Authors: Lindsay McKenna
“His leg won’t stand up to that kind of punishment, Paco.”
Paco leaned against the logs, watching Kincaid. “He knows what he’s doing,
Patrona
. We need these colts broke, eh?”
Lark bit down on her lower lip. She saw no evidence of blood on Matt’s thigh. Perhaps Paco was right. Maybe the wound wouldn’t bother him. Maybe she was being overprotective.
Matt brought the colt to a halt in the middle of the corral and dismounted, then led the sweaty, hard-breathing animal over to where Lark and Paco waited. Pushing the hat up on his perspiring brow, he noted the concern in Lark’s gaze. Smiling, he handed Paco the reins. “Walk him out a little, Paco. Then put him in that holding pen.”
“Sí, señor
.” Paco patted the colt heartily, smiling.
Matt took off his hat and wiped his brow with the back of his sleeve. “Four down and eleven to go.”
“Why didn’t you tell me you were going to break the colts?”
“Because you would have squawked like an old broody hen.”
Lark climbed off the fence and joined him. “And your leg?”
“A little tender, that’s all. Walk with me to the barn? I want to get a drink of water at the trough.”
Lark fell into step beside him, wildly aware of him as a man. Had Matt forgotten their conversation of last night? He seemed so casual this morning, as if nothing had happened. They entered the shadow of the barn and halted at the huge wooden watering trough. Matt took off his thin deerskin gloves and tucked them in the belt of his shotgun chaps. Leaning down, he cupped the cold water and sipped several handfuls, then sluiced water over his sweaty face. Wiping his mouth, he sat down on the edge of the trough, studying Lark. “How are you feeling this morning?”
‘“The truth?”
“Between us? Always.”
Her heart beat painfully in her breast. Matt was wearing a dark red shirt and red bandanna around his throat. Sweat emphasized his rugged features. She stared at the fistful of black hair peeking over the top button of his shirt. He was so masculine, so beautiful in a haunting way that made her go weak and hot inside. “I awoke this morning and Maria said you had left.”
“And?”
“Well…I thought…”
Matt heard the tremor in her voice. “Forever?” he guessed.
She nodded once, unable to speak for several moments. “I was afraid our conversation, the things we shared last night, had frightened you away.”
Matt held her hands gently. “We’re both people of our word, Lark,” he told her quietly. “Look at me.”
She lifted her lashes, dying a little bit inside because she had no experience of relationships and didn’t know what to expect from him. But the instant she met his dark gaze, her heart burst with joy. “What?”
“I haven’t forgotten a word of what we talked about last night, golden cougar. And judging from the look on your face, you haven’t either.”
“No, I haven’t.”
“Well?”
“I still want to share my heart with you.”
Matt looked away. The sky was a bright blue, the mountains surrounding the ranch a deep green. The sunlight held promise, warming everything it touched. “You know,” he began softly, “you’re like that sunlight out there beyond the shade. Everything you come in contact with, you make better. You’re a healer in many ways, Lark.”
“Ny-Oden has said that the greatest healer is love,” she ventured in a whisper.
“He’s right, I think.” Matt rose, releasing her cool fingers. “Come on, let’s walk into the sunlight.”
She walked slowly at his side, waiting, wondering.
“Have you given thought to how this arrangement might influence the opinion of the people who live and work here at the ranch?”
She hadn’t. Lark shook her head, her heart sinking.
“Do you think the people will treat you differently if we share the same bed?”
“The Apache way is to share a bed to let others know we’re bound to each other for life.”
“The Apaches who live here will accept your decision. But your Mexican wranglers and their families? What will they think?”
Lark knew all about the Catholic religion that her Mexican hands embraced. Her parents had been married by Father Mulcahy.
Matt saw Lark’s brows draw downward. He read the confusion in her eyes. “Until I can hunt down Ga’n, Lark, I won’t expose you to that kind of talk or hurt. I can wait.”
Liar
, he berated himself. “Different people embrace different rules to live by.”
“And you’re saying that because I live in two worlds, I must adhere to both sets of rules?” she challenged.
He paused at the corral. Paco had brought in another colt, a sorrel this time. “Sometimes, Lark, people have to make decisions based not on what they want, but on what is best for everyone.”
She bristled, not wanting to admit the truth of his words. Unexpectedly, she felt the caress of his fingers against her cheek.
