The Outlaw

By Carré White

A pampered heiress meets a brazen outlaw ... 

Travis Lockhart will stop at nothing to even the score, even going so far as to kidnap the fiancée of his enemy. One look at the beautiful blonde is enough to distract a man, and one false step will see him hung from the gallows. 
 
Her wedding ruined, Aurora Bullecourt finds herself in the clutches of an infamous bandit. He's not a man any young lady can trust, least of all with her heart. He might prove a diversion for a moment, if a girl wishes to be reckless, but she would never dream of such a thing, would she?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Love Lust Story
• Release date: Nov 27, 2019
• ISBN: 9781393973232

Carré White

  Carré White is the author of Sonoran Nights, a book that is set in the same small town in Arizona that she grew up in. After marrying, having children, and traveling, she settled in Colorado, enjoying nearly 350 days of sunshine. The Colorado Brides Series, which follow the lives of adventurous frontier women, who traveled west in the 1850's to find love is available now.

Book preview

Chapter One

Dillon, Montana 1884

Ladies and gentlemen, we will be arriving in Dillon momentarily, announced the car attendant. He glanced at a silver pocket watch and slid the timepiece into the pocket of a dark jacket. As he passed, he tipped his hat to me. Good morning, young lady. I do hope you’ve enjoyed your time with us on the Union Pacific. Will Dillon be your final destination? He grinned, which revealed crooked teeth.

I smiled weakly, exhausted by days of travel and lack of sleep. Yes, sir.

Perhaps we’ll be seeing you in the future on one of our trains.

I don’t plan to travel again for a while, sir. I’m meeting my intended. Montana is my new home. A whistle blew, which startled me. Goodness, that was loud.

Good day to you then, and safe travels. He brushed past us to reach the next compartment, where he disappeared from sight.

I glanced at my traveling companions, my chaperone, Genevieve Barker, to my right, while my maid, Susan Whitmore, occupied the seat before us. I touched her shoulder. Are you feeling better, Sissy? I rarely addressed her by her given name, the woman a trusted friend who had been in my company for years. She felt ill after breakfast. We suspected the motion of the locomotive had made her queasy.

I’m fine, Aurora. Please don’t fret over me. She held a white handkerchief to her mouth. It’s almost over, blessed be.

We had passed through the Beaverhead Valley, which now gave way to buildings and what appeared to be a train station, as a platform approached.

Are you nervous, my dear? asked Genevieve.

My mother insisted she accompany me, despite my protests. Why on earth should I be nervous? I lifted my chin slightly.

To meet the man you’re going to marry. You’ve only been in his presence twice.

I’m well aware of that.

Your courtship was shockingly short. She pursed her lips, an obvious sign she disapproved of something. I promised your mother I’d watch over you.

Annoyed by the old argument, I inhaled a steadying breath, which pressed my ribs against a restrictive corset. Joseph Henderson’s my perfect match. I’ve spoken of this often enough, far too much for my liking. I tire of having to defend myself. I pulled off a fine, kid leather glove and held up my hand, where a ruby and diamond ring glinted in the streams of light from an open window. "As if I need more proof. His grandmother’s precious ring, and it is here on my finger."

Genevieve sighed deeply. Yes, my dear. I know you’re engaged.

I’m as good as married. My debut into polite society had ended on the night of the debutant ball, where fortune smiled at me. By all accounts, I’ve had a successful season. I met my husband straight away. Quite pleased with myself, I brushed away a piece of lint from my skirt.

A slight jolt forced Genevieve to grasp the seat in front of her. We’ve arrived. Let’s hope your man’s as charming in Montana as he was in New York.

Suddenly eager to see Joseph, I got to my feet, where I held the seat for support. I see men waiting! Is that him? Squinting out the dirty window, I spied several individuals in uniform, but then realized they worked for the railways. No, not them.

Alarm flickered in Genevieve’s eyes. Do sit down before you crash to the floor.

I sat at the edge of the seat, but then the train stopped entirely, and people suddenly shot to their feet. A woman with a baby brushed past us. And now we must wait.

A lady should never appear too eager. Why rush out like a herd of bulls? It’s unseemly. We should take our time and gather our things, lest we forget something. Let the others trample each other.

Genevieve, with her strict rules and adherence to etiquette, was correct, as usual. Yes, all right, I murmured, as my eyes strayed to the window, where people on the platform filled my vision. Our bags will take a while.

Bags? laughed Sissy. Trunks and trunks of things. I hope Mr. Henderson sent an army to help us. We’re going to need it.

Well, I couldn’t leave all my earthly belongings behind, now could I? If I’m to make a house here, one must have one’s things. I nodded briskly. Mustn’t one?

And more to be shipped out at a future date. Genevieve stood. I think we can go now. Please don’t forget anything. When the train leaves, it won’t come again. It’ll make its way to the mining county of Silver Bow and beyond.

