Something Wild (12 page)

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Mike dropped down on the unstable
precipice, braced his hands on a thin layer of shale, and peered over the edge to see Charity’s twisted body lying at the bottom of the rocky ravine. A raging bull could have kicked him in the gut and he wouldn’t have felt a tenth of the pain that ripped through him now.

There was no time to think about the foolishness of plowing over the cliff, no time to think about Charity’s frightened eyes or the fact that even though he hadn’t touched her, it was his actions that had pushed her over the side. He had to get to her quickly.

He rose to his knees, looking for a way down that wouldn’t kill him, when the shale shifted and fell away beneath him, sending him boots first into the ravine.

He grabbed for sagebrush to slow his descent, but the branches slipped right through his gloved fists. Dirt and dust pelted his face and body before he came to a jarring halt, smacking into a pile of boulders. Pain shot through his shoulder but he ignored it, scrambled to his feet and raced toward Charity.

She was still. Too still. His heart thudded in his chest as he knelt next to her and caressed strands of hair from her face. Her eyes were closed, and he couldn’t see any movement at all beneath her almost translucent lids.

“God, Charity,” he whispered against her lips, “please don’t be dead.” It was a prayer mixed with a plea. The woman maddened him, excited him, and right now her stillness was scaring him half to death. He could push her away. He could watch her go back to Vegas and never see her again. But he couldn’t lose her this way.

Slowly her eyes opened and he offered a silent, thankful prayer.

Her shaky hand slid beneath her head. She winced, and her eyes slammed shut. Mike ripped off his glove and slipped his fingers through her hair to find a knot the size of a walnut behind her right ear. A knot twice as big had formed in his throat, but relief washed through him when she pushed herself to a sitting position and leaned her head against his chest.

He held her to him, cradling her body as her breathing steadied. Thank God she was all right.

She gripped his coat, as if she were afraid he might leave her, took one long, deep breath, then tilted her head up and hit him with a halfhearted grin. “Was your trip over the edge as exciting as mine?”

Mike gritted his teeth. She’d just careened down a cliff and he’d done the same thing, which could have killed them both. He’d lost Satan— again. And she was grinning!

He had half a mind to walk away from her, to hike out of the ravine and leave her to the coyotes and mountain lions. He tried to hold on to those thoughts when she peeled her glove off and her chilled fingers smoothed over his brow. “You’re bleeding.”

“Doesn’t surprise me.”

She knelt in front of him, her dirty face looming just inches from his as she inspected a wound he couldn’t even feel. He wanted to kiss her. He also wanted to push her away, and that emotion was winning the conflict warring inside him.

“It’s only a scratch.” She kissed his forehead lightly, and he steeled himself from feeling anything. “This is just a scratch, too,” she said, drawing her fingers over a stinging cut on his cheek. There was a touch of remorse in her eyes. “Does it hurt?”

“No.”

He pulled his gloves back on and stood, giving Charity’s body a quick, impersonal once over. “How about you? Anything hurt?”

“I’ve taken worse falls on stage,” she said, “and, as you might have guessed, I’m wearing a lot less padding when I’m doing a show.”

“I figured as much.”

He held out a hand and helped her up. Even though he loosened his grip when she was steady on her feet, she held on tight. She moved toward him, the buttons on her coat rubbing against the buttons on his, as she picked specks of sagebrush from his hair. “One would think you were upset with me.”

“Upset?” He laughed cynically. “Upset isn’t a strong enough word. Furious doesn’t quite work.”

“Murderous?”

“That’s a more appropriate adjective considering that you continually ruin my chances at catching the horse I’ve been after for a whole lot of years. But acting on that emotion would be going against everything I believe in.”

“And you’d never do that, would you?”

“Push me a little further and there’s no telling what I’ll do.”

Once again he shoved away from her and went in search of his hat. The sooner he found it and got out of this place, the better off they’d be.

“Are you looking for this?”

