Wanted (15 page)

She couldn't tear her gaze from the man, no matter how much she wanted to. She should be feeling a measure of triumph, she thought Instead she felt shame and a hollow grief she only partially understood. Her brother's survival depended on another man's destruction; she hadn't expected the dilemma to be so personally agonizing.

There was something inexpressibly poignant about a man trying to do the impossible. Especially this man. So stubborn, so unbending. She'd never met a man before who was so completely incorruptible. He didn't give an inch, not to himself, not to others.

She told herself it was because he looked so much like Nick that her heart had somehow become affected. But the deep, trusting family love she had for Nick was nothing like the kind of leapfrogging, heart-jabbing, conflicting emotions she couldn't contain when she looked at the Ranger. They were feelings too new and strange and deep to puzzle out.

The Ranger's horse went slogging on through the snow, following the opening between trees despite the lack of guidance. She wondered how he managed to remain on the horse. But even as she wondered, his body started to lean, then fell to the ground, the horse stopping with him, its head dropping to its master's body, nuzzling him in question.

Lori felt the tug of Nick's arms. They were leaving her, going up over her head again, his body warmth leaving her. She felt him slip from the saddle behind her. Half-frozen, she watched him limp to the Ranger's side. She wanted to go to Morgan Davis, but she was locked to the saddle horn. She watched Nick check the Ranger's pulse, then his pockets. He swore as he apparently came up empty and walked back to her.

“He's still alive,” he said with a grim expression. “I'd hate to think what it would take to kill him.”

Lori swallowed. “What are we going to do?”

“The cabin's just above us. Problem is, I can't carry him, not with these damn handcuffs, and I can't find the key.” They both looked at Lori's hand, still handcuffed to the saddle. She wouldn't be of any help.

“We can't leave him here to die.”

There was the smallest bit of hesitation on Nick's part, and for a moment Lori felt sick that he might even consider the possibility. But his jaw worked as it did when he was concentrating.

“No,” he finally said, “I just don't know how we're going to move him. I hope to hell those keys didn't fall out of his pocket.” He straightened. “I can't put him back on the horse, not with these irons. Goddammit”

“How far is the cabin?”

“A hundred yards or so. No more than that.”

So close and yet so far. Every part of her was shaking with cold. The day that had been all white, was now gray, washed in a deepening darkness that proclaimed the onset of night. Had it been only one day since she had lain in ambush for the Ranger? It seemed a lifetime.

Nick moved then, untying his bay's reins from the Ranger's lead and handing them to her. “Go on up,” he said. “The trail dead-ends at the cabin.”

“I'll wait for you,” she insisted.

He raised an eyebrow. “Don't trust me with him?” There was a bite in the words. “I gave my word, Lori.”

“I … I just don't want to be alone,” she said. “And you might … need me. Encouragement at least” She tried a small smile as she looked down at her handcuffed wrist again.

His expression softened. He turned around and went back. If only he could revive the Ranger for a few moments, get a little help from him. If not, he would have to rig a sling of some kind. He knelt next to the man who was so damned determined to see him hang. Despite his words to Lori, it would be so simple to leave him there to die. An easy choice, really: his life or the Ranger's.

Easy but for Lori, who would never forgive either him or herself.

Easy but for his own rather tarnished honor. He knew the Ranger could have left them both to die.

Nick looked longingly at the Colt in the Ranger's holster. He had sworn he wouldn't try to escape, not until after the storm. Still, it wouldn't hurt to take the man's gun. Wouldn't saving his damned life be enough? He could save the moral dilemma for later.

He slipped the gun out of the holster and into his belt, then tried to bring the Ranger back to consciousness. “Davis,” he said. “Damn you, Davis, wake up.”

He slapped the Ranger's face once, then again. “Davis!”

Still nothing. He sat next to the man and did as he had done earlier—tried to will him back to consciousness. He felt a curious bond with the Ranger, perhaps because they so resembled each other, but he couldn't help thinking it was more than that. He knew the Ranger, and how he thought, better than he'd known any other man, even on much longer acquaintance and surely in much better circumstances.