I clutched a traveling satchel filled with grooming items, crackers, a large shawl, and reading material. The bag would not be so heavy, but I brought my favorites, stories about the great adventures of men who came west in search of fortune and glory. I admitted to an obsession with silly dime novels, especially those of James Fenimore Cooper, his Leather Stocking Tales a secret delight. Joseph Henderson confessed to reading them as well, and it astounded him that a woman would find them fascinating. He thought I might prefer more romantic works, but I did not. There was plenty of romance in adventure.

Once on the platform, a crisp, clean-smelling breeze lifted the curls from my forehead. The bonnet I wore shaded my eyes from the sun. I eagerly scanned the crowd, although many quickly disappeared; carriages taking them away. Some walked or traveled by wagon. Rough-looking miners ventured to the gambling and drinking establishments. All of them had traveled at the back of the train.

Your things are being unloaded, Miss Bullecourt, said the car attendant.

Nearly my height, the man appeared quite young, although the lines at the edges of his eyes betrayed him. Thank you, I murmured. My attention strayed to several men in the distance. They glanced in our direction. I do wonder where Joseph is?

Two large trunks appeared, carried by attendants who placed them at our feet. The week of traveling had made them scuffed and dusty and one dented on the edge. They brought out two wooden crates as well.

Genevieve fanned herself, her pale features flushed. It’s rather warm today.

From the looks of those clouds, I pointed, a storm is brewing. I pray we find cover before the heavens open up. The men near the ticket booth approached; their boots sounded hollow on the wooden platform. I wonder if … they’re here for us?

I surmise they are. Genevieve fanned her face. I don’t recognize any of them as your Joseph, though.

Nor do I. I could not help the frown that marred my forehead. Oh, fiddlesticks. Where is he?

Three men neared, the older man first to arrive. He offered a smile, his knee-length topcoat dusty from the road. Good morning. You must be Miss Aurora Bullecourt. You’re the only blonde woman waiting for assistance. Keen grey eyes drifted over me. I’m Donovan. I work for Mr. Henderson. I’m here to escort you to Bannack.

Hello, Mr. …

It’s just Donovan. He shook my hand, the touch a bit too firm. Are these all your things?

Yes, they are.

He glanced over his shoulder at the men that accompanied him. That’s not gonna fit. The boot’s already half full from provisions. One of you has to ride it back alone. Take a wagon.

That thought alarmed me. But I can’t be separated from my things. What if something was stolen? I had carefully packed dishes and linen, items I inherited from my beloved grandmother. Surely there must be room. We managed to bring everything to the station before in only one conveyance.

The man cleared his throat. I’m afraid … we had some supplies to get. Hart will transport the crates by wagon. I trust you’re tired from the journey. Travelin’ from New Hampshire is a mighty long way. I took the liberty of securing a few rooms at a hotel for you and your party to freshen up. It’s a good two hour ride to the Henderson ranch.

That sounds entirely reasonable, murmured Genevieve. A spot of tea would do me wonders.

But where is Joseph? Then I realized my mistake. Mr. Henderson. Where is my … my husband to be?

Detained. He sends his apologies. Donovan nodded at the man named Hart. Take the crates and be on your way. With any luck, you’ll beat us home. The ladies might be a few hours.

I’d rather continue on. I’m quite eager to see my betrothed.

He’s not at the ranch, Miss Bullecourt. He went to Virginia City on business. He won’t be back until supper.

That news disappointed me greatly. Oh, I see.

I relish the idea of freshening up, said Sissy. Wouldn’t you rather arrive at the ranch looking your best?

It won’t matter anyhow, because Joseph isn’t there, but, if you prefer to rest a little, I will allow it. My shoes sported a thin layer of dust. Where is this hotel, Mr. … Donovan?

He offered a smile, which creased the edges of his eyes. Right this way. We can walk there. He motioned for the other man. Go help Hart with the trunks, Rory.

Yes, sir. He nodded at us, although his weathered face lingered on me. Good day, ladies. Welcome to Montana.

Thank you. I clutched the traveling satchel. It was smart to set aside fresh clothes. Sissy held a large bag with those items. We shouldn’t need anything from the trunks until we arrive at the ranch.

Indeed not, said Genevieve.

Escorted by Donovan, we ventured from the train depot to what I assumed was the center of town; the commercial blocks faced the tracks, while all manner of conveyances and people passed by. I noted dozens of small cottages on the other side. Their appearance perplexed me.

It’s for the workers, said Donovan, who noted my stare. Lots and lots of miners in these parts.

Yes, of course. We reached the boardwalk a moment later. My boots clunked on the wood with each step. Printed papers blew in the wind tacked to the wood by doors and on posts. What is all this? I pointed to one that said, PROCLAMATION! Governor of Montana! REWARDS for the arrest of Express and Train Robbers, … Of these there were several notices.

