Wanted (25 page)

Nick was surprised to find emotion on the man's face. There was regret, even a kind of compassion, that Nick immediately rejected. A growl came from between his teeth, the pain in his groin still too strong, too incapacitating, to do anything more.

Whatever the Ranger had intended to say evidently died in his throat. He turned away abruptly, and then Nick saw Lori, her face pale, her body seemingly frozen in shock. He wondered how much she had seen.

The Ranger saw her apparently at the same time. Nick saw his whole body go stiff, and then Lori whirled on him, her hand going back, and Nick could hear the impact of her palm against the Ranger's cheek.

Lori had taken more than her five minutes. Let him come after her, she thought. She had gone beyond the small clearing, to where she felt all alone. She needed to stretch all those sore and cramped muscles. She needed the quiet of the forest to think, to put all her rollicking emotions to some kind of rest. Something had happened when her body had slid down to his and she had almost fallen. She'd been so tired, so stiff from being tied to that saddle, unable to shift into different positions as she usually did when riding a long way.

But then her body leaned into his, and all the weariness vanished, replaced by a rapacious fire that pushed her body even closer to his. She felt his hardness against her, and her own need for him had grown irresistibly strong. She'd looked up and seen the sudden hunger in his eyes, but it was the unexpected gentleness in his hands that completely undid her. She'd had to jerk away before she succumbed to that mixture of pure masculine sexuality and those rare but so compelling seconds of kindness. She was so tired, so susceptible to the Ranger's overpowering presence. She felt, in that moment, that she was betraying both herself and Nick.

Then she had jerked away. She felt like disappearing through the woods, catching herself a sunbeam filtering through the trees, and riding it to some faraway, uncomplicated place.

She kept astounding herself by the attraction she felt for Ranger Morgan Davis. The fact that he looked so much like her brother should put her off, should repel her. How could she be so fascinated by a man who looked just like the boy and man she'd grown up with? But, then, the similarities were only skin-deep. The Ranger had none of Nick's warmth and compassion, none of his quick humor.

So why did she give a fig? Because she thought some of those qualities might lie hidden deep inside him; she couldn't quite accept the fact that he was as cold and uncaring as he appeared to be. Emboldened by the thought, she quickly took care of her personal needs and started back. She had reached the clearing just in time to see the Ranger knee Nick and watch her brother double up in agony. She didn't care that Nick would have done the same given the chance, that the two men had been in a life-and-death struggle in which there were no rules. She saw only her brother's pain.

And she wanted to kill the Ranger herself. At least do the same to him as he'd done to a man handcuffed and leg-ironed. The Ranger turned at that second, and their eyes met. She glimpsed a sudden bleakness in them before they emptied, became that unfathomable blue, shades darker now than Nick's. And then they became wary as if he read her anger, the violence boiling inside her.

She reached him, her eyes filled with contempt, and then her hand went back and she hit him as hard as she could, not noticing until the moment of impact the already swollen bruise on his cheek. Her hand hurt from the force of the blow, yet he made no move to retaliate. That made her even angrier, and she drew back her other hand.

This time he caught it, and then caught her knee with his leg, just as she went for his crotch. His left hand locked both of her wrists behind her, and he pulled her close, so close she felt the tension of his body, the swelling again of his manhood. She tried to pull away, to buck against him, but he only held her tighter. He looked down, and for a second she had the wild thought he was going to kiss her. Then she looked at his eyes, and some of the wild fury in her calmed. She had never seen such loneliness in a man's eyes, such utter bleakness. She felt as if she'd just uncovered a raw wound. Her body stilled and she just stared up at him.

Every part of her was vibrantly aware of his nearness. Lori felt herself shivering, not only in reaction to the way his proximity made her hot and tingling, but at the unexpected pain in his eyes. She knew then that he hadn't wanted to harm Nick. He had taken her blow to prove that.

When she looked up at him, when she knew she should hate him, she felt a compassion of her own, an overwhelming need to bring a little softness and laughter into a life she sensed had little, to a man who substituted duty for every human emotion.

He suddenly let her go, as if he'd intuited the swing from fury to pity. He detested the latter. She knew it from the red that suddenly flooded his face. The lines around his eyes seemed to deepen. He sighed, a shudder visibly rocking his body, whether from the physical punishment he'd just received, or from something else, she didn't know.

