LITMIR.BIZ

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Evan’s tone brooked no argument. “She’s mine.”

      “I’ll wager two dollars Harrison can best Fitz!” one of the men hollered.

      Murmurs rumbled through the group. “Yeah, fight!”

      “Winner gets the girl!”

      Ignoring Miss O’Malley’s outraged sputter, Evan settled a heavy hand on his weapon. “No contest. If any of you wants her, you’ll have to kill me first.”

      Thick silence settled over the group. Crickets’ buzzes swelled to fill it, as did the odd horse snuffle. His senses on high alert, Evan waited for someone to challenge his claim. He’d meant every single word. She was there through no fault of her own. He would guard her with his life.

      John Hooper held up his hands. “Whoa, Harrison. No use gettin’ touchy.”

      “Yeah, we didn’t know ya done fell in love!” Another man snickered.

      Roberts studied him. “Enough! Everyone inside. Now.”

      Mumbling and laughing, the men filed back through the door. Evan’s breath left his lungs in a whoosh. He held back until he and Miss O’Malley were the only ones in the yard.

      “You’re not taking me in there, are you?” she demanded in a strangled whisper, her fingers clutching his forearm.

      “Not for long, I promise.”

      “I’m supposed to believe you?” Her voice went shrill. “After all the foul—”

      “Harrison!” someone inside called. “Let’s go.”

      “Come on,” Evan said.

      Placing his palm against her lower back, he pressed her forward into the small, musty cabin. The smell of unwashed bodies and cigar smoke assaulted his senses, but he quickly masked his distaste.

      Most of the men were seated at the table, and at their entrance, their bold gazes locked onto the lady at his side. She hung back, no doubt frightened out of her mind. And for good reason.

      Fitzgerald stood in the corner near the door, his lips curled in a menacing smirk and his dark eyes challenging.

      “Harrison.” Roberts motioned him toward the cabin’s only bedroom. “We need to talk.”

      Evan started forward with Miss O’Malley.

      “No, she stays here.”

      No way was he leaving her side. Evan opened his mouth to protest. “But—”

      “Ten minutes. Gauging from your proclamation just now, I figure she’ll be safe enough.”

      Evan changed direction and, leading her to an overturned carton in front of the fireplace, motioned for her to sit. Her wide green eyes begged him not to abandon her, and he almost caved. But he couldn’t defy the gang leader’s wishes without placing her in even greater danger. With a light squeeze to her ice-cold hands, he crossed the room with leaden steps.

      Juliana watched him walk away, her heart frozen in fear. Her only ally, if he was truly that—and she had serious misgivings—was leaving her to face the enemy alone. Suddenly she understood a fraction of what Daniel must’ve felt as the guards sealed him in that lions’ den and he awaited the advance of roaring, ravenous lions.

      She began to pray in earnest, and to her surprise, the men largely ignored her as they took up their poker game. She kept her eyes downcast, thinking to defer their attention by being as immobile as a statue.

      When their conversation faltered a few minutes later, she lifted her head to find out why. All eyes were on Art as he approached and crouched down beside her.

      “Oh, go on about your business.” He gestured toward the group. “I just wanna chat with the lady.”

      One by one, they turned their attention back to the game.

      Art spoke in low tones, and she had to incline her head to hear him clearly.

      “You don’t have to be afraid of Harrison, ya know.” His brown eyes appealed to her. “He ain’t like the others.”

      “Why are you telling me this?” she whispered. She half wished he’d go back to his corner and let her go back to being invisible.

      “I know you must be terrible scared,” his voice dipped even lower, “but if I know Harrison, he’ll try to get you to safety.”

      Interesting. Here was one outlaw urging her to trust another outlaw.

      “Why would he do that?”

      “Can’t rightly say. But I ain’t never seen him harm a living soul. Goes out of his way to avoid bloodshed.” He dipped his chin. “And he’s real respectful of the ladies. Harrison’s a gentleman through and through.”

      Juliana smothered an unlady-like snort of disbelief. Gentleman? Hah. Her kidnapper resembled no gentleman she’d ever known.

      Thinking perhaps this might be her last chance to broach the subject of faith, she leaned in close. “Remember what you said earlier about peace? And about not knowing where you’re headed when you die?”

      His face grew solemn. “Yeah.”

      “Jesus loves you, Art. He wants to free you from this life of sin. All you have to do is ask for forgiveness.”

      “I ain’t never gonna be perfect.”

      She placed a hand on his arm, willing him to understand. “He doesn’t expect us to be. We’re only human, after all.” She rushed to add, “But if we put our trust in God, He’ll help us when we’re weak and forgive us when we mess up.”

      “What are you two whispering about?” a gruff voice interrupted. “Hatching an escape plan?”

      Art clambered to his feet. “N-no, nothing like that.”

      Catching Fitzgerald’s hot glare at the young man, Juliana’s temper took hold and she bolted to her feet.

      “Leave him alone,” she cried, “he was just trying to be nice.”

      With his bear paw of a hand, Fitzgerald seized her arm in a painful grip. “You watch how you speak to me, you good-for-nothing—”

      “Don’t, Fitz,” Art protested. “Harrison won’t like it if you roughhouse his girl.”

      Juliana could feel the bruises already starting to form where his fingers buried into her flesh. She winced in pain.

      Where was Harrison?

       Chapter Three

      Evan was having trouble focusing on the conversation. He couldn’t shake Miss O’Malley’s stricken expression. He could only hope that with his challenge fresh in their minds, the men would think twice before approaching her. His ears strained for any sound of distress, but he could hear only the steady hum of voices and the occasional bark of laughter.

      “What’s the story with this girl? Why did you bring her here?” Roberts propped an arm on the windowsill.

      “Things got out of hand. She was making a scene right there in plain view, and then a gentleman friend of hers approached us. I had to think fast. Defuse the situation.”

      “You like her,” he accused.

      Evan gave a noncommittal shrug. “I’ve always been partial to redheads.”

      Where was Roberts going with this line of questioning?

      The older man’s gray eyes narrowed slightly. “She’s a witness. You know what that means.”

      Ah. Roberts was probing his motives and trying to decide if he had the stomach to do away with her. With a deep breath, Evan set out to convince his leader that he didn’t have a conscience.

      “I’ve

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