Carol Finch (9 page)

“Don’t be so hard on yourself.” Hawk grinned devilishly. “That’s what I’m here for, or so you claim.”

Hawk dismounted to let Dorado drink his fill in the stream. He lifted Shiloh from the saddle. The moment he placed his hands around the trim indentation of her waist awareness sizzled through him and he cursed his helpless reaction to her.

Her hands clamped on his forearms to steady herself as he lowered her to the ground—and he wanted to keep going down until she was on the grass beneath him so he could mesh his aching body to her lush contours then help himself to a generous taste of that sassy mouth.

“I swear, men aren’t worth the trouble they cause women.” Her voice grew husky when she met his gaze directly.

“And vice versa,” he said, telling himself to let her go before he fell beneath this forbidden spell and did something reckless. But his leaden feet refused to retreat. He stood there holding on to Shiloh, staring into her beguiling face, hungering to devour her tempting lips—for starters.

He wasn’t sure who broke eye contact first. It might have been a draw. Whatever the case, he stepped back as she stepped sideways. He didn’t know if she glanced at him because he was making a monumental effort
not
to look directly at her.

It always got him in trouble.

“You’ll probably want to stretch out and take a load off your ankle while you have the chance,” he suggested, his voice two octaves lower than normal. “I’ll grab your bedroll.” Which he did quickly. “This will be a short stop for a cold meal. Tonight we’ll find a place to bed down that’s off the beaten path.”

“Whatever you say, you’re the expert frontiersman.” She accepted the bedroll and snapped it out beside the stream. “But you don’t have to pamper me, Hawk. My ankle is feeling much better and I can keep up with your pace. I know you’re eager to get me off your hands and concentrate on your assignment. And I’m anxious to get home.”

Get her off his hands?
A lot she knew! He wanted her
in
his hands more than he wanted to draw breath. But he still had enough sense left to avoid that dangerous pitfall. Surely he could control his basal needs for the two-day journey. Considering the various and sundry ordeals he’d endured the past two decades this should be a piece of cake.

The murmur of voices sent Hawk’s senses to full alert. He snatched up the bedroll Shiloh had spread out, then draped it over the saddle. Tying the horses to a stripling, he grabbed Shiloh’s hand to lead her up to the rise of ground overlooking the creek to locate the unidentified travelers. When he tried to pick her up to take the pressure off her ankle, she shook her head adamantly. She made a stabbing gesture with her hand, silently ordering him to lead the way while she limped along behind him.

A moment later Hawk reached back to hook his arm around Shiloh and draw her to a halt at the point where the narrow path descended from the sandy knoll
to the creek bank. His brows furrowed when he recognized the two men that were squatted down, filling their canteens.

“They match your brother’s description,” she whispered against his ear.

Hawk nodded, willfully ignoring the tantalizing tingles her warm breath evoked. “The description matches the horses, too.” He indicated the muscular brown and white Appaloosa. “That’s Fletch’s horse and I intend to get it back.”

“So how do you want to handle the situation?” she questioned as she surveyed the area. “I’m a fair shot with a rifle and pistol, thanks to my brothers.”

“Have you ever shot a man before?”

“No.”

“Then let’s not make this your first time.”

Hawk inwardly cursed the fact that he had Shiloh underfoot right now. Ordinarily he would wing the outlaws and apply a few scare tactics to get them to talk. Threatening to resort to Apache torture usually loosened the tightest lips.

“I know what you’re thinking,” she murmured against his ear again. “I’m in the way. I’m preventing you from doing your job. So just pretend I’m not here. I can find my way home.”

Pretend you aren’t here?
Now there was a laugh. He could feel her, breathe her, see her. It was impossible to ignore a woman who had such a fierce impact on a man’s senses.

Furthermore, she wasn’t functioning at full capacity and his conscience refused to let her ride off alone.

Hawk held position while the bandits—one of whom kept his arm in a sling after his run-in with Fletch—mounted their horses. He wasn’t surprised the
hombres were headed the same direction he was. Which meant their headquarters were near the area where Shiloh lived. Hawk couldn’t help but wonder if her brothers were involved in the outlaw rings and if they had sent her to Louisiana so she wouldn’t be suspicious of their activities. It wouldn’t be the first time unsuspecting family members had been kept in the dark about crime sprees.