“Listen, I don’t mean to be a devil’s advocate about this. I just want you to think clearly about it first, Lark.”
“But you need me.”
“I’ll always need you, golden cougar. Whether it’s today, tomorrow, or years from now, that’ll never change.”
She considered Matt’s words as he climbed the rails and went about the business of breaking another colt. Frustrated, she headed back to the barn to saddle one of the mares. She would ride the arroyos high above the ranch and check on her men, who were hunting for mustangs. Perhaps by then she would have the answers she sought.
“Paco!” she called a few minutes later, mounted and riding up to the corral.
“Sí, Patrona?
”
“Where are Boa Juan and his men?”
Paco’s eyes widened.
“Patrona
, Señor Matt doesn’t want you to ride anywhere without him. He says Ga’n will be around and it’s not safe for you to go out alone.”
Snorting, Lark snapped, “He’s not the boss here, Paco, I am. Now, tell me the direction Boa Juan rode this morning.”
Smarting beneath her anger, he pointed to the west. “They were going up into Devil’s Canyon for the next week,
Patrona
.”
“Very well. I’ll be up there for the day, Paco. And tell Matt to stay here. I’ll have the protection of eight wranglers and will be safe enough.” She sank her heels into her horse before Paco could voice his protest. The mare grunted, startled, and leaped forward into a gallop.
“You didn’t kidnap her?” Cameron demanded.
Ga’n sat tensely on his mustang, his eyes hard with anger as he studied the rancher.
“You lied to me, Cameron,” Ga’n accused, placing his hand over the butt of his gun. “You said Lark Who Sings would be easy to kidnap. She wasn’t. Matt Kincaid was there and he killed Alchise!” His nostrils flared as anger shook his voice. “I should kill you for the death of my friend!”
Cameron’s hand went to his gun. Like a fool, he’d told Shanks to stay behind, fully expecting Ga’n to tell him that the half-breed had been kidnapped. Now he was in danger of being shot by the renegade.
“How in the hell was I supposed to know Kincaid was around?” Cameron demanded.
Ga’n studied the
pindah
. “You speak with many tongues, Cameron. Even a snake is honest compared to you!” He spat into the dust and thrust out his hand. “Give me the money!”
Cameron was going to argue, but quickly decided against it. He knew Ga’n would gun him down if he refused. He jerked the dollar bills from his vest pocket and threw them at the Apache. “Get the hell out of here. Go get drunk like you always do. I won’t need you or the other renegades for at least a month. We’re planning another attack near Phoenix then, and I want you to lead it.”
Ga’n slid off his pony and picked up the money. “Kincaid is nearby. Until I kill him, I’ll go nowhere.”
“Fine, you do that.” Cameron didn’t care. If Ga’n got rid of the gunslinger gratis, that would be unexpected luck. Cameron spurred his horse into a gallop. There was work to do. As soon as he got back to Prescott, he was going to put Shanks to work.
Being out in Devil’s Canyon chasing wily mustangs up and down the vast, rocky canyon gave Lark no time to think or feel. It was nearly two in the afternoon and she had already changed horses three times. The running, scrambling, and climbing it took to catch the mustangs quickly wore out the hardy ranch horses. At the moment she was mounted on Four Winds, her fleetest mare.
Boa Juan, Carlos and Lark rode toward another section of the canyon, Devil’s Mouth, an area riddled with large caves. The other wranglers had gone in another direction to hunt down five mustangs they had seen earlier that morning.
Lark’s crew was stalking One Eye, a man-hating stud who had made her life miserable. An albino stallion with one glassy blue eye in his, hammer head, he stole Gallagher Ranch mares’ every season.
This year, One Eye had boldly jumped over a corral fence and slashed and cut at the mares, sending them crashing through the rails to freedom. Now Lark and her men were rounding up those mares, who had already been bred to Kentucky.
Lark wiped the sweat off her face. Boa Juan rode at her side on his small black mustang. He pointed toward the end of the canyon. “There he is!”
Lark saw One Eye surrounded by at least six of their mares. “I see him.”
“The bastard’s going to make those mares climb out of the canyon and escape along the rim,” Carlos warned, getting out his lasso and lengthening the loop on it.
