Carol Finch (4 page)

“Change of plans,” Hawk suddenly declared as he pulled the reins from her hand. “I’ll take you up first, then come back for the horses.”

“That’s not necessa—”

Her voice evaporated when she stepped forward to reclaim the reins—and slipped in the mud and loose rock. Hawk snaked out an arm and hooked it around her waist before she fell on her face. He kept a firm grasp on her as he propelled her between the jutting boulders.

“Footing here is tricky on a good day. In pouring rain it’s downright perilous. Take shorter steps and widen your stance,” he instructed.

They went about twenty-five yards before he halted beside the eroded crevice that gaped in front of them. Leaving her braced against the boulder, Hawk backed up a step then launched himself through the air to avoid the space where the trail had given way to forty feet of nothingness.

He held out his hand to her. “Now it’s your turn.”

There was just enough daylight left for him to note the color had seeped from her face. But to her credit she gritted her teeth and marshaled her resolve. His respect for her elevated another notch as she crouched in preparation for leaping toward him. He had seen this woman during several telling moments today and he admired her gumption and determination.

Whoever Bernice Colbert really was, she was one spirited, independent and courageous woman.

Hawk braced himself when she hurtled toward him. Since she wasn’t as long-legged as he was, she didn’t quite make it over to solid ground. When she shrieked and lost her balance, his hand shot out to grab her wrist. Thankfully, she was only airborne for a few moments before he hauled her against him.

To his surprise she threw her arms around his neck and practically hugged the stuffing out of him. Hawk was sorry to say that his male body responded instantaneously to having her supple curves and swells pressed familiarly against him. He reminded himself repeatedly that this was
definitely
the wrong time and wrong place for a lust attack.

Damn it, what was there about this defensive, elusive, hostile woman that kept getting to him? He’d dealt with several female victims during his years with the Rangers, but not one had affected him the way this one did.

“You can let go of me now,” he murmured as he accidentally brushed his lips against the side of her neck.

And it was an accident, he tried to convince himself. He was only nuzzling against her because she needed comfort and reassurance after her near brush with calamity.

Shiloh tried to loosen her fierce grasp on his neck, tried not to burrow her head against his sturdy shoulder. But for those few unnerving seconds, when it felt as if the earth had dropped out from under her, panic had overwhelmed her. She had grabbed hold of Hawk and clung to him for dear life. She savored his solid strength, enjoyed the feel of his warm breath against her cold skin.

Arousing sensations flooded through her, thoroughly baffling her. How could she possibly be attracted to this man? She still wasn’t sure if she trusted or even liked him. But he sparked the same kind of sensations that she had experienced when Antoine had taken her in his arms while they danced at parties in the palatial ballrooms of New Orleans.

She shouldn’t have felt those vulnerable feelings then and she shouldn’t be feeling them
now.
With
him.

What the blazes was the matter with her?

Aggravated with herself for experiencing pleasurable tingles she swore never to feel or trust again—and at the worst of all possible moments, and with a stranger, no less—Shiloh lurched back to brace herself against the crumbling stone wall.

“Sorry,” she said unevenly. “My survival instincts must have caused me to get a little carried away.”

“You have both feet beneath you now. You’ll be okay.”

His crackling voice drew her bemused frown. “Are you all right, Hawk? Did I injure you when I threw myself at you?”

“No.” He cleared his throat and looked away. “I’m fine.”

He lied. He was not fine. He wasn’t even remotely close to fine. He did not want to be attracted and distracted by this prickly woman. He didn’t want the slightest emotional ties to her or any other woman. Period. He didn’t have a personal life because his professional life with the Rangers was a demanding challenge. He didn’t have the time or inclination for tender feelings that conflicted with duty.

Unfortunately, today’s sequence of unfortunate events was conspiring against him. For one reason or
another he’d had his hands all over this woman. Necessity had also demanded that he plaster his body against hers more times than he cared to count. Now he was so aware of her scent, her appearance and the feel of her that he couldn’t look at her or touch her without reacting fiercely.

And, damn it, this had to stop! He had to concentrate on the serious task of getting them up and over Ghost Ridge to reach Sundance Canyon—a haven that held bittersweet memories that he didn’t want to deal with unless absolutely necessary.

Which it was right now.