When willing didn't work, he used instinct to try another tack. “Davis,” he said in a low but penetrating voice. “That's right, Davis. Just give up. Give up and die. I'll go free. I'll win, Davis, just like I knew I would, given time. Just like Lori knew.”

Nick smiled grimly when he heard a low growl from deep inside the man next to him. His eyes slowly opened and blinked against the faint gray light; his body shuddered, a deep, heaving movement of immense effort. A gloved hand went to the holster instinctively and found it empty. The Ranger glared at him, and Nick knew he'd won. Morgan Davis would somehow find the strength to make it to the cabin. Nick held out his handcuffed hands. “What did you do with the keys?”

Davis ignored the question and struggled to sit up.

Nick shrugged. “I'll find them. In the meantime, it's going to be damn hard getting you to the cabin.”

“You … gave your word.”

“So I did,” Nick said. “I didn't say a damn thing about saving your ornery life.” He held out his hands again. “Take them. See if you can stand. We've got to get inside before we all freeze to death.”

Davis did so, his two hands clasping Nick's as he struggled to his feet. The grip was surprisingly strong.

“Lean on me,” Nick said. “The cabin is just yards away.” Leading the Ranger along, Nick took several steps, his blanket-wrapped bad foot nearly numb with cold, the leg irons dragging from his good foot and catching in brush. They made several steps before stumbling, Davis catching himself on Nick's shoulder. Nick righted himself, turning angrily to the Ranger. “This would be a hell of a lot easier if you would give me those damn keys.”

Davis shook his head, and Nick swore a long, colorful oath.

They slowly made progress, each step more difficult with the deepening of the snow. Nick looked around and saw Lori following, guiding the horse with her free hand. Davis's horse was following on his own. It seemed hours before he saw the outline of the cabin.

As they reached the door, Nick pushed it open and felt Davis stumble again. As Nick braced himself, a hand went to his side in a movement so unexpected, it took him a moment to realize what had happened.

Davis had his Colt back and had braced himself against the wall, leveling it straight at Nick. Nick permitted a wry smile. At least there was no longer a moral dilemma.

“Lori?” Nick asked softly.

“You can unbuckle the saddle. Help her in with it.”

“You aren't going to … keep her chained to it?”

Davis ignored the question. He moved inside the cabin, hesitating until his eyes adjusted to the dim light Then he stumbled painfully to a cot along the wall and sat down. “You can also get some wood,” he said in a voice strained by effort.

Nick's jaw worked. He looked down to his bootless foot the ice forming on the blanket material that had been cut to cover it He'd been so intent on getting the Ranger inside that he'd ignored it. Now the pain was incredible. But he just nodded. He didn't think complaints about pain would hold much weight at the moment.

The Ranger's gaze, though, had followed Nick's down to his leg, and he swore. Morgan frowned, his eyes narrowing as he studied the wet cloth legging. “Your boot?”

“Lori put it in the bedroll.”

Morgan Davis hesitated, and Nick realized how exhausted the man was. The Ranger rarely hesitated. Or forgot anything. His strength must be depleted. Nick didn't know how he had made it this far.

The Ranger finally spoke. “Get your sister, I'll fetch some wood inside.”

Nick shook his head. “I don't think you can. I'll do it. There's some cut on the side. I was here last spring. The bottom logs should be dry.” He limped to the door, then paused. “I can be more help if you take off these handcuffs.”

The Ranger shook his head. “She must be getting cold,” he prodded.

“I saved your damned life,” Nick exploded.

“After you took my gun. Your word is worth about as much as I expected,” Davis said. “And it was your sister who nearly killed me. I don't owe you a damn thing.”

Davis started to slump. He closed his eyes for a moment, and Nick thought about trying to jump him, but the eyes opened again, studying Nick coolly. Nick shook off the tempting thought. Lori would be going crazy outside. And Morgan Davis surely couldn't last much longer like this—even though he appeared to have more than the cat's fabled nine lives.

Nick moved out the door. Lori had dismounted, waiting for rescue. It was nearly black out now, the only color provided by the white snow, which continued to fall in thick flakes. Nick limped out to her.