“There has to be a connection between these outlaw factions and the string of ranches along Echo River,” Shiloh said perceptively. “My money is on Frank Mills.”

Hawk hoped she was right because it would break her heart if her brothers were involved.

After they reversed direction to retrieve their tethered horses, Hawk picked up Shiloh and set her in the saddle.

“I’ll lag behind,” she offered. “I know you want to apprehend the men who shot your brother and stole his horse.”

He mounted his mustang. “Yes, I do. But not at your expense. You’ve suffered enough because of me already.”

He could tell that he was in for a heated debate when she tilted her chin and stiffened her spine. “Fine, if you won’t leave me behind then I’ll assist you however I can. I can serve as bait if you like. But I refuse to hamper you and I insist on helping.”

Hawk glanced at her, exasperated, as they followed the bandits at a cautious distance. “But if you suffer needlessly, Captain Tipton and your brothers will have my head.”

She tossed him a challenging smile. “And here I thought you called no man master, Oh Great Apache Warrior.”

“That’s because the son of a bitch hasn’t been born that I’ll bow down to,” he quickly assured her, then cursed himself for his snappy retort that gave too much of himself away.

She studied him pensively. “I accidentally hit an exposed nerve, didn’t I?”

Hawk blew out his breath. “Yeah, Fletch and I got fed up with the lording soldiers at the reservation. They delighted in taunting our people and calling us no-account savages. They tried to break our spirit by telling us that we were less than human and that all redskins should be annihilated, not penned up like cattle. They molested our women and sold them, as well as our children, on both sides of the border as slaves for extra profit. Too many times the fort commanders looked the other way when it happened.”

“I’m sorry. I have been growling and complaining about Antoine’s betrayal, but that is nothing compared to what you and your people suffered.”

Hawk forcefully shoved aside the bitter memories of those hellish days on the New Mexican reservation at Bosque Redondo, where rancid meat and daily doses of scorn were the rule, never the exception. He turned his attention to the two men that trotted northwest, then dug into his saddlebag for pemmican to curb Shiloh’s and his appetites until supper.

“I would have preferred to take a lunch break as planned,” he said as he handed food to Shiloh.

She shrugged indifferently. “I don’t mind eating on the go if it will lead you to the bandits’ hideout. I for one would like to know how close these thieves are to our ranch.”

Hawk inwardly grimaced, wondering if the masterminds were right under her nose.

“If Frank Mills is involved,” she went on to say, “I want to see him punished for his cruel treatment of the two Mexican sheepherders that got in his way.”

For the next few hours Hawk and Shiloh followed the brigands at a discreet distance. Shiloh knew Hawk was itching to overtake the outlaws, but he refused to because of her. And she was sorry to say that sitting in the saddle for so many hours was making her ankle throb again. Finally, she could endure no more. She reached over to tap Hawk on the shoulder.

“Why don’t you ride ahead and leave me behind to make camp for the night.”

He glanced at the strained expression on her face then stared at her ankle. “You’re in pain, aren’t you? You should have said something earlier.”

Shiloh grumbled sourly when Hawk snatched up her mare’s reins. He glanced this way and that before heading straight east at a fast clip that sent pain shooting up her leg.

“There’s a place nearby that will make a suitable camp. It’s a mite close to the watering hole where predators sometimes lurk, but the higher elevations make it easy to spot incoming intruders.”

“But the bandits are getting ahead of us,” she objected as he led her in the wrong direction.

“I’ll use a shortcut to catch up with them after I’ve stashed you away for safekeeping.”

Nothing like being extra baggage, Shiloh thought dishearteningly as Hawk trotted up the tree-choked hillside that opened onto a secluded plateau. She sighed appreciatively when she spotted the stream below. She could use a good soaking to ease her throbbing ankle and cleanse the wound on her arm. Being left behind wasn’t going to be as disappointing as she first thought.

