Ride The Wild Wind (Time Travel Historical Romance) (4 page)

“Shima!” he
cried.

Mariposa,
strapped in the cradleboard on his mother’s back released a strangled cry, then
went silent.

Blood poured
into his eyes, burning and blinding his vision. At first he believed he had
been shot. He listened as his mother choked out her last breath, her warm body
going limp atop his as her blood flowed into his mouth and nostrils. Mariposa’s
cries also ceased. Men’s voices hovered around. He heard the wails of the women
and children who’d been injured, the shouts of the men, both Navajo and white.

 “Put ‘em
out of their misery,” he heard a man say.

He recalled the
agonizing pierce of the soldier’s bayonet as it sliced through his mother’s
lifeless body and through his lower right arm. He screamed silently, afraid
they would  kill him if they knew he had survived.

 Lukachukai
awakened and jerked to a sitting position, gasping for breath as blinding tears
scalded his eyes. His father had not been there to save his mother and the
baby, or the others who lay dying around them. His father was not here now. Who
would protect them when soldiers came again?

Wiping away the
tears, he sniffed hard and lay down beneath the blanket, tucking it beneath his
chin. He tossed and turned, awakening often throughout the night, but when he
finally succumbed to sleep, he dreamed of the red haired woman again, and this
time, a tiny brown and black dog.

* *
* * *

Halle opened her
eyes. Until she saw the bright turquoise sky above she hadn’t realized she’d
been asleep, or that she was still in the canyon where she crashed her car two
nights ago. Within seconds she became aware something was terribly wrong.

She glanced down
at her breasts bound by a strip of tight cloth.
What the hell?
A crude,
woven blanket lay bunched at her waist.
Where did this come from?
She
lifted the edge and discovered she was only wearing panties. Her knee had been
crudely bandaged as well.  Heart pounding with fear and apprehension, she
drew the covering over her nakedness. Who would have done this?
 

She tried
unsuccessfully to roll onto her right side, pulling up short as bruised ribs
propelled rockets of pain throughout her body. She shouldn’t have tried to
scale the rocks that night, but she’d been alone in a dark canyon for two days,
easy prey for night time predators. When wolves began howling, she feared for
her and Max’s safety. Desperate, she’d climbed the rock wall about eight feet,
lost her footing and fallen.

Before her
transition back in time, Stella assured her help would arrive. Is that what
happened while she’d slept? Someone found her and covered her with this a
hand-woven blanket, a type she’d seen in local souvenir shops? Still, it didn’t
explain her nakedness beneath, or the bandages.  

Lifting her head,
she glanced about again. Exactly where
were
her clothes? And just where
in the hell had this blasted itchy blanket come from? She began to scratch
vigorously.

“Max! Get back
here right now, mister!”

She turned her
face toward the sun and squinted against the glare. By her estimation its
position in the sky suggested it was mid-afternoon. She’d fallen asleep
sometime after sun rise, thankfully before the day’s soaring temperature had
taken its toll again. Under any other circumstances, she’d have welcomed the
caress of warm sunshine on her face, but not today. After two days of exposure,
the arid summer heat continued to dehydrate her. And the sun’s strong rays had
baked her skin to a bright shade of boiled lobster. She needed water, and soon.

A fly buzzed her
face, pestered her nostril. She swatted it away. “Go away. I’m not dead,” she
muttered, although she suspected she stunk royally after days without a bath.

So this was her
new, exciting life in the past, the great adventure Stella the Spirit Guide
hyped it up to be? Oh yes, she was going to do great things, she and her little
dog…. Together Halle and Super Max would change the world. Maybe even slay a
mean old dragon or two and ride off into the sunset with a handsome prince.
Bullshit.
Already it sucked big time.

She lolled her
head to the side and focused on deep green cactus and soft, dusty brush which
contrasted against multicolored sandstone and limestone bluffs. The sky, a deep
turquoise with sparsely scattered puffy popcorn clouds made the setting as
picturesque as a glossy travel brochure. This was a gorgeous place to visit but
not where she wanted to die. If it were possible she
could
die. After
surviving a roller coaster ride off a fifty-foot cliff two days ago, and being
whisked back nearly a hundred and fifty years into the past, life and death had
suddenly taken on a new definition.

