area around them for signs of Jenkins. She refused to leave the injured man, but helplessness gripped her just the same. Snatching up her rife, she prepared for the worst.
Chapter 4
“Casey!”
She held her breath and watched Tim ride up beside her. His hardened life had chiseled so many lines in his face. The once-boyish features were now rigid and drawn.
“Did you think you could really get away?” He swung his leg over the saddle and took long strides toward her. His pale blue eyes blazed, and his jaw tightened. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d hit her. He snatched her rifle from her hands.
“Tim, help me.” She swallowed hard. He hated whining. “He’s dying.”
“I’ve already done more than you deserve.” He grabbed her arm, but she jerked free. “And you owe me for all this trouble.”
“Please.” Heat flooded her face.
“Don’t beg, ’cause I ain’t listening.”
Casey hated what the outlaw life had done to them. “I’m not begging. I’m asking for help.”
He cursed. “I ain’t helping you with nothin’. All you’ve ever done is cause me trouble since the day I lit out on my own and you followed.”
She reached deep within her to find strength. “Then don’t tell Jenkins where I am. Let me get out of your life for good.”
“Jenkins ain’t finding nobody. His leg’s got a hole in it and broke. But I’m bringing you back.” He stepped forward, and she moved just beyond his reach. “You’re his woman whether you like it or not.”
“Let me get away from all this. You won’t ever have to deal with me again. Just turn around and ride away.”
“Hey, Tim,” a familiar voice echoed from the trail below. “Have you found ’em?”
She lifted her chin and captured his gaze.
“Tim,” the man shouted again. “You got Casey and that feller she’s with?”
He narrowed his eyes. Every part of him seethed with loathing. Moments ticked by. “No need. The two are gone.” He tossed her rifle at her feet. Without a word, he mounted his horse and headed back down the rocky path.
Casey unclenched her fists, unaware her fingertips had drawn blood from her palms. She took a deep breath and turned her attention to Morgan. The sight of torn flesh didn’t cause her to cringe. She’d grown used to it from mending the knife wounds and bullet holes of Jenkins’s men.
“I’ve seen worse,” she whispered. Who was she trying to convince? Death had a stranglehold on the man.
She wrapped pieces of her shirt around his chest while blood dripped onto the dirt and rock beneath him. She’d learned about herbs and remedies from Franco, a Mexican who used to ride with Jenkins. He’d taught her well, even the language. Franco wanted her to leave the gang and go with him to Mexico, but Jenkins got wind of it and shot him. No matter. She didn’t have any of those remedies with her now.
Morgan wouldn’t live long without help. She’d risked this much, and she refused to let him die.
Once, he opened his eyes, and she saw a flicker of recognition. But a moan escaped his lips, and he drifted back into unconsciousness. Already the makeshift bandage seeped blood.
While Casey treated Morgan’s leg, she neither heard a sound nor saw any movement from his limp form. The ashen color of his skin and his uneven breathing filled her with dread. What if the bullet had punctured his lung? No blood spilled from his mouth and nose. Good. Maybe there was hope.
They couldn’t stay in the clearing.
She could only imagine the outlaw leader’s rage when he learned of their escape. He wouldn’t waste any time sending men after them or raising the reward. She’d caused Jenkins a lot of grief, and now he nursed a bullet wound and a broken leg. His misfortune might slow him down long enough for them to escape—if Morgan lived. But what about the others? They were a greedy lot and eager to land a stake in Jenkins’s money.
Casey shuddered. With Jenkins laid up, that left Tim to lead the gang. How long would her brother stall them? She didn’t want to think of another meeting with him. He’d change his mind for sure.
Stoney nuzzled up against her and rubbed his soft nose against her hand. She patted him gently. Strange how the horse’s touch calmed her nerves.
She fretted over how to get Morgan to Vernal. Her gaze swung from the unconscious figure to his horse. She had no choice but to build a travois. Glancing about, she