Wildfire in His Arms by Johanna Lindsey Read Free Book Online Page A

area?”
    â€œI was making my way to Canada, but when I heard they mostly speak French there, I changed my mind. I can speak Spanish, but not French. Maybe I should go to Mexico instead.”
    â€œWhere you’re going is jail. You have figured that out, right?”
    â€œI ain’t stupid, fancy man,” Dawson snarled.
    That was debatable. Breaking the law entailed a measure of stupidity—or desperation. At least for men. But boys like this could also do it simply for fun, because they were too young and reckless to consider the consequences. Max Dawson was finally going to figure that out.
    â€œGet up on your knees.”
    â€œWhy?”
    Degan didn’t answer, he just waited. It wasn’t his habit to talk this much. Ever. The most he’d said in years to one person had been recently to Tiffany Warren when she’d been masquerading as the Callahans’ housekeeper. But then Tiffany had reminded him of so many things he’d given up. And she’d been full of questions, despite how nervous she was around him, so it had been hard not to talk to her.
    But Dawson had been something of a curiosity from the moment Degan had seen him escaping through the brothel window in Helena, so full of exuberance and laughter. A happy outlaw. But again, Degan figured young love accounted for that contradiction.
    The boy finally rolled to his knees. Degan knelt behind him to test the knot that had been tied, then wrapped the rope around Dawson’s feet a few more times.
    â€œYour hands now.”
    A few minutes later he had Dawson effectively hog-tied, with the rope extending from his tied feet to his tied hands, a few loops around his neck, and tied off at his feet again.
    â€œDo you have any idea how uncomfortable this is?!” Max yelled furiously when Degan pushed him over so he could lie on his side.
    â€œCan’t say that I do. But then I don’t break the law, don’t get taken by surprise, and I sure as hell wouldn’t be shouting about it like a girl. So shut the hell up, Dawson.”
    â€œYou’re not taking me in right now?”
    â€œIn the morning. I’ve barely gotten any sleep these last four days since I started searching for your sorry ass.”
    Degan grabbed the boy’s rifle before he left the shack to bring his horse up to it for the night. The palomino would warn him if anyone approached, not that he expected company. If Luella had known where Dawson was staying, she would have been up here to warn him long before now.
    Reentering the shack, Degan saw the boy was exactly where he’d left him, lying in the bed of leaves, though he’d lifted his feet as high as he could to loosen the pressure of the rope around his neck. He hoped the kid didn’t strangle himself before Degan fell asleep. There’d be no danger of that if the kid would just lie still, so Degan wasn’t going to loosen those ropes. He sat down and gingerly leaned his back against the wall, afraid the shack might tumble over if he leaned too hard against it. But he was asleep in moments.

Chapter Seven

    T HE SOFT CREAK OF wood woke him. Degan opened his eyes to see Dawson tiptoeing out the door with his saddlebags in hand, coat donned and hat on. Degan’s failing to check the pile of leaves the outlaw had been using as a mattress proved just how tired he’d been after tying up his prisoner. Any number of things could have been hidden under it. Obviously another knife.
    â€œI wouldn’t if I were you,” he growled.
    The boy still did, bolting out the door. Degan swore and gave chase, nearly tripping over the saddlebags that had been dropped just outside the door. He didn’t draw his gun even with such a clear target in the moonlight. He’d never shot a man in the back and wasn’t going to start now. And he had a feeling Dawson was too desperate to stop for a gun right now, even if it was fired.
    The boy didn’t head for his horse.