He turned to see Charity fingering his dirty black hat. “Yeah. Thanks.”

He knocked scraps of brush from the Stetson, slapped it against his leg to get rid of some of the dirt and dust, then worked a dent out of the brim and pulled it low on his brow.

A soft hand touched his arm. “I am sorry, Mike.”

“About what? Helping Satan escape?”

She shook her head, a gesture he should have expected. “About your cuts. About the bruises you’re going to have tomorrow. For being a pain in the neck.”

Her sincerity made him chuckle. “I’ve got the feeling being a pain in the neck comes naturally to you.”

“It’s a problem I’ve suffered from all my life. My father worked awfully hard to change me, but he couldn’t. I’ve tried to change me, too, but that just seems to lead to more trouble.”

If consolation for a troubled life was something she needed, she’d have to find it elsewhere. He could counsel friends, family, his parishioners, but he didn’t want to have a heart-to-heart discussion with Charity. Their discussions had a tendency to lead in other directions. And if they continued along the path they’d been following, they were destined to bump into big-time trouble—for both of them.

Right now, the best thing to do was to get back to the ranch, then stay as far away from her as possible.

He skirted around Charity and looked toward the top of the bluff where he saw Buck grazing on a clump of grass. He whistled and the gelding stared down at him, shook his head as if he hated to be bothered, then backtracked along the cliff with Jezebel following behind, looking for a safe path into the ravine.

“Maybe it would be better for Buck and Jezebel if we went up to them instead of them coming down here,” Charity said glumly.

“They’ll be fine,” he said. “They might be horses, but they’re not foolish enough to get close to the edge unless they’re sure it’s safe, and they won’t come down the side until they find the easiest way.”

“Unlike me?”

He expected to see defiance in her eyes when he looked at her, but all he saw was utter defeat. His heart twisted, but he didn’t answer her question. Instead, he turned his back and watched the horses working their way down the steep incline.

If he kept this up maybe she’d hate him before the end of the long ride home. It wasn’t the way he wanted things to end between them, but it was probably the best way.

Behind him he heard Charity’s sigh, then all was silent between them as they waited for the horses to make it to the canyon floor.

A ground squirrel scurried across the rocks and disappeared into a hole. A raven swooped down from some unseen perch and positioned itself on a boulder, waiting for his prey to reappear. The sun moved behind a cloud then came out again, and all the while Mike kept his eyes from focusing on Charity.

A normal man would have spirited her off to the line shack. A normal man would have spent the morning with the long-legged beauty in his arms. A normal man would have known much more than the taste of her lips, he would have already savored the texture of her nipples against his tongue, smoothed his palm over the naked curve of her hips, and buried himself inside her and known her heat, her scent.

But he wasn’t a normal man. He was a minister who could lust in his heart but do nothing to satisfy his cravings. A man filled with guilt who refused to marry again. A man who wanted Charity Wilde, in spite of the fact that she was impulsive, reckless, a tease, and nothing but trouble.

For all those reasons, he stayed away from her.

The whinny of a horse broke through the quiet and his thoughts. Mike’s gaze jerked toward Buck, afraid his mount had lost his footing. But the gelding stood motionless, three-quarters of the way down the slope, and stared right past Mike and Charity, looking at something in the distance.

Another whinny echoed in the ravine, followed by the hollow, echoing sound of rocks tumbling against each other in the riverbed.

“Mike.”

He turned at Charity’s voice and followed her stare to a place where the craggy cliff angled sharply to the east. Satan stood tall and proud, his mottled gray fur blending into the rocks as his brown eyes fixed on them. Why the stallion had hung around was anyone’s guess. Teasing was one thing for Satan. Foolishness was another. He didn’t take chances like this.

The stallion pawed at the ground. He snorted, his hot breath turning the frigid air into a fog around him as he jerked his head wildly.

“Something’s wrong.” Charity’s eyes were wide with worry when she twisted around to look at Mike.