“Nick?”

“I don't think you need to worry about the Ranger,” he said bitterly. He unbuckled the saddle slowly, hindered by the handcuffs. He grabbed part of it as it started to fall, keeping it from jerking Lori off her feet She looked at him, and he managed what he hoped was a reassuring smile. “He still doesn't trust us,” he said with dry understatement.

He helped her into the cabin. The saddle was heavy but usually wouldn't have been a problem for her; now, though, she was exhausted and cold, her fingers nearly frozen. He helped her lower the saddle as she, by necessity, sat on the floor. “I'll get some wood,” Nick said.

The dark figure in the corner made no comment, merely watched every movement. Nick made his way back out again. He could barely move now; every step was agonizing. There were a few logs outside the cabin, wood he'd cut months ago when he had stayed there. He gathered some twigs and branches for kindling, then scooped up several logs in his arms, balancing them precariously with his manacled hands. He had to get a fire going, to bring some heat for Lori and himself.

He could care less about the goddamn Ranger. The more he thought about it, the more he wished he had left the man in the snow to die, as slowly as possible.

Nick carried several armloads of wood inside, slammed the door closed, and set several logs in the hearth of the fireplace. He stacked them. “I don't have magic fire,” he said sarcastically to the figure in the corner.

The Ranger tossed a match at him, and Nick struck it against the hearth. The flame struggled at first, then flared toward the logs. None of the three in the cabin moved until the logs glowed, and heat radiated, and all of them moved toward the warmth together—reluctantly, but without choice. They needed that warmth to live.

Nick sprawled in front, taking off his gloves, then unpeeling the wrapping around his leg. His bedroll was buckled to the saddle he'd just brought in, and Lori was already unrolling it with her free hand, silently handing him a blanket to rub and dry the leg. She drew the other one around her, moving as close to the fire as she could get, reveling in its warmth, almost forgetting for a moment the man who sat on the one cot in the room. He was as apart, as detached, as ever. A chasm yawned between them, and tension crackled more furiously than the new fire a few feet away.

Morgan knew he was hanging on by a thin thread. Only that part of him that was sheer tenacity had responded to Nick Braden outside in the snow. The sound of Braden's voice kept echoing in Morgan's consciousness. As did the nagging question of why the man had bothered. Because he'd needed the keys to the handcuffs? That was the only thing that made sense. Morgan said thanks to whatever part of him had decided to hide those keys. The hat was next to him now, saved by the leather thongs that he'd knotted under his chin during the storm.

He looked around him. They were all on the edge of exhaustion, the girl and Braden as much as he. Braden had been right. They wouldn't have survived out there.
He
wouldn't have survived out there. And even now they needed food, and he knew something had to be done for the horses. So much to do, and he was so tired, not to mention the constant, burning agony of his shoulder.

But first he let the warmth seep through his wet clothes, fill the cabin, which was unexpectedly well built The sparsely furnished room was small, and it retained the heat radiated by the fire. He was on the only bed, and that was nothing more than a rough wood platform anchored on four wood stumps. It was obviously fashioned to keep the occupant off the cold floor, and nothing more. Everything else was gone, stolen or burned for firewood.

Rough as the bed was, it was inviting. Anything was inviting. So tempting just to lay his head down.

Food first And then secure his prisoners. But how? There was not a damn thing to use. And he knew how badly he needed sleep. Rest.

As warmth replaced some of the cold in his body, he started to feel a corresponding strength. He regarded his companions. Nick Braden was sprawled lengthwise in front of the fire. Lori was huddled next to him, her hat gone, lost someplace in the snow, and her hair still damp. Her head had dropped to the saddle, and her form looked fragile, defenseless. Only the pain in Morgan's shoulder reminded him how deadly she could be.

His gaze met Braden's in the firelight, the only light now in the cabin. Christ, there was so much that needed to be done. Two exhausted cripples and an even more exhausted woman. “The horses need shelter, and there's coffee in my supplies.” Morgan said. “And some food.”