Carol Finch – The Ranger (страница 11)

Gritting his teeth in anticipation of another battle with the horses, Hawk forged ahead. Sure enough, the animals set their feet stubbornly when he urged them to scrabble downhill into Sundance Canyon.

Exasperated, Hawk glanced skyward. “Can’t at least one thing come easy tonight?”

Thunder boomed in the distance. Hawk was pretty sure that translated as no.

Shiloh didn’t realize how attuned she’d become to her surroundings until she noticed Hawk’s masculine silhouette outlined by a flash of lightning. She sagged in relief. At least she didn’t have to contend with a hungry predator or those bloodthirsty bandits on this dark and stormy night.

“Are the horses all right?” she called out as Hawk approached.

“You mean other than being perturbed at me for forcing them to become mountain goats? Yeah. They are tucked out of the rain…and now it’s your turn.”

Shiloh pushed away from the boulder and balanced on her right leg. She gasped in surprise when Hawk swooped down to pick her up. “Absolutely not!” she protested, squirming in his arms. “I can walk…well, limp at least.”

“I doubt you weigh more than a hundred pounds dripping wet,” he insisted as he carried her up the trail. “You’ll have to handle the difficult stretches of the path, but until then save your strength.”

Shiloh resented the fact that she was forced to put her life in a man’s hands. It went against the grain that she actually savored the security and comfort of being cradled against the solid wall of Hawk’s chest. She shouldn’t enjoy the feel of his sinewy arms encircling her.

Wasn’t it just last week that she’d made a pact with herself to avoid physical and emotional contact with men? And here she was, depending on this brawny Apache knight to provide for and protect her.

But this is a rare exception, she convinced herself. She was weak and injured—in unfamiliar terrain and turbulent weather. She would have offered aid and comfort to Hawk if the situation were reversed. When she was functioning at full capacity again she would be self-reliant and independent. Until then—

“Time to prove what you’re made of, Shi,” Hawk challenged, breaking into her thoughts. He set her carefully on her feet, but wrapped his hand around her elbow for support. “I’ll hoist you up beside me after I’m standing on the overhanging ledge.”

Shiloh watched him lever himself up and over the angular slab of stone, then extend his hand to her. She reluctantly reached out to him—and broke her promise of never depending on a man again.

She grimaced as she braced herself on her injured arm and skinned knees, but she did what she had to do to drag herself onto the rough slab of rock. She drew in a fortifying breath and mentally prepared herself to repeat the process twice more. When Hawk slid one arm around her waist and the other beneath her knees, she didn’t object.

Exertion made her light-headed. Worse, the blow to her skull caused bouts of nausea at unexpected moments—like now.

When she felt Hawk’s heartbeat pounding against her shoulder she squirmed for release so he could catch his breath. “Want me to carry you awhile?” she teased.

“Yeah, don’t know why I should have to do all the work,” he said between gasping spurts of breath. “Just because your ankle is swollen twice its normal size is no excuse for slacking off.” He tossed her a wry glance. “So tell me, how long do you plan to milk my sympathy? Until I have a stroke?”

“Yes. Then I will have repaid you for scaring two dozen years off my life and getting me into this predicament.”

Shiloh was relieved to realize that, thanks to Hawk’s teasing, she was regaining her playfulness and self-assurance. But of course, this wasn’t the same as following proper protocol at a social ball. She’d felt ill equipped to play the role of a Southern aristocrat in New Orleans. Yet, here on the edge of nowhere, where only the basic rules of survival applied, she didn’t have to be anyone except herself.

Hawk wasn’t a sophisticated suitor trying to make a grand impression on her—or vice versa. He was the competent companion who accompanied her from one misadventure to the next. They didn’t have the time or the need to put on airs. They had their hands full just trying to stay alive.

“Break’s over,” Hawk said before he scooped her up again.

Several minutes later Shiloh nearly squeezed the stuffing out of him in tense anxiety because he set her on her feet on the highest peak of Ghost Ridge. The wind buffeted her, threatening to launch her from her perilous perch. Dark though it was, she could see the spooky silhouettes of boulders that created eerie formations rising from the inky-black depths of the chasm. Her fear of height broadsided her and her heart leaped into triple time, making it difficult to breathe.

