Lydia

One

It hadn't taken Nick very long to track down Jakeson – which was the only name the outlaw used – and now that he had the filthy man, he wasn't about to let him go. The Pinkerton Agency wanted Jakeson because of the many trains he'd robbed in the last seven years. Thankfully, none of the passengers on the train had been killed. However, many had been injured. As a Pinkerton agent, Nick would make sure Jakeson didn't harm another person ever again.

It surprised Nick that Jakeson dressed so grubby and smelled as though he'd been rolling with the pigs, especially for a man who had stolen money and women's expensive jewels. Wouldn't the outlaw want to dress better or at least smell better? Now Nick wondered what the stolen money had been used on.

"Don't be a fool, Jakeson," Nick warned. "I'm a quick-draw, and I'll shoot you before your hand even touches the butt of the gun."

Jakeson's scowl darkened. "I'm not afraid of ya. I've slipped away from other Pinkerton agents, and I'll get away from ye just as fast."

Indeed, the man was a fool. "If you come along with me without putting up a fight, I assure you, the judge will be more lenient with your sentence."

"Don't try usin' yer big words on me. I'm never gonna let ya take me."

Nick shrugged. "Then I guess I'll just shoot you now instead of trying to talk some sense into your tiny brain."

In a flash, Nick took hold of his gun and pointed it at the outlaw. Just as Nick had warned the other man, there was no way the outlaw was faster. Jakeson's eyes widened, and Nick was privileged to see the panic on the man's face.

"Hold up your hands where I can see them," Nick demanded. "And walk slowly toward me so that I can slap these cuffs on your wrists. The other agents may have let you slip through their fingers, but I promise you, I'll not make the same mistake."

Jakeson's scowl deepened the lines across his face. He appeared to be in his late forties only because of the salt and pepper-toned hair. "Don't get too cocky, Agent Drake."

"I'm not cocky." Nick arched an eyebrow. "I'm confident."

Jakeson chuckled and lifted his hands as Nick requested. "No, yer cocky, just like the other agents. Ya see, that's how I can get away so easily. Y'all are so sure of yerself, ya don't think I'm smart enough to make a plan, but I am." He nodded. "I'm smarter than ya realize."

"Sounds to me, Jakeson, that you are the cocky one." Nick motioned with his pistol. "Now, slowly, start walking toward me and keep your hands up where I can see them."

Jakeson's lip curled as he took slow steps toward Nick. This outlaw could not be trusted, and Nick wouldn't believe a word the man said, even if he was choking to death and begged for help.

A small amount of light peeked in the horizon as the sun began to rise. There were still many shadows, but at least it wasn't as many as a few minutes ago. Still, Nick was cautious as he kept his eye on the outlaw.

The middle-aged man took his time coming toward Nick, and his finger rested on the trigger just in case the fool tried something. The man's straggly long hair hung in his face, and from what Nick could tell, pock-marks and scars were very prominent no matter how long his hair was.

Nick carefully withdrew the handcuffs from his belt, not taking his attention from the outlaw. After turning Jakeson into the sheriff, Nick thought about asking his supervisor for another case. Keeping his mind busy was exactly what he needed at this time in his life. He needed a difficult case that would take him out of Montana and far away from her.