Annoyed with his uncharacteristic preoccupation with this female, he clamped hold of her good arm and half dragged her uphill. He was anxious to reach the peak before total darkness descended. He gave her a boost onto the rain-slick boulder that led to the next leg of the treacherous journey.

“This is where the horses will have the most difficulty,” he said as he gestured for her to continue on without him.

“Dear God…”

He heard her voice wobble, saw her drop to her knees. She clutched her stomach when she made the critical mistake of glancing at the wild tumble of boulders that filled the V-shaped arroyo beside them.

“Look at me!” he barked sharply. “This is not the time to lose your nerve. If you can’t proceed without me, then you’ll have to wait here until I return with the horses. Find something to anchor yourself to until I get back.”

She bowed her neck then surged from her knees to her feet. “I’ll be fine,” she called over her shoulder. “I’ll—”

“Watch out for that—” Hawk cursed mightily when she banged her head on the jutting rock.

Her groan died beneath the report of long-range rifles. Bullets whistled over their heads and zinged off the rocks. Hawk cursed the fact that the bandits had spotted them and were trying to pin them down so they could catch up.

Cursing inventively, Hawk scrambled over the slick boulder, trying to reach Bernie before she took another bullet or staggered so far sideways that she keeled over the ledge and bounced off every sharp-edged rock until she landed in a broken heap at the bottom of the ravine. Unfortunately, the volley of bullets startled her and she lost her footing. Hawk made a wild grab for her, but only connected with air.

Serenaded by gunfire and the ringing in her ears caused by the blow to her forehead, Shiloh cartwheeled over a boulder. The world spun before her eyes and nausea churned in her stomach. One moment she was glancing back at Hawk and the next instant she smacked her head—hard—into the jagged overhang. And then bullets started flying.

She shrieked in terror when she couldn’t gain her balance. But there was nothing beneath her right foot. The wind was howling like a chorus of banshees, it was spitting rain again and now the crack-shot bandits were after them.

Wild eyed, she tried to pivot on her left foot and throw herself down on the narrow trail. But momentum and a fierce wind pushed her over the edge. She could see nothing but the ghastly shadows of boulders that reminded her of prehistoric monsters waiting to gobble her alive.

She cried out when her left foot slipped and she banged her hip against the rocks. Panting for breath, she dug in her nails as she slid downward, hoping to find a handhold before the pull of gravity dragged her to her death.

“Hawk!” she howled, even though she knew there was nothing he could do to help her.

Despite her best attempts, she slid downward, bumping over the angular stones and eroded pebbles that left her feet dangling over the ten-foot drop—and then the rest of her body went over the ledge before she could anchor herself.

She crash-landed on another jagged boulder, twisting her ankle—and knocking the air clean out of her.

The wind wailed like the eternal damned, drowning out her hoarse cry for help. Her panicky gaze leaped to Hawk. She was amazed by his ability to bound from one boulder to the next like a graceful cougar, in his attempt to reach her. There was just enough daylight left for her to see the grim expression on his face. She heard his pithy curses above her as she clutched her throbbing ankle and struggled to draw breath.

Shiloh couldn’t decide if the pain in her head, the fiery sensations in her injured arm or the throb in her aching ankle hurt the worst. It was too close to call.

“Bernie? Are you all right?” Hawk called down to her when the bandits ceased fire to reload.

“My name is Shiloh,” she confided with a seesaw breath.

The way she had it figured, she was going to be stuck in this crevice of this rocky ravine until buzzards came along to pick her clean. There was no way she could climb back to the ledge and no way for Hawk to
reach her without endangering his own life. Plus, the bandits were hot on their trail and they would execute her when they found her.

“You need to know the right name to engrave on my headstone,” she added defeatedly, then shooed him on his way. “Might as well go on without me.”

Grimacing she shifted onto the hip she hadn’t bruised during her fall, then tried to stretch her swollen ankle out in front of her. She glanced up to see Hawk’s head appear from the shelf of rock above her.

“You aren’t dead yet,
Shiloh,
” he growled down at her. “You have too much spirit and resilience to adopt that defeated attitude.”

She tried to bolster her flagging spirits, she really did. But when she glanced down, hopelessness engulfed her like a suffocating fog.

“Just sit tight.”

She smirked. “I have a choice?” She gestured to the narrow cavity that held her like stone jaws, then winced when more gunfire erupted.

“I’m going after the horses and my lariat,” he told her. “I’ll be back for you.”

