The Angel and the Outlaw Read Free Page B

the pounding of her own heart.
    It seemed like hours before he stopped. She felt his hands close around her waist and then he lifted her from the pinto and removed the hood.
    Brandy glared at him, certain she had at least three broken ribs. “What the hell are you doing?” she exclaimed, too angry to be cautious.
    J.T. raised one dark brow. She was something when she was riled up. Her bonnet was askew; her eyes, clear and gray beneath thick ebony-hued lashes, were bright with anger. She had delicate features, a mouth made for kissing, suntanned skin that was smooth and unblemished.
    “Well?” She glared up at him, her fists on her hips, as she waited for an answer.`
    “I’m saving my hide,” he retorted. “What the hell do you think?”
    Brandy glanced around. The landscape looked familiar, yet she didn’t recognize anything. There were no houses in sight, no telephone poles, no electrical wires, nothing. And yet she could see the big yellow bluff that had overlooked the Ten Trees Mall. But there were no long, low buildings in sight, nothing except the shallow stream the horse was drinking from and, in the distance, ten windblown trees and a…
    Brandy blinked twice…a weathered stage station, its windows shuttered against the night. She could see several horses standing head to tail in a peeled pole corral.
    Brandy stared at the man calling himself J.T.. “Where are we?”
    He frowned at her. “Ten Trees, where do you think?”
    Brandy shook her head. “No. That’s impossible.”
    “Impossible or not, that’s where we are.”
    Brandy whirled around, her gaze probing the darkness. The mall was gone, and so was the gas station. There was no sign of the bus station, or the car wash…no, it was impossible. She was dreaming, having some sort of horrible nightmare.
    She gasped as the man took hold of her arm.
    “What the hell’s the matter with you?” J.T. demanded gruffly. “You’re white as a ghost…”
    A ghost! Damn! He was the only ghost around here.
    J.T. ran a hand through his hair as it all came back to him, the noose, the waiting, the horrible sensation of falling, choking, and then that bright other-worldly light.
    He swore under his breath. It had to be a nightmare. He was probably at the hideout, passed out in his cot, drunk as a skunk… But even as he tried to convince himself he was dreaming, he knew, deep in his gut, that he’d been hanged and given a reprieve. A year. He had one year to redeem himself.
    J.T. stared at the woman, and grinned in spite of himself. For a man who was supposed to be on the road to redemption, he hadn’t gotten off to a very good start.

Chapter Three
     
    Brandy stared ahead into the night, her mind in turmoil. Who was this man? Where was he taking her? And where were they? Every so often she spied a familiar landmark—an oak tree that had been struck by lightning, an odd pile of boulders, a stand of timber. And yet, as familiar as these were, everything else was completely foreign, like the stage station at Ten Trees. She knew such a depot had existed back in the 1800’s, but it had been burned to the ground in an Indian attack in the summer of 1876…
    She felt her captor’s arm tighten around her waist and she wondered again who he was. He had said his name was J.T… No, it was absurd. Didn’t bear thinking about. Couldn’t be…
    Unbidden came the jolt of electricity that had snaked up her arm when she first touched what she had thought was a dummy.
    “No.” The word whispered past her lips. It was inconceivable. Totally, completely impossible.
    A shiver of apprehension swept through her when he drew his horse, his stolen horse, to a halt. Oh, Lord, what now?
    J.T. dismounted, then reached for the woman. He swore under his breath as she recoiled from his touch.
    “Listen, lady, I’m not gonna hurt you,” he said irritably.
    “Yeah, right,” Brandy muttered. “That’s why you kidnapped me.”
    He swore again; then, grabbing her around the waist,