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

Chapter 11: Clara

After we'd finished eating, Jasper pulled out his handcuffs and with a wink slapped one side on my wrist, and the other on one of his.

"They won't stop me from killing you. I can drag your body around, I don't mind," I snapped.

He laughed, and lay down, resting his head on his saddlebags. I stared at him.

The fire burned heartedly beside me, Ares was curled up against my legs, snoring loudly. The horse, who I appropriately named Freedom, was also fast asleep after a long day.

I gazed upwards, at the stretch of stars, the dark sky. The air was filled with the fresh scent of sage and sand. There was something peaceful, something delicate about the dessert that I always loved. It seemed to breathe on its own, at night, it came alive, the scuttling for rodents, the squeaking of night birds.

Jasper was watching me.

"Are you going to sleep then?" he asked.

"I suppose," I grumbled.

He opened his arms up and winked, and I hated how much I wanted to curl up on his chest and sleep in his arms again. They look a lot more comfortable than the ground and my bundled up coat.

"Don't touch me," I grouched, just to say something off-putting.

He chuckled.

"I will touch you if I want to," he answered grabbing my waist and pulling me down next to him. I gasped in surprise; I really didn't expect him to be so insistent.

He carefully maneuvered me so that my hurt shoulder wasn't under any pressure and the wrist he'd shackled to his own, was cradled against my chest. His face buried into the back of my neck.

It was becoming very clear to me that he desired me. I was covered in dirt and blood, my chest bound, and injured, he somehow wanted me. But, what was confusing me was why he hadn't actually tried to have his way with me yet. Most men would have by now, lawmen were usually no exception.

But Jasper just held me tightly, his warm breath against the back of my neck, his strong arms wound around my body, it was almost like he wanted to protect me.

Even after trying to escape him twice. He just seemed determined to hold on to me. It was something that I knew I could use against him.

I twisted slightly in his arms, he squeezed me a little tighter, his free hand gripping my hip and pulling me against his side. I could just make out the outline of his face from my new position. The fire cast dark shadows, accentuating his sharp jaw, his throat, and his Adam apple bobbing slightly.

He was a very handsome man. I imagined he could have had his choice of girls to marry; he probably had to fight away the whores in the saloons.

I wondered, just for a moment, what it would be like to be his. Would he hold me every night, or would he be in the saloons drinking? Memories of George and I flashed through my mind. George had been a gentleman, smart, kind, but a drinker. A wonderful father. But he had never been a protector, he'd never been strong, he'd never been able to outsmart me, rip a rifle from my hands, and ride bareback behind me. He'd never made me feel the warmth I felt when Jasper wrapped me in my arms.

I had loved George, but it hadn't been passionate. Jasper held me with a passion, a passion to dominate perhaps. It was hard to tell, but it was clear that he did enjoy the game of cat and mouse we'd been playing. He enjoyed the chase, he enjoyed capturing me. He also enjoyed caring for me, making sure I wasn't freezing, and changing my bandages.

I was certain our relationship had moved beyond that of a prisoner and her captor. But where it was heading was confusing, and distracting. I had places to be, people to kill and I couldn't let Jasper get in the way of that. And I knew he would.