Lark saw that Carlos was right. The steeply angled hill behind them, nearly four hundred feet high, was the only avenue of escape out of the canyon. One Eye knew this country well. Lark saw that he’d spotted them. With a squeal, the stallion began slashing at the mares’ rumps and running doggedly back and forth, aiming them toward the steep hill strewn with boulders, brush and cactus.
“Some of those mares might lose their foals,” Boa Juan muttered, taking the rope off the saddle horn and quickly running a large loop into it in his gloved hands.
“Not if we get there first,” Lark said, automatically reaching for her lasso. “Boa Juan, Carlos, you ride around the canyon and come down that incline. If One Eye sees you up there, he’s going to be forced to turn back.”
“Back toward you,” Boa Juan guessed. “You know One Eye. He attacks riders in a group or alone. You won’t be safe,
Patrona
.”
“Yes, I will.” Lark’s eyes glinted. “If I get a clear shot at him, I intend to kill him with the rifle.”
“Good!” Carlos exclaimed. “And if we can draw a bead on him, we’ll kill him first.”
Lark nodded. She didn’t like killing animals unless it was necessary, but for years her father had tried to track One Eye down and destroy him. If he had been like other mustang studs, who left the ranch and the mares alone, Lark wouldn’t take such an extreme measure. And right now, this was the first opportunity they’d had to get close enough to kill the animal.
“Darse prisa!
” Carlos called, spurring his horse forward.
Lark held Four Winds back. The mare danced nervously, wanting to join the galloping riders disappearing around the rim of the rocky canyon. “Four Winds, I’m going to need all your courage,” she crooned to her mare. “We’re going to have to face One Eye. Be brave, my heart. Stand quietly beneath me when I draw my rifle….”
Lark cantered down the floor of the canyon, all the while warily watching the stallion who stood less than half a mile away from her. One Eye shrieked in a high, angry bugle when he saw the two wranglers appear at the top of the steep hill. Immediately the mares turned, skidding wildly back down the grade, raising a cloud of choking dust. The stallion turned, and Lark knew he realized he couldn’t drive the mares upward. Ordinarily a good stallion would stay at the rear of his herd to make sure no mares escaped. This time Lark saw him take the lead and head directly at her. She was the only rider preventing his escape from the canyon.
Lark watched the albino plunge ahead of the scattering band of frightened mares. She saw a bay mare go down, rolling end over end. When she finally got to her feet, her left front leg dangled, broken. Crying out in anger, Lark pulled the rifle out of the case beneath her leg. One Eye leaped to the canyon floor at a gallop, his screams caroming off the ocher walls.
Pulling Four Winds to a halt, Lark had only seconds to lift the rifle, pump a round into the chamber, and aim at the charging stallion. She saw One Eye’s mouth open, his yellow teeth exposed in a vicious snarl. His tiny ears were pinned against his thick neck, his nostrils flared and bloodred in color.
“Steady, steady,” she crooned to Four Winds, who heaved for breath between her clamped legs, all four feet planted firmly. The cross hairs of Lark’s gun wavered on the approaching stallion. Sweat trickled down her wrinkled brow. Taking a breath, she prepared to fire.
Before she could pull the trigger, shots rang out behind her. Shaken, Lark saw Boa Juan and Carlos scatter away from the rim, disappearing in a cloud of dust. Who had fired those shots? She jerked her attention back to One Eye, but it was too late.
The stallion, a battle-hardened veteran of many fights, lunged toward the mare’s head, his teeth ripping into the flesh of her neck. He threw all his weight into the staggering mare, using his shoulder to send her crashing to the earth.
Lark was thrown upon impact, the rifle flying out of her hand. One Eye skidded to a halt and wheeled around, the ground thundering beneath his hooves. Lark scrambled to her hands and knees, but just as her fingers closed over the rifle, the stallion lashed out at her. Her head exploded with bright light and pain. Darkness engulfed her.
Nearly three hours had passed since Shanks had captured Lark Gallagher. He’d bound her hands in front of her so she couldn’t reach out and claw him like she had two years ago. The yellow cotton shirt she wore had been torn, exposing the subtle shadow of her cleavage. He itched to put his hand on those small, firm breasts. But he’d wait. He’d wait until she was awake, when he would enjoy forcing her to sign the papers. He wasn’t going to disappoint Cameron this time. He didn’t want to lose his job to that new gun from down South.
