Chapter Five
Josie couldn’t believe how far she had run.
Wow.
Samuel stirred beside her, his tiny hand curled against the pillow, his breaths slow and steady. She smiled at him. She had to be grateful for something. They were safe. At least, for now.
She exhaled, sitting up carefully so she wouldn’t wake him. The past twenty-four hours had been a lot to take in—running in the middle of the night out of Lockhart, collapsing in the dirt on some stranger’s property.
Cash Montgomery.
She still wasn’t sure what to make of him. He was rough around the edges, and too brusque for her liking, but something about how he kept trying to help her made her feel… at ease.
He was stoic. Hard to read. But he seemed to care about people. He wouldn’t have done half so much for her otherwise.
She could decide whether he was stupid, arrogant, or just plain reckless—but it was pretty clear that he wasn’t stupid or arrogant.
She wasn’t too sure yet about the recklessness, but she decided not to question his motives. For the first time in a while, she felt like she might not be alone in this. She got the feeling that if Randall Pierce showed up on this man’s property, he’d quickly be taken care of.
But that didn’t mean she could stay.
She needed a plan. She couldn’t use this stranger and his brothers as shields against Randall. She couldn’t make trouble for these boys. They’d already done enough for her.
She swung her legs over the side of the bed, stretching the stiffness right out of her limbs.
I could look for a job. Maybe she could find work as a seamstress somewhere in Austin—anywhere in town—long enough to get some money saved, but not too long that Randall would catch up to her. Maybe she could get a new name, and get Samuel one, too.
She rubbed her sweaty hands over her face, her mind racing as it had been since she left. One thing was for sure: she couldn’t afford to get too comfortable.
Then the first gunshot sounded.
Josie froze.
Another shot. Shouting.
He found us.
Her heart slammed against her ribs. She grabbed Samuel instinctively, clutching him to her chest as fear clawed up her spine and into her head, causing it to pound.
Heavy footsteps thudded the ground outside, followed by more voices, deeper, angrier.
Randall.
Josie could almost hear his sneering voice, the way he used to taunt Amelia. The way he’d grab her and throw her around. He had even grabbed Josie once, after she’d pulled her sister away from him. A way to “teach her a lesson.”
He’d found her again He always would.
Terror gripped her so tightly that it practically strangled her. She couldn’t breathe. Samuel began to cry. Not just a small whimper like the last time. A full-blown, wailing cry.
She had to hide them both—herself, and her crying baby. Quickly she darted across the small room, scanning for a place to tuck herself and Samuel away, somewhere that would stifle his cries.
The closet was too small. The bed was too obvious. Her eyes flicked everywhere, and soon landed on a wooden chest outside the bedroom, at the far end of the hall.
She hurried out of the room and into the chest, quickly easing the lid open just enough to see inside. Empty except for a couple of quilts. She lowered herself and Samuel carefully inside.
His cries were still loud. Too loud. “Shhh…” She tried to soothe him as she climbed in next to him, pulling the lid down until only a crack was left for air, holding it as steady as she could. Her pulse roared in her ears as she tried to listen.
She couldn’t tell what was happening, what anyone was saying. All she could hear was shouting. Horses’ whinnies. The deep timbre of voices clashing, like a heated debate was going on. She barely dared to breathe.
He can’t find me. Please… he can’t find me.
Then—a loud bang from the front of the house, against what she could only assume was the front door. Her eyes slammed shut.
Don’t panic. Don’t panic. She knew better than to make a sound.
Then footsteps stormed inside. Heavy, angry footsteps. A man.
They were getting quickly louder—closer.
No, no, no—
“Miss Tate?”
The voice was rough, impatient. But it wasn’t Randall. It sounded like Cash Montgomery.
Josie didn’t move. She couldn’t let herself feel relief. Not yet.
“Miss Tate, dang it, where in the world are you?”
She peered through the narrow opening of the lid and saw the man’s legs thundering toward her. Suddenly, the lid flew open, and Josie flinched, curling tighter around Samuel with a gasp as light flooded in.
Mr. Montgomery cursed under his breath, mouth curled in a scowl, cheeks flushed red. “What in tarnation are you doin’ in there?”
Josie stared up at him, still frozen in fear. Can I trust him? What kind of place was this, when there were gunfights during the day?
Cash must’ve seen the fear in her eyes. His scowl lessened slightly. “You don’t gotta be worried. This ain’t got nothin’ to do with you,” he said flatly.
“It’s not Rand—?” But Josie caught herself mid-question before the name slipped out. As terrified as she was, she didn’t want to explain.
“Rand?” Mr. Montgomery’s frown deepened. “Who…?”
Josie’s throat worked, but no sound came out.
“Never mind.” He sighed, running a dirty hand over his sweat-soaked face. A smear of grime was on his cheek, and he wiped some of it off on the sleeve of his gray shirt. “I dunno who Rand is, but this ain’t him. It’s Remington.”
Josie blinked. Who’s Remington?
Mr. Montgomery shook his head and reached into the chest. “Come on out of there,” he said, offering his hand to her.
She hesitated, eyes flicking from his hand to his face, before accepting and letting him pull her up, Samuel still clutched tightly in her arms. Despite Cash’s explanation, she half-expected to hear Randall’s voice at any second.
“Who—” Her voice cracked. She swallowed and tried again. “Who is Remington?”
