crept forward toward the source.
Amongst the thin trappings of a hastily made camp, a weak fire sputtered next to an unused blanket and a bundle of lumpy bread. Underneath a tree, a tattered sheet and a few branches did little to hide the cart piled high with steamer trunks and valises.
"Who hired you?" Jackson growled, and Olivia felt the hairs on the back of her neck prickle in attention.
A balding man swallowed profusely. "N-no one. I just … I just … saw an opportunity and took it."
"You couldn't stop a nosebleed much less a stagecoach. And you're telling me you carried all those things here by yourself?" A vein in Jackson's forehead throbbed with vigor.
The balding man nodded, his lips trembling. Jackson lifted him up by the collar with one hand and shook him so hard his teeth rattled.
Jackson's eyes narrowed. "Liar. Witnesses said there were two men at the robbery. And I'm willing to bet you weren't one of them. So, tell me, who hired you?"
A whimper escaped the man. He quivered and writhed but said nothing.
There was a chilling scrape of metal and the flash of a blade. Jackson held the knife up, turning it this way and that in the sunlight. A glimpse of sapphire blue on the silver of the blade made her blood freeze.
Jackson dropped the balding man, who crumpled into a heap at his feet. Sheathing the knife, he swore under his breath. "Lucky I'm in a hurry or we'd talk more … seriously. Now get out of here and don't ever come back."
The older man scrambled to his feet and fled. Jackson didn't give him a second glance. His eyes burned through the leaves that shielded Olivia and heat sprang to her cheeks. She turned to run for her horse, but it was too late. A twig cracked beneath her foot and he stormed directly toward her.
"I told you to stay back." He grabbed hold of her elbow.
Olivia's eyes flashed indignation. "Why? So you could hurt that man?" She broke away from his piercing gaze. "He wasn't one of the highwaymen."
"No, but he knows who they are." He hauled her back toward the horses.
She threw her free arm into the air. "Does it matter? You recovered our things."
"It matters. You want highwaymen thinking they can rob anyone that comes along the road? There was an edge to his laugh. "Where's the justice in that?"
Olivia wrenched her elbow free and pulled her sleeve down with a sharp tug. "Justice matters, but using violence as a means to an end is not the way."
For a moment his eyes softened, but he turned away, muttering under his breath. He grasped her around the waist and tossed her back onto the mare before untying the reins from the tree. He leapt into the saddle and led the way at a canter.
Her heart beat as fast as the horse's hooves at the thought of him wielding that wicked knife. She had thought perhaps the townspeople's reactions and wild tales were fantastic gossip, but now she was not certain.
Jackson Mercer was unpredictable, dangerous, and the last thing he wanted was her around. Olivia swallowed hard and pushed away thoughts of what might happen if he decided to rid himself of a bothersome wife.
They rode in silence until they topped a crescent moon-shaped ridge. In the valley beneath loomed a sprawling white ranch house nestled amongst tall trees.
Jackson thrust his chin toward it. "Mercer Ranch."
Welcome home? Shuddering at the thought, Olivia steadied herself and closed her eyes.
7
J ackson dropped the reins of the dappled gray mare. "I'm sure my mother will see you settled."
Olivia's eyes widened and he turned his white horse away from her. Feeling her trepidation made his throat constrict. He couldn't breathe at the ranch, or in town, or near Olivia.
Without another word he urged Stratus into a gallop up the road leading to the ranch. His only thought was to outrun the fear in Olivia's eyes. It meant he was gone again, lost in another person's judgment. She would never see the real him—the one he wanted to be.
As Stratus charged up a familiar side path toward
Amongst the thin trappings of a hastily made camp, a weak fire sputtered next to an unused blanket and a bundle of lumpy bread. Underneath a tree, a tattered sheet and a few branches did little to hide the cart piled high with steamer trunks and valises.
"Who hired you?" Jackson growled, and Olivia felt the hairs on the back of her neck prickle in attention.
A balding man swallowed profusely. "N-no one. I just … I just … saw an opportunity and took it."
"You couldn't stop a nosebleed much less a stagecoach. And you're telling me you carried all those things here by yourself?" A vein in Jackson's forehead throbbed with vigor.
The balding man nodded, his lips trembling. Jackson lifted him up by the collar with one hand and shook him so hard his teeth rattled.
Jackson's eyes narrowed. "Liar. Witnesses said there were two men at the robbery. And I'm willing to bet you weren't one of them. So, tell me, who hired you?"
A whimper escaped the man. He quivered and writhed but said nothing.
There was a chilling scrape of metal and the flash of a blade. Jackson held the knife up, turning it this way and that in the sunlight. A glimpse of sapphire blue on the silver of the blade made her blood freeze.
Jackson dropped the balding man, who crumpled into a heap at his feet. Sheathing the knife, he swore under his breath. "Lucky I'm in a hurry or we'd talk more … seriously. Now get out of here and don't ever come back."
The older man scrambled to his feet and fled. Jackson didn't give him a second glance. His eyes burned through the leaves that shielded Olivia and heat sprang to her cheeks. She turned to run for her horse, but it was too late. A twig cracked beneath her foot and he stormed directly toward her.
"I told you to stay back." He grabbed hold of her elbow.
Olivia's eyes flashed indignation. "Why? So you could hurt that man?" She broke away from his piercing gaze. "He wasn't one of the highwaymen."
"No, but he knows who they are." He hauled her back toward the horses.
She threw her free arm into the air. "Does it matter? You recovered our things."
"It matters. You want highwaymen thinking they can rob anyone that comes along the road? There was an edge to his laugh. "Where's the justice in that?"
Olivia wrenched her elbow free and pulled her sleeve down with a sharp tug. "Justice matters, but using violence as a means to an end is not the way."
For a moment his eyes softened, but he turned away, muttering under his breath. He grasped her around the waist and tossed her back onto the mare before untying the reins from the tree. He leapt into the saddle and led the way at a canter.
Her heart beat as fast as the horse's hooves at the thought of him wielding that wicked knife. She had thought perhaps the townspeople's reactions and wild tales were fantastic gossip, but now she was not certain.
Jackson Mercer was unpredictable, dangerous, and the last thing he wanted was her around. Olivia swallowed hard and pushed away thoughts of what might happen if he decided to rid himself of a bothersome wife.
They rode in silence until they topped a crescent moon-shaped ridge. In the valley beneath loomed a sprawling white ranch house nestled amongst tall trees.
Jackson thrust his chin toward it. "Mercer Ranch."
Welcome home? Shuddering at the thought, Olivia steadied herself and closed her eyes.
7
J ackson dropped the reins of the dappled gray mare. "I'm sure my mother will see you settled."
Olivia's eyes widened and he turned his white horse away from her. Feeling her trepidation made his throat constrict. He couldn't breathe at the ranch, or in town, or near Olivia.
Without another word he urged Stratus into a gallop up the road leading to the ranch. His only thought was to outrun the fear in Olivia's eyes. It meant he was gone again, lost in another person's judgment. She would never see the real him—the one he wanted to be.
As Stratus charged up a familiar side path toward
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