Chapter Four
"So, Mr. Noble, tell me a little more about the mess this 'Rotten Rosie' is in."
It was morning—a bleak, overcast day, but mild enough that Annie had shed her coat. They were on the move again, heading west across a vast grassland.
After going around the bend last night, Annie was rested and back in her strong-woman mode, ready to tackle the dauntless bounty hunter riding beside her and divest him of his ridiculous notions about her. The fact that she might have crossed over some time barrier still all but unhinged her each time she thought about it—but however she may have arrived here, she was clearly in grave danger. She could no longer dismiss Sam Noble as some sort of crackpot; indeed, Stub Nose and Billy had confirmed for her that her captor meant business, that he really intended to take her to the gallows. She had to learn more about the immediate threat she faced, try to get a handle on how to save her life.
After frowning over her question for a moment, the bounty hunter raised a dark brow. "You mean the mess you're in."
Annie chewed her lower lip in betrayal of her irritation. "Mister, I already told you, only you don't listen too well. I'm not Rotten Rosie. I'm Rosie's great-great-granddaughter, Annie Dillon."
"Who lives in another century, right?" he finished dryly.
"Right."
Sam's gaze beseeched the heavens. "Rosie or Annie, it makes no nevermind to me. I'm still taking you to Central and turning you over to justice."
Annie spoke through gritted teeth. "Why? What exactly is Rosie wanted for?"
"You mean what are you wanted for?"
"Damn it, Sam Noble!"
He waved a hand. "All right, don't pop your cork. I'll tell you." He paused for a moment as the skies rumbled overhead. "According to Judge Righteous, two years ago, you and your bridegroom came through Rowdyville on your honeymoon."
Feeling a cold, fat raindrop splash on her nose, Annie scowled. "Rowdyville? Where's that?"
"It's a small former mining town northeast of Central, kinda catawampus between there and Denver. Anyhow, scuttlebutt is, your husband deserted you on your wedding night. Afterward, you went plumb loco, shooting up the town and killing a man named Bart Cutter just because he stepped into your path. Ever since, you've been terrorizing Rowdyville, robbing stages and rustlin' cattle, and you're wanted for murder and bank robbery, among other crimes."
Annie's mind whirled with these revelations, which she could not reconcile with what she remembered of her family history. For one thing, if her great-great-grandfather really had deserted her great-great-grandmother on their wedding night, then she never would have been born. She'd also seen pictures of Rosanna Dillon as a grand lady in Denver. How could this be if she was a murderess and an outlaw?
Unless she'd been sent back to a period in time before her great-great-grandmother became a revered lady, she realized with a sudden, sinking feeling. Had she possibly been sent back to help Rosanna in some way? As bizarre as the prospect seemed, Annie realized she'd be well-advised to try to find out more about this Rosie person and uncover the truth about the outlaw Samuel Noble assumed she was. Clearly Rosie was the key to this outlandish mystery.
Which meant she must either win her captor over to her point of view or find a way to escape him. Taking in his implacable expression, and the Colt strapped to his side, she decided to try reason first.
"You know, Sam, your story makes no sense."
"How come?"
"Why would this Rosie go on a rampage against a town that had done her no harm?"
"Everyone knows Rotten Rosie is crazy."
"But there's just no reason my great-great-grandmother would have murdered a complete stranger. Can you tell me anything about this Bart Cutter?"
"I heard tell he was Royce Rowdy's main henchman."
"And who is Royce Rowdy?"
"He's the man who established Rowdyville fifteen years ago, back when he hit a major vein of gold there. He owns a big cattle ranch and most every building in town."
"What kind of man is Rowdy?"
Sam sighed. "Truth to tell, he's known as Ruthless Royce. Rumor is, he's a bully who has exploited the town, especially since his gold mines became tapped out. Got a bad case of gold fever, that one."
"He sounds like a prince of a fellow."
"Well, I'll allow not even old J.D. thinks much of Royce," Sam continued. "J.D. has suspected for some time that Royce jumped his daddy's claim out beyond Black Hawk, but he never had any proof, since his daddy was found dead in the wilderness. Still, after you went on your rampage, Rowdy brought forth a herd of witnesses that saw you killing Cutter, and Rowdy even put up the reward money himself, I hear. Since J.D. is as honest and right as rain, he had no choice but to uphold the law and issue a warrant for your arrest."
"But can't you see there's clearly more to this story than meets the eye?" she cried.
Sam appeared unmoved. "It's my job to enforce the law. The courts can sort out the rest."
"Not if we're dealing with a man of questionable character." Taking a steadying breath, Annie continued. "And another thing. If I'm Rotten Rosie, what was I doing in Texas?"
"Heck, that's easy," he replied with a grin. "Hiding out from me, of course. J.D. warned me you've been known to lay low on occasion."
Annie made a sound of exasperation. "You have an answer for everything, don't you, Sam Noble? Well, maybe I'll just have a little chat with old J. D. Righteous myself. He can't possibly be as mule-headed and stubborn as you are."
Sam gave a shrug. "Suit yourself. Tell it to the judge if you want, sister. I'm still hauling you in."