“Come on, Lark, wake up!” he growled, prodding her shoulder. Her hair was a blue-black sheet around her head. He leaned over, fingering the dusty strands while keeping an eye on her. Her lashes fluttered. He grinned, waiting….
Pain throbbed between her eyebrows and fanned upward, through her brow. Lark ached all over. Groaning, she opened her eyes to mere slits. It took her several moments to digest the fact that Bo Shanks was crouched over her. Her throat closed in terror. No! It couldn’t be! Her mind whirled with questions. He was grinning like a wolf prepared to eat his prey, his yellow teeth glistening with saliva. She looked around and found herself in a cave.
“Welcome back, Lark. That stud got to ya before I could.” Shanks leaned over, barely touching her left temple. “Clipped ya, he did. That’s all right, I got the bastard. Shot him through the heart after he run ya down. Ol’ One Eye has gone to horse hell by now.”
Lark’s first thought was that her hands were tied, her second the realization that Shanks had shot her wranglers. Her blood chilled and she fought a sudden nausea and dizziness. “What happened to Boa Juan and Carlos?” she croaked out.
She cringed as Shanks picked up some of her hair, sifting it gently through his long fingers. “Oh, them…” He laughed, a high giggle. “Well, it was like this. I wanted ya and not them. So I got rid of ’em by firin’ a couple of shots over their heads. By the time they circled around to get into the canyon, I’d thrown ya over my horse and hid in this cave. They musta spent a good hour tryin’ to find ya, but I’d wiped out my tracks. They finally gave up and left. That horse of yores lit outa here, too.” He chuckled, pleased with himself. “So ya see, no one knows where yore at. Purty smart, huh?” He rested easily on his haunches, grinning at her.
Lark shut her eyes, desperately trying to think. Her head throbbed where One Eye had grazed it with his hoof. She was lucky to be alive. Finally she settled her gaze on Shanks. “Why have you done this?”
He pulled out a paper and dangled it in front of her face. “Sign this, breed, and I’ll let ya go.”
She scowled, “What are you talking about?”
“Sez here that yore to sign over the water rights of yore ranch to Mr. Cameron.” He pointed to the bottom line. “Ya sign this now, and I let ya go. Pure and simple. Or you and I can enjoy this cave until ya sign it. Take yore pick.” His eyes glittered. “Personally, I’d like to spend a lot of time here with ya.” His gaze settled hotly on her breasts.
A frisson of fear cleared away her lingering grogginess. Shanks was capable of anything, including killing her. “So Cameron’s behind all this,” she snapped. “Did he pay Ga’n to try the same thing?”
“Yeah, that red renegade botched the job.” Shanks threw the paper down in her lap. “But I ain’t gonna.”
Licking her dry lips, Lark looked nervously up at her captor. “Don’t you realize what Cameron’s doing? If you don’t let me go, you’ll go to jail.”
“Girl, yore plumb outa yore head.” He slapped his knee gleefully. “Ole Dan Cole ain’t gonna arrest me. Prescott’s owned by Cameron, in case ya haven’t figured that out yet. The law listens to him.”
“What if I don’t sign this paper?”
Shanks slid his hand along her denim-covered thigh. “Cameron said to persuade ya. He didn’t say how.”
“You bastard!” Lark cried, and spat into his face.
Shanks reared backward, unprepared for such an attack. He rubbed his eyes furiously.
Scrambling to her feet, Lark propelled herself toward the opening of the cave. Devil’s Mouth! She knew the series of caves well. Running hard, her breath torn from her lungs, she slipped through the opening.
“Stop or I’ll drill ya!” Shanks shrieked.
To her left was a sheer rock wall. Trying to jerk the bonds free, she ran to the right and down a narrow, pebble-strewn path. She heard Shanks hard on her heels, his angry yelps growing closer and closer. Desperately she ran, slipping and sliding, and spotted Shanks’s buckskin gelding at the bottom. He wasn’t saddled, but that didn’t matter.
A shot rang out. The slug bit into the dirt near her feet. Sobbing for breath, Lark leaped off the path and tumbled down the steep incline to where the horse was tied. Another shot ricocheted off boulders inches from her head.
The buckskin shied as Lark rolled to a stop near his dancing hooves. “Whoa!” she ordered. The buckskin froze, too well trained to think of moving when that command was given.
