Beautiful Bandit (Lone Star Legends) by Loree Lough Page A

polishing off a stale biscuit and a strip of jerky, Josh found that his good humor had soured like milk left too long in the sun. Every clip-clop of the horses’ hooves moved them closer to Mexico, and he couldn’t imagine saying good-bye to Dinah; he didn’t want to think about the fact that, once he did, he’d probably never see her again.
    He would cross the river with her, accompany her into some little border town, help her find a job and a room to rent. He’d check the place out to make sure it was safe for a woman on her own, and, if it wasn’t, he would insist that they move on to another town. That way, at least he’d know where to find her, if he had a mind to.
    “So, who do you know in Mexico?”
    “No one.”
    “I don’t get it,” Josh admitted. “Why Mexico?”
    Something akin to a shadow darkened Dinah’s expression before she looked away. Shrugging, she said, “It’s just—it’s just something I have to do. Call it a girlish dream.”
    A foolish dream is more like it. “You’re not afraid of banditos?”
    He wasn’t sure what name he’d give to the expression that skittered across her face. Apprehension? Fear? “Lots of outlaws down there, you know,” he went on. “Very shady characters, according to the newspapers. No surprise, if you think about it, because the U.S. Marshals and the Texas Rangers can’t touch ’em once they cross the border.”
    Dinah blew a whiff of air through her lips. “So I’ve heard. But that’s a—”
    A chance she’d have to take? If only she’d trust him with the secret that had put her on the run! How bad could the truth be?
    “It’s getting dark,” he observed.
    “So it is.”
    Small talk, Josh thought with a mental harrumph. He’d never been any good at it. And he wouldn’t have had to deal with it now if he hadn’t stuck his nose where it didn’t belong. “Let’s pull up over there,” he said, indicating a tall pine. “I’ll rustle us up some firewood while you—” He remembered her ankle. “Actually, you sit tight. As soon as I get a fire going, I’ll take a look at that foot of yours.”
    An hour later, as the night matured around them, she appeared to be resting comfortably in a splint made of branches held in place by strips of cloth torn from his blanket. He had determined that her ankle wasn’t broken, but it had been twisted badly. They’d dined on jerky and stale biscuits, washed down by tepid water, and she seemed calm and content.
    Josh tossed another log onto the fire. “I’ve been thinkin’.”
    She stretched languorously. “Do tell,” she said around a huge yawn.
    He grinned. “I’m thinkin’ you shouldn’t go to Mexico.”
    That certainly woke her up!
    “My gut tells me you haven’t thought this through,” he went on.
    Dinah tilted her head and regarded him for a moment. “You’re wrong. I’ve given it a lot of thought.”
    She was downright beautiful in the firelight, and he cleared his throat. “Then you must’ve hit your head sometime before you lit out for Mexico.”
    “Hit my….”
    He scooted closer and took hold of her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “You’re not thinking straight, Dinah. Now, I know you think you’re strong and smart and capable, but you’re just a little slip of a thing.” He nodded into the endless darkness. “And it’s dangerous down there.”
    She looked at their hands, then met his eyes. “Josh, I—”
    “How do you expect to hunt for work with that ankle of yours?”
    Her eyelashes fluttering, she started, “I—”
    “And, even if you find a job, how will you do it in the shape you’re in?”
    Her frown deepened.
    “How will you pay your rent without a job?”
    Dinah stared into the flames and sighed.
    “I’m right. You know I am.”
    A second, perhaps two, passed before she said, “Right about what?”
    “That you haven’t thought this through.”
    “I had everything all worked out, until….” She lifted her injured foot. “Until