“Go over and sit next to your brother,” he said wearily. He followed, kneeling between them to rearrange the handcuffs so that Nick and Lori were chained together. His gaze moved from one to the other.

“I don't want to go through this every day,” he said harshly, “but I will if I have to.” He turned to Nick, and Lori saw him studying every feature of her brother before speaking again. “You're going back to Texas, Braden, if I have to carry you hog-tied on my back. I'm not going to ask you to make it easy, 'cause I know you won't. But be warned, I won't pull punches because of your sister. You start something, and I'll damn well finish it.”

He stalked over to the horses, unsaddled them, and pulled off the bedrolls, carrying them over to his two prisoners. He gave them a canteen full of water and a measure of jerky and then retreated to a spot twenty feet away, where he rolled a blanket around himself and turned away from them.

Morgan woke slowly. He hurt. His wounded shoulder ached from the fight he'd had with Braden. His face felt battered and his mouth swollen. He felt like hell.

His mood was no better as he thought briefly of the last few days. He knew the situation could only worsen. Braden had been cooperative till now because of his sister. He had been biding his time, waiting for the moment Lori was on a stagecoach and safe. But now Braden knew that was unlikely, and Morgan knew he could expect more attacks, more trouble, more defiance. Christ, he hadn't wanted to hit Braden yesterday, not the way he did, but Braden was after the gun. The kick had been the fastest, most efficient way of disabling him before Lori returned and joined in the fray.

He turned over and looked at the sky, which was afire with sunset. Violent and passionate, although he'd never thought of the sky in those terms before. His whole world, in fact, was shifting, and he wasn't sure he would ever quite find the solid foothold he once thought he had.

Morgan had never felt guilt before in taking a prisoner back. He'd never had the slightest hesitation in shooting one who tried to escape. He'd never spared more than a passing thought as to their ultimate fate. This time was different. He had a grudging respect for Nick Braden, the way he continued to try to protect his sister and, at the same time, defy what Morgan knew were insurmountable odds. He himself had stacked them that way.

Dammit, Nick Braden was getting to him.

Morgan slowly sat up. Thirty minutes and the sun would be down. Another hour or two and the moon would be bright enough to ride again. He looked over at the Bradens. Both were asleep, the girl's head resting on her brother's shoulder. Morgan wondered briefly how it would feel if she were to rest against his shoulder, that silky honey-blond hair draped over his chest. He tried to banish the thought as soon as it formed. But he grew hard at the thought of her body against his. Damn, he was like a stallion sniffing a mare in heat.

Morgan saddled his horse. He would do some backtracking while dusk lasted, make sure no one was behind them. He carefully led his horse away from where the others were sleeping before he mounted. God only knew how much sleep they had gotten after the violence of this afternoon, and he intended to travel again until noon tomorrow. Those few hours of sleep were all that he needed.

It was full dark when he returned. He'd circled around and found no trace of man or animal. He did find an old mining road heading in the direction he planned to take. They would follow that tonight, make up some time. There shouldn't be anyone on it tonight. At dawn they would go back up along the ridge of the mountains.

Beth pulled up the team when she saw a rutted trail angling from the road. An old mining road, she thought. They could drive about half a mile, out of sight, and stay there. They would rest the horses, and she needed some sleep. Maggie was already sleeping in the bed of the buck-board, her tiny form resting on a pile of blankets next to a trunk. Caroline and their stallion, Joshua's pride and joy, trailed behind, tied to the wagon with a rope.

It had been two days since the night they had left the cabin. Another two days before the Utes said they would return for her answer. She just hoped they wouldn't come sooner. She particularly feared one of the chosen men, Chorito, the son of a chief, who always looked at her with hungry, greedy eyes. He wore army trousers Beth suspected he hadn't traded for, and at times his face was painted. He was usually surrounded by six other young braves, all of their faces sullen.

She'd had the sick feeling from the beginning that no matter whom she chose, she would end up with Chorito. He would threaten or kill or trade for her. Although most of the Utes were peaceful, there had been sporadic attacks on settlements and increasing resentment against the growing number of farmers claiming what Utes considered their grazing lands. She'd always suspected Chorito was one of the raiders.

She unhitched the horses and tethered them, then gave them water from the barrel she carried with her, and a hatful of oats