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

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Sixteen

Wyatt's worry for Zachariah grew after they laid the woman to rest in her shallow grave. The man had been on his horse and ready leave within moments.

He had become a man possessed. Possessed with getting to the Sante Fe Trail and finding Clint.

He avoided any conversation and even seemed to be avoiding Wyatt. He had stopped speaking of saving Eleanor when he did choose to say anything and instead only talked about how he would make Clint pay.

Wyatt knew that the woman's suicide and the words in her note had convinced Zachariah that they would be too late to save Eleanor from a similar fate.

"Do you think you could talk your man into letting us have a day to rest?" Craig whimpered as he slid out of his saddle one evening. They'd been riding hard for just over a week and everyone was wearing down. "I need rest and our horses are damn near spent."

Wyatt sighed as he patted his Appaloosa. She had put on a bit of weight and wasn't quite as skittish as she'd been before. But Wyatt knew she was tired and her attitude was showing it. She'd been cranky all day.

From the corner of his eye Wyatt watched Zachariah head toward an outcropping of rocks in the distance. Zachariah had taken to staying away from him and Craig when they camped at night. So far Wyatt had respected his privacy and given him space but that was ending tonight.

Zachariah was too closed off and too full of anger. If they encountered danger just now, Zachariah wouldn't meet it with a clear or level head and Wyatt didn't want to watch him get himself killed.

'I'll talk to him,' Wyatt promised. 'Unsaddle her and feed her while I'm busy.'

Craig shook his head. "Hell no! That horse is off in her head. She hates me."

Wyatt shrugged and a smile spread across his face. 'You're the ladies man You'll figure out how to talk to her.'

Leaving Craig muttering oaths and curses under his breath, Wyatt followed after Zachariah. Darkness was already falling fast when Wyatt found him sitting upon the rocks. His shoulders were slumped and his face was a solemn mask. He looked much like a lost man.

A defeated man.

Wyatt ran to him. He scrambled onto Zachariah's lap, put his arms around his neck and buried his face in his shoulder; desperate to give the man all the comfort he could.

Instantly, Zachariah's arms ensnared him, pulling him closer still. Wyatt felt a tender kiss be placed on his head and his heart began to flip and flop in his chest.

"I'm sorry," Zachariah whispered.

Wyatt lifted his head. 'For what?'

"For not helping you. You've been hurting and I haven't been there."

'You're hurting too. I let you have space because I thought that's what you needed.'

"I did," Zachariah agreed. "But you needed affection and I denied you that."

Wyatt smiled and shook his head. 'I'm strong. You needed space and I gave you that. But now I'm taking it back.'

Zachariah chuckled and tightened his hold. "You are something else, Wyatt. I can't for the life of me, figure out why everyone worries about you so much. You're more than capable of taking care of things."