Lark jerked a look over her shoulder. Shanks appeared at the top of the hill. She fumbled with the straps to the hobbles. There! Grabbing a chunk of the horse’s black mane, she vaulted onto his back. “Giddyap!” she shrilled. The buckskin’s eyes rolled when she sunk both heels into his flanks. Leaping forward, he galloped out of the area, heading down another, narrower path.
Wind stung Lark’s eyes as she clamped her thighs around the hurtling animal. The buckskin obviously hadn’t been trained to respond to light touches and subtle shifts of weight. The only thing he knew was a spade bit in his mouth. Now Lark was careening down the canyon path on a frightened, runaway horse over which she had no control. She heard a gun being fired once, twice, three times. Three bullets stung the air nearby, raising puffs of dust on the rocky canyon wall above her head. Clinging to the buckskin with her tied hands wrapped in the mane, Lark urged the animal on at a terrific pace. No matter where the horse ran, it would be away from Shanks. He’d be on foot, unable to follow her. Home! She had to get home!
The buckskin charged out of Devil’s Canyon and onto a dry, dusty flat. Lark tried to steer the gelding by yanking his mane right and left, but the horse wouldn’t respond. She tried to slow him down, but to no avail. Sobbing for breath, Lark studied the land ahead. The flat ended in a thick forest grove. Beyond that, the land became rocky and treacherous. If she couldn’t slow the buckskin down, she could well be thrown from the wild-eyed animal.
A shout drew her attention. At first Lark couldn’t tell who it was, only that it was a wrangler on a gunmetal-gray horse riding rapidly toward her from the edge of the forest. Hope rose in her. It must be one of her ranch hands. She began tugging and jerking on the buckskin’s heavy neck, trying to get him to slow down. Her only hope was the man riding toward her.
Lark’s spirits soared. It was Matt! She recognized his set features as he spurred the gray ever closer. Sobbing his name, she clung to the buckskin, praying Matt could swing alongside and rescue her. The drowning hoofbeats reverberated as Matt circled slow and wide, so as not to terrorize her animal even further.
Matt edged his gray closer and closer to the fleeing buckskin. He saw that Lark’s hands were tied and her shirt torn open. What the hell had happened? Grimly, he caught and held her wide, frightened gaze.
“Steady!” Matt shouted to her. Just a few more feet…a few more…Reaching out, he hooked his arm around Lark’s waist. At that instant, the buckskin shied, moving away at a right angle from them. Unprepared for the unexpected action, Matt nearly dropped Lark. He jerked hard on the reins and the gray settled on his hind legs into a long, skidding stop.
Lark hung perilously. She gasped, feeling Matt’s arm slipping…slipping…
The long slide cost the gray dearly. Pebbles tore at his hindquarters and produced bloody scratches on his rear legs. Matt leaned perilously, to one side in the saddle as the horse sat down.
“Roll!” he commanded her, and then let go, almost falling out of the saddle himself.
Instinctively Lark curled as the ground rushed up to meet her. Her shoulder hit the hard ground and she rolled away from the tottering horse and rider.
Dismounting quickly, Matt ran over to where Lark lay. She was slowly getting to her knees when he arrived. He gripped her shoulder.
“Lark? What the hell happened?” he asked between ragged gasps.
“Shanks,” she cried. “He tried to kidnap me!”
Matt raised his head, searching the direction from which she had ridden. “What are you talking about?”
Shaken, Lark sat still while Matt untied her wrists.
“Cameron hired Ga’n to kidnap me. When that didn’t work, he sent Shanks to do it. That bastard had orders to make me sign a paper giving my water rights to Cameron! I managed to escape and grab Shanks’s horse.”
“Hold on,” Matt growled. “I’m going to carry you over to my horse.”
She was about to protest, but he lifted her into his arms before she could. Clinging mutely to him, Lark whispered, “Paco was right. I shouldn’t have come out here without you.”
“Hush, Lark.” Matt placed her in the saddle, picked up the reins, and mounted behind her. He put his arm around her when she swayed in the saddle. “Lean back,” he ordered. “We’re going to get you home.” Though he desperately wanted to go back and search the canyon for Shanks, he knew Lark needed his attention more. She’d suffered cuts and scratches from her escape.
