But he wouldn’t admit any of that to McClary, who would think him even weaker.He shrugged.“I’m sure he will be.”
“But much faster if the miners are also aligned against him,” McClary said.
“I wouldn’t think you would want him captured too soon.”
“Oh, I’ll get mine first,” McClary said.“I hear some of those miners do real well, and they don’t trust banks.”
Randall tried not to show his anger, his distaste.
“Ah, well,” McClary said.“I’d really rather not share, anyway.All I need is a place to stay.A respectable place.Someone to vouch for me, such as a respectable rancher like yourself.”
Randall wanted as little to do with him as possible.“I won’t help you.”But he was conceding as he always had, and he felt sick inside.
McClary stared at him coldly.“Don’t think you can wash your hands,Mr.Randall.They’re as dirty as mine.I’m just not a hypocrite about it.”He started for the door, then turned around.“Any women around here?”
Randall ground his teeth together.“No, I’ve had to let them go since the last robbery.”
“Well, I’ll see what I can find in town then.Rushton, isn’t it,Jack?”McClary said.
“I’m warning you.…”
“I’m real scared,” McClary said as he sauntered out, leaving Jack Randall clenching his fists in helpless anger.
Chapter 7
It still seemed a miracle to Rafe to see open sky when he woke.He had not yet accustomed himself to it: the softness of dawn, the tranquillity that made him anguished and angry and aching, all at the same time.
So much missed.So much that could never be recovered.
In an effort to throw off the melancholy, he stretched his body slowly, savoring the cool, dry air that was so invigorating.He always slept lightly and woke early.In prison such habits were not a blessing.It was hell to wake to the small cell, to hard brick and iron, to unbelievable heat and stench, or, in winter, pervasive damp cold.
But dawn was glorious now, the air clean and fresh.Rafe sat up, watching the sun as it peaked over the mountains.A cool breeze ruffled his hair and brushed lightly across his skin.
His sitting up startled Abner, who had found a comfortable, dark spot in Rafe’s wool shirt, which lay next to him.He had placed it there for that purpose.Abner, he knew, liked familiar scents, familiar warmth.
He imagined the woman, too, wanted something familiar.She was probably scared as hell, though she did a damn good job of disguising it.
He didn’t want to think of her, much less in sympathetic terms.Yet he would have to deal with her, would have to feed her, hell, guard her, and that was the most distasteful thought of all.It made him a prisoner, too, unable to wander off as he liked.
Rafe was still trying to accustom himself to the choices of freedom.He’d been told what to do for so long, it seemed to him that part of his thinking processes had closed up.He couldn’t decide what to eat, and during the first week on this mountain he seemed to do nothing but sit and contemplate choices, without ever making any.
It was frightening, this indecisiveness that had never been part of him before.The destruction of Randall, of course, was still his primary goal, but nothing else solidified for him, no definite wants.He felt as though he were walking along a beach, the sand washing away under his feet, pulling him into currents too strong to resist.
The woman must feel a little like that now.
His lips firming in a grim line, he stood slowly and scooped Abner up, putting him in his shirt pocket.Maybe he’d go fishing this morning, catch some trout for breakfast.He’d have to close that damn window, again, if he did.He listened; there was no sound coming from inside the cabin.He wondered whether she had slept.It had taken him a number of nights before he’d been able to sleep in captivity.He’d thought it would be different, that he would sleep to escape reality, but it didn’t work that way.Perhaps because every time he woke, the nightmare had deepened.
Rafe went over to the window and closed the shutters, dropping the bar.He’d wondered why the previous occupant had placed the bar outside, rather than inside, but apparently whoever had built it had no fear of external enemies.It had been easier to hinge the shutters outside rather than inside, and the barrier had been designed to protect against weather rather than predators.
He knew, though, the shuttering of the window turned the cabin into a cage.A dark and lonely place.Despite that, he wasn’t going to take her fishing with him.Not Randall’s daughter.Not and break the peace of this morning.
Why in the hell was he giving her any thought at all?She had more than he’d had.Water.Food.Books.Candle.A better bed than his iron prison cot.
He folded his bedroll and took it to the stable.The horse nickered softly in welcome, and Rafe went over to him, running his hand down the horse’s neck.“We’ll have a good work session today.Sorry about yesterday.A bit of trouble, but nothing we can’t handle.”He wondered whether he was reassuring the horse or himself.
Rafe checked the water; there was plenty.He fed the horse a handful of oats, then went to a corner of the stable where he kept his makeshift fishing pole.He decided he wouldn’t think ofheragain.
Shea slept in fits, each time waking and experiencing a quiet but intense desperation.The man outside haunted her dreams, the darkness in him overwhelming her, smothering her.