Hawk hurriedly set her to the ground then thrust one of his six-shooters into her hand. “Sound carries a long way out here in the wilds, but use the weapon to protect yourself from trouble. I’ll be back as soon as I can. Take care of yourself so I don’t have to worry about you the entire time I’m gone.”

To her surprise, he dropped another hit-and-run kiss to her lips before he bounded back into the saddle.

“I thought you said you didn’t want any more kissing and touching.” She frowned warily. “Is this your idea of a goodbye kiss, because you’re not coming back? If it is, then tell me now so I won’t worry about what happened to
you.
”

“I’ll be back,” he promised as he shifted uneasily in the saddle, then looked the other way. “Kissing you seems to have turned into an impulsive habit. I’ll try not to let it happen again. It’s not good for either of us.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” she said before he shot off like a flying bullet.

Shiloh brushed her fingertips over her lips, wondering why those snippet tastes of him left her hungering for… She dropped her hand to her side and told herself to be sensible.

She was not going to hold Hawk in higher regard than the rest of his gender. If she could resist Logan Hawk’s rugged masculine appeal then she could resist any man.

Unfortunately, somewhere along the way, she had become the slightest bit intrigued by Hawk. Of course, she’d cut out her tongue before she admitted any such thing to him. She was not going to get her foolish heart broken again, she told herself determinedly.

Spinning about, she limped toward the creek to soak her head and recover her common sense.

Shiloh lounged in the shallows of the creek until dusk. Her arm and ankle felt considerably better. She’d had the chance to relax, after being surrounded by men the past few days. But Hawk still occupied her mind.

She still hadn’t figured out what that certain something about Hawk was that lured her against her fierce will.

With Antoine, it had been his polished manners and refined good looks that first captured her interest. Of course, he had turned out to be a superficial, calculating scoundrel—which proved that you couldn’t judge a man’s character by the cut of his expensive clothes and his blue-blooded pedigree. However, with Hawk…

Shiloh sighed, frustrated. Hawk was everything Antoine was not. He was rough-edged, hard-nosed, straightforward and brimming with character and integrity. At least that was how she perceived him. But her attraction to him was still as ill-advised as her short-term infatuation for Antoine.

Could she ever trust her instincts? Was she one of those unfortunate women who was attracted to men who were completely wrong for her? Or was she simply a miserable judge of men? Was she destined to always make the worst choices?

Discarding her troubled thoughts, Shiloh donned clean clothes then limped along the creek, gathering fallen branches and driftwood to start a fire. Recalling what Hawk had said about the place being a favorite haunt for varmints Shiloh kept her pistol handy as she sidestepped uphill.

Back in camp, she circled the stack of dry branches with stones—arranging the campfire in the shape of a skillet, as Hawk had done, so he could adjust the heat
while cooking. She absently tucked the pistol in the saddlebag, along with the spare set of clothing, then grabbed the matchbox. She was about to strike a match to the fire when she heard a low warning growl nearby.

Her mare nickered uneasily then strained against the tether. Shiloh noticed the wild look in the mare’s eyes as it sidestepped. The horse pricked up its ears and its nostrils flared, indicating that trouble was sneaking up on them.

Another ferocious growl rolled toward her from the opposite direction. The hair on the back of her neck stood on end. An eerie sensation rippled through her. Shiloh snatched up one of the tree limbs to use as protection, wishing she had kept the pistol handy. Rising from a crouch, she inched toward her jittery mare and the saddlebag containing the six-shooter….

S
hiloh’s blood ran cold when she saw several pair of predatory eyes reflecting in the last rays of sunset. She nearly leaped out of her skin when she became alarmingly aware that a pack of wolves had picked up her scent.

Curse it! If she’d had time to get the fire going, perhaps the lobos would have backed off and left her alone.

A spine-tingling howl shattered the silence. Shiloh’s heart catapulted to her throat. She glanced every which way at once, anticipating an attack.

“Get out of here!” she snarled in her most intimidating voice.

Her harsh tone obviously wasn’t an effective repellent because a trio of ominous growls wafted through the gathering darkness. Her mare half reared, jerking frantically against the tether. Shiloh moved closer to the prancing horse, hoping to retrieve her weapon.

