Carol Finch (19 page)

“The carrier pigeons were an impressive touch,” Shiloh praised, hoping for a complete confession. “You kept your identity secret and still contacted your gang leaders.”

Lucille smiled shrewdly, her blue eyes dancing with devilish delight. “It’s a little trick I picked up from my mother during the war. She used pigeons to pass information about the location of federal troops to the confederate army.” Her expression turned bitter. “Until my stepfather, worthless, abusive, self-serving bastard that he was, turned her in for the reward on her head. Like I said, you should never trust a man because he will betray you if it benefits him.”

It was little wonder Lucille had no respect for men, not with a double-crossing stepfather who served as a prime example of treachery and probably sexual abuse.

“Let me go,” Lucille pleaded with Shiloh. “You’re an independent-minded woman yourself. But you don’t understand what it’s like for someone like me, who doesn’t have your wealthy family’s connections. Some of us have to scratch and claw to get by the best way we know how.”

Shiloh didn’t argue with that, but she didn’t loosen her grasp on Lucille, either.

“If you let me go I’ll gather my belongings and hightail it out of town. No one else has to know of my involvement. Frank Mills and Morton DeVol are the only ones who know I’ve coordinated the raids and strikes. Everyone at your house presumes I’m involved with Frank and his cousin Grady. Frank won’t give up my name because he knows I’ll give up his name after he hired a gunman to shoot the sheepherders.”

Shiloh stared grimly at Lucille. “Innocent victims have been hurt and robbed so you could feather your nest. I’m not going to release you, Lucille, especially after you shot the man I love!” Her voice steadily rose to an angry shout.

“That rugged half-breed who came to rescue you?” Lucille snorted derisively. “You can do much better than that, especially with your wealth and social connections. If I’ve learned nothing else, it’s that a woman should align herself with a man who can provide her with certain advantages that make life easier. Love? Bah! It’s an illusion!”

Lucille began fighting in earnest again, flinging herself sideways and kicking Shiloh in the back with her knees and feet. Shiloh held her position, hoping the riders she heard approaching were on the side of law and order, not outlaws scurrying away from the battle with the Rangers.

“Shiloh? What the devil is going on?”

She was greatly relieved to hear Noah’s voice. But she didn’t dare shift her attention from Lucille, who was struggling desperately to escape.

A moment later Noah and Gideon brought their horses to a skidding halt then dismounted to shackle Lucille’s arms and haul her to her feet.

Puzzled, Gideon glanced from the madam to Shiloh. “Am I missing something here? Fletch said you flew off without explanation and that we had better chase you down before you got yourself in more trouble… Why are you wrestling with Lucille?”

“Lucille, what the devil are you doing out here on this road in the middle of the night?” Noah asked suspiciously.

“She’s trying to sneak off during all the excitement,” Shiloh answered for Lucille. “She’s the one who shot Hawk….”

Her voice trailed off when she saw her brothers wince. Their grim expressions didn’t bode well for Hawk. Emptiness expanded inside her chest when faced with the tormenting prospect that Hawk’s unselfish deed of shielding her from a bullet might have cost him his life.

Lucille had been aiming at
him,
but her shot had been off the mark. Curse it, he wouldn’t have been hit if he had stayed where he was.

The aftershocks of her harrowing evening were beginning to catch up with Shiloh. Feeling weak and shaky, she swayed on her feet. A headache throbbed painfully against her tender skull. “Is Hawk all right?” she murmured.

“We put him in bed after we subdued the outlaws by storming every entrance simultaneously,” Gideon explained.

“Our home looks like a battle zone with upturned furniture and shattered windows. But the outlaws are in custody. Or dead,” Noah added without much sympathy.

When Lucille tried to hurl herself from Gideon’s grasp in a last-ditch escape attempt, Noah removed his
cravat and used it to bind Lucille’s wrists together. He ignored her begging and pleading as he tossed her onto the back of her horse then secured her feet to the stirrups.

“Did someone ride into town to fetch the doctor?” Shiloh asked as she dragged herself onto her horse.

Gideon grabbed the reins to Lucille’s mount to lead her back to the ranch. “One of the Rangers raced off to get Doc Brown,” he assured her.

