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

Chapter Six

Chapter Six

Evening came much too fast in Zachariah's opinion. Those lunatics had held him up and hindered his progress—but at least he'd found a nice clear wide spot in the river to camp beside and wash the trail dust off himself in the process.

Silver linings were there if you looked hard enough for them—trouble was Zachariah was often a bit blind and a bit lazy rolled all together.

Zachariah lay his gun belt and hat on a rock near the river's edge before slipping out of his clothes. The fading sunset felt good against his bare skin and so Zachariah simply spent several long seconds soaking the sensation in before stepping into the water.

The deepest pool in the middle of the river barely came to his hips but it still felt good to his aching muscles. Using the lye soap he'd had tucked into his saddlebags, Zachariah began to scrub away the dirt, grime and blood that a day on horseback and the mercantile scuffle had covered him in.

Crickets began to sound and frogs croaked. The sound of night owls reached his ears. Zachariah loved this time—when the daytime creatures and noises said goodbye and the night awakened.

With a growl, Zachariah realized his peace was going to be short lived. He could feel eyes on him. Without turning completely, Zachariah edged to the side and realized a man was laying on the grassy knoll only a hundred yards from his bathing spot.

He wished folks would just leave him the hell alone.

Zachariah figured he must have some scent lunatics were drawn too. That was the only explanation for the last few days and for a random man to simply be laying on top of a hill and watching him take a bath.

Keeping only the corner of his eye on the voyeur, Zachariah waited for his chance to move and then took it. He wasn't sure who the jackass was, or what he wanted, but he damn sure intended to find out.

***

Wyatt hadn't meant to end up lying flat on his belly, spying on Zachariah as he took a bath.

He truly hadn't.

He'd simply been wondering how best to approach the man and explain why he had been following him when he couldn't actually speak the words.

Then Zachariah had taken off all his clothes and Wyatt had been powerless against the urge to simply watch. Never in his life had Wyatt felt such an overwhelming longing and desire.

Zachariah had a thick, hard body, dotted with scars and lined with muscle. He moved with an unexpected grace given his size and power. The long black braid he seemed to keep hidden under his hat most of the time, hung down his broad back and grazed the top of his backside.

And damn, what a backside.

Wyatt was transfixed. Mesmerized. He gave no thought to whether it was right or wrong to spy on a person. He couldn't have looked away if he'd wanted to.

Except he did look away.

He looked away when a spider chose that moment to scurry across his arm. Wyatt very nearly screamed, leapt to his feet and took off running but he somehow managed to reign in his terror and simply shook his hand until the eight-legged terror was tossed off and dashed away.

Wyatt turned his eyes back to the river, eager to see more of Zachariah. He blinked once. Twice. Zachariah was gone.

He'd been there only moments before. Where could he have gone? His black horse was still grazing calmly and his clothes and belongings were still in the same place he'd left them.