Annie fell silent, struggling to respond in a calm manner. "You know, there's only one thing to do, only one way I can prove to you that I'm not a murderess. We must go to Rowdyville, investigate Royce Rowdy, find the real Rosie, and discover the truth."
Sam only laughed humorlessly as the skies again reverberated and more scattered raindrops began to fall. "Lady, I've already found the real Rosie, and she's riding right across from me. You can lie and make up tall tales, try to weasel out of this all you want, but like my granddaddy always said, a bad girl'll reach a bad end every time."
Annie's patience snapped. "And I say I'm sick of hearing about you and your granddaddy!"
And she clamped her mouth shut.
***
Across from Annie, Sam Noble noted the expression of frustration on his captive's face. He felt more perplexed and unsettled by this woman than he cared to admit, for this feisty female challenged his beliefs and even stirred his blood.
He knew this woman who called herself "Annie" greatly favored the fugitive on the wanted poster. He knew any criminal would lie to escape justice. Given the fact that she dressed and rode a horse just like a man, and smarted off to him like no decent female he'd ever known, she must be the outlaw he had sought.
But this girl was also beautiful and proud, and seemed sincere. He'd even felt moved by her helplessness and confusion last night. Could she be telling the truth? The daunting possibility left him shifting uneasily in the saddle.
Naw, he quickly decided, she must be a liar. Otherwise, her resemblance to the "real" Rosie would be too much of a coincidence. His doubts must stem from the fact that he was unaccustomed to turning females over to justice, and he couldn't allow her feminine tricks to cloud his better judgment.
Nonetheless, his gaze strayed back to her, drinking in the proud tilt of her face, the loveliness of her wide mouth, and how wisps of her gold-shot brown hair had pulled loose from her braid and were whipping about her pretty face. Again, those forbidden urges coursed through him, man-woman sort of longings he could ill afford to have.
Imagining that supple neck snapping as she dangled at the end of a hangman's rope, he groaned as if his gut had been punched. At her frankly curious stare, he hastily jerked his gaze away. He would do his job, all right, but it was going to be a damn shame to hang her.
He was frowning over this gloomy prospect when a tremendous boom of thunder wrenched him from his thoughts. Wincing as a gust of wind sprayed rain in his face, he glanced overhead. How had he managed to become so distracted that he'd taken no note of the elements?
Her, that's how. Turning, he hollered, "Hold on, sister, we're gonna have to ride hard. I don't like the look of those skies. There's a town called Prairie Stump up the road a piece, and we're gonna have to pray we can make it."
"Make it before what?" Annie asked.
"Before all hell busts loose."
Glancing at the skies as rain began falling harder, Annie felt a shiver of fear. "Do you mean hell or— Ouch!" she finished as a small hailstone bounced off her forehead.
"Shit!" yelled Sam.
Next Annie heard an ungodly, terrifying roar, and with her hands bound to the saddle horn, she could only cringe and wince in pain as a barrage of hailstones pounded her. She heard her horse's high whinny, felt it lurch forward.
"Damn it, woman, let's ride!" shouted the bounty hunter.
Pummeled by hail, they galloped as far as the nearest arroyo, the spooked horses shrieking and bucking much of the way. At last Sam managed to bring both mounts to a halt. In an instant he was down, cutting Annie's hands free. By now she was trembling, soaked, recoiling as nature continued to batter her.
He pulled her off her horse. She barely heard his voice over the clamor of the elements. "Hunker down, woman. I'll tie up the horses."
Hunker down where?
Glancing about wildly, Annie spotted an indentation in the craggy hillside beyond and made a dive for it, wedging her body into the opening and wrapping her arms about her head. At least the front of her was safe now, though hail still peppered her backside.
She heard the horses scream and stamp. Then something extraordinary happened. She felt Sam Noble's body sliding into place behind hers, covering her. Inexplicably, she felt warmed, even touched, that this hardened lawman would care enough to shield her from nature's fury. Indeed, even as she shivered, she felt his strong arms coming around her.
Oh, heavens. She couldn't be feeling this searing tenderness, not now, not toward him. But, all at once, the life-and-death struggle between them receded, and they were just a man and a woman, fighting the elements, taking refuge in the earth and in each other.
Sam, too, felt the instinctive pull as he held Annie. Yes, this girl was an outlaw, but she was also a human being, a woman—wet, cold, frightened, and vulnerable. As they'd galloped to the arroyo, her cries of pain and fear had shaken him, arousing his manly instincts to protect her. When he'd joined her and found her shivering so fiercely, he'd been unable to resist putting his arms around her to warm her.
Now her lush curves felt so tempting against him that he was hardly even conscious of the hail hammering his back.
As the storm continued to roar, Annie illogically felt safe for the first time in twenty-four tension-fraught hours. She ceased her shivering and became even more aware of the hard, warm, masculine body cocooning hers. After a while she relaxed enough to shift her hand from its cramped, uncomfortable position. In doing so, she unwittingly brushed Sam's thigh and heard him grunt.
Then her fingers encountered something very hard. His knife. That contact brought Annie spinning back to reality, to the threat against her life. Yes, Sam Noble was being a nice guy at the moment, but he still intended to bear her to her death. This daunting reality redoubled her determination.
When thunder roared with such violence that he flinched, Annie smoothly eased his knife from its sheath.