“Fletch is using his practical knowledge of treating wounds and trying to make Hawk as comfortable as possible until a qualified physician arrives,” Noah reported.

Shiloh sincerely hoped Fletch could keep Hawk alive until Doc Brown showed up. If not…

The bleak thought stole the breath from her lungs. It was only after she had watched Hawk fall victim to a bullet that she had faced the dispiriting prospect of losing him forever. She had been crushed when she erroneously assumed he had entered the brothel to lie in the arms of another woman. But she had experienced an incredible feeling of relief when she realized Hawk hadn’t betrayed her. He had simply been chasing down a lead.

Because of him, she had regained her faith in men. She could be herself around him and he made her happier than she had ever been. Not to mention the indescribable pleasure she’d experienced during those stolen moments when he’d taught her the meaning of passion. They had become as close as two people could get…and she might never know those feelings of intimacy and ecstasy again.

The thought of losing him, so soon after she had acknowledged how much he meant to her, tormented her
to no end. She hadn’t had the chance to explore her tender feelings for him. Damn it, why was life so unfair and fate so cruel?

Desperate to see Hawk, and praying nonstop that he was still alive, Shiloh nudged her mount into a swift pace. She left her brothers to deal with the wily madam, who had masterfully organized a mob of unruly outlaws and used information she’d collected from patrons to launch raids and robberies.

After Shiloh’s heartbreaking infatuation with Antoine Troudeau, she could understand why Lucille felt the obsessive need to control men. She’d had her fill of being at their mercy. Given Lucille’s tragic past, and her stepfather’s traitorous act against her mother, it was small wonder that Lucille was bitter and cynical.

But that didn’t excuse Lucille from holding Shiloh at gunpoint while Morton DeVol knocked her unconscious a second time, then tied her to the bedpost. Plus, Lucille had committed the unpardonable sin of shooting the man Shiloh had come to love with all her heart and soul.

Shiloh inwardly grimaced when the memory of Hawk buckling at the knees and grabbing at his chest hit her like a runaway locomotive.
I can’t lose him,
Shiloh mused as she raced home at breakneck speed. Even if Hawk didn’t return her affection, she wanted him to survive. Even if he rode off with the Rangers and never passed this way again, she could accept that. As long as he
lived.

Shiloh’s footsteps faltered when she reached the upstairs landing. Fear clogged her chest, making it difficult to draw breath. What if she had arrived too late? What if Hawk…?

Get hold of yourself!
She dragged in a steadying
breath. And then another. This was not the time to fall apart. If Hawk had survived, he didn’t need to see her wailing and whimpering. She needed to be as strong and supportive as he had been each time he rescued her from disaster.

Shiloh squared her shoulders and gathered her resolve. Hawk wouldn’t see her fall apart. She would maintain her composure, she vowed fiercely. If he were conscious, she’d tell him that she loved him desperately and he was the only man she was going to love—ever.

The light spearing through the open doorway indicated that Fletch had placed Hawk in the guest room where he’d spent the previous night.
Previous night?
Sweet mercy, had it been only yesterday evening that she had sneaked into Hawk’s room to practice her skills of seduction?

Since then she had run through the entire gamut of emotions and had endured one hair-raising incident after another. Ending with the very real prospect that she had arrived too late to tell Hawk what was in her heart.

Holding her breath, afraid of what she might find when she entered the room, Shiloh strode down the hall. She halted at the threshold and swallowed hard. Her heart ceased beating for several seconds when she peeked inside to see Hawk sprawled lifelessly in bed. His bare chest was wrapped in bloody bandages. His face was pasty white and his breathing was erratic.

Her anxious gaze leaped to Fletch whose expression was so bleak that Shiloh’s spirits hit rock bottom in two seconds flat. She swayed on her feet and had to thrust out a hand to anchor herself to the doorjamb.

“He doesn’t look good.” Fletch clutched Hawk’s unresponsive hand in his own and held on tight. “He
lost a hell of a lot of blood before I could get him situated up here….” His voice quaked as he added, “I did the best I could.” His tortured gaze locked with hers. “I’m not sure my best will be good enough. No matter how bad things got I always had my big brother to count on. Damn it, I can’t stand the thought of losing him, too!”