Frissons of fear seeped through her when she heard the rustling in the tall grass on the perimeter of camp. The lobos were creeping up on her, causing her panic
to escalate. Shiloh had witnessed the destructive damage left by wolves on her ranch. The Drummonds had lost calves to hungry lobos that clipped the hamstrings of cattle, brought them down and devoured the feast.

The gruesome vision prompted Shiloh to hurriedly root around in the saddlebag to grab the pistol.

A frightened gasp burst from her lips when three adult wolves that looked to be at least six feet long and heavyset appeared in the clearing to her left. Shiloh recoiled when the animals crouched and bared their teeth. Behind her, the frantic mare bolted sideways, unintentionally knocking Shiloh off her feet.

The pistol went flying and the wolves crept closer. With a sense of urgency, Shiloh surged to her feet, hoping to grab the mare’s reins and climb aboard. But the horse backed away from her. Hurriedly, she tried to work the tight knot loose on the reins. She finally managed to untie the horse, but the mare bounded sideways before she could pull herself into the saddle. Shiloh yelped when the panicky horse nearly jerked her arm from its socket as it plunged forward.

She held on to the reins for a few seconds, but the pressure on her ankle forced her to let go. Scowling, she watched the mare beat a hasty retreat from the wolves.

The yipping of young pups mingled with the clatter of departing horse hooves. Her only hope was to retrieve the pistol that lay near the unlit campfire.

When Shiloh crept forward, the circling wolves closed in around her. She tried to breathe over the thundering pulsations of her heart, which was trying to beat a hole in her chest. Shiloh did her best to rest her weight on the balls of her feet so she could be prepared to launch herself in any direction in case of attack, but her injury made her clumsy.

Sinking into a crouch, Shiloh reached for the pistol. She didn’t know if the lobos could smell fear, but if they could, she knew she was giving off the scent. She reminded herself that Hawk probably wouldn’t bat an eyelash at being surrounded by a pack of snarling wolves. He had probably been in so many life-threatening scrapes that nothing fazed him.

Well…it sure as hell fazed her, much as she hated to admit it. Her mouth was so dry she could barely swallow. Her arm shook as she reached for the discarded pistol. Her legs wobbled and she didn’t trust them to hold her up while she made a run for it.

It’s now or never,
Shiloh chanted silently as she gathered her courage. Her wary gaze leaped from one vicious-looking predator to the next. She reminded herself that her brothers had taught her to be reasonably accurate with a rifle and pistol, but rapid-firing accuracy had never been her forte. She wasn’t sure how she was going to fend off the pouncing wolves while she was crouched on the ground—hoping to make herself a smaller target.

Grabbing a quick breath, Shiloh dived toward the pistol. Her abrupt movement was like a signal for the lobos to attack. She shrieked involuntarily as the wolves sprang at her with those glittering eyes and fanged jaws that promised torture and death.

Shiloh rolled over and bounded to her knees. Clutching the weapon in both hands, she fired wildly. The snarling beasts retreated briefly, but lunged at her again. Their jaws snapped like steel traps that could crush bone and muscle with horrifying ease.

When the largest of the lobos gathered itself then sprang toward her, she yelped reflexively. Her life flashed before her eyes as the beast, its lips curled and
its fangs bared, hurtled through the air. Panicked, Shiloh jerked the pistol into firing position—and screamed bloody murder when the oversize wolf landed on top of her….

Hawk heard the unnerving shrieks in the distance, heard the clatter of an approaching horse. He didn’t know what kind of trouble Shiloh was in, but fear—the likes of which he hadn’t experienced since childhood—went all through him and settled like a stone in the pit of his belly. Teeth gritted, he gouged his mustang into its swiftest pace, forcing the three horses he had confiscated from the unsuspecting outlaws to race along in his wake.

When Shiloh’s mare appeared from the darkness, Hawk rode straight at it, forcing it into a skidding halt. Hurriedly, he tied the wild-eyed mare to the saddle on his brother’s Appaloosa then raced headlong toward the elevated meadow where he had left Shiloh to fend for herself.

