Chapter Twenty-four
IT WAS DARKER THANsin and chillier than a summer night had any right to be up in the hills beyond town. They’d been out here for hours, traipsing up and down trails, scattering night creatures and startling an older man who lived alone in a moldering old cabin.
But there had been no sign of any outlaw gang.
As the hours passed, Nate began to relax. Even the sheriff and the other men seemed less on edge. If that gang was still nearby, they’d certainly moved farther away from town.
Sheriff Young rode up alongside Nate’s horse. “It’s getting close to dawn. They’ve likely moved on. We’ll head home for now.”
Nate nodded as relief flooded through him. The sheriff left to pass on the information to the other men, and Nate let his mind wander away from worry and toward a good few hours of sleep—and Ruthann.
Ruthann . . . If they were going to remain married, he needed to do something to remove the distance he’d created between them. Something that didn’t involve him needing to tell her the details that lurked in his memories.Ifthey were to remain married . . .
He smiled at the idea. It was absolutely what he wanted. And he imagined she felt the same way. Stuart would be angry. As soon as he figured out how to repair things between himself and Ruthann—and ensured she wanted the same as he did—he’d need to surmise the best way to first, break the news to Stuart, and second, do that without losing his friendship.
You can’t keep her safe.
He ground his teeth at the thought. It was one instance. Only one. He’d come to her aid more than once before that, after all.
“Harper!” The strained, urgent whisper broke through Nate’s thoughts. It had come from Jasper Hill, the general store owner, who was bringing up the rear of the group immediately behind Nate.
Nate turned to find the man stopped on his horse and staring into a darkened copse of trees and brush. Heart lurching, Nate slowly walked his horse around.
Hill motioned at the trees as he drew a pistol. Nate’s breath caught in his throat. He peered into the darkness.
Something moved.
Instinctively, his hand went to one of the revolvers at his hip even as his body recoiled at the thought of needing to pull it out. He glanced down the trail. A couple of men had noticed them stop and sat, waiting. The rest of the group was out of sight, somewhere farther down the trail.
Hill nudged his horse forward a couple of steps. Reluctantly, Nate did the same.
Whoever was behind the trees moved again. Didn’t he see them out here? If he did, why didn’t he remain still?
The movement intensified, and Hill raised his gun. The men off to the side had drawn their weapons too.
Only Nate hadn’t. Hehadto. If he didn’t, he’d be at a severe disadvantage if the outlaw emerged from his hiding place—or if he started shooting.
Do it, Nate told himself.Now. His fingers twitched, but the second they flexed over the grip, he froze.
Something inside wouldn’t let him.
That was ridiculous. He had control of his own body. He reached again for the weapon, forcing himself to grab hold of it.
But that was as far as he got before the memories crowded in.Screaming.Blood.Chaos. He closed his eyes, willing them away, but they wouldn’t go.
His eyes flew open as the leaves on the bushes and trees rustled again. Hill glanced at Nate, his brows drawn, before turning his attention back to the edge of the trail.
Nate forced himself to keep his eyes locked on what was before him, although the images of the past stubbornly played across his mind. His fingers sat frozen on the grip of his pistol, unmoving.
He was entirely unprepared for what was about to happen. This was even worse than when he’d run after the scarred man in town. At least then, he’d been able to grab the gun and aim it.