Her last ray of hope died when darkness swallowed her up and the sky opened. The wind kicked up and the echoing sounds, reminiscent of howling phantom voices, swirled around her. She slumped against the unyielding boulder as rain pounded down.

She knew Hawk wouldn’t come back for her because she was slowing him down. He could be up and over Ghost Ridge, hiding in the valley beyond, with his stolen loot, before the desperadoes could catch up with him.

Shiloh sighed heavily, battling the numerous aches and pains that pummeled her weary body. She resigned
herself to the fact that she was stuck here, listening to the phantom voices wailing in the wind, waiting for the outlaws to arrive to put her out of her misery.

H
awk scurried along the rain-slick path to retrieve his lariat and the horses. He cursed himself, harshly and repeatedly, for not taking better care of Shiloh. And he’d be damned, he was
not
engraving her name on a headstone, no matter how grim her future looked right now.

Hawk clutched the reins of his sure-footed mustang then tied a lead rope to Shiloh’s mount. Her steed was reluctant, but the mustang forced it to follow—or be dragged.

Hawk patted the mustang’s muscular neck. “Sorry, Dorado. We’ve been to hell and back together many times. This is just another tough day on a tough job.”

The coal-black gelding nickered, as if in agreement, and methodically towed the skittish mare along behind him.

By the time Hawk reached the place where Shiloh had slipped and fallen, lightning was flickering from one low-hanging cloud to another. Hawk was able to make out the silhouettes of DeVol and Stiles as they picked their way around the boulders. Although they
hadn’t located the path, they were making headway and they posed a threat.

Feeling a sense of urgency Hawk turned his attention back to Shiloh who was wedged in the ravine below.
Your fault,
the voice of conscience scolded him as he secured the lariat to the saddle horn. This morning he had stumbled onto Shiloh, unintentionally forcing her to suffer through all sorts of perilous situations, the worst of which was a nasty fall down the rugged embankment. But she was wrong if she thought he was going to turn his back on her to save his own hide.

Thunder grumbled overhead, causing the mare to bolt sideways then slam into the stone wall. “Easy, girl,” he soothed, then anchored the lead rope to a scrub bush.

Hawk clamped his hands around the dangling lariat then eased over the rough ledge. He cast a wary glance at the two outlaws that were trying to overtake him then worked his way down to the next shelf of rock. When lightning flickered on Shiloh’s slumped form, he scrabbled north toward the crevice. His feet shot out from under him when he hit the slick mud at the base of a boulder. He grimaced when his shoulder slammed into the slab of stone.

Hawk steadied himself with the rope and gathered his feet beneath him. He inched along the narrow ledge until he was an arm’s length from Shiloh. He nudged her shoulder, but she didn’t respond.

Hawk sighed heavily. “Why can’t just one thing be easy?”

His hard, unadorned life in the Apache camp in Sundance Canyon was a constant exercise in survival training. His experiences with the Rangers consisted of one dangerous foray following closely on the heels of another.

Maybe this is all there is to life, he mused as he reached out to hook his arm around Shiloh’s limp body. With a heave-ho he scooped her from the V-shaped wedge between boulders. Maybe it was simply a man’s lot in life to face one challenge after another and try to bury the unpleasant memories he encountered along the way.

His pessimistic thoughts scattered like buckshot the moment he levered Shiloh over his shoulder and felt her luscious feminine curves against his masculine contours. For some reason her weight seemed more of a comfort than a burden to him. Damn if he could figure out why.

When she moaned groggily and clung to him, as if he were a pillow she was trying to snuggle up against, his trying day—hell, who was he kidding?—his trying life—didn’t seem so bad. Shiloh was warm and soft and cuddly…and he better not get sidetracked with these ridiculous whimsical thoughts. He still had a rugged hillside to scale and this was just a part of his job—rescuing folks from disastrous situations. Just because Shiloh’s sassy disposition and feminine allure sparked an ill-fated fascination inside him didn’t change a thing. He’d be every kind of fool if he let himself forget that.

Hawk clamped his arm across the back of Shiloh’s thighs then shifted her on his shoulder so she wouldn’t fall. Grabbing the rope anchored to the mustang that waited above him, he walked south along the narrow ledge, using the same route going up the hillside that he’d taken coming down.

