Millie And The Fugitive

Sam was at least grateful to note that she hadn’t been lying about her riding skill. Which meant that if he couldn’t travel light, he could at least travel fleetly. But then, he had to.

His brother’s life depended on it.

“When my father hears about this, you’ll be done for.”

And her father would hear about it, once someone found the bonnet Millie had dropped as she and the desperado galloped away. Naturally, the man hadn’t noticed it was missing—probably hadn’t even noticed its dangling chin ties looped around her saddle to begin with. It was her very best bonnet, too, festooned with grape clusters and even a little redbird. But men of this man’s ilk probably didn’t pay any attention to hats unless they were the type measured by how much fluid could fit inside them.

Once her jaunty bonnet was found so near the deputies, Sheriff Tom McMillan was bound to put two and two together. If her bonnet was found. She had to keep up hope. “You’ll never get away with this,” she said menacingly.

The desperado rolled his eyes toward the star-drenched heavens. “Shut up and eat.”

Shut up? Never in her life had anyone ordered Millicent Lively around so brutishly! Just why did he feel it necessary to be so rude, anyway? She was apparently going to spend her night tied to a tree. Wasn’t that punishment enough?

This had to be the worst day of her whole entire life, Millie thought, giving in to her sulky mood. First she had had a dreadful argument with her father, who had forbidden her to break off her engagement. He thought she was getting a reputation for being fickle, and needed to settle down. Millie would admit, eleven fiancеs was quite a number to have gone through—but that didn’t mean she was wrong to not want to marry Lloyd Boyd, one of the clerks at her father’s bank. And not even a very good bank clerk, as she’d reminded her father. Lloyd, daydreaming about more romantic jobs, was forever counting out the wrong change.

But he was also one of her oldest friends. The only reason she’d agreed to be engaged to him was simply that the supply of men to affiance herself to was running very low. And it was terrible not to have a fiancе at this time of year, with Christmas coming. And her birthday was in December, too. But a girl just didn’t marry a friend. That would be too boring! For a husband, a girl wanted someone different, mysterious....

She looked over at that outlaw and shivered. Maybe not too mysterious!

But at any rate, she certainly wouldn’t marry anyone against her will. So she’d decided to run away. Well, naturally, she wasn’t really going to run away. She’d simply intended to stay out long enough for her father to begin to worry, then to repent his outrageous ultimatum, and then to feel so terribly guilty that he would never cross her wishes again. Three hours would have done it. He knew she never missed the noon meal.

And she was certain this would have all worked according to plan—except that some ruffian would have to come along and kidnap her!

She couldn’t be certain, but she was afraid this man was that wife-murderer who’d just been sentenced to hang. There weren’t too many murderers in Chariton, after all. Just her luck that she would be out when one of the few managed to escape!

Despair threatened to overwhelm her, but she held her head high. She couldn’t give in. Couldn’t let this barbarian see her fear. She looked upon him imperiously, turning up her nose at the cold biscuit that he held. “Eat? I’d rather die!” she said, never taking her eyes off him.

Not that she could forget what he looked like. Ever. His deeply tanned skin, dusty brown hair and gray eyes would haunt her forever now. As would the shock of landing in the desperado’s fearfully powerful embrace when she tumbled out of that pear tree. The odd thing was, she would have found the man handsome, if it weren’t for the fact that he was a murderer and a kidnapper and God only knew what else. He also had strong hands and an impressive build—the better to maim and abduct with, she supposed.

“It seems to me that after going to all the trouble of taking a hostage,” she lectured primly, “you could at least provide me with a hot meal.”

“Sure,” the man drawled. “I guess I should build up a big snuggly fire to warm your dainty feet by, too.”

She tossed the black hair that she had braided after her captor finally stopped for the night. For a few hours’ rest, he said. As if she could get any rest roped to a tree trunk, out in the chilly night air! “As a matter of fact, I would appreciate a fire very much. And if my daddy ever learned that you had extended that kindness, I am certain he would ask the authorities to be lenient.”

“I’ll bet,” he said flatly. “The last thing I need is you sending smoke signals to daddy.”

“I wouldn’t know the first thing about that,” she assured him, in a voice that let him know precisely how preposterous that idea was. “The only Indian blood in my family is a distant cousin on my great-great-grand-mother’s —”

“Forget it,” he snapped, apparently not interested in her family’s fascinating history. “Fires attract attention.”

She folded her arms crossly. “You should have at least let me bring along some of the pears I had collected.”

She thought she detected a hint of regret in those gray eyes of his over the crunchy pears they’d left behind. Maybe she was just imagining it. “Stop thinking about the hunger, and it won’t bother you so much,” he said.

“Well I’ve got to eat something!” she cried.

He laughed gently, his eyes glinting at her with wicked humor. As though he enjoyed her discomfort! But then, why wouldn’t he? He was a vicious criminal.

“I thought you’d rather die than eat,” he said.

“Oh, give me a piece of that horrible stuff,” she snapped, swiping a hunk from his hand. She took a bite of the dry, tasteless biscuit and winced as she chewed. And chewed. Finally, she gathered up the necessary resources to swallow. “How terrible! Daddy probably ate better during the war!”

“Don’t blame me, Princess. I got it off my law friends.”

“The men you killed, you mean.”

“Once and for all, I did not kill anybody.”

“Ha! I witnessed the crime with my own eyes,” she said, not bothering to lie. “I saw that man begging for his life before you pummeled him.”

“You saw wrong,” he said. “I didn’t kill anybody. Think about it. If I were a murderer, why would I be wasting my time hauling you around?”

For a moment, Millie was stumped. But a common criminal couldn’t fool a mind like hers for long. “That’s simple,” she said proudly. “You obviously know how valuable I am.”

His mouth fell open. “Valuable!”

“Of course. I told you right away that my daddy would pay a high price for my return.”

“And I’m supposed to believe that fairy story?”

“It’s the truth!” she yelped in frustration.

“Well, I don’t believe it, any more than you believe I’m not a murderer.”

Millie frowned. “But I can prove Daddy’s an important person.”

The gray eyes glinted in challenge. “How?”

It was so obvious! “Take me back to Chariton. If you ask anyone there, they’ll tell you.”

This suggestion was greeted with a full-throated cackle. “Princess, you’ve got to think of something better than that.”

“Or any town in these parts. My daddy’s well-known. Haven’t you ever heard of Sam Houston?”

That name finally got his attention. The man sat up a little straighter. “Heard of him? I’m named after him!” He frowned. “But he’s dead. You can’t be...”

Her lips lifted in a smug smile. She couldn’t help it. It was about time the man started taking her seriously. “No, I’m not. But my daddy used to work for Mr. Houston, before the war.”

He tilted his head skeptically. “I thought you said your father was a storekeeper.”

“He is. He owns a store, and a bank.”

The man frowned thoughtfully. “So...that’s how he can get his hands on all those armloads of dollars you keep promising me.”

“That’s right. Daddy is quite wealthy.” She smiled in relief. Now that the man knew she was rich, her situation would surely improve. “So now that you believe me, won’t you let me go? It would be better for you in the end. After all, they’re bound to catch up with you.”

“Don’t be so sure,” he said. She couldn’t see his face too well in the darkness. Just enough to take note of the hard cast to his expression. Its intensity made her shiver. “Don’t think I’m swallowing every word you feed me, either.”