Cash exhaled sharply. “Grayson Remington. A man with too much money and not enough sense. And a whole gang behind him.”
That wasn’t exactly reassuring—and it didn’t answer Josie’s question about what was happening outside. “What does he want?” she asked.
His jaw ticked. “The ranch.”
Samuel let out a whimper. Suddenly, Mr. Montgomery leaned forward unexpectedly, and Josie’s breath hitched. Their faces were just inches from one another now as he leaned down to smooth a gentle hand over Samuel’s forehead.
Josie could feel his warm breath on her forehead, and a shiver rolled down her body.
Her eyes closed involuntarily for a moment, but she cleared her throat and shook away the strange feelings. “And—and he’s attacking you for it?” she asked, still confused.
Mr. Montgomery shrugged, as if this was all just a normal incident.
She stared at him in shock. “Does he attack you often?”
He sighed and gestured toward the window. “They ain’t shooting at us—just making a show. Trying to scare us. Trying to make threats. Remington likes to rattle cages. He’ll be gone soon, though.”
Josie swallowed hard, still gripping Samuel for dear life.
Cash Montgomery exhaled sharply. “You don’t have to be scared. That’s why I came in. I figured you might be.”
That was an understatement. But she had been scared for so long. It was almost constant, like a quiet undercurrent in the back of her mind. She was… used to it, in a way
She flinched a little as Mr. Montgomery reached out, but stilled as his hand resting lightly on her shoulder. It was an odd comfort… his presence.
“I won’t let anything happen to you or your son,” he said simply, before drawing back his hand.
Josie wasn’t sure why—whether it was the look in his eyes, or the tone of his voice—but for some reason, she believed him. A shuddering breath escaped her, and her heartbeat started to slow as her breathing finally steadied out.
She was settling. Calming down.
The ruckus was still going on outside, but there was something in this man’s eyes that told her to stay calm, that made her feel almost… safe.
Mr. Montgomery must have seen the change on her face, because the corner of his lips pulled into a half-smile, and he nodded. “Come on,” he said, leading her toward her bedroom. “Let’s sit down.”
There was something about the way he said it.
Normally, she’d resist the idea of talking in close quarters with a man she didn’t know and didn’t fully trust—especially a man who had been brusque with her as he had been at first. But there was no reason to fight this time. It was a gentle suggestion.
She followed him back to her room and let herself sink down onto the bed, nestling Samuel close to her breast. At least this time, his words felt like suggestions, even if they weren’t really.
Mr. Montgomery settled into the rocking chair in the corner, keeping a respectful distance. “My mother always said to take deep breaths when you’re anxious,” he said quietly, some quieter emotion starting to play in his eyes.
Josie was almost taken aback. She looked at him curiously.
His mother? He was talking about his mother? When she opened her mouth to speak, she realized just how sore her throat was. And then when she realized that—she realized how chapped her cheeks were, too.
Chapped from tears.
Was I crying? Her face flushed hot, and she wiped beneath each eye with a free hand.
Cash pulled up the rocking chair, closer to the bed, and she smiled faintly, appreciating the gesture. The noise outside was already fading, shouts turning to muffled voices, and the thunderous sound of hooves growing more and more faint.
She leaned back against the headboard wearily. “This happens often?”
Mr. Montgomery huffed a quiet laugh. “More than I’d like.”
She turned her gaze to his face, to study him a bit. “And you’re just used to it?”
“Used to a lot of things.”
She wasn’t sure what that meant, but she didn’t press. She’d hope for the same courtesy, in all honesty. She hated when people pried, and he hadn’t done it so far, but she wasn’t sure how much longer that might go on.
Maybe if I don’t ask questions, he won’t ask questions, either.
The quiet stretched between them, not stiff but not entirely comfortable, either. Mr. Montgomery looked down at his hands, lacing his fingers together.
Watching him, Josie felt a faint twinge of guilt. She hadn’t told him anything, even after all he’d shared with her already. After how generous he’d been.
Should I say something? …Explain why I was hiding? She turned her gaze away and ran a finger along Samuel’s cheek, musing at the perfect bundle in her arms. It didn’t matter who his father was.
“About what I said earlier… I was going to say Randall,” she admitted, her breath heavy.
She felt Mr. Montgomery’s eyes on her, but she didn’t dare look up at him.
“Who is Randall?” he asked.
Josie dipped her head toward Samuel. “Randall Pierce. His father…” She inhaled deeply and shook her head. “I thought it was him who had come here. He’s… looking for us.”
“I take it that… his father… isn’t a good man?” he asked, almost knowingly.
He probably thinks Randall is my husband. Well, it didn’t matter. What mattered was that Randall Pierce was dangerous, and Samuel couldn’t fall into his grasp.
“He’s the worst kind of man,” Josie said shakily, her fear mounting the more she thought about him. “And it’s only a matter of time before he finds us.”
She could feel Mr. Montgomery tense even though he was a foot or two away. “Not if I have anything to do with it,” he said in a low voice.
She looked at him again—really looked at him.
For all his roughness, there was something more to him than just his physical presence. There was an emotional weight. She just couldn’t tell exactly what it was. There was something about Cash Montgomery, something that made her want to believe him.
Maybe, for the first time in a long time, she wanted to believe in someone else… but she wasn’t sure she could afford to.