“I’ve got you,” Hawk whispered against the side of her neck. As reassurance, he tightened his grip on her waist. “In daylight this is an awe-inspiring view because you can see for miles. It’s little wonder that my people believe this is where the guardian spirits congregate to oversee the world.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” she said, keeping her eyes squeezed shut. “Can we get on with this before I lose what nerve I have left?”

“Just so you know, Shi, you’ve impressed the hell out of me,” he confided. “You’ve met every challenge like a trooper.”

“Not that I’ve had a choice,” she replied, begrudgingly pleased with his compliment. She forced herself to open her eyes and survey the dark precipice. “I appreciate the fact that you returned to rescue me. You’re still a man, of course, and I’ll continue to hold that against you,” she added wryly, “But I’m willing to overlook that basic flaw. For now.”

“You’ll be cursing me in the next breath,” he foretold. He gestured toward the drop-off that had unnerved the horses earlier. “You’ll have to put faith in me and leap into my arms, Shiloh. There’s no other way since you sprained your ankle.”

Shiloh swallowed uneasily when she glanced down where he pointed. Her stomach dropped twelve feet.

“This isn’t going to be one bit of fun,” she said.

Chapter Five

M orton DeVol swore foully when he slipped on the slick boulder and his rifle went flying. Everett Stiles reached out to lend a hand and pulled him upright.

“How the hell did that redskin son of a bitch get those horses so far up that slope?” Morton wondered aloud. “I don’t see him or the woman anywhere. Where’d they go?”

“Dunno,” Everett muttered as he anchored himself to a scraggly tree. “But he must know a way out of this pile of rocks.”

Morton braced his feet then swooped down to retrieve his rifle. “After we get back to camp and this rain lets up we’re gonna scout around to see what’s on the west side of this canyon. That Injun ain’t gonna get away with our money and live to tell about it. Neither is that woman.”

“You’ll hear no complaints from me,” Everett mumbled as he retraced the difficult route that led nowhere. “I was hopin’ they’d both fall and save us some trouble. Guess not.”

Forty-five minutes after Shiloh worked up the nerve to jump off the ledge and allow Hawk to catch her, he halted outside the cave tucked beside a tumble of monolithic boulders and scraggly junipers. This place had been a familiar haunt for Apache warriors that sought vision quests and communication with their guiding spirits.

Hawk had been through several initiation rituals at this site. He remembered the personal pride and sense of dedication he had experienced in those early years as a warrior.

But that had changed drastically, tragically, with the arrival of the army.

Deliberately, Hawk shook off the memories that transformed from good to bad. He grabbed his pistols from one of the saddlebags and focused on the dark entrance to the cavern. “Wait here. I’ll make sure the cave isn’t occupied by unfriendly varmints.”

The moment he ducked inside the overhang, he heard a faint rustling noise that put his well-honed senses on full alert. He hunkered down so he wouldn’t provide a large target then he inched toward the north wall where he had previously stockpiled torches, matches, campfire logs and eating utensils for emergency visits. Like this one.

Hawk groped for the box of matches, kept his trusty pistol handy, and then lit the torch. On full alert, he pointed his weapon toward the spot where he’d heard an unrecognizable noise. He tensed when he noticed the sprawled form lying beside the opposite wall.

A six-shooter was aimed right between his eyes.

“Damn, Hawk, am I ever glad to see you,” came the low, panting voice. “I can’t believe my luck.”

Hawk was on his feet in a single bound, rushing toward his injured brother. “Fletch, what the hell are you doing in Texas?” He squatted down on his haunches then gestured toward the bloody wound on Fletcher’s thigh. “Did you bring this with you from Colorado or pick it up when you got here?”

Fletcher grimaced as he propped himself against the wall. “I zigzagged the wrong way when I accidentally stumbled onto a gang of bandits, while I was tracking a fugitive into Texas,” he rasped in obvious pain. “That was two days ago.”