But what if
something had gone wrong in the transition? She was still in the ravine where
her car crashed days before and Stella had vanished. Now Halle lay nearly naked
beneath a blanket she’d never seen before, and not a soul was to be found. Yep,
dear old Stella neglected to give her details of what might happen once she
entered a nineteenth century world or exactly
who
might rescue her.

“Nope, you’re
going to have to save yourself, girlfriend,” she grumbled. “No one is coming to
your rescue. There are no knights in shining armor. Maybe an ogre or a troll
lurking in this hell hole but definitely no Prince Charmings.”

She lifted her
head and the scenery whirled as if she’d drunk too many strawberry daquiris.
Bad move. She lay still, listening to the sounds of birds and other creatures,
wondering where in the hell Max had gotten off to again.

“Max! This is no
time or place to be goofing around. Do your business and get back here on the
double.” Pain shot through her skull, and she drew in several deep, calming
breaths.
That was a smooth move. Okay. No more yelling.

She closed her
eyes and willed herself to relax. She had to think clearly, had to try and
remember what she’d done with her clothes…where she’d found this blanket…where
the bandages had come from. Tension began to drain from her body as she again
focused on the soft whoosh of wind through the brush. A woodpecker riveted a
tree far in the distance, its rat-a-tat-tat carrying on the warm breeze.

Then she heard
something else. Trickling water.

A stream?
How had she missed it before? She must have scouted this spot a dozen times
when she first arrived. Her thoughts went into a whirl. Maybe she could drag
herself to the water’s edge for a drink. It was probably chock-full of enough
amoebas and bacteria to cause a high fever and make her puke her guts out, but
who cared. It was water, and if it was
moving
water, it was probably
safe enough to drink. She rolled onto her stomach and groaned.

Oh. My. God
.

Moving hurt even
worse than screaming for Max.

She dragged
herself a few inches in the direction of the gurgle, freezing at the sound of
foot falls on the hard earth
.
Which direction had it come from? She
grappled for the blanket in an attempt to shield her nearly naked backside from
view.

“You are awake,” A
man’s deep voice froze her in place as fear knotted in her throat. Had he been
watching her struggle all this time? Was he the one who’d undressed her—perhaps
done other things to her while she lay unconscious?

“Who are you?” she
called out, hoping she masked the fear in her voice. Panic welled up inside
when he didn’t answer.

 She turned
her face in time to catch a flash of black and tan barreling toward her.
Oh,
gee thanks, Max for sticking around to protect me from this potential psycho.

“When I found you
yesterday, the dog was guarding you,” the man said.

Wincing at the
soreness in her ribs, Halle tried in vain to roll onto her side to get a look
at him. She heard the scrunch of dry gravel beneath his feet as he edged
closer, turned her head to come face to toe with well-worn brown leather boots.

A strong, but
gentle hand scooped beneath her ribs, another beneath the front of her thighs.
She squeezed her eyes shut and bit down on her lower lip as a sharp pain ripped
through her midsection. She inhaled sharply, bit back a cry as he turned her
onto her back and gently released her.

“Holy shit, that
hurts!” She fought back tears, as well as the urge to punch the jerk for
causing more pain. “Think you can be any rougher?” She gritted her teeth and
kept her eyes clenched against the bright sun.

Max snuggled close
to her head and licked her ear. She hadn’t meant to curse the guy, but it had
hurt like hell. “I didn’t mean to yell, “she managed in a whisper once the
throbbing subsided.

“I know. You are
weak and in pain.”

No shit,
Sherlock.
Halle dared at look at him through a blur of hot tears. She
blinked in disbelief.  No, this couldn’t be happening. Not in a million
years. Not in her life
, period.

She reached up and
flicked the moisture from her eyes with her fingertips. Never would she have
such luck. She was hallucinating. Yes, it must be her mind playing tricks. Two
days of soaring temperatures and lack of food and drink had finally souffléd
her brain.

She snapped her
eyes shut and quickly counted to ten before opening them to gaze up at the most
delicious looking man she’d ever seen. Smoke-gray eyes. Full, pouting lips. A
strong squared jaw and well-muscled biceps. Her gaze slid lower.