S
hiloh couldn’t remember being so mentally, physically and emotionally exhausted in her life. She had remained by Hawk’s side for five days, spoon-feeding him when he roused momentarily, and then watching him drift off to sleep for hours on end.

The local physician, Gordon Brown, had removed the bullet lodged in Hawk’s chest and had ordered constant sedation to keep him quiet. Although life at the ranch had returned to normal, Shiloh seemed to be floating on the same surreal plane where Hawk existed.

“Any improvement?” Fletch asked as he entered the room.

Shiloh shook her head as she clutched Hawk’s limp hand. She willed him to rouse so she could offer him a sip of water, but he didn’t respond. “Any news from town?”

Fletch sank down on the opposite side of the bed. “The Rangers are transporting the prisoners to Austin to stand trial. Archie Pearson’s murderers, the two men you saw rustling your cattle, will finally receive their long-overdue punishment.”

“And Lucille?” Shiloh asked, wondering if the madam had used her feminine wiles to ensure her release.

“She’s with the prisoners,” Fletch reported. “Lucille refused to reveal where she stashed her share of the money from the robberies and rustled livestock sales.” He smiled dryly. “I suppose she plans to have the stolen money waiting for her after she’s served her time and makes a new start. Being a woman, she might get a reduced sentence. Unless Hawk—”

“Hawk is going to fully recover,” she interrupted, refusing to entertain the prospect that she might lose him.

“I sure hope so,” Fletch murmured. “I thought he’d come around by now. How much laudanum did Doc Brown prescribe?”

“Plenty. He said too much thrashing might rip loose the stitches. But I’ve been ordered to reduce the sedatives gradually. Hopefully Hawk will remain awake for more than a few minutes at a time from now on.”

Then perhaps she’d have the chance to tell him how she felt about him. If she didn’t do it soon she might lose her nerve.

“Has anyone sighted Grady Mills in the area?” Shiloh asked as she laid a cool compress on Hawk’s feverish brow.

Fletch’s jaw clenched. “No, the son of a bitch was nowhere to be found when the rest of the outlaws were taken into custody.”

“He must have cleared out when the Rangers showed up,” she speculated.

“That weasel could be anywhere by now, but at least a warrant has been issued for his arrest. I won’t be content until I’ve run him to ground,” Fletch muttered.
“He’ll turn up somewhere. Eventually. He’ll pay for what he did.”

Shiloh intended to ask Fletch what happened in Colorado that sent him chasing after Grady Mills, but Hawk moaned, demanding her absolute attention. When his lashes fluttered up Shiloh smiled into his dazed, midnight-colored eyes.

“Welcome back, Hawk. Do you feel like eating some broth?”

“Water,” he wheezed.

Fletch picked up the glass then glanced at Shiloh. “Why don’t you fetch him some food,” he suggested. “He definitely needs the nourishment.”

Shiloh didn’t want to leave the room, for fear she’d miss the chance to speak to Hawk. But Fletch wanted privacy with his brother so she granted his wish.

But not before she pressed a feathery kiss to Hawk’s forehead. “I’ll be right back,” she promised before she turned around and walked away.

With Fletch’s help, Hawk levered himself against the pillow. The simple task required so much energy that he nearly wore himself out shifting into another position on the bed. It had been a while since a bullet had slowed him down and forced him to recuperate. He didn’t like inactivity one damn bit.

“Hit the high points and catch me up on what’s happened since Lucille blasted this hole in my chest,” Hawk rasped.

“Ah, yes, that happened shortly after you clubbed me over the head.” Fletch stared reproachfully at him. “And thank you so much for that. Hell of a way to treat your own brother.”

“I didn’t want you to end up like me,” Hawk in
sisted. “You’ve been shot once this month. You reached your quota.”

Fletch offered the boiled-down version of the battle against the outlaws and Shiloh’s capture of the mastermind, who orchestrated the rash of raids and robberies.

“As for William Proctor, the uppity banker, it turns out that he
has
been embezzling from local citizens,” Fletch went on to say. “But Hiram Evans really did inherit from a long-lost uncle so his mercantile expansion is legitimate.”

“What about the mayor?” Hawk asked curiously.

Fletch snickered. “His wife tossed him out and refused to take him back until the brothel shuts its doors. Word in town is that the mayor is living in Lucille’s vacated room.”

