CHAPTER THREE Skin and Steel #4
“He’d been shot twice. Once through the stomach. Once through the back. He told me Harrow had the deeds and the ledger, but not his complete field notes. Said he hid them where Harrow’s men wouldn’t look.”
“Where?”
“He died before he could tell me.”
“What did you do?”
“I held him.”
The answer was quiet.
Gideon’s skepticism remained. So did the evidence against Jude. But disbelief became harder while watching the man speak from a place too damaged for performance.
Jude swallowed.
“When the riders returned, I used my rifle. Killed one. Wounded another. They drove me out before I could take Noah’s body.”
“The witnesses said they saw you flee.”
“They saw a man riding my horse and wearing my coat.”
“And your rifle remained beside the bodies.”
“I lost it in the fight.”
“How convenient.”
Jude’s gaze struck him.
The cave seemed to cool.
“You asked,” Jude said. “I answered.”
“I have five dead men, three witnesses, your rifle, and a threat you made against Harrow in front of half of Red Mesa.”
“Harrow had Noah killed.”
“Can you prove it?”
“Get me to Santa Reina.”
“That is not proof.”
“No. It is the reason proof matters.”
Gideon stood too quickly.
Pain tore beneath his bandage. He braced one hand against the wall.
Jude moved with him, drawn forward by the cuff.
“You don’t believe me,” Jude said.
“I believe someone wants you dead.”
“That is safer than believing why.”
“I believe Rusk tortured a federal prisoner. I believe Harrow’s men knew our route. I believe Marshal Cutter’s silver button was on a dead gunman in Salt Knife Canyon.”
“But not me.”
“I have known you less than a day.”
“And still put your hands on me like you know exactly where I hurt.”
The words landed in the narrow space between them.
Gideon looked at Jude’s open shirt, at the bandage he had tied around his side, at the chest he had watched rise beneath his palm.
“That is medicine,” Gideon said.
Jude’s mouth curved without humor. “Call it whatever lets you sleep.”
Gideon stepped away.
The chain pulled them both to a stop.
He looked down at the steel connecting them.
Jude did too.
The ankle irons remained around Jude’s boots, linked by less than two feet of chain. Gideon had put them there because he understood metal better than uncertainty.
Now, inside the cave, their absurdity became obvious.
Jude had held a loaded revolver during the ambush.
He had returned it.
He had been offered open desert.
He had dragged Gideon behind cover.
He had knelt between Gideon’s legs with a knife, a gun, and Gideon’s bare throat within reach.
He had used none of them against him.
Gideon reached beneath the waistband of his trousers.
Jude’s eyebrows rose. “Marshal.”
“Be quiet.”
“You choose remarkable moments to become adventurous.”
Gideon found the thread sewn into the inner seam. He hooked it with one fingernail and pulled until the stitches broke.
A small iron key dropped into his palm.
Jude stared at it.
“Emergency key?”
“A man who carries prisoners should never rely on one.”
“Where was the usual key?”
“In my coat when Bishop fell. Gone now.”
“And you’ve had that one against your skin this whole time?”
“Yes.”
Jude looked from the key to Gideon’s face. “You conceal an unusual number of things beneath your clothes.”
Gideon ignored him and knelt at Jude’s feet.
He unlocked the first ankle cuff.
Steel opened around Jude’s boot.
The second followed.
Gideon removed the connecting chain and set it on the sand.
Jude looked at his freed legs.
The teasing left his face.
“You understand what you’re doing?” he asked.
“I’m removing the irons.”
“You’re giving me enough movement to take your weapon.”
“It’s on the other side of me.”
“I could take your knife.”
“You already did.”
“I could kill you while you sleep.”
Gideon looked up at him.
“You could have killed me while I was awake.”
Their gazes held.
The low fire breathed between them.
Jude slowly extended one leg, then the other. He rubbed the places where iron had marked his boots.
“You’re leaving the wrist cuff,” he said.
“Yes.”
“Still not trust, then.”
“Not yet.”
Jude lifted their connected hands. The chain drew Gideon closer.
“Honest answer.”
“You said that was what you needed.”
Jude studied him for a long moment.
Then he released the chain.
They ate half the dried beef and divided one cup of water.
Gideon swallowed three mouthfuls. Jude took two until Gideon ordered him to finish his share. Neither mentioned the possibility that the canteen would be empty before morning.
The fire died.
Moonlight entered through the cave mouth and stretched across the sand. Without the flame, cold settled rapidly against their skin.
Jude helped Gideon back into his torn shirt. The left sleeve remained split, so Jude wrapped the loose fabric around Gideon’s forearm and tied it with a strip of linen. He replaced the suspenders but left the gun belt beside Gideon.
The coat became their blanket.
Gideon positioned himself against the wall near the rear of the cave. Jude sat at the entrance, looking out over the moonlit desert. The six-inch chain between them made the arrangement impossible.
“You need to come closer,” Gideon said.