Wanted (14 page)

Morgan felt in his pocket for the keys to the leg irons and handcuffs. He had to let one of them fetch wood, and since Nick had injured his leg, it had to be the woman. Morgan knew he didn't have the strength left to gather enough wood to last through the day and night, and he doubted he could travel before then.

If only the storm would hold off.

He tried to think. Concentrate. Lorilee's horse. Her pistol. It must be back there at the rocks. He had to get both before he sent her after wood.

He walked slowly back to the Bradens. Nick had straightened, his back stiff, his eyes wary. Lori had drawn up her legs, resting her head on her knees, and she gazed at him under long dark-brown lashes. He couldn't read them, but maybe he didn't want to. He sure as hell wouldn't trust what he thought he saw in her eyes.

At least they had the horse sense not to ask him how he was.

He glowered at Lori. “Where's your horse?”

“About a half mile from here.”

“Which direction?”

“North.”

Her answers were as flat as his questions.

“Give me a landmark.”

Lori looked toward the rocks from which she had shot him. “That group of aspens standing among the pines.”

He nodded and turned, noting the way her free hand was knotted into a fist. Because she had failed to kill him?

Morgan was starting to leave when Nick's voice stopped him. “There's going to be a blizzard before long.”

Morgan turned back. “There's nothing I can do about that”

Braden's jaw worked. “I know of a cabin not far from here.”

“We're staying here. Thanks to your sister, I'm not in any condition to ride.”

“It's not more than two miles.”

“We stay here,” Morgan repeated, trying not to stumble as he moved toward his horse, thanking God as he did so that it was already saddled. He didn't think he could lift a saddle now. It was going to be damned hard to lift himself.

He used his right hand to clutch the saddle horn, giving him the balance he needed to lift his battered body into the saddle.

“Davis!” Morgan ignored Braden's last plea and, trying not to betray how very weak he was, he pushed his horse into a trot.

Nick yanked the chain linking his ankle to the tree. He bent over, forcing Lori to move with him, and for yet another time his hands inspected the iron ring around his ankle. How many times had his hands probed for a weakness, a way to slip his foot from the ring? He'd never felt so helpless, so unable to protect Lori, let alone himself.

Davis was a Texan. He had no knowledge of the mountains or how fast the snow could fall and envelop everything. They could freeze to death in a matter of hours without shelter from the coming snow and ice and wind. The Ranger would succumb first, with his wounds. But that was damnably little comfort, chained as Nick and Lori were. They would simply take longer to die.

There was one slim chance, a last resort. The iron cuff around her small wrist was loose. She had tried unsuccessfully to slip from it, but if the skin was slippery from blood … Perhaps a chance. A damn slim one.

Nick looked at his sister, ached for her. Something vital had drained from her in the past few hours. No spit and vinegar. No defiance. Her back had been even stiffer than his own, her face like a mask. And he knew she was hurting in a way she'd never hurt before.

He would wait for now. Perhaps he could still convince Davis to make for the cabin. He looked up at the sky again. They had only a few hours. He felt it.

Morgan found the palomino after picking up Lori's pistol from the ground where she'd dropped it. The horse was standing patiently, its reins tied to a tree. The welcoming neigh made it clear the animal was pleased to see someone approaching. The mare stamped nervously on the ground, stretching its long golden neck as if to look for its mistress.

Morgan leaned down and untied the reins. He barely managed to sit back up in the saddle. How much longer could he go before he rested again? It had probably been foolish coming here, but he couldn't leave a horse tied alone, not with the wild animals in the mountains and especially with a storm coming, nor could he allow Miss Lori to go after the horse. No telling what she would do, how she would try to finish what she had started. Or what surprise she had hidden in the saddlebags.

He clenched his jaw, more against that thought than against the waves of pain that kept rolling through him. Why did the fact that she had shot him in ambush bother him so much? Why had it hurt so damn badly in ways other than physical? Braden was just another job. An outlaw like so many others he had brought in. Lorilee Braden was a complication, a problem to be dealt with, just as he would deal with anyone interfering with his duty.