“Glad to hear that justice has been served. Archie Pearson’s death, along with several others, has finally been avenged,” Hawk murmured in satisfaction.

“Yes. I just wish I could track down Grady Mills and see that he pays penance for his crimes. He must have sneaked off before the battle heated up.” Fletch frowned disconsolately. “Sounds just like that slippery son of a bitch.”

“What do you plan to do until the Ranger unit returns from delivering the prisoners to Austin?”

Fletch shrugged a broad shoulder. “I thought I might hang around to make sure you get back on your feet.” He cast Hawk a sideways glance. “Or maybe the two of us could trail Grady.”

Hawk thought it over and decided that riding with his brother appealed to him. Now that Grady was wanted by the state of Texas, the Rangers would be carrying a warrant for his arrest. Since it wasn’t unusual
for Rangers to work in pairs, Hawk and Fletch could dog Grady’s footsteps.

The thought of leaving Drummond Ranch provoked mixed feelings. Spending a few more days with Shiloh underfoot held tremendous appeal. Conversely, spending a few more days with Shiloh would prolong his torment of wishing for things better left alone.

Besides, last he heard, the confounded woman was still clinging to her independence and denying that they had become intimate. Didn’t that imply that she wanted to get on with her life—without
him
in it?

As if Fletch had read Hawk’s mind he grinned and said, “She’s a pretty amazing woman. It’s going to be hard for you to leave her behind, I suspect.”

Hawk simply nodded. Leaving Shiloh behind would be difficult, if not impossible. So would forgetting her, forgetting the way she made him feel inside. But he had to be sensible and realistic. All he knew was his job and men like him didn’t fit into society or claim women like Shiloh.

A mismatched pair if ever there was one, he mused.

When weariness overcame him, Hawk closed his eyes, ready for another nap. Then he heard the swish of skirts and caught the tantalizing fragrance that had followed him into—and out of—his dreams for the past few days.

“Oh no, you don’t,” Shiloh chided as she eased down beside him. “You’re not going to drift off until you eat and that’s that.”

She proceeded to press one spoonful of chicken broth after another to his lips. He swallowed dutifully.

“You do understand that I’m never going to forgive you for making sure Lucille shot you instead of me, don’t you?” she said as she fed him.

“Mmm,” was all he managed to say before she shoved another mouthful of broth at him.

“It was heroic, but unnecessary,” she insisted.

“Better me than you,” he said before she practically crammed the spoon down his throat in her crusade to give him nourishment.

She harrumphed at that. Fletch cast him a wry grin, apparently enjoying the fact that Hawk was on the receiving end of her spirited lecture.

“If you weren’t weak and wounded I’d pound you over the head for taking that bullet,” she added sharply. “It’s as if you consider my life more valuable than yours and we both know that’s preposterous since
you
are the most competent frontiersman and lawman that I’ve ever met.”

“I’m not sure an extensive dressing-down is good for our patient’s morale, considering his present condition,” Fletch spoke up, his lips twitching.

Hawk grinned when Shiloh shifted on the edge of the bed to grant Fletch the full benefit of her annoyed stare.

“Now I would like for
you
to leave the room while I have a private word with your brother,” she requested—told Fletch to get lost was nearer the mark.

“Okay, but you have to promise not to do him bodily harm while I’m gone,” Fletch negotiated, grinning.

She hitched her thumb over her shoulder, impatiently urging him to make himself scarce.

Hawk yawned broadly, finding it nearly impossible to keep his eyes open. His strength was ebbing with alarming speed. “You better be quick about saying whatever it is you intend to say,” he mumbled, his lashes falling to half-mast. “I’ve depleted most of my energy already.”

He sighed contentedly when he felt her sensuous lips drift over his. Her unforgettable scent consumed his senses.

Damn, he was starting to feel better already….

Until she said, “You need to know that I’ve fallen in love with you, Hawk. I tried very hard not to. I don’t expect anything from you in return. But I want you to know the truth before you pack up and leave for good.”

He tried to rally after her shocking confession, but he was too far gone…. And so was she, he realized when he heard the door close behind her.

Talk about mixed feelings, he thought sluggishly. Any man would be proud and honored to become the recipient of Shiloh’s love and respect. But Hawk knew it really wasn’t love that she felt for him.
It couldn’t be.