Whoa! Pecs
ahoy!

A sleeveless
leather vest hung open, revealing his rippled, muscular chest and abs. An
authentic-looking bandolier was slung across his shoulder. An outlaw? Her heart
dipped.
Oh, hell.
Wouldn’t that be her sorry luck? Rescued by a bad boy
of the worst kind.

Although a deep
rich brown, strands of his hair shimmered like gold in the sunlight. Thick
straight locks fell past his deeply tanned shoulders. His facial features—the
shape of his eyes and high cheekbones were clearly Native American—though his
gray eyes denoted a Caucasian ancestor in the gene pool.

Wait a minute.
Was this the same guy on the highway who’d caused the wreck two nights ago, the
one on the horse? It was difficult to tell for certain.

“What did you do
with my clothes?”

“I washed them. They
are drying on the rocks near the stream.”

He’d undressed
her? Uh-oh. Not good. Not good at all. “H-how did you find me?”

He turned to
rummage through a canvas satchel a few feet away but didn’t answer.

She studied him a
moment, the planes and angles of his tanned face, the way the breeze tousled
wisps of his shiny, silky hair. Muscled, bronzed biceps glossed with a sheen of
sweat. Sexy sweat. Halle almost wished he would stand so she could get a gander
at his backside.

She became
painfully aware her hair was greasy with perspiration, her armpits fuzzy with
two days’ growth and sporting odor atrocious enough to repel an army of skunks.

Moving closer
again, he slipped one hand behind her neck and lifted her head up a bit to
bring a canteen spout to her lips.

“Drink.”

His gaze locked
with hers and her heart did a pit-a-pat. She took a sip of the cool water,
rolling it over her tongue. Slightly warm, but sweet. She swallowed, taking too
large a sip and choked. Sputtering, she coughed hard, then puked a stream of
water, spraying his pants legs and boots. He stared but did not appear
horrified. She clenched her eyes shut and died a slow, mortifying death.

Oh, hell.
She’d puked on a guy!

He pressed a cloth
to her lips and wiped her chin but she turned her face aside. “Stop. I don’t
need water.”

“You
do
need water. You simply drank too fast.”

No, I choked
because you’re so damned hot looking
. “I’m not thirsty” she lied, unable to
meet his gaze.

He grasped her
hand and thrust the canteen into it. “This time, drink slowly.”

Halle tried not to
slurp but figured what the hell. She stunk. Was half-naked with fuzzy armpits.
Not to mention she’d barfed on his boots. Somehow it seemed pointless to care
what he thought. She tipped the canteen upside down and gulped. He quickly
lifted it away.

“I warned you not
to drink too fast. You will make yourself ill.” He capped the spout and tossed
it on top of the canvas bag out of her reach, then pushed up from the ground.
“You rest. I’ll make food.”

Halle watched him
walk away, her eyes riveting on his oh-so–nice, tight rear end. Firm butt
muscles worked buttery colored buckskins, conjuring up a wicked fantasy or two.
He must be around thirty, she figured, give or take a couple of years. And
buff. No, he didn’t get
that
physique in a gym either.

He squatted some
distance away. Now what was he doing? She craned her neck and watched him lean
low to puff at a stack of twigs. Small hunks of what appeared to be raw meat
hung across two branches. Ewww, gross! It had legs and arms. The head was still
on, too! A pitiful gray wisp of smoke trailed into the air and wafted past.
“Great. I’m dying in this hell hole and the dude’s having a cook out,” she
muttered under her breath.

He glanced over
his shoulder. “You are not dying.”

Halle hadn’t
realized he’d heard her. “Okay. Maybe not. But it’s still a hell hole.”

He shrugged, then
sat back on his haunches and stared at the tiny orange flames. As he tossed
more twigs on the fire, the flames crackled, igniting the limbs. White, acrid
smoke wafted toward her. She fanned it away, not wanting to obscure her view of
him.  He really had a nice, firm looking butt, strong, muscular legs and
arms and wide shoulders. She wondered if his straight, shiny hair was as soft
as it looked. He turned and caught her staring. Halle quickly averted her
eyes.