“How did you find me?”
“Boa Juan and Carlos rode back to the ranch. They told me someone had shot at them, that they had become worried about you and had gone back to the canyon but couldn’t find you anywhere. I organized the wranglers and sent them in three different groups to search for you along the rim. I was going into the canyon to try and pick up your tracks.”
“Maybe they’ll catch Shanks walking out of there.”
“I doubt it. The search pattern we laid out was taking them away from the canyon.”
As they rode in silence through the forest, Lark’s tense muscles began to relax. Matt’s arms were strong around her, protective. She lay against his powerful chest, knowing he would keep her safe from any further harm. Although still in shock, she was also aware of Matt’s vigilant lookout for bushwhackers. There was a constant tension in his body, and his eyes were constantly alert. Lark trembled.
“When is this all going to stop?” she asked hoarsely. “Shanks said Sheriff Cole is in cahoots with Cameron. What can we do?”
“Plenty,” he promised grimly. “I’m going to ride into Prescott tomorrow morning and wire Phoenix. I’ll request that they send a marshal up here to investigate.””
Anguish wound through Lark, numbing the pain of her physical injuries. “I—I can’t understand how anyone can do what Cameron’s done and get away with it. What’s wrong with him?”
“Cameron operates without any kind of moral code, honey. He’s worse than an animal,” Matt said. He pulled the gray to a halt and dropped the reins across the horse’s neck. “Come here,” he said roughly, pulling Lark around so that she sat sidesaddle across his lap. Taking her into his arms, he held her tightly. “We’ll fight Cameron together. I’ll be there for you….”
Her fingers digging into the leather vest he wore, Lark pressed her cheek against his dark blue cotton shirt. “I was so afraid on that buckskin,” she blurted out. “All I could think was that I didn’t want to die without having given you my heart. I felt such loss, so alone….”
“Shh, honey, you’ve got my heart. It’s going to be all right,” he soothed thickly, caressing her hair.
“Don’t leave me alone tonight, Matt. I can’t take it. I’m so afraid. Every shadow will remind me of Ga’n or Shanks.”
Any reservations Matt had about making Lark his woman dissolved. There was real terror in her voice, something he’d never heard before. He pressed a kiss to her cheek, and his voice was rough with emotion. “You’ll sleep with me every night, Lark. I won’t let you be hurt again. I promise.”
“But the men and their families—what will they think? I don’t want them to lose respect for me.”
Matt smiled faintly. “Like a good leader, you’ll be careful to keep up appearances for their sake, Lark. I’ll join you after everyone in the bunkhouse has gone to sleep. And I’ll go back before dawn. No one will know. How does that sound?”
“Wonderful.”
“You were angry when you left this morning.”
She nodded, finding solace in his arms. “I didn’t want to hear the truth of your counsel. After I rode out to the canyon and thought about what you’d said, I knew you were right, Matt. I may not feel comfortable walking between two worlds, but the ranch has to come before my own needs.”
“You’re growing in your role as
patrona
, honey,” he congratulated her. He squeezed her gently, realizing she must be sore and tender from the fall from the buckskin. “I’m proud of you. Proud as hell.”
Lark ignored her discomfort once they arrived at the ranch. She helped Matt organize the rest of the returning wranglers. A sentry would be posted and changed every three hours, around the clock, to guard the main buildings of the ranch.
Near dark, another group of wranglers arrived from the rim of the canyon. Their hard, worried expressions melted into smiles of welcome when they saw Lark standing on the porch. A day of near disaster had turned to one of relief and happiness.
It was dusk when Lark washed herself in the stream and dressed in the cotton nightgown. Usually she stayed up until midnight, but the day’s harrowing events had sapped her reserves of strength and she was going to bed early.
The kerosene lamp sputtered on the dresser as she pulled back the sheet and quilt on the brass bed. Exhausted, all she wanted to do was sleep. Within seconds, she spiraled into darkness, escaping the grief of the day.
Matt waited until the wranglers’ snores told him they were all asleep. Throughout the evening and into the night, he hadn’t forgotten his promise to Lark: to remain at her side and protect her. The events of the day had wiped away all his self-doubt. The thought that Lark might have been found dead somewhere in the canyon still hovered in the shadowy recesses of his mind. In that galvanizing moment, he knew he loved her more than any other woman.