He was disturbed, he told himself, because of his lack of judgment, not because of the feeling that had come to life in places he thought dead. He had been played for a fool, and he was paying a fool's price; the only thing to do now was learn from it. He obviously had not learned years ago when he'd been taken in by a woman's tears. It was a mistake he wouldn't make again. His fingers tightened around the mare's reins as he turned his own horse and started back.

Snow started to fall as he reached the campsite. He dismounted and tied the horses, knowing he couldn't avoid Lori any longer. There were tasks he couldn't manage by himself, and they had to be done before he succumbed to exhaustion and weakness.

Wearily, he approached Braden and his sister, his fingers retrieving the key to the handcuffs. He tossed it to Lori, keeping a safe distance from them both. “Gather some wood,” he ordered abruptly as he unholstered his Colt and pointed it at Nick. “Remember, I'll have the gun aimed at him every moment you're gone. The slightest unexpected sound or movement, I'll shoot”

She unlocked the handcuff and started to move, but her brother's hand held her back. “Go ahead and shoot. Get it over with, damn you,” Braden said, “and let Lori go.”

“Heroics, Braden? They won't work.”

“No heroics, Davis,” Braden said, his voice flat. “I've never been one for heroics, not like you. Hunting men has never appealed to me, but I
am
practical. If we stay here, we'll die. You'll be the first. Right now that wouldn't trouble me at all, but your death means ours. A long, slow painful death. I'd rather die here now and give Lori a chance.”

“No!” Lori's agonized denial pierced the frigid air.

Morgan's finger tightened on the trigger, but Braden's gaze never faltered, never blinked. Merely invited. Dared. Willed. Part of Morgan wanted to shoot, to have this done and over. Slowly, he lowered the Colt to his side.

Braden's voice became persuasive. “I'll do whatever you want. Give you my word, my oath. My parole. Whatever. Just get us to that cabin.”

Morgan's gaze left his and moved to Lori. She was holding her breath, her eyes full of fear, but he knew it wasn't for herself. “And you, Lori,” he drawled, “would you do the same?”

She nodded, her eyes searching his face for some sign of softening, some tempering of the white-hot anger she'd ignited. “Anything,” she whispered.

“Anything?” His voice was rough with bitterness, with cruel mockery, with pain.

She closed her eyes for a moment, her mouth trembling, and he felt a momentary sympathy; but it was gone almost as fast as it came. These two would kill him as soon as look at him. But he knew Braden was right he
would
be the first to die. He was too weak to fight the cold and exposure of a winter storm. And he knew he couldn't leave these two to die after him.

Still, he hated to give Braden even this kind of victory. The man would damn well pay for it, he pledged to himself. Morgan couldn't remember when he'd felt this kind of vengeful anger, and he didn't much like it in himself. But it was undeniably there, fierce and needing.

“How far did you say the cabin was?”

“Two miles or so. It belonged to a trapper who moved on last year after the beaver were trapped out. It's solid, a roof and fireplace.

Morgan hesitated, looking around. The flakes were thicker now, dusting the ground with white. The wind was blowing harder, filtering through his coat God, he needed rest He was fighting to keep on his feet from slumping against a tree and closing his eyes. He knew Braden was right. If he went to sleep now, he would probably never wake up.

“Davis?”

Morgan's attention went back to Braden.

“I've never broken my word.” He hesitated. “I've never begged before, either. At least let Lori go.”

Morgan looked at him with contempt “So she can ambush me again? Or maybe she has more of that laudanum she bought in Laramie?”

“What do you want from me?” Braden said in a pleading voice. “Dear God, I'll do anything.”

Morgan hesitated. He would never trust Nick Braden or his sister. But he had damn little choice. “All right,” he said. “Your word. Your word that neither you nor … your sister will make any attempt to escape.”

Braden looked at Lori. She nodded.

“I want to hear it” Morgan said.

“I swear,” Lori said, her voice beginning to break.

“Now you, Braden.”

“I swear it,” Braden said. “Until the storm is over.”

“Already making exceptions, Braden?”

