An Outlaw's Silence (manxman)(second story in The Crane Gang series)

Chapter Two

Chapter Two

Wyatt was up before dawn and slipping unnoticed out of his room in the barn. It had been fixed up nice with all the things a man would need. Craig had one next to his but it was empty—he hadn't come home last night.

Wyatt hadn't slept a wink. His mind had been too focused on the stranger currently tied up in the line shack. Wyatt knew he'd be awake by now and probably real good and mad given his current situation.

Saddling his mare, Wyatt rode out across the fields. The air was still heavy with dew and mist swirled around his head. It took nearly an hour to reach to reach the shack and Wyatt hitched his mare alongside the gelding.

Wyatt drew his shot gun and listened closely for any noise coming from inside. All seemed quiet. It was time to go on in and get the answers he needed. Opening the door, Wyatt stepped into the dimly lit shack.

"You better get to untying me, you no good son of a whore."

Wyatt's eyes widened at the insult and he strode toward the cot and smacked the restrained man roughly on the side of the head. His mama had most definitely not been a whore.

"If you have any sense at all you'll untie me," the man growled, his deep voice rumbling over his firm lips.

Wyatt had to admit that in the early morning light shining through the window, the man was rather handsome—in a scarred up, dangerous, deadly kind of way.

Realizing the man posed no threat in his current situation, Wyatt holstered his shot gun and pulled the rickety chair closer to the cot. "What the hell are you doing?" the man grunted as Wyatt pulled his notebook from his pocket.

He flashed the man a smile which had his gray eyes widening, and then began to jot down words with his pencil. 'Who ar you? Wy ar you heer?'

Wyatt held the paper up for the man to see and he only growled deeper and struggled to readjust himself on the cot. "What the hell is that? Why don't you go ahead speak up?"

Wyatt rolled his eyes. He pointed to his throat, then to his mouth and shook his head.

The man's brow furrowed up as he frowned. "You can't speak?"

Again Wyatt shook his head.

"Well that's just fine and dandy. How about you just let me go now and I'll be on my damned way. Can't believe I got caught by a damn boy anyhow... won't happen again. Wouldn't have happened the first time if I hadn't had a face full of dust making me sneeze."

Wyatt scoffed at hearing the term 'boy'. He was a twenty year old man, not some boy. He pointed to the shack, then to himself, then back to the man and shrugged.

A thick black brow quirked upward and those gray eyes, quite sharp and hard, narrowed as they studied him. "Is this your land?" Wyatt nodded. "And I suppose you're wondering what I'm doing on it?" Another nod. The man shook his head. "That's my business and not yours. Now let me go before I decide to kill you for the trouble you've caused me."

Wyatt laughed silently. His captive sure was a cocky bastard. Last time Wyatt checked it was him who had a gun. Wyatt pointed to himself and squared his shoulders.

The man glared. His scarred face and stormy eyes full of nothing but contempt as he lay on his side and stared hard at Wyatt. "Let me go, boy."

Wyatt held up the notebook again and tapped the page. The man simply grunted and looked away. Wyatt rolled his eyes. Stubbornness was an irritating trait.