And obviously that had been a mistake, he mused, imagining all sorts of disasters that might have befallen her.

Another blood-curdling scream echoed in the darkness, followed by the sound of a discharging pistol. Hawk nearly suffered heart seizure as he splashed through the stream and headed toward the haunting echo of Shiloh’s voice.

Then he heard the growls and snarls and he knew what kind of trouble she was in.

Pistol drawn, the reins clamped in his teeth and his rifle cradled over his left elbow, Hawk plunged into camp. Two mangy wolves and three pups swept back and forth in the clearing as Hawk thundered toward
them. His heart all but ceased beating when he saw the adult male lobo sprawled on top of Shiloh’s motionless body, its wooly head lying beside her exposed neck.

Swearing profusely, he took down the two snarling lobos with two well-aimed shots, which caused the pups to turn tail and run. Hawk was off his horse in a single bound.

Shiloh was sprawled lifelessly on the ground, the six-shooter lying at her fingertips. There was just enough twilight left for him to see the bloody stains that spread across the front and the right sleeve of Shiloh’s shirt.

“Shiloh!” he roared as he gave her a jostling shake. “Damn it, if I got you killed I’ll never forgive myself!”

Desperate, he tried to revive her, but she didn’t respond. Hands shaking, he grabbed the scruff of the wolf’s neck and dragged it aside. His eyes popped when he saw the alarming extent of the bloodstains on Shiloh’s shirt.

“Dear God!” he breathed shakily.

Suddenly her eyes flew open and she clawed wildly at him, screeching at the top of her lungs. He wasn’t sure which one of them was more startled. Her, when she realized he wasn’t the big bad wolf come to gobble her alive. Or him, because she had come back to life when he was certain that she had lost so much blood that she had breathed her last breath.

Hawk grabbed her wrists before she scratched out his eyes. “It’s me!” he all but yelled at her, then gave her an abrupt shake to bring her to her senses.

Her wild-eyed gaze fixated on him. “Oh, God!” she gasped. “I thought I was a goner for sure.”

Hawk nearly tumbled backward when Shiloh
lurched upward to fling her arms around his neck. She buried her head against his shoulder and bawled her head off to relieve the terror pulsing through her. Hawk let her vent for a few minutes while he rocked her gently and whispered words of reassurance. But he knew he couldn’t delay much longer before he inspected her bloody wound. She was operating on raw emotion at the moment, but any second now her survival instincts would shut down and she’d collapse.

“You’re okay, sweetheart,” he murmured compassionately. He didn’t think she was okay, but he didn’t have the heart to tell
her
that. “Just lie back and let me check your wounds.”

She seemed reluctant to let him go, seemed perfectly satisfied to anchor herself to him and let him encircle her in his arms. But time was wasting and Hawk was anxious to see how much damage the lobo had done.

“If not for you I would be wolf bait right now,” she choked out as she slumped on the ground. “How am I ever going to repay you for all the times you’ve saved my life?”

He wasn’t sure he could save it this time because a wolf bite always carried the possibility of rabies and there was so damn much blood! Lord! He couldn’t imagine how he’d feel if he had to watch Shiloh die. The world just wouldn’t be the same without this lively, feisty spitfire in it.

“Don’t go crazy on me, honey,” he cooed as he raked her tangled hair away from her peaked face. “I have to unbutton your shirt to examine the wounds.”

As if she just realized what a bloody mess she was, she glanced down at her torso, swallowed bravely then nodded.

Hawk reached over to strike a match to the campfire she had built earlier, hoping for more light. While the flames flickered to life, he hesitantly unfastened her blouse. He braced himself, expecting to see gnawed flesh on her throat and shoulder. But there wasn’t a bloody gash on her anywhere. Not even a scratch!

His jaw dropped open while he stared at her creamy skin and watched the quick rise and fall of her bare breasts.

Damn, this was far more than he needed to see if he didn’t want to be tormented by erotic dreams.