“He’s badgering us. He’s rested now and ready for another chase.”

“No.” Charity shook her head. “There’s something else. I know it.”

She stumbled over rocks and driftwood as she made her way toward the horse. He’d never known a woman with so much determination, and his heart and resolve softened a touch. As much as he wanted to give up and call it quits for the day, he trailed after Charity, giving in to her instinct.

All of a sudden Charity stopped. He watched her shoulders rise then slump as she took a deep breath. Her jaw was tight when she turned toward him. “Maybe you should go first. I have a tendency to get us in trouble when I take the lead.”

They were undoubtedly the most insincere words she’d ever uttered. He could laugh. He could kiss her and tell her his anger had subsided a notch. But he did neither. This time, he refused to give in to temptation.

He trudged by her, not smiling, not saying a word, concentrating all his efforts on getting to Satan without frightening the beast, moving cautiously over boulders, gravel, and downed tree branches.

The stallion’s only movement was the nervous flicker of his eyes from Mike to Charity then back to Mike again. Charity was right. Something was wrong. But what?

Mike was less than ten feet from Satan when the stallion reared up in a show of power. A moment of fear pierced through Mike when he thought Satan’s hooves were going to crash down on his skull, but they pounded against the ground instead. A second later the mustang beat a hasty retreat, running fiercely down the canyon’s center, his mane and tail flying about him in the breeze.

Mike took a deep breath as he watched Satan streak out of sight. He thought about turning around, about heading for Buck, who’d nearly caught up to them, and getting out of this place, but there was something about Satan’s actions that drove him further down the ravine.

Five yards. Ten. Mike maneuvered over rocks, through territory rarely traveled by man, and then he heard a horse’s snort not far from where he was walking. The ravine twisted to the right, but off to the left was a deeply shadowed cave in the cliff wall, its opening nearly obscured by sagebrush and juniper.

Moving slowly, cautiously, Mike stared inside the cavern and froze when he saw the black and white Tennessee Walkers, one standing, one lying on the ground breathing heavily, a deep, vicious and bloody slash in her side. Against the far wall, almost hidden in the dark, was the trampled and broken body of a mountain lion.

“What is it?” Charity asked, placing her hand on his arm.

“The mares.”

He moved toward the injured animal, kneeling at her side to inspect the torn flesh on her back and the deep gashes where claws had ripped across her side. She wasn’t going to last long, not out here.

“What can I do?” Charity dropped down on her knees beside him, not the least worried or squeamish about the blood as she caressed the mare’s neck in a futile effort to comfort her.

“I’ve got a cell phone in my saddlebag,” Mike told her. “I need you to get it for me.” He started to tell her about the bandages and first-aid kit, but she was already gone and he turned his full attention back to the mare.

Satan had led them here on purpose. He’d wanted Mike and Charity to find the injured mare, wanted them to help her, but he couldn’t have done that if Charity hadn’t thwarted Mike’s attempts to capture the stallion.

The woman was going to take particular delight in telling him that was one more reason why Satan should stay wild and free.

Gravel crunched at the entrance to the cave, and from the corner of his eye he watched Charity come inside and crouch beside him.

“I brought the bandages and first-aid kit, too,” she said, handing him the cell phone. “What should I do now?”

“Take off your gloves.”

She didn’t question, she just ripped the gloves off and looked at Mike for his next direction. She was calm, composed, and right now he was glad she was with him.

Without asking permission, Mike pressed her bare hand against the animal’s exposed flesh to try and staunch the flow of blood. “Keep pressure on that spot while I call the ranch.”

She wasn’t squeamish. She didn’t pull away, and as he called one of his ranch hands, he couldn’t help but admire her guts, a spunk he’d never seen in Jessie. He’d loved his wife with all his heart, but he knew full well that Jessie wouldn’t have been beside him now, wouldn’t have put her hands in blood, or put her mouth close to an injured horse’s ear and whispered “You’ll be all right, girl. Hang in there.”