Donovan stopped in his tracks. A stern expression emerged on his weathered face. Crooks and thieves, Miss Bullecourt. You’re not in New Hampshire anymore. We’ve more than our share of gangs and highwaymen.

That thought alarmed me. Gracious.

Rich folks are frequent targets of these sorts of men, I’m afraid. Joseph’s father, Edward Henderson, owns a gold mine and several businesses, a bank included. It’s been quiet for a spell, but none of the scoundrels have been caught … yet.

I stared at a pinned piece of paper. REWARD ($5,000) Reward for the capture, dead or alive, of Travis Lockhart. Age, 26. Height, 5 feet, 9 inches. Weight, 149 lbs. Dark hair, brown eyes, and even features. He is wanted for robbery and kidnapping. The above reward will be paid for his capture or positive proof of his death. Henry Becker, Sheriff.

Donovan pointed at the paper. Yeah, that one’s especially … annoying. I’ve met up with him a time or two.

You appear to have survived the encounter.

He smiled at me. Yes, ma’am, I did.

This is hardly a topic a young lady should concern herself with, chided Genevieve. We really should go on.

What are the chances of encountering … these sorts of people? Sissy eyed the notices. There are quite a few for this particular person.

Oh, you’ll be fine, ladies. You stick with me. I’ll shoot the blackguard on sight if I see him. With any luck, he’s already dead. Haven’t heard a peep for a while.

Genevieve pursed her lips. Well, that’s a small comfort, I suppose.

Very small, murmured Sissy.

Chapter Two

Impatient to be on my way, I paced the carpet before an open window at the Hotel Metlen. The sound of carriage wheels reverberated in the street below. Exhausted from many days of travel, my chaperone fell asleep on the horsehair sofa, with a tea set arranged on a table before her.

We should go soon. I sat at a mirrored vanity table and stared at myself.

You look beautiful, murmured Sissy. She stood behind me, her hands on my shoulders. He’ll want to marry you on sight.

I sighed dramatically. I wish I could. Mother won’t let me; you know that. I still have to wait a few weeks, which is annoying. A smile softened my frown. I know my own heart. We’ve been writing these many months. I know him. He’s a good man. He wishes for nothing other than having me as his wife as soon as possible. He wanted to marry in Dillon, upon my arrival, but mother disagreed. If father were alive, God rest his soul, he would’ve allowed it. I don’t know why she must be so difficult. Even my younger sister, Mable, thinks I should marry straightaway.

I’m sure your mother means well. She couldn’t make the journey now. She wants to be at the wedding, as does your sister. She’ll be able to come before the end of summer.

My mother had taken it upon herself to renovate the house, and she desired to stay to oversee the progress. I call it all hogwash. She did this on purpose, just to delay me.

As I said, she has her reasons.

Genevieve snored loudly. Good gracious. We really must wake her. We’ve spent enough time here now. The day grows late.

Your garment’s pressed and dust free. I assume the carriage is closed.

Surely. I got up and turned to face my maid. Thank you, Sissy. As always, you’ve done an admirable job.

Ha! she giggled. You’re very little effort, Aurora. No matter how dusty you are; you look as fresh as a spring flower.

I do not. Loose, blonde curls tickled my forehead. "I’d be a sight, if it were not for your skills."

We can argue the point until the cows come home, but perhaps we should pack our things and wake Genevieve? I know she’s tired. I dare say, she hasn’t slept well for days, but … we must be on our way.

The tea’s cold now. They’ll have to bring another pot.

I’ll ring the bell for a servant and wake Genevieve.

I’ve very little to pack. A rap sounded on the door. Yes?

It’s Donovan, Miss Bullecourt.

Come in.

I do hope you’ve rested. The stagecoach is waitin’ on us.

All right. We’ll be down shortly.

He nodded, his hat in his hand. We’ll be expectin’ you.

I glanced around the spacious room, noting the comfort of the surroundings, with darkly carved furniture and an enormous fern in a copper pot by the window. If I weren’t so impatient to see my fiancé, I would have appreciated the reprieve from travel. As it was, I longed to be on our way.

You’re all dressed and ready. Genevieve sat up, the noise having woken her. She smiled tiredly. I’ve always loved that lavender riding habit. It suits you.

Thank you. I’m sorry we had to disturb you. I know you’re tired.

It’s nothing. She waved a hand. Give me a moment, and I shall be ready. We’ve lingered long enough. Two hours or so and we’ll be at the ranch, where I can rest better."

These things are packed. Sissy left a satchel on the bed. Should I ring for more tea?"

Don’t bother, said Genevieve. Let’s go. I don’t relish traveling in the open at night. She made a face. Especially with bandits about.

I laughed at that. We needn’t fear. It would prove an adventure, though, if we were set upon, wouldn’t it? How exciting that would be.

Hold your tongue, admonished Genevieve. "Don’t say such things. You might find them an entertainment in one of your silly dime novels, but something like that actually occurring would be horrifying. You can die from a gunshot, you know. They are almost always