Braden's jaw set.

A wave of defeat washed over Morgan. These two were willing to die for each other, and just as willing to kill him. He never felt so damn alone in his life. He tried to shake that feeling of desolation, and his eyes raked over them as he finally spoke. “I wonder how much your word is worth.” His voice revealed how little he trusted them. “You and I already have a debt between us,” he warned, turning to Lori.

She swallowed hard. “I … I'm really … sorry. But you won't believe that either, will you?”

“Oh, yes,” he said flatly. “I believe you're sorry. Sorry that you missed anything vital.”

The snow was coming faster now. Still free of the handcuffs, Lori was sitting, waiting for his decision.

“Get the bedrolls together,” he said abruptly.

She didn't say anything but quietly took Nick's blankets, rolled them up, then looked back to Morgan for additional instructions. “I assume you can saddle a horse,” Morgan said, and she nodded. “Then saddle your brother's horse.”

Lori made no comment but wrestled with the saddle, finally getting it over the big horse's back. The second pair of handcuffs were still attached to the saddle horn. Morgan watched as she buckled the saddle under the big bay and moved away. He then directed his attention to Braden. “Put the cuff on your other wrist,” he ordered.

Braden's jaw worked. “I gave you my word.”

“Oh, I accept it,” Morgan said wryly. “And I expect you to keep it. Still, I'd hate to see temptation get in your way. I don't think ethics is the strong suit of your family.”

Morgan followed Braden's glance over to Lori. She'd heard the comment, and her face flushed. Braden fastened the cuff to his free wrist and threw the key to Morgan, who exchanged it for the key to the leg irons.

“Unlock the one around the tree,” Morgan said. “The other stays on.”

Braden did as he was told and stood, balancing on his good ankle. Lori was still waiting for his next directive. Christ, he had to get all three of them on horses now.

He nodded his head toward Braden's horse. “Lori, you mount first, and tighten that cuff around your right wrist Now, Braden, your turn. Mount behind her.”

The snow was coming fast Braden limped over to his bay, dragging the other end of the leg iron. He paused, set his jaw as he put his leg in the stirrup, and, clasping what he could of Lori's slim waist, swung up behind her. Morgan watched every move like a hawk watching its prey. It was awkward as hell, both for Braden to get up and then for him to settle in the saddle with Lori in front There was no place for his handcuffed hands, even as she tried to inch up as much as possible to give him room.

While both his charges were busy arranging themselves, Morgan slipped the keys to the handcuffs and leg irons into a tiny pocket sewn into the lining of his hat Then he picked up his hat and rifle and tied his bedroll to the end of the saddle. He paused a moment, fighting to stay conscious. He leaned his head against the horse, steadying himself. Then he untied Braden's and Lori's horses from a tree and fastened their reins to a lead rope.

He mounted slowly, fighting to keep from falling. He looked over to Braden. “Which way is the cabin?”

“Down this canyon,” Braden said. “About halfway through there's a break in the rocks on the left. A rough path upward.”

Snow was covering the ground now. Morgan couldn't even see the sky. How in the hell was he going to find a path? But Braden was right, he knew that now. This was a different kind of snow from what he knew. He instinctively felt the danger in it.

His wide-brimmed hat couldn't keep the snow from his eyes as they rode. The wind penetrated his jacket, and his gloved hands felt brittle after just a few moments. He bent, partly against the wind, partly because he no longer had the strength to stay upright.

Ice and fire. Like this morning. They licked at his insides, sapping what strength he had. It seemed like hours before he heard a shout behind him and looked up. A break in the rocks.

He turned his horse, found the path, and clutched the saddle horn in desperate determination as the horse moved on, seeming to sense a destination ahead. He couldn't see anything, just a wall of white, and he realized he was blinded by the snow.

White. That was all he saw. And then black.

And then there was nothing.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Lori shivered as she watched the man riding in front slump over the neck of his horse. She was freezing, and
she
had her brother's warmth against her. He had lifted his handcuffed hands over and around her, pulling her body against his, sharing body heat The Ranger had none of that.