stiff breeze fanned her face. Essie pushed out a contented sigh as she shut her eyes.
“There’s no need to be afraid,” the train robber intoned in a deep voice, crouching beside the heroine. “You’ll come under no harm, as long as you’re with me.”
She swallowed back the bite of fear in her dry throat. “Truly?”
He nodded and his blue eyes peered deeply into hers. “Here, have a drink.” His fingers lingered against her own as he passed her his canteen. “We still have a long way to—”
The whinny of a horse followed by a cry from one of the men shattered the peace of the moment. Essie opened her eyes. They widened in shock when she realized all three outlaws were galloping away from the canyon, and from her.
“Wait!” She scrambled to her feet. “Come back!”
Her voice was drowned out by the thud of the horses’ hooves. Had they forgotten her, quiet as she had been the last few moments? No, surely the Texan wouldn’t leave her. Only minutes had passed since he’d tossed her his canteen. The one now lying in the dirt beside her valise.
She reached for the derringer in her boot, hoping to attract their attention with a shot in the sky. Before she could extricate it, though, she saw the Texan glance over his shoulder. Their eyes met, bringing Essie instant relief. She laughed off her earlier concern of being left behind and released her gun. Of course he wouldn’t forget her.
Only, instead of coming back, he whipped his face forward once more and appeared to urge his animal to move faster.
The merriment drained from Essie’s lips as she watched the three men move farther away. The Texan had seen her—she felt certain of it. So why hadn’t he returned for her?
Reality doused her with a coldness that made her shiver. He meant to leave you here. That’s why he was so generous with his canteen. She balled her hands into fists and glared at the man’s form in the distance. How could she have fallen for such a trick? He hadn’t wanted her to come along from the beginning, so he’d cleverly worked out a way to leave her behind.
“Ooo,” she muttered, kicking at a clump of sagebrush. Handsome or not, the man certainly wasn’t a gentleman, as the newspapers claimed. Unless his benevolent treatment meant leaving women and children to fend for themselves. But, like his boss, Fletcher, the Texan had underestimated her. Landing himself in the same unsavory category as Victor Daley. “And I will best you both,” she hollered to the quiet prairie.
The horses shifted at her impassioned cry, drawing her attention. While none of them sported a saddle, they’d been left with their bridles on, and Essie had no qualms about riding bareback. How many times as a young girl had she taken off without a saddle on her horse, Brownie?
Gathering her valise and the Texan’s canteen, she approached the tired-looking horses. She would have to take the ride slow, at least at first. A dappled gray gelding studied her in turn as she scrutinized each horse. The star on its forehead reminded her of Brownie.
“I think we’ll give you a try.”
She led the horse away from his companions to a sizable rock. Gripping the handle of her valise between her teeth, she held the horse’s reins in hand and climbed onto the rock. From there she easily slipped onto the horse’s back.
Bending down, she scooped up the canteen from off the rock and settled her things in her lap. “All right, boy. Let’s go.” She nudged the horse in the flanks, pointing him in the direction the robbers had taken minutes before.
Once they’d broken free of the chain of hills, Essie studied the ground for tracks. She’d done extensive research for her book The Bounty Hunter Betrayed and now it was about to pay off in real life. The Texan had messed with the wrong dime novelist if he thought her incapable of doing something as simple as follow after them.
Sure enough, she spotted the impression of horse hooves in the dirt and a partially trampled sagebrush farther on. If she kept heading in that same direction, she would eventually stumble into the trio.
She bent forward over the horse and coaxed it to go faster. There were interviews to conduct. And no one, not even a handsome, sly, backstabbing Texan, was going to stop her.
* * *
“The camp is next to those hills,” Silas said, pointing. The sun had already begun dipping toward the horizon.
Tate noted the spot absently. It was hard to focus on much of anything except the guilt that had been dogging him since he’d left Miss Vanderfair behind.
For the hundredth time he reassured himself that she’d likely be fine. She had his canteen and her pick of a horse. But he couldn’t drive away the image in his mind of her standing there, waving at them to come back, her hazel eyes wide with shock.
Running his bandanna over his dusty face, he followed the other two men toward the base of one of the hills. Eventually he spotted Fletcher and Jude up ahead. They appeared to be starting a fire.
Tate stopped his horse and climbed out of the saddle. He needed a good night’s sleep. A chance to put the train robbery—his first and only—and Essie Vanderfair safely in the past, where they belonged, so he could focus all of his energy on what lay ahead.
He handed his horse’s reins to Silas, the horse master, and headed off to look for more wood for the fire. Clem wouldn’t start cooking until the flames were blazing, and Tate’s belly was already rumbling for food.
A hard hand wrenched his shoulder before he’d gone far, jerking him backward. Tate fought the instinct to drive a fist into the offender’s stomach. He could easily handle himself in a fistfight, but he had to maintain the easygoing demeanor associated with his brother.
“Where’s the girl?” Spittle flew from Fletcher’s mouth as he snarled the words. “Silas and Clem said they didn’t know.”
Tate shook off the outlaw’s hold as he wiped the back of his hand across his jaw. Should he pretend he didn’t understand what Fletcher meant? Or would it be better to come clean with the truth?
Opting for honesty, at least where it concerned Miss Vanderfair, he took a wide stance with his feet and casually folded his arms. “I left her back when we changed horses.”
“You what?” Fletcher narrowed his gaze. “You left her behind without talkin’ to me?”
“She was trouble, Fletch, and you know it.” Tate maintained a level look. “We don’t need some overly curious female poking her nose in our business.”
The robber leader reached out and fisted Tate’s collar, his dark eyes menacing. “You don’t tell me how to run my operation, cowboy. I’m still the leader here.” His foul breath cured Tate of wanting any supper, at least for the moment. “That girl means a hefty ransom, and it’s easy money. We simply post a telegram and the money arrives in no time.” He shoved Tate back. “Now, go get her.”
Anger simmered hot inside Tate as he glared back at Fletcher. All of these outlaws were the same—greedy and remorseless when it came to ruining the lives of innocent people. Just like your brother, a voice chided inside his head. He tightened his jaw, willing his emotions to stay concealed, controlled.
“And if I don’t?”
Fletcher’s
