Lady Renegade. Carol Finch
is why the two-man posse chasing her had no luck overtaking her, he reminded himself.
However, Gideon had grown up in the Osage Hills and he’d tracked hundreds of outlaws across Indian Territory. He was damn good at his job, even if he did say so himself. His reputation preceded him. It provided him with an edge because most outlaws thought twice about crossing him. Of course, there were those—most of them dead and buried—who challenged him to back up his threats.
That wasn’t to say Gideon hadn’t been shot up, shot down and knifed on occasion—especially when the odds were stacked against him. Yet, by the grace of God and the Indian deities that were part of his culture, he was still alive and kicking.
“Nice horse,” Lori said when Gideon grabbed Pirate’s reins. “Did you steal him?”
“Very funny, hellion,” he muttered when she threw his sarcastic comment back in his face.
“Did you take the stallion as a trophy of war from a dead man, perhaps?” she asked flippantly.
Gideon slung his leg over the saddle then moved Pirate beside Drifter so he could check Lori’s saddlebag. “Wha’d ya know,” he drawled as he retrieved the pistol stashed in the leather pouch. He spun the cylinder to find one cartridge missing. “You must be a fair shot if you plugged your former lover with one bullet. I’ll remember that.”
“For the last time, I did not shoot Anthony Rogers,” she growled at him, her golden eyes flashing like hot sparks. “And yes, I am a skilled markswoman. Hand me the pistol and I’ll show you how accurate I am when provoked—”
He arched a brow and smiled wryly when she slammed her mouth shut so fast she nearly bit off her tongue. “That’s as good as a confession in my book, honey.”
When she sputtered furiously, he smothered a grin. He had to hand it to this fiery minx. She had spirit galore. Gideon appreciated that in his horse. He hadn’t thought he’d appreciate it quite so much in a woman. But he did, even though he really didn’t want to admire any qualities in this particular female. He was unwillingly attracted to her already.
That was more than enough to shatter his peace of mind.
He’d wrestled her to the ground, sprawled on top of her luscious body and shared a horse with her while she sat between his legs and in the circle of his arms. Being close to her had a disturbingly arousing effect on all his senses. His sixth sense included—the one that had helped him cheat death on several occasions. Now it warned him that this woman was a serious threat to him so he’d better watch out.
Leading Lori behind him—and checking over his shoulder at irregular intervals, just in case—he trotted over to retrieve Pecos Clem. The outlaw was overly distracted. Clem was staring blatantly at Lori’s enchanting face and her arresting feminine assets. For the life of him, Gideon didn’t know why Clem’s devouring gaze annoyed him. Gideon took up a position between his two prisoners so Clem couldn’t ogle Lori constantly.
“What’s your crime, sugar?” Clem drawled as he leaned around Gideon to give Lori the once-over again. “Being too damn pretty for your own good?”
To Lori’s credit, she met Clem’s leering gaze and said, “No, I was accused of killing the last man who looked at me the wrong way.”
Gideon concealed his laughter behind a cough when Clem shot her a glare and resettled himself in the saddle.
“I’d like a private word with you, Marshal, when we stop for a break,” she requested.
“I don’t schedule breaks.” He picked up the pace. “Camp is two hours away…if we set a fast clip.”
She scowled at him, but he ignored her as he trotted across the meadow and headed for the rugged hills.
Lori silently cursed Gideon for the next two hours. From time to time, she glared at the scraggly-haired, bewhiskered outlaw with a beak of a nose and close-set hazel eyes. The man leered at her every chance he got. She’d dealt with his kind on numerous occasions when travelers and stagecoach passengers passed by the trading post and ferry. She had been propositioned so many times in the past six years that she swore she had heard every line a man could dream up.
If Pecos Clem thought he could shock or impress her with his comments, he was sadly mistaken. Besides, he couldn’t leave much of an impression on her because the brawny marshal rode between them, partially blocking her view of Clem.
Of course, Lori didn’t have time to pay any mind to Clem because she’d focused all her anger and frustration on Gideon.
Restlessly she twisted her hands. The cuffs were rubbing her wrists raw. If she’d known then what she knew now, she would have accepted Tony’s surprising proposal and ridden off with him before the bushwhacker aimed and fired.
Instead, she’d tried to be fair and honest with Tony. And what good did that do? He’d been killed and a hard-nosed marshal who saw her as a dollar sign had captured her. He refused to listen to her side of the story, damn him.
When they reached the rise of ground above the marshals’ encampment, which sat halfway up a hill, Lori realized that she would soon be housed in a jail wagon with six male prisoners. Frustration and disgust seized her, making her shiver apprehensively.
“I want to see to my needs before I find myself without the slightest privacy,” she blurted out.
She met Gideon’s speculative stare without batting an eye. No doubt, he was trying to figure out if this was an escape attempt, before he caged her like a wild animal.
After a long-suffering sigh, he nodded his raven head. “Okay, we’ll stop for a moment.” He glanced sternly at Clem. “What about you? You need to relieve yourself?”
“I’d like to relieve myself of my half-breed captor, if that’s what you’re asking,” Clem retorted.
Lori gauged Gideon’s reaction to the racist comment. He didn’t change expression, just tethered Clem and his mount to a nearby tree. Then he turned those intense blue eyes on her.
“Come on, hellion. Make it fast,” he murmured as he led her away from Clem.
To her outrage, he used a coil of rope like a leash so she couldn’t get more than ten feet away from him. “At least grant me minimal modesty and turn your head,” she grumbled as she circled behind the nearest bush.
He didn’t honor her request, just looked over her head while she struggled to tug down her breeches with her hands bound together.
“When you wind up in hell, Fox, I hope you’re forced to listen to stories from all the tormented souls you sent there by mistake.”
His gaze dropped to hers. “A lot of men have wished me in hell,” he replied nonchalantly.
“Be sure to add my name to that list,” she retaliated, and watched the makings of a smile twitch the sensuous curve of his lips.
Gideon Fox might enjoy watching her face turn candy-apple red from embarrassment because he wouldn’t grant her privacy, but somehow, someday, she vowed to have the last laugh. He could apologize until he lost his voice for refusing to believe she was innocent but she wouldn’t forgive him for putting her through this humiliation. That is, if Judge Parker didn’t sentence her to hang from the gallows before she located the man who really committed this awful crime against Tony.
With what little dignity Gideon allowed, Lori fastened herself up. She nearly tripped when he tugged on her leash unexpectedly. She glowered at him and said, “Shall I come to heel or sit up like a trick dog? Or is this humiliation enough to satisfy you for the time being?”
“It’s not my job to pamper you,” he assured her tartly.
“Gee, and I thought you were such a nice, accommodating fellow when I first met you,” she sassed him.
She wished she’d kept the comment to herself when he stepped toward her, eclipsing the sun that had