His body tensed before he realized why. Someone was standing just to his left, watching him. Several unfavorable possibilities occurred to him. Had Fowler talked nice in front of witnesses but sent a lackey around to finish Joel off? Or was this man a rogue looking for revenge against some lawman in his past?
Pretending that he’d seen his visitor much earlier, Joel finally said, “They’re gone now. What are you waiting for?”
The man came to stand in front of him. With a glance at his hood, Joel eased up a bit. Josiah. But now that he got a good look at him off his horse, Joel realized it couldn’t be. This was a youngster, definitely not filled out to a full-sized man yet, but hopefully he had the convictions of a mature Christian. Joel figured he was about to find out.
The man crouched next to Joel’s outstretched legs. Joel squinted to see into the eye holes of the mask, but it was too dark. “I’d like to at least face my captor,” he said at last.
“It’s blazing hot under this stinking hood, so I don’t mind if I do.”
Joel’s eyes widened. That voice was no man’s.
With a flourish, the hood was ripped away and golden hair spilled out in every direction. “I should’ve washed this thing,” Betsy said. “That Pritchard better not have lice, or I’m going to kill him.”
Hair stuck to her damp forehead and beneath her chin. Joel made to move it before realizing that he was still bound. And then he realized that it was Betsy who’d stolen that hood from him. Of all the cotton-picking, thieving vixens.
But now wasn’t the time for a comeuppance.
“You’re a sight for sore eyes.” He smiled in a way that the ladies had always claimed was irresistible. “I didn’t know how I was going to get out of here.”
“Excuse me?” Betsy wedged her finger beneath the ropes and against his chest. “I might prefer you tied up.”
Chapter 27
Joel’s face might sport a smile, but he was definitely holding something back. Betsy didn’t have time to learn his secret. Rescuing him might cause her to miss the action and lose the best story of her life. With a tug, she tested the tension of the ropes around his chest.
“I didn’t think Bo could tie that well tipsy.”
“That was Bo Franklin?” Joel looked away. “I thought he was in trouble with the gang.”
“When you arrested his uncle, he felt really bad. Now they have a common enemy. You.” She smiled a charming smile, and he looked charmed, sure enough.
“It’s a pity I’m all tied up,” he said. “I just thought of something I’d like to do.” His eyes traveled to her lips, and somehow his expression became that of a starving man sitting just inches from food he couldn’t eat.
For crying aloud, they had Bald Knobbers on the hunt. She couldn’t stay here and make calf eyes at him all night, as much as she might want to. “Where’s your knife? I’ll cut you loose.”
“Left boot.”
She fished her hand inside his boot, then pulled the knife out of its sheath. Putting it to the coil on his chest, she was about to start sawing when he protested.
“Don’t cut it there. Do it at my hands.”
“What do you care?”
“I’ve got my reasons. And it’s a good rope.”
Oh yeah. The lasso. She leaned forward to reach around him. Her cheek fit into the space by his neck. She took a long draw of his scent and wanted nothing more than to nuzzle into his warm skin. He had stilled, sparking with the same awareness, but from this angle she’d peel the hide right off his hands with the knife. Regretfully, she stood and walked around the tree, then squatted to cut through the rope around his wrist.
“I didn’t expect you to show up,” she said.
“Showing up wasn’t in my plans.” The ropes fell away. With hands now free, Joel unwrapped the coils. “I would have preferred to stay hidden.”
“Me too. Nobody looked twice at me,” she said. “Reckon everyone’s so worried about their own disguise that they don’t look too hard at anyone else.”
Joel stood and pulled on the rope until he’d disentangled it completely from the tree. He wasn’t kidding when he said he admired the rope. Looked like he was going to take it with him.
Betsy bent to pick up her mask. “Let’s get going. They’re headed to Parrow’s cave. Scott thinks Bullard might have a hideout there. It’s an old bushwhacker camp. I can get you there quick.”
Joel caught her by the wrist. That bothersome longing had returned. It was so hard to stay focused when he was around.
“I told you there was something I wanted to do,” he said.
Betsy waved a hand his direction. “You were just trying to sweet-talk me into untying you. Thanks for the thought, but it really isn’t necessary. We need to hurry.”
“You risked a lot to save me, Betsy. And we can’t go until I say thank you.”
His deep, gray eyes were mesmerizing. Kissing him had been nice, but she was pretty sure there were stronger words than nice that he could evoke. A whole thesaurus full, if given half a chance.