Bewildered, Hawk snatched his hand away from her, but his betraying gaze remained transfixed on her concave belly, taut nipples and full breasts. It took a moment to regain enough sense to jerk her stained blouse back together.

Hurriedly, he sank down beside her to examine the motionless wolf. When he rolled the animal onto its back, he noted the wound to the neck that had succeeded in dropping the beast in its tracks—precious seconds before it went for Shiloh’s throat.

“Hell of a shot you got off at the last possible moment,” he praised as he gestured at the wolf.

“W-what?” Shiloh blinked dazedly, and then glanced from Hawk to the shaggy beast.

She couldn’t remember what happened after the lobo launched itself at her and, staring death in the face, she’d fired off one desperate shot. But she could feel the throb on the back of her skull that left her dazed and nauseous. Frowning, she levered herself onto her elbow to examine the back of her head.

“When the wolf dropped down on top of me, I must have slammed my head against one of the stones I gathered to encircle the campfire,” she mused aloud.

Hawk reached behind her neck to feel the knot at the base of her skull and came away with blood on his fingertips. He gestured toward the wolf. “You shot him in the throat before he went for yours.” He stared grimly at her. “Otherwise, things would have turned out much differently. All this blood on your clothes belongs to him, thank goodness.” A faint smile curved his lips. “You did well, Shi.”

She half collapsed in relief. “Another challenge met and conquered,” she said then stared curiously at him. “How do you deal with this kind of danger and fear on a daily basis? I nearly had a stroke when those wolves moved in for the kill and my panicky mare refused to let me mount up before it thundered away.”

“You get used to it,” he said with a lackadaisical shrug that belied what he was feeling.

The truth was that, although he dealt with danger regularly, the prospect of riding into camp and finding Shiloh dead had rattled him to the extreme. He had accepted the inevitability of his own death years ago and had even cheated death several times. But Shiloh was another matter altogether. His fear for her left his heart pounding furiously. There was also a noticeable tremor in his hands.

Shiloh pushed herself into a sitting position to see the other two adult wolves sprawled on the ground. “Impressive shots. But if it isn’t too much trouble, could you drag all these carcasses out of sight?” She shuddered in revulsion. “I’m probably doomed to nightmares as it is. I don’t need the visible reminders lying an arm’s length away.”

Hawk surged to his feet to do her bidding. Then he rounded up the horses and tethered them near camp.

Shiloh frowned, bemused, as he ambled back to her.
“Isn’t stealing the bandits’ horses going to make it obvious that you’re on their trail?”

“That’s the point,” he replied. “I wanted to give them a taste of being hunted and preyed upon. I’m hoping that by playing cat-and-mouse with them that they’ll panic and try to go to ground so I can locate their headquarters.” He smiled wryly. “Besides, it seems fitting for horse thieves to have their mounts stolen. If they’re afoot, it will be easier to catch up with them after I deliver you home.”

Shiloh sidled closer to the campfire and plucked at her bloody shirt. “I don’t recall wolves being so aggressive toward humans when I was a child. It seems there have been more attacks the past few years.”

Hawk’s jaw clenched as he squatted down beside her to brew coffee. Bitter memories flooded over him, but he tried to keep anger from seeping into his voice. “We have the white man to thank for the lobos’s and coyotes’s more aggressive tendencies. When the hide hunters slaughtered buffalo, they left the skinned carcasses in their wake. Wolves, coyotes and panthers became gluttons for the excessive amounts of meat at their disposal. After the hunters destroyed the great herds that were the Indian’s mainstay the predators turned to cattle and to man to satisfy their ravenous eating habits.”

“And your people went hungry while the hide hunters got rich and the predators got fat,” she murmured.

Hawk nodded. “Even before the arrival of the hide hunters, fear and respect for wolves, coyotes and panthers were a part of Indian legend,” he informed her. “In fact, I grew up hearing the story of the great shaman that knows how to call in the wolves, and becomes one himself to fight evil spirits. Another legend
tells about the medicine man that changes form to prowl with panthers during the dark of the moon. According to the tale, the beasts scream in warning of their coming. They are said to stalk the darkness during the nights of a thousand eyes.”