Page 21 of Love and Order

CHAPTER 4

Rion slogged through the muddy streets, staying in the shadows as much as possible, especially with the lightning. Rather than enter the livery’s main door, which was closed at this time of night, he circled around, jumped a livestock pen fence, and entered through the back entrance.

The heavy rain that had fallen since the previous day had done him a favor. As wet as the streets still were, he wouldn’t leave obvious tracks marked by the crescent shape in his boot heel. But just inside the livery, he traded his boots for his moccasins. They’d keep him from leaving tracks inside the barn—and allow him to move in relative silence.

His horses were in side-by-side stalls. He led Trouble out first, tacked up, and tied his meager belongings behind the big black’s saddle. Mischief took even less time, considering the gear he usually tied behind his brown horse’s saddle was stashed somewhere he couldn’t take the time to find. He led both horses out the back, circled around the pens, and slipped into the darkness, hopefully unnoticed. Finding a secluded place between darkened buildings, he paused.

Where to go?

Far from here. Maybe Texas or California—he could reconnect with the other fellas he’d escaped from Garvin with years back.

Yet the idea didn’t sit right. Not after findin’ Calliope—and maybe Andromeda too. But how could he stay? If he did, his neck would get stretched.

He had to go—but where?

The cave above town was off-limits. It would be the first place Trenamen and Calliope would look. He needed to go somewhere unexpected.

Lightning flashed, and thunder followed only a second later. Behind him, Mischief shifted and stomped, releasing a distressed whinny.

Not like him to be bothered by a storm …

Rion glanced back. “Ho, boy. It’s all right.”

The brown horse settled again after a second, and Rion faced front, drumming his fingers on his saddle horn. After a moment, sounds of a horse splashing down the street sounded. Rion twisted to see a man on horseback, holding a lantern—though he couldn’t make out the rider’s features. Waiting several breaths, he faced front, and as another flash brightened the sky, Rion nudged Trouble into motion. The thunder cracked extra loud, echoing between buildings. Behind him, Mischief sidestepped and pulled on the reins in Rion’s hand, releasing another whinny.

He whispered a curse and urged Trouble to go before that other rider turned back to investigate.

What in blazes was wrong with Mischief? He was more easygoing than Trouble, but the lightning and thunder had the horse riled. Maybe he’d head down the mountain, get himself to the little spot he knew where he could rest an hour and plan his direction. He turned east, walking Trouble slowly, and eventually found the street he wanted, thanks to the flashes of lightning. Strangely, Mischief didn’t react to them, not since they’d begun moving.

Maybe bein’ between the buildings had spooked him …

Turning off, he found a path that would take him cross-country. It’d be harder travel, for sure, but he’d be too easily spotted on the main roads.

At the path’s entrance, Rion shoved aside several low branches overhanging the path’s mouth. Ducking around those, he urged Trouble forward and released them. As the branch snapped back, a startled gasp ripped through the relative quiet.

Heart pounding, Rion jerked his pistol from its holster even as he threw himself out of Trouble’s saddle.

“Who’s there?” he growled.

“Me,” Lucinda Peters’ familiar voice answered—from the direction of Mischief’s saddle.

“How the—” She was on his horse? “How’d you get up there?”

“Easy. When you stopped between buildings, I came up on your horse’s right side, between him and the building … and waited for an opportunity when the thunder would cover the creaking of the saddle while I mounted.”

He swore under his breath. The cunning little—

Rion hoisted the pistol toward the sky and cocked it for effect. “Get off!”

“I’m going with you.” Her voice quavered.

“Not on your life! Get down—and walk yourself back to town, woman.”

There was the slightest pause. “If you force me to go back, I’ll sound the alarm—wake the whole town, and tell them that you’ve escaped and what direction you went.”

Rion gritted his teeth. She’d be just that sort. Any woman fool enough to march into Downing’s office and shut herself in a cell to get his story would probably pound on every door until she got the town up and searching for him.

“You are a pain in my backside, woman! You’re gonna slow me down, get me caught again.”

“I’m from strong stock. I’ll keep up.”

“I don’t need no company!”

“I doubt you do. You’re all too comfortable on your own. But I can help you clear your name.”

His racing thoughts stalled. “What’re you talkin’ about?”

“Too much evidence points straight to you, so either you’re the most inept murderer in the world or you’re not guilty. I’ll help you prove the latter … if you let me tell your story once we’re done.”

Rion swallowed hard, uncocked his Colt, and holstered it again. “You durn well better keep up, or I’ll leave ya in these woods. On foot.”

