Gold Dust Widow: The Story of an Outlaw's Revenge

Chapter 15: Clara

I watched as Jasper packed his belongings into his saddlebags and attached them to the black stallion then pulled himself up with ease. His body moved with a lethal grace. His grey eyes met mine through the dark hair that hung over his forehead.

There was something in his gaze that made my whole body tingle and warm.

To distract myself I slid up on Freedom, stroking his soft neck as he whinnied.

Jasper was still eyeing me.

"What?" I barked.

"Nothing," he mused. "I just miss riding behind you. Feeling you're round rump against me," he grinned.

I quickly turned away, trying to hide my blush.

"Just follow me," I bit out.

We pushed our horses to a canter and then into a gallop until we were racing across the desert plains. I could feel Freedom's strength below me, the lashing cold wind against my face, the dust in my mouth, my hair flying out behind me. Beside me Jasper's stallion's hooves thundered, he was relaxed in the saddle, his grip loose, and his eyes on me.

And for a split second, I couldn't help but wonder if he was the one I should have been with. If he was the man who could soothe me, care for me, correct me when I'm being stubborn, make me breakfasts, make me laugh, make me scream, make me more babies.

Racing through the desert, with him by my side, the grin on his face, it seemed so obvious. I wanted him to be that man. A lawman, who rode alone, who travelled too much to marry. I wished the sky could split open with a sign, anything to guide me. Because watching him ride, it was the first time I seriously considered forgetting about Rhett Mealy and following Jasper to the ends of the earth. And it felt right.

I tried to shake the thoughts from my mind, to conjure all the brutal ways I could end Rhett's life, but Jasper's face, his warm embrace, kept calling me back.

I gasped in annoyance with myself and pulled Freedom to a stop near a crook in the canyon. The trail we'd been following had gone cold, and we'd have to double back anyway.

"Clara!" Jasper galloped back to where I was sitting on Freedom, panting. His eyes met mine. "Are you-"

I slid off Freedom. "Let's sleep here tonight," I suggested.

He peered at me then nodded and slid off his horse's back. It was barely dusk.

I started a small fire to keep us warm and he rolled out his coat on the sand next to it.

I watched him organising his things, chewing on the piece of javelina jerky I gave him. He was very organised.

He lay down on his coat, stretching his long legs out. His steel gaze moved up and down my body, and then his feverish expression met mine.

"Come here Clara," he ordered, and despite myself, I couldn't get to his side fast enough.

I took two steps then sunk to my knees and curled up against him, using his chest as a pillow. He stroked the side of my cheek lightly.

It felt natural.

We were silent, listening to an owl swooping through the air and Ares's soft whines as he dreamed.

Jasper produced his flask and took a sip, before handing it to me. I didn't love spirits; I'd seen what it turned George into, a blubbering stupid mess who'd lose all our money. I had no desire to look like that, to act like that. But a sip with Jasper seemed appropriate, considering it might help slow my heart from racing in my chest, and my skin from tingling with his every touch.