her coat to wrap it around the locket that hung down low between her breasts. It had been a gift from her father to her mother, passed on to Emmaline years ago when they’d still lived at the brothel. She didn’t know if it had really been from the father she’d never met or not, but she’d always loved it.
Foolishly hoping the tin trinket had powers of protection, but knowing from years of hoping to get away from Ship and his outlaws that it did not, she clutched it tight and waited. Her wide gaze stayed locked on the shadowy figures coming toward her.
* * *
From the moment they had ridden into Whiskey Hollow, Hunter Jameson had known they were in the right place. It was the perfect hideaway for scum like Ship Campbell. Decrepit and forlorn, the town was a blight on an otherwise beautiful landscape. Virtually abandoned when the gold had been scavenged and depleted, he couldn’t imagine why some had stayed. He was more than happy to leave it behind.
Two weeks and they were no closer to finding Miguel. To make it worse, this mission was a distraction from their real goal, which was to find the men responsible for the death of Castillo’s grandfather and to recover his stolen inheritance. A wild-goose chase in the middle of the night wasn’t helping matters.
“Dammit, Cas, she doesn’t know anything. We need to track down other men who’ve ridden with Campbell. The girl’s a waste of our time.” And no matter how attractive she was in the dance-hall dress, and how much his body liked her, she was off-limits. Her disturbing blushes and wide, soft eyes made him think there was more to her than met the eye. More to her than he had time to figure out.
“We’ll see what she knows,” Cas muttered and scanned the tall grass in the distance, hoping to catch sight of her.
They had caught her trail just north of town, exactly the direction the drunk from Campbell’s gang had said Ship lived. He’d then told them that Ship’s daughter could be found working at the saloon, but that had been all he’d known.
“I understand your reluctance,” Cas assured him, his voice only slightly accented. “But that was the only saloon in town. That drunk described the girl perfectly, down to her dark hair and light eyes. She’s Campbell’s daughter and she could know something.”
“He didn’t tell us her name,” Hunter argued. “Could be some other girl. Plenty of dark-haired girls in the world.”
Cas raised a brow. “Did you see another girl there?” They hadn’t seen any other people aside from those in the saloon; if there were any other residents of the tiny town, they were at home hiding. “You know it’s her. And you know she was lying as well as I do.”
Hunter couldn’t dispute that. Her eyes had widened at Ship Campbell’s name, and they were too innocent to hide lies. She knew the man they were tracking, but he doubted she knew anything about Cas’s younger brother. “She won’t be good for anything but slowing us down.”
“She’ll talk before morning. Won’t slow us down for long.” This came from Zane.
In the years he’d been riding with his half brother Cas, the brooding Zane, and the rest of the gang, they’d never failed to make someone talk who wasn’t so inclined. That was partially what worried him, though they had never been forced to interrogate a woman. There was no doubt in his mind that she knew who Ship Campbell was, but every instinct he possessed said she had no idea about Miguel. She wasn’t a criminal like Campbell. Eyes didn’t lie and hers were deep, blue pools of undiluted innocence. “She doesn’t know anything. I’m sure of it.”
“I’ll take that bet.” Zane chuckled and spurred his horse forward.
“That bastard Campbell has Miguel. I know it, Hunter. I’ll do whatever it takes to get him back.” Cas picked up his pace and followed Zane.
Hunter
