He saw her tremble slightly as she considered his words.“But he’s robbing stages now.…”
“He’s only stealing from one man, Miss Randall.And you happen to be his daughter.Why should he think you might listen when no one else has?Rafe didn’t want you here.He still doesn’t.He’s just trying to protect my brother and me.Again.”
There was silence for a moment, then her eyes widened.“If he was innocent …”
Clint waited for her to complete the thought in her mind as well as with her mouth.She had seen the clipping reporting that Jack Randall was the principal witness against Captain Rafferty Tyler.She shook her head.“It can’t be.Everyone says Jack Randall is a fine man.He’s respected and liked and—”
“You don’t know him, do you, Miss Randall?”
“No, but I heard …”
“And he’s your father.”Clint said the words gently.
She just looked at him with those disturbing blue-gray eyes of hers, and Clint suddenly understood why Rafe had been so testy the other day.These days, Clint had his own testiness to cope with, and that, too, had to do with a woman.
“I’ll cook some eggs and bacon,” he said abruptly, letting her draw her own conclusions.
Shea thought back to late last night when Rafe had allowed her out to attend to her needs.She’d realized he was leaving the clearing, that he had been going out to do something that involved her father.For the first time he’d worn a gunbelt, the holster strapped to his thigh.He’d looked lethal and forbidding, so different from the men she’d known in Boston.His mouth narrowed into a tight line, he’d had very little to say to her.He’d made sure she had enough water and food and left an empty bucket.
She had tried all night to find a way to escape, but her captor had taken everything that could possibly be used as a wedge to force open either the window or door.
And while she’d worked fruitlessly at her apparently impossible task, she’d worried about what she would do if he didn’t return.And she, incomprehensibly, also worried abouthim.Because she had become so dependent on him for her every need?Or was it something more?
She now seized the opportunity to learn anything she could from Clint, even though she couldn’t accept everything he was saying.He was excusing Rafferty Tyler and therefore himself.If Rafe Tyler had been innocent, wouldn’t he try to clear himself rather than commit other crimes?
“Tell me more about … Rafferty Tyler,” she said as he produced a frying pan from the saddlebags he’d carried inside.
Clint shrugged.“That’s all I know.He was a damned good officer.”
“Then about you,” she said, needing companionship after so many hours alone.
He looked at her sharply.“Nothing to tell.”
“No wife?No children?”
Clint stared at her for a moment, his gaze suspicious.“It won’t work, Miss Randall,” he said.“I won’t let you go.You will be safe here until we’ve finished what we came for, and then you can go wherever you want.”
“Whatdidyou come here for?”She kept trying to probe their real intention toward her father, although so far every inquiry produced nothing.
“You ask too many questions.”He put some bacon in the frying pan, which he placed over the flames.
“I’ll cook that,” she offered, wanting something to do.
He nodded and stepped back.
If only she could keep the frying pan here.It would make a weapon.
The smell of sizzling bacon filled the room, and Shea felt her mouth watering.How many days had she been here?How long since she’d had a decent breakfast?
“You didn’t bring some coffee?”she asked wistfully.
“No, but I will next time.”
Her eyes clouded.“How many next times will there be?”
“I don’t know.”
She swallowed, suddenly overwhelmed by hopelessness.She felt alien among these men who wore guns, who talked about violence and robbery like Bostonians discussing a concert.She still didn’t physically fear them—they’d had their chances to harm her and had not—but she did fear everything they represented.Still, a wayward part of her was fascinated with them, particularly with Rafe Tyler.An ugly fascination, she thought.She couldn’t accept the premise that Rafe Tyler was innocent.The courts couldn’t commit such gross injustice.And her father … her own blood … couldn’t have schemed in such a way.