First off, she was on the rebound from Antoine. Secondly, she felt guilty because
he
had taken a bullet to spare her. Plus, she was immensely grateful for the times he’d provided assistance and support while they’d stumbled into one calamity after another during their misadventures in the wilderness.

No, it wasn’t love. It was
gratitude
she felt for him.

In addition, her brothers would never approve of a match between them. Not that Shiloh wanted marriage, he reminded himself. She’d declared herself a spinster. Furthermore, she had denied their passionate trysts had occurred. She also maintained that he had no obligation whatsoever toward her.

Which was rather insulting when you thought about it.

“Damn it, the woman is still making me crazy,” he mumbled before exhaustion got the better of him—again.

Three days later Hawk mustered the strength to ambulate down the upstairs hall—with Fletch’s assistance. He hadn’t seen Shiloh since the day she’d blurted out her confession. After that, she’d left him in Fletch’s care.

At least when he was awake, Hawk amended. According to Fletch, she checked on him regularly during the night.

Hawk pricked his ears when he heard voices wafting up the steps. He muttered, realizing that Antoine Troudeau was monopolizing Shiloh’s time. According to reports from Fletch, Antoine had invited himself to stay at the ranch and was following at Shiloh’s heels like a devoted pup.

“Doesn’t Frenchy have anything better to do with his time?” Hawk grumbled resentfully.

“No, he’s on a mission. He claims he feels responsible for Shiloh’s capture and he’s trying to make amends by remaining at her beck and call. He’s asked her to marry him every day since he arrived,” Fletch reported as he moved patiently alongside Hawk who progressed slowly down the hall.

The news soured Hawk’s mood in the space of a heartbeat. If Shiloh supposedly loved him—and he had no doubt that she had confused guilt and gratitude for love—why hadn’t she sent Antoine packing? He frowned, perplexed. He was pretty certain Shiloh had never completely gotten over that debonair Don Juan. Obviously, she was having trouble sorting out what she felt for whom.

Hawk pivoted to walk gingerly in the direction he’d come. “If I asked you to do something for me, would you do it?”

“Sure. Anything,” Fletch said magnanimously.

“Kill that Frenchman before Shiloh gives in and agrees to marry him. He’s nowhere near good enough for her.”

“I’ll do
almost
anything for you,” Fletch amended wryly. “Sorry, Hawk. If I went around shooting people for their stupidity or their pretentious charm, I’d reduce the country’s population by half.
You
can shoot Frenchy because it’s a personal conflict. You’re in love with that green-eyed hellion, after all.”

Hawk stopped short. “I am not!” he protested loudly.

Fletch flashed him a pitying glance as he veered toward Hawk’s bedroom. “Oh sorry. My mistake. I wasn’t aware that you were still in denial. I have to say that I’ve never seen a man try as hard
not
to love someone as you have.” He brightened. “But maybe that’s a good thing because we can ride away together before it dawns on you that you really don’t want to leave her behind. Ever.”

“It wouldn’t work out.” Hawk sank down on the edge of the bed to catch his breath after fifteen minutes of walking the hall. “Where the hell would we live? In a wickiup in Sundance Canyon?”

Fletch shrugged nonchalantly. “Sure, wherever you want. This is
your
whimsical fantasy, not
mine.
”

Hawk swore. He needed to leave this place before he started thinking that maybe he could convince Shiloh to boot out Antoine for good so they could make a life together.

We are never going to have a life together,
Hawk told himself earnestly.
All I know is the nomadic existence I have with the Rangers. Before I forget that, I need to leave here. The sooner the better.

“Saddle my horse, first thing in the morning,” Hawk
requested. “It’s time to ride. The cave in Sundance Canyon is a good place for me to finish recuperating.”

Fletch stared at him for a long moment, then finally nodded. “I’ll see you at sunrise.”

When Fletch exited, Hawk half collapsed on the bed. Damn good thing he’d come to his senses before he started thinking he fit in around here. Besides, Shiloh didn’t need him to protect her from that pretentious Frenchman. She was intelligent, strong-minded and independent. If he hung around here, she would remain entangled up in her misguided affection for him. He needed to clear out so she could focus on assessing her true feelings for Antoine.