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

Chapter Ten

Chapter Ten

Wyatt attempted to roll the tension from his rigid shoulders and he walked back into camp. What was he going to say? He felt as if his emotions were going haywire. First he'd been confused by Zachariah's statement about seeing him without close—then he'd been aroused by the memory. He'd been frightened for Zachariah's life when those men had arrived and amused at how easily the three would-be thieves had died.

And then it had happened. Zachariah had asked a question that Wyatt couldn't answer.

Why hadn't he thought of that? Why hadn't Wyatt thought about his, and his families, need for secrecy before he'd agreed to ride off with a stranger?

He wanted to trust Zachariah—hell, for the most part he did. Which, honestly, said quite a bit since Wyatt wasn't the trusting kind. But could he trust Zachariah, a retired bounty hunter, with the truth of who he was? Of who his family was?

Wyatt owed Zachariah. The man had rushed in to help him when he hadn't had to and Wyatt had volunteered to help him get his sister back—he couldn't go back on that now.

But how could he tell Zachariah that he couldn't tell him anything about himself or his life? Zachariah was sure to want rid of him if Wyatt wasn't honest. Would Zachariah try to kill him? Wyatt didn't think so. But Wyatt also didn't want to be forced to leave and return home.

Riding with Zachariah simply felt right.

Wyatt had missed life being so open—so free. He had missed sleeping under the stars and riding in the sunlight. Wyatt had always—even with his family—felt as if he were somewhat on the outside looking in. It hadn't been their fault. Jeb, Craig and the others had always treated him as if he were their brother. No, it had been something within his own heart that had made him feel different.

But he didn't feel that when he rode beside Zachariah. Zachariah didn't seem bothered by the quiet. Zachariah didn't get annoyed when Wyatt had trouble getting a point across. For some unknown reason, Zachariah made Wyatt feel the acceptance that his family had been trying to forever.

Wyatt didn't want to lose that.

The bodies were gone when Wyatt returned to the fire and Zachariah was cooking beans while peeling potatoes. He glanced up at Wyatt when he approached and his gray eyes narrowed. "You gonna tell me who shot you?"

Wyatt shook his head as he sat down. Zachariah growled under his breath and returned his attention to the tomato in his large, gnarled hand. "Will you tell me why he shot you?"

Again Wyatt shook his head. He watched as Zachariah's scarred and calloused hands, sliced up the potato and tossed the pieces into the heated grease in the cast iron skillet.

Wyatt wondered what was going on in Zachariah's mind as the silenced stretched on. Finally Zachariah met his gaze and Wyatt felt his hands shake and his mouth suddenly dry up. The intensity in Zachariah's gray eyes was.......breathtaking.

"Will you answer what question for me then since you won't tell me who or why?"

Wyatt attempted to swallow, though he was so dry his tongue felt as if it were three times its normal size. He raised his shoulder slightly.

Zachariah tongue slid across his bottom lip and Wyatt's eyes followed the movement from across the fire. "Is the son of a bitch dead?"

Wyatt nodded slowly. Zachariah seemed satisfied by that answer at least as he stirred the potatoes and relaxed a bit. "That's good." He met Wyatt's gaze again and again Wyatt found it hard to breathe. "You know you can trust me, right?"