Leather and Lace by DiAnn Mills Page A

hand. “Maybe someday when all this is behind me. Right now I have to get my things and ride out of here. Those two men won’t waste any time telling the sheriff who I am.”
    “I’ll go fetch your horse.” Hank hesitated. “When you get to where you’re going, will you write us?”
    “I promise.” Strange how a couple of weeks could make her feel so close to these good people. But Maude’s request would have to wait. When Casey was good enough, she’d take care of talking to God about things. Until then, she’d keep riding and reading.
    *****
    Days later, Casey sat rigid in the saddle and scanned the hill country near San Antonio. She’d grown weary of endless days in rain and blistering heat and short nights under the stars. More than once, she considered riding into some town and turning herself in to the sheriff. The idea of a hanging always stopped her.
    She’d journeyed through desert and prairie lands and on through the area Morgan had spoken about. The green territory was familiar, but looking at it as a part of him caused her to appreciate each hill and valley. She wiped the sweat from her face with a dirty bandanna and tasted dirt through parched lips. Her back felt as wet as if she’d jumped into a river with her clothes on. Enough of this. She turned Stampede northwest.
    The zebra-dun stallion lived up to his name. He loved to run, which had suited her just fine when she left Deer Creek. At first she fretted over whether the sheriff had caught up to those two outlaws. They’d tell him for sure where to find her, and if they got away, they’d waste no time finding Jenkins. The gang and the law could be closing in on her. But then she realized worrying about it only made her stomach churn and her head hurt. She’d keep riding until some remote town looked safe.
    Every morning she thought of Morgan, and he stayed in her dreams when the world gathered its blanket of darkness.
    “I’ve made him something near perfect,” she said to Stampede. “But dreams settle a body down better than nightmares.”
    The beauty surrounding the rich area of central Texas captured her senses. Wild petunias in bright purplish blue sprawled nearly two feet tall. Pink prairie verbenas sprang up in clusters beside streams and in open fields. She marveled at the midsummer display of color, ranging from pale pink to blue and bright yellow. Towering live oaks and mesquite trees provided shade from the hot sun, and she sensed something different about the area. This was new territory to her, since the gang hadn’t ridden any farther south than Fort Worth.
    Then, when she least expected it, memories of Jenkins flooded her mind and tortured her soul. Casey shuddered and willed her body to relax. Even the sweet smell of nature in bloom did nothing to ease the past.
    The first time he forced himself on her, she’d been fourteen years old, a kid too young and too naive to have much sense. She and Tim had been with the gang for about two months. Every day she begged her brother to leave, but the tales of money and notorious outlaws were too much temptation. The gang camped along the Missouri River a few miles from Jefferson City, where they grew anxious for whiskey and women. Jenkins rode out with them, and she seized the opportunity to take a bath and wash her hair.
    When Casey stepped out of the water, Jenkins stood alone on the bank. Even now, as she remembered struggling to get away, the unbidden moment attacked her senses.
    “Where you goin’?” he’d said with a laugh.
    “My clothes.” Casey swallowed her tears but not her fear.
    He glanced toward the small pile to the right of him. “Oh, you can have ’em later.” He stepped closer, and she backed into the water. “I’ve been wonderin’ what was under them jeans. Now I can see for myself.”
    She backed farther until the water was up to her neck. “Please leave me alone.”
    “Can’t do that.” He pulled his gun from his waist. “Out of the water,