to think I’m different.”
“It’s a big territory. You could lose yourself in some remote town and start all over again.”
“Suppose you’re right. I’ve been there a few times and liked what I saw. You could ride for days from the spindly pines in the east to the dry plains of the far west. There isn’t much law, though—almost as wild as here.”
“Texas Rangers have cleaned it up.”
Did he think that was comforting? “Thanks. Sounds like my kind of place.” She laughed, and he joined her. “Do you always hand out good advice to outlaws?”
“I’m only suggesting. Of course, I’m partial. Can’t think of anywhere else on this earth I’d rather be, especially the hill country between Austin and San Antonio.”
“Do you have family there?” They talked easily, almost as though they were friends.
“Some,” he said. “My folks were originally from this part of the country, near Vernal, but they moved to Texas after the war.”
Now I see why you know this area. Suspicion settled into her bones. Vernal lay about twenty-five miles south, a rough town known for its ability to hide the worst of men. Its well-deserved reputation could have easily driven out a respectable family or caused a bounty hunter to set down roots. Before this was all over, she’d find out who Morgan’s identity. Then she’d see how friendly he really was.
“Did Tim know when you left?”
She questioned whether to answer him. Finally she figured she had nothing to lose. “No.”
“Just wondered.” Morgan pointed to a spot several yards to the right of them. “We’ll be fine back in the brush. I can fish if you’ll build a fire.”
Once Casey had gathered enough kindling and wood, she reached into her saddlebag for a precious match to light it, then nursed along the flame. Nearly sick with exhaustion, she sat on a log and closed her eyes. Her weakened condition had dulled her mind, but she had to keep her wits. The smell of burning wood tugged at her senses, and she remembered dried beef and hard biscuits the morning before. Her stomach craved food . . . her mind craved her guns . . . her heart craved freedom.
She warmed her hands over the flames and went through the motions of making coffee—the last of it. The comforts of a home sounded mighty grand, and she thought back to the last time she ate a decent meal, slept in a real bed, or enjoyed the luxury of a tub bath. Most likely at a brothel while the gang enjoyed the ladies. At least a real home now had substance and meaning. Sitting motionless, she fought the urge to sleep. Birds sang around her like a mama humming a lullaby. In an effort to stay awake, she pulled a hairbrush from her saddlebag and began to ease out every tangle she could find. The thought of searching through Morgan’s saddlebags for a gun nudged her, but she figured he had one eye on her and a revolver strapped to his belt. A quick glimpse in his direction confirmed her suspicions.
“Watching me, are you?” she said.
“That’s my job.”
Frustration inched through her. He had to rest sometime. A short while later, the smell of roasting fish yanked at her stomach. She could have eaten it raw.
They ate in silence. She preferred it—gave her time to plan a way out of this mess. Morgan yawned. When he slept, she’d make her move.
“Let’s get out of here,” he said.
“Don’t you want to rest awhile? The horses are wore out.”
“I said we’re getting out of here.” He doused the fire, and she saw a change in him. Hard. Cold. Hate.
Jenkins must have been on his mind.
They headed downstream toward Green River. The two rode side by side. Neither spoke.
“Just who are you?” she finally said.
“A man bent on ridding innocent folks of Davis Jenkins, and you’re going to help me.”
“How you going to do it?”
“Told you before. Use you as bait. Trade you for a chance to get Jenkins out in the open.”
The picture that crossed her mind wasn’t pretty. “What did he do to you?”
She waited for a reply. Nothing. Morgan reminded her of a mountain cat stalking his prey until the right moment to go in for the kill. But she had to give him credit. He was clever. For that trait, he’d earned her respect.
As the sun brightened, the water shimmered in a deep shade of bluish green—such a splendid sight after the preceding day’s dismal white—and they passed bare