She hit it with such force that a dull pain streamed up her spine. “Mr. Montana! What—”
“Drive up the embankment, then turn left. The road will curve around a bunch of cedars, then continue on behind them. When you can’t see the river because of the trees, get out of the wagon, go into the woods, and wait for me.”
“What? But—”
He reached out and clapped his hand over her mouth. “For God’s sake,listen!I want you to hit me, got that? As soon as you do, I’ll act like I’m going to hit you back. When you see me make a fist, pick up the reins and go where I told you to.”
“Hit you?” she asked, her voice muffled behind his hand. “But why?”
“Dammit, do as I say!”
The sinister glitter in his eyes blazed out at her like fire looking for something to burn. This was not the sarcastic rogue with the endearing lopsided grin, she realized.
This was the Roman Montana who wore danger the way other men wore clothes.
She understood then that something was terribly wrong.
Without the slightest inkling as to why, she slapped him full across the face.
Roman drew back his fist, relieved when Theodosia immediately urged her horse up the embankment and turned her wagon to the left. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that the three men had stopped their horses in shallow water and were watching intently.
Once back into his boots, gunbelt, and hat, he mounted, reached the top of the embankment, and directed his stallion to the right. The instant the road curled around the thicket of cedar and he knew the three men could no longer see him, he sent Secret into a wild gallop behind the trees and soon spotted Theodosia’s buckboard on the road ahead.
Quickly, he dismounted, led his horse into the cedar thicket, and found Theodosia standing in the cool shadows.
“Mr. Montana, please tell me what—”
“Stay here.” He pressed Secret’s reins into her hand. “I’ll be back to get you as soon as—as soon as I can.”
“But, Mr. Mon—”
He didn’t stay to hear her protest, but raced out of the woods and into her wagon. Slapping the reins over the horse’s back, he coaxed the steed into an open field, knowing the buckboard would leave a wide and unmistakable trail through the long, fresh grass and scrub brush.
The surefooted mustang galloped through the meadow, slowing only when Roman sent him head-on toward a dip in the terrain. “Easy, boy,” Roman murmured, guiding the horse down the slope.
“Easy, boy,” John the Baptist echoed. “Passion is said to be an art. Some men master it, and others do not.”
The parrot’s voice startled Roman. He glared at the bird. “One more word out of you, and I’ll shoot your blasted head off.”
Once at the bottom of the dip in the ground he checked his Colts and sprang out of the wagon. Careful to leave an obvious path of footsteps behind him, he made his way toward a tall tangle of scrub brush and hid behind it.
His wait ended a quarter of an hour later, when he heard the distant rumble of running horses. In only moments more, the three men eased their mounts down the slope.
Roman watched the outlaws dismount. One wore a black bandana around his neck, one wore a red one, and the third wore a brown one. They all wore a veritable arsenal of weapons.
“Here’s her wagon,” Brown Bandana said, his pistol drawn. “But where the hell’s the girl?”
“Maybe she went to meet back up with the longhaired feller,” Red Bandana ventured.
Black Bandana shook his head. “She slapped him near about all the way to the moon. Then she left him. The gold’s as good as ours, as soon as we find her. And if my eyes ain’t foolin’ me, there’s her trail right there.” He pointed to the path of crushed grass that led to a patch of tall scrub brush, and laughed. “May as well come on out, little lady, and bring yer gold with ya!”
Roman’s fingers tightened around the triggers of his guns while he watched them walk toward him. He didn’t plan on killing them if he didn’t have to, but he’d for damned sure see to it that they were slowed down for a while.Come on,he invited silently.Closer. Just a little closer.
“Mr. Montana!”
Roman stiffened. He couldn’t see Theodosia, but her shout sliced into his ears like the stab of a sword. Dammit, what the hell was she doing?
“Mr. Montana!” Theodosia screamed again, battling to keep her seat on the runaway stallion as he galloped toward the shallow valley ahead. “I cannot stop!”