“Yes, sir. I agree to your terms.”

Lu fought the urge to let loose a loud whoop. “I took the lantern from the desk before I left, if you want it.”

He paused. “Where is it?”

“Here.” It rattled as lightning flashed.

He muddled toward her, and when he finally reached her, their hands brushed in the exchange.

With a sharp inhale, he drew back suddenly, nearly fumbling the lantern, though more lightning showed that he caught it in time. Thunder boomed, and she fought down a shiver as it sparked memories of being trapped in the thunderstorm the previous morning.

“Thanks.” He turned toward his horse. “All right, miss. Shut your yap, stay low over Mischief’s neck, and I’ll lead, leastways till we get some distance out from town.”

She tugged the blanket tighter around her shoulders and took firm hold of the saddle horn. “I’m ready.”

Beneath her, the horse began to move, and for a solid hour, the only sounds were those of their mounts and the world around them. Thunder, steady hoofbeats, dripping trees, splashing water, sucking mud, the soft rustling of the underbrush, and the occasional night call of coyotes in the distance.

Lu drowsed in the saddle, her hand firmly affixed to the horn, when finally Mr. Braddock lit the lantern. The yellow glow on the trees around them teased her awake.

From his horse’s back, he stared. “Exactly how old are ya, miss?”

“That’s a rather impertinent question.” Particularly to wake up to.

“I mean no disrespect. But they’re thinkin’ I’m the man what killed a slew of women, and they’ll be thinkin’ I kidnapped you. So—am I lookin’ at facin’ the kidnappin’ of a grown woman or a little child? ’Cause ya don’t look much over fourteen to me.”

“I might look young, Mr. Braddock, but most would deem me a spinster.” At twenty-five, perhaps she was just entering her spinsterhood, but she was a spinster nonetheless. Papa and her brothers had done their level best to change that fact, pushing one eligible bachelor after another at her—but if it meant returning to boring days of keeping a man’s house and looking pretty, she was just fine with spinsterhood.

“All right, then.” He clucked his tongue to get the big black moving. Her horse followed at the tug of his reins.

“How old are you?” she called.

He was silent for a moment, then cleared his throat. “Reckon maybe about twenty-five. Somewhere around there.”

“You don’t know?”

“Not rightly, no.”

Her jaw slack, she stared at the broad shadow that was his back. “How do you not know your own age?”

“Easy. Ain’t nobody made a fuss over my birthday since—” He fidgeted. “It’s been some years, and I lost count.”

Lost count? How could he just lose count? Was it not a matter of simple arithmetic?

But perhaps it was better to let that pass for now. “I’m … sorry.”

For several more minutes, Rion led her horse, but finally he turned up a path and doubled back the way they came for a short distance. Then, out of nowhere, a cave appeared to their left.

Mr. Braddock paused before they reached it and dismounted. Drawing his gun, he paced forward, checked the cave, and walked back to lead both horses toward it.

“I was gonna rest here an hour or so, but it’s best I leave you here and go on.”

“Go on?!”

“You’ll be safe here till daylight, and you can make it back to Cambria Springs by noon.”

“Now just a minute.”

“Please tell Call—Kezia Jarrett I’m safe.”

“I told you I’d help clear your name in exchange for getting to write your story.”

“You didn’t actually think I’d let you ride with me, did ya? Bein’ on the run ain’t no life for a lady.”

Her frustration flared. “Don’t consider me a lady. Consider me a dime nov—” She snapped her eyes closed, then stiffened her spine and glared at him. “A reporter. I go where the story leads.”

He narrowed a glance. “Ain’t neither one good, but which is it? Dime novelist or reporter?”

Heat washed through her. It was hard enough to get anyone to take her seriously without putting a fly in her own ointment.

Defiant, Lu folded her arms across her body. “A dime novelist trying to become a reporter.”

He released a sardonic chuckle. “Why’re you doin’ this, miss? Shouldn’t you be married or somethin’?”

“Married, my foot!” What impudence! And how like a man to think that marriage was the answer to every woman’s problems! “My father and brothers tried to force several different men on me, and I want none of it.” Not after she’d learned what it meant to be strong, resourceful, and self-reliant taking care of Papa after that Yankee bullet robbed him of the use of his legs. “Now, your story could give me the break I need, so let’s talk.”

He rolled those brown eyes. “I don’t reckon so.” He mounted the black again and gathered the other’s reins. “Wait here, miss. Once the sun dries the path some, the walkin’ will be easier. Just head back the way we came. You’ll make it to town without skippin’ two meals.”