Page 5 of The Outlaw and the Heir

"The Lord helps those who help themselves. You can pray all you want, but unless you're out there doing something, he can't do a thing for you," she said, reaching up to pat my cheek. It was sometimes strange to remember how big she had seemed, and now she barely came up to the bottom of my neck. I would never call her fragile, as the great strength I remember feeling from her as a child was still there, but?—

"I think you might've told me that a time or two. Or twenty," I said with a chuckle.

"And more," she said, a twinkle in her eye. "But maybe you should think about what your father said in a different way than I know you are."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, a legacy doesn't have to be what you think it is. It can be anything that leaves a mark with your name written at the bottom like those paintings Miss Elizabeth loves so much. My legacy could be something like seeing you grow up into the man you've become or the recipes I've slipped to the cook that you all eat like you're starving whenever they show up."

"Not sure that's what he means."

"And I remember you always complainin' that you never knew what your father was thinking or what he meant. Now you know all of a sudden?"

I could only shrug because, at the end of the day, we both knew I was the disappointment of the family and the one who had brought the most pain just from being born. My father had never seemed to know what to do with me, and now it was obvious that he was always going to want more from me than I could ever hope to give him.

I was wrong. Something inside me didn't fit in the way it did with my brother and sister. Maybe my birth had been a herald of things to come, or perhaps it was just the first in a long line of things that made me stand out from the rest of my family in the worst way. Whatever my father's original expectations for me, if there had been any at all, they’d been quickly pared down, and I would never attain even the sliver that was left.

Perhaps it was better that way. I could see how it had hardened my brother, made him sharper at the edges, and he’d lost some of his color and brightness. Now, the young boy who’d once known how to smile even with a temper that could be scary had become a man who was dismissive and cruel. Perhaps if I could live with the pain of being a disappointment, I might be able to hold ontosomethingof myself that was mine and mine alone.

"You're thinking those dangerous thoughts," she said, running a hand along the side of my head and beaming. "You're so handsome. It would be nice to see you settled down with a pretty girl and some pretty babies."

"But?" I asked, sensing the word at the end of the statement.

"But," she said with a wink. "I want you to be doing something that makesyouhappy. And if that don't mean a bride and children runnin' around, then so be it. God has a plan for everyone, and it ain't up to the rest of us to figure out what hisplan is for you. That's for you to find out. So if your heart is tellin' you something different, then by His will and grace, go out and find that thing and make it yours."

It was a nice idea, but there was no way anything of the sort would happen, and we both knew it, even if she was willing to play along with the idea for longer than I was. Still, it was nice to have at least one person completely in my corner, and I gave her a hug and a kiss atop her head in a rare show of affection. Thankfully, she was like my father in that regard and didn't need words to understand what was being said.

"Yes, yes," she said, patting me on the shoulder. "Go on now, get to work. Sounds like you've got a busy day ahead of you."

"Yes, ma'am," I said, knowing full well that as much as she hated hearing those words directed at her, a part of her also loved it. Hipolita had never had children of her own, and I suppose that, in many ways, I had been a fill-in for that in her life.

Not that I minded. It wasn't like I had anything in the way of a mother unless you counted that awful governess my father had brought in who had taught us or at leastattemptedto teach us everything she could. She hadn't been motherly, though more like the female version of my father's worst and hardest parts crammed into one person. It wasn't kind of me to say, but the accident that took her life had been one of the better days for me, and my hands still itched from the switch she used to crack across them whenever she thought I wasn't paying attention.

But Hipolita, a 'maid' in title, was so much more than that to me. Maybe the preacher in Rapture was right, and treating her not only as my equal but as someone greater than me would send me straight to the pits of Hell, but maybe some things in life were worth burning for eternity over.

"I'll check on you later," she said, pushing me toward the door.

Which I accepted as I stepped through and prepared myself for what should have been a day like any other.

Another smile slipped across my face as Bear emerged from the shade under the front porch, greeted me with a soft woof, and followed me.

SAMUEL

A bang woke me with a sudden jerk, and I watched as dust floated from the rafters overhead. The musty debris tickled my nose, forcing me to wrinkle it before I sneezed. The dry spot in my throat had grown since whenever I’d dozed off, but I knew there was no point in asking for water. It wouldn’t come until the mean bastard on the other side of the wall behind me felt like it.

Which wasn't all that often because I could feel the familiar sensation of my head trying to float off my neck. It made me almost mourn the sweat leaving my body as I sat on the hard-packed dirt, staring at the small window with bars and wondering how long I’d been asleep. There wasn't a lot of sunlight coming into the building, so I couldn't track the time very well. If I had to guess, it was only a few hours, but that was based on the ache in my back from sitting hunched against the wall. It was dull and growing, but considering it hadn't been what woke me up, I hadn't been there long.

My eyes drifted to my two companions in the cell, both as charming as they were ugly. They had taken the planks of wood that were supposed to be beds. I couldn't imagine they were any more comfortable, but at least they were off the floor. I wasn't worried about the dirt. I was filthy by the time I was dragged inhere anyway. I just didn't relish laying on the cool dirt where the bugs crawled.

One of them was still snoring away, doing an unconscious but incredible impression of a wounded bull. The other was facing me, one eye staring me down. To say that none of us were friends was putting it mildly. Yet despite our...vigorous scuffle on the first day, they had kept to themselves. Mostly because I’d managed to break one's nose, which hadn't done his looks any favors, and the other had been knocked even more stupid when he was thrown into the wall.

So, maybe they hated me, maybe they were afraid of me. Honestly, whatever kept them from giving me more trouble worked for me. Still, either of those motivations could make me a prime target for an attack from them, so it was best to sleep lightly, given that Broken Nose had been staring at me while I slept.

"Evenin'," I said to him, knowing it was downright stupid to prod a man I'd already hurt, but my mother had always been fond of telling me that my mouth liked to get ahead of my brain.

I wasn't surprised when his eyes narrowed, and his lip curled before he closed his eyes again. So either he wasn't worried about whatImight do to him, or he was just pretending to be asleep. It was pretty obvious that Knocked Stupid wasn't all that worried about either of us from the sounds of his snoring. What a merry trio we were.

Minutes passed before a large clang echoed through the stale air, and I smirked when Broken Nose visibly flinched. Apparently, he wasn't as casual about sleeping around me as he had made out. It wasn't like I hadn't jerked a little, but neither of them saw that, so I was still ahead. Knocked Stupid hadn't even twitched in his sleep, and now I wondered if it was from the knock on the head the other day or if he didn’t care. I kind of hoped it wasn't the first. I'd seen what could happen to peopleafter a bad bump, even a few days later. The guy was a bastard, but I didn't want to be responsible for him dying...not that I’d shed tears if someone else did it.

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