Rue Allyn by One Night's Desire Page A

moved quick, pulling a set of manacles from inside his shirt. In moments, he had them locked onto her wrists.
    Only then did the gunmetal lift from her nape. She heard a small shuffle then dusty brown boots and denim clad legs moved past her to stand beside the man called Boyd. She looked up at the men. Quinn still wore the blue flannel shirt and leather vest she’d seen him in at Brown’s Camp five days ago. Even covered in trail dust, he was a sight to make a woman’s heart beat faster. The younger one, Boyd, couldn’t meet her gaze. The marshal dismissed her with a brief glance. He shouldered her rifle and holstered his gun.
    She had to get them to let her go. If she could just make them listen to her explanation. “You’ve got this all wrong.”
    “I don’t know of a criminal who doesn’t believe the law has got it wrong.” Quinn barely glanced her way then faced Boyd. “Better get her feet hobbled before we turn in. I’ll go settle the horses.”
    More fear slipped down her spine, he wasn’t going to listen. With that thought, anger took over from fear. She didn’t care how much of an eyeful he was. He passed judgment on her without ever hearing her side of the story. Beneath all that long lean muscle must beat the soulless heart of an ogre. He was lucky he walked off in the opposite direction from which he’d come or she would have stuck out her foot and made sure he fell flat on his face as he passed. She could have grabbed his pistol while he was down — what she’d do with it she wasn’t certain, but he didn’t know that. The chain linking her two iron cuffs was long enough for her to move her arms with very little discomfort. She wondered what Marshal Holier-Than-Thou Quinn would have done when she held his own pistol on him. Which gave her an idea for how she might get out of this situation, since Muh’Weda obviously wasn’t coming back soon. That worried her more than being locked in irons. He wouldn’t desert her, so what had happened to him? If these two galoots had hurt her friend in any way, she would make certain they paid — and paid dearly.
    Boyd approached her with a rope in one hand, an apologetic look on his face. “I’m sorry Ma’am, but Quinn’s right. We have to hobble you. Can’t have you mobile enough to get on a horse and ride out of here. I’ll need to remove your moccasins.”
    He knelt before her.
    Kiera nodded but made no move to take off her footgear. “Wait, please.”
    He resumed standing. “What for?”
    “First I … I, uh need to, uhm … ”
    “Oh, yeah. You probably do. I’ll escort you to the creekside. I won’t leave you alone, but I will turn my back.”
    “That’s so kind of you Mr. Boyd.”
    “Just Boyd, ma’am.”
    She held out her manacled hands. “Would you mind helping me up?”
    “Certainly.” He grasped her hands and pulled her upright. Still carrying the rope he walked beside her into the brush and trees bordering the creek.
    All she had to do now was wait for the right moment to stumble against him and lift his pistol from his holster at the same time. Marshal Quinn could return at any moment, so patience was hard to come by. There, where the creek bank sloped sharply. She’d not only be able to knock him off balance easily but he’d get wet and muddy too. A small twinge of guilt niggled at her. Nonetheless, her life was at stake. If they got her to Laramie, Big Si would see to it that she went through a travesty of a trial and was hanged within the week. She had to escape.
    As they neared the bank, they heard the click of a gun being cocked. “Stop right there, and get your hands in the air.” whispered a toneless voice.
    She and Boyd lifted their arms.
    “Muh’Weda?” she asked sotto voce.
    The Shoshone stepped from the brush. “Relieve the man of his pistol, please. Did you worry about me, Dabai’Waipi?”
    “You aren’t alone?” Boyd’s question required no answer. “We watched your camp for several minutes before