He was one third of the way up the steep embankment when Shiloh regained consciousness. When she reared up, trying to get her bearings, Hawk clamped his arm tighter around her hips.

“It’s just me,” he reassured her hurriedly. “It will be a lot easier for me to negotiate this slope if you’ll stay where you are and hang on to me.”

“You came back for me.” Her voice held a hint of wonder. “I expected you to be long gone by now,” she said as she locked her arms around his waist.

“Just goes to show you how badly you misjudged me.” He grunted as he pulled himself hand over hand to another stone slab. “Right now I’m the best friend you could have because I’m familiar with this area. I grew up here with my clan. I’ll get you to a place that’s dry and safe and then patch you up.”

“Nice of you, since I wouldn’t be in this shape if I hadn’t run into you in the first place. Now here you are, dragging me all over creation.”

Despite the jibe, Hawk detected the hint of wry humor and gratitude in her voice. She wanted him to think she was a foul-tempered shrew, but he had come to realize that beneath that prickly facade was a woman of character and personality. True, she didn’t trust him—but he couldn’t blame her for that. Also true, someone had hurt her deeply and she held every male on the planet responsible.

But who was he to criticize? For several years he had held all palefaces everywhere accountable for the tragic loss of his family and the only way of life he had ever known. Which was why taking refuge in Sundance Canyon was going to be as much of a blessing as it was a curse. He was familiar with the area that would always feel like home to him—but the place triggered too damn many haunting memories.

“Thank you for coming back for me,” Shiloh murmured a moment later, then gave his ribs an appreciative squeeze.

A jolt of pleasure zapped him, but he valiantly tried to ignore it. “You’re welcome. It’s part of my job.”

No matter how many hair-raising predicaments he and Shiloh encountered he wasn’t going to become emotionally attached to her, he promised himself sensibly.

“Just hang on a little longer. We’re almost to the ledge.” He waited a beat then said, “I’m going to twist you around and plant my hands on your fanny so I can lift you over my head. Don’t go getting indignant on me again. I don’t want either of us to take a spill and give DeVol and Stiles a chance to do their worst.”

“Is this an excuse to put your hands all over me again?” she asked suspiciously. “I already have as many of your handprints on me as I have bruises.”

“Are you asking if I’m going to enjoy it?” He chuckled. “Probably. But it’s the most practical method of getting you to safety. That’s my first consideration.”

“Right. All noble intent. How can I keep forgetting that,” she mumbled against the taut tendons of his back.

“When I say go, you’re going to twist and lunge in the same motion,” he instructed. “You’ll probably land hard, but I won’t be in a position to be gentle with you while I’m dangling over the cliff and hanging on to this lifeline…. Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” she murmured.

He felt her tense in anticipation of being shoved onto the shelf of jagged stone. But to her credit she didn’t wail in pain and give away their position to the pursuing bandits. He did hear her muffled gasp and moan and figured she had landed on her swollen ankle or bruised hip. But you had to admire a woman who was being put through hell and hadn’t dissolved into whimpers and tears. Shiloh was the bravest, most adaptable women he’d ever encountered.

“Scoot back, Shiloh,” he cautioned as he pulled himself upward. “I don’t want to accidentally kick you when I come up and over this ledge in a hurry.”

“I’m clear,” she called out.

Gathering himself, Hawk surged upward, slinging his leg sideways so he could roll across the stone slab. He came to a stop, flat on his back. Shiloh hovered beside him. To his astonishment, she bent over and kissed him right smack-dab on the mouth. But her alluring taste, feel and scent was gone as quickly as a lightning strike, leaving him oddly disappointed.

And yet…he was relieved that the moment hadn’t lasted very long. The very worst thing that could happen was for him to become addicted to the taste of a man-hating firebrand who was only going to be another footnote in his life, and in his career as a Texas Ranger.

“Thank you for saving my life,” she murmured. “Maybe I can return the favor someday.”

“Let’s hope not.” Hawk rolled over then stood up in one swift motion. “That would suggest I’d dragged you into another dangerous scrape. You’ve had too many of those, thanks to me.”

“Well, it’s better than being jilted and betrayed by a man who claimed to have tender feelings for you.”

Shiloh clamped her mouth shut so fast she nearly bit off her runaway tongue. She hadn’t meant to reveal that information, but she wasn’t thinking straight. Which explained the impulsive kiss she’d bestowed on Hawk. She didn’t know what possessed her, other than the fact that she was rattled, relieved to be back on solid footing and grateful to be alive.

It wasn’t because she’d succumbed to the forbidden attraction she felt for him, she assured herself. Falling
for this brawny tumbleweed of a man would never do. She had to remember not to depend or rely too heavily on Hawk. He was a man, capable of hurting her.

But maybe she could use him as a sounding board and confide what happened in Louisiana. She could test her ability to control her emotions during the telling of the humiliating incident to Hawk. She could rehearse now so she would be better prepared when she told her brothers what had sent her dashing home from New Orleans unannounced.

Given the emotional distress of this fiasco, and her multiple injuries, even Hawk might not think her weak and foolish if she broke down in tears.

Shiloh didn’t protest when Hawk hoisted her to her feet, then sat her atop his mustang. She smiled in amusement when the horse slung its head sideways to pick up her scent. She was relieved the animal didn’t take a bite out of her leg to show its disapproval.

“So you got jilted by a fool that didn’t appreciate you,” Hawk remarked as he grabbed the reins and started up the rain-drenched path, keeping his eyes peeled for the ever-present desperadoes. “Worse things have happened.”

“Like this misadventure?” She smirked as she stared down at the waterlogged bandits that were sprawled on a boulder, struggling to regain their footing. “Like nearly drowning when a wild man and his horse practically landed on me in midstream while I was out of my protective disguise? Or are you referring to being shot in the arm because bloodthirsty outlaws are furious with
you?
Not to mention scraping the hide off my knees and hips and twisting my ankle when forced to go mountain climbing at night…in a rainstorm.”

“Exactly. And I said I was sorry about all that.”

“I’ll have you know that getting your pride trampled, being lied to then carelessly discarded feels ten times worse than suffering a few strains, sprains and bruises,” she contended. “When a man claims he has eyes only for you, while he’s dallying with someone else, you learn your lesson well, believe me. Men want only two things from a woman.”

“Two?”
Hawk asked, amusement coloring his voice. “Where was I when these rules and regulations were passed out? I thought there was only one reason for needing a woman. I must’ve missed that part of my education while living in the Apache village.”

His tone turned hard and clipped, startling her. “But in my defense, I was too busy trying to keep my clan from starving and dying because the army boxed us in the canyon for the winter and then killed as many of us as possible so we wouldn’t cause an uprising when we were forcefully removed to reservations in New Mexico and Indian Territory.”

Shiloh inwardly cringed at his comment. She felt petty and self-pitying in comparison to the trials and tribulations he’d faced. She was bitter about losing her heart to a man who found her unappealing and uninteresting, but Hawk had to deal with the extermination of his Apache family and way of life.

“I’m so sorry,” she murmured. “In comparison, I have no reason to complain. But it still hurts to discover there is very little about yourself to like or admire. My brothers led me to believe otherwise. I should have realized they were too partial to exercise sound judgment.

“I went naively out into the world and discovered that Antoine Troudeau only
pretended
to like me…until someone with better social connections and a
larger inheritance came along. Hearing that Antoine and Aimee Garland had been found together in her bedroom shortly after Antoine asked to contact
my
brothers so he could ask for
my
hand, was a devastating emotional blow. It also sent me running home with a lot more speed than dignity and common sense.”

“Which is why you were paddling around in the river without a chaperone,” he presumed as he weaved around the gigantic stone slabs that formed the peak of Ghost Ridge. “Understandable, even if it was a risk to your personal safety. But I guess I can’t blame you for striking out alone. I also needed time alone to conquer my bitter thoughts after the army took my clan prisoner and herded us off like cattle.”

“Were you allowed to go your own way when the soldiers learned that you were half-white?”

Hawk snorted derisively. “
Allowed?
Hardly. My brother and I escaped captivity with several other braves. Two of them were shot down the first day. Another friend died the third day from the wound he suffered. My brother, Fletcher, and I eventually took refuge with an old friend who advised us to change our appearance and split up so the army couldn’t track us down easily. Fletch headed north and I went southwest.”

“And you haven’t seen your brother since? I can’t imagine not seeing my brothers regularly, especially after we lost our parents in the fire that destroyed our original homestead. We needed mutual compassion and support to deal with our loss.”

“Fletch and I made a pact to rendezvous two years later at Jackson Hole, where the trappers and traders camp.”