Authors: Sarah McCarty
He was almost upon her. She lay flat in the water and wiggled under the thick roots. One snagged on her dress. She drowned her scream in the water, inhaling liquid on the next uncontrollable gasp. The need to cough strangled in her chest. She buried her face in her arm, trying to control her breathing, her panic, utterly convinced that this time James would win, because it had to be James who’d sent whomever had fired that shot.
The splash of his horse’s hooves hitting the creek jerked a yelp to her throat. She bit her tongue until the coppery taste of blood filled her mouth. Soundlessly she maneuvered herself into the undercut along the bank. There was another splash and another. Hoofbeats. He was looking for her. Her heart thundered in her ears. Her body quaked as if with fever, and her teeth…Oh, God! Her molars were chattering loud enough anyone could hear. She shoved the base of her thumb between her teeth, submerged everything but her head in deeper water. She had no weapon, no defenses. She was so cold she doubted she could run even if she needed to. The splashes came closer, a shade faster. Did he see her? Did he know where she hid?
The next splash was just to the right of her spot. There wasn’t another. He was waiting there. Why? She strained, but the only discernible sound was the pounding of her heart and the rush of the water.
Wind blew ripples over the slower eddy where she lay. Something slid across leather. The familiar sound of a rifle clearing its scabbard. She cringed waiting on the bullet. Would it hurt? Then she heard what he must have—the rapid tattoo of hoofbeats coming fast. Caine.
She willed the man to flee.
Run! Run damn you!
The horse shifted but didn’t move. Again, why? She forced herself to concentrate, trying to remember the lay of the land. The bank was high on this side. Maybe high enough to hide a man with a gun. Maybe high enough to give him a shot. This time Caine’s name screamed in her mind for a different reason. She felt around with her hand in the water and found a stone. She bit her lip as she gouged it free of its bed. Tears poured down her cheeks as agony shot up her arm. Staying low, she drifted with the current to the far side of the root system.
Please, give me enough time.
She didn’t know why she prayed. She’d long since stopped believing God heard her. She knelt in the stream, her muscles sluggish with cold. The man was between her and the setting sun, nothing more than a black silhouette. A target. The thunder of hoofbeats throbbed in her ears, in her blood, finding her rage, bringing it to the fore. The silhouette brought up its arm. The long line of the rifle barrel lifted, pointed.
Desi drew a deep breath, held it and then released it on a bloodcurdling scream. “Caine, watch out!”
She threw the rock, hitting the horse on the hindquarters. The man swore as he brought the startled horse under control. He turned and brought the rifle up again, pointing it at her. She stumbled on the uneven streambed and fell. Rifle shots exploded in a cacophony of death as a Comanche yell tore through the air. Another followed. More shots. Little plunks of water sprayed up around her as she lay in the creek. And then…nothing.
She collapsed, waiting for one of the bullets to find her, not really caring anymore, her energy sapped, her bravery gone. She was just so damn tired of trying. Something heavy landed in the water ahead. The stranger. She tried to push to her feet, got as far as her hands and knees, but could go no farther. All she could do was kneel there and sway. More splashes, curses, and then boots hit the water in front of her, splashing her face with an icy spray. She was too far gone to flinch.
“Desi?”
Arms came around her, lifted her. Her name came more urgently. “Desi!”
She just hung there and shook. Her body aching, her soul withering. James would never let her go. She’d never be free. There was no place she’d be safe.
Caine swung her up in his arms, carrying her past Tracker, who was preparing to drag the dead man out of the creek. Her attacker didn’t look so big lying there in the water, bloody trails flowing outward from his corpse, gathering on the edges of the lingering ice before slipping beneath. She couldn’t take her eyes from the sight as shudders shook her from head to toe, coming so fast and hard they rocked her like convulsions. Caine lay her on the cold ground. She wanted to reach for him but her arms wouldn’t work. He ran his hands down her arms, her ribs, her legs, efficiently probing her flesh, looking for broken bones.
“She hurt?” Sam asked, shrugging out of his coat.
Caine’s expression was grim as he gently rotated her ankle. “I don’t know. There’s blood on her dress.”
There was?
She had to think on that. It took her four tries to get the words out. “L…Lily.”
“Ed’s gone after her.” Tucker dropped his coat beside her as Caine stripped hers off.
The wind cut through her like a knife.
“Goddamn it!” Caine grabbed the neck of her dress, tore it down the middle. He touched a bruise on her shoulder as Tucker turned his back. Face still grim, mouth pressed tight, Caine wrapped her in Sam’s coat. It cocooned her. Before she could thank him, he was shrugging out of his, wrapping it tightly around her legs, immobilizing her. She worked her arm into a sleeve. There was no hope for the second one. She couldn’t find the armhole and she was too stiff from cold to twist and search for it.
“Caine?”
“Don’t fucking say a word.”
If she could have, she would slapped him. She hadn’t asked for this. “You’re…the one…who insisted…I…learn to ride.”
His mouth twisted. “So I did.”
“I think what Caine’s trying to say right now is he just had the shit scared out of him and he needs a few minutes.”
Desi glanced at Tracker as he strode over, sliding his gun back into its holster.
“Like hell,” Caine grunted, lifting her. “I’m pissed as hell that she risked herself like that.”
She worked her hand out of the coat and patted his hand. “Would have…shot you.”
The set of his jaw got even harder. “Better me than you.”
Not in her book. Tracker looked between the two of them. The corner of his mouth twitched.
“You all can settle this little tiff when you get home.” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “Right now, I need to know what you want me to do with our friend.”
“Anything on him?”
“Nothing.”
“Do you recognize him?”
“Yeah. He’s one of our newer hands, Drake Carpenter.”
Caine hefted her up into the saddle. “Son of a bitch.”
Desi clutched the horn, terror rising anew as the horse stomped his foot. In a second Caine was behind her. “I’ve got you, Gypsy.”
His arm came around her waist and the fear that had been eating her alive started to fade. He did have her. Hard and secure. She felt his shiver as the wind kicked up. More guilt piled onto the load she already felt.
“How’d he get hired on?” Caine asked, hitching her up so she half sat on his thighs.
“He was a recommend of the padre. Said his family had fallen on hard times.”
“When Ed brings his body in, have it sent home to his family.” A few seconds passed. Caine pulled her tighter against him. “How many more do we have like that?”
“Three or four,” Tucker said, vaulting into his saddle with that easy way he had. He glanced at her and then Caine. “I’ll see them off Hell’s Eight land come morning.”
“Do that.”
Despite herself, Desi’s gaze was drawn to the body lying facedown on the bank.
“Do you know him?” Caine asked.
“No.” But she bet James knew a hundred more he could send after her. Another shudder took her. Caine mistook its cause. “We’ll be home in a bit.”
“No…rush.”
“Not too anxious to try galloping again?” Tracker asked, bringing his horse up alongside.
This shiver had nothing to do with the cold. “No.”
Tucker laughed. “Can’t say that I blame you, but you sure did stick like a burr there for a bit.”
Desi pulled the collar of the too big jacket down so she could see him. “I did…good, didn’t I?”
“Right up until you came out of hiding, you did damn good.” Caine’s hand opened over her stomach, pressing her back against him. “Used your head and stayed safe until help came.” His fingers curled into her abdomen with unconscious strength. “But then you went and lost all common sense.”
The collar poked her in the eye when she tilted her head back. She shoved it aside to find him frowning down at her. “I didn’t think…you saw him.”
At least the shudders were beginning to abate.
“I’m a Texas Ranger.”
“What does that have to do with…anything?”
“It means I didn’t need to see him. I know a bad situation when I see it.”
So did she and this was a very bad situation. Tucker and Tracker took up positions on either side, rifle butts braced on their thighs. She wrapped her fingers around the saddle horn and let the lapel bunch back up, holding the shivers back so no one could mistake how serious she was. “And this is very bad.”
“What is?”
“I can’t stay here anymore.”
Caine’s grip tightened. “You’ve got nowhere else to go.”
It didn’t matter. “James can get to me here.”
“He won’t catch us with our pants down again,” Tracker interjected.
The sick fear didn’t leave her gut. “He shot Lily.”
“Ed will take care of her,” Caine soothed.
She thought of the way the soft-eyed mare had snuggled her head so trustingly into Caine’s chest, her terror and pain at being shot. How easily she could have been killed. Desi licked her lips, and found the courage to say the right thing. “Next time it might not be a horse, it might be one of you.”
And she couldn’t have lived with that.
“There won’t be a next time.”
Yes, there would.
He
would never give her up. And if he didn’t give up, James wouldn’t. She held Caine’s gaze, searching it for a weakness she could exploit. For his own protection. “You don’t know them.”
“True.” His hand cupped her cheek, his thumb stroked across her lips in an incredibly tender caress. “But I’m damn eager to make their acquaintance.”
H
e had her running scared. She’d taken the attempted kidnapping in stride, but he had her running scared. Caine set the bucket inside the kitchen door and leaned against the jamb, watching Desi in the bath. That hadn’t been his intention when he’d given her time, but it seemed to be what he’d accomplished. Instead of learning to trust him and appreciating the courting he was doing, she was just getting edgier and edgier. And while he couldn’t fault Desi for the effort she was putting in to being helpful, there was a desperate edge to her behavior that he didn’t like. He wanted her settled, not wearing herself out in exhaustion proving something that didn’t matter.
Her head lolled to the side against the high back of the copper tub. She was asleep. He shook his head. It wasn’t right that with the sun still shining, she was exhausted. He grabbed the bucket and carried it over to the side of the tub. Her hair was piled on top of her head, ruthlessly contained with an abundance of metal hairpins.
He touched a finger to a curl. As if anything could tame that wild mass. He followed the trail of that curl down her cheek. Her eyes were closed, and her face was flushed from the heat of the water. The water was clear, without a film of soap, which not only meant Desi had fallen asleep before she could clean up, but that he also had an undisturbed view of her body.
Those high-tipped, small but lush breasts with their soft nipples played peekaboo with the surface of the water. Farther down her stomach the points of her hipbones were visible—too visible—above the darker shadow of her woman’s mound. She was so small, she could stretch her legs out with just the slight bend of those cute knees necessary to accommodate her size, which pretty much left them lifted and spread as if she were thinking of tempting a lover. He dipped his fingers in the water. It was cooling. He picked up the bucket, careful not to bump the rim, and poured hot water down by her feet. Her head lolled to the other side as the stream of water disturbed her sleep. He stopped pouring immediately. He didn’t want to wake her. For the first time, she actually looked at peace.
I dream in my sleep.
He put the bucket down. He just bet she did. He knelt beside the tub and took the washcloth from her relaxed hand. It slid into the water with a ripple. He scooped up some of the soft scented soap Tia had given Desi. The smell of lilacs intensified. A fresh, delicate scent that made him think of spring and flowers strong enough to flourish in this harsh land. And Desi.
He worked the soap into the washcloth and then picked up her arm, keeping his touch light. Desi was a lot like a lilac flower. She looked all fine and fragile, but she had that inner strength that mattered more than outward muscle. No matter how big the storm that hit her, she’d just bend with it until it was over, then sink those roots deeper and grow stronger.
Caine lathered the soap over her skin, massaging sore muscles through the cloth when he got to a place that made her frown, working gently at her sore body, wanting to give her a small part of that peace. He moved up to her shoulder, smiling at the little moue of disappointment that shaped her lips when he stopped massaging. She was a very sensual woman. If he played his cards right and eased her into being comfortable with that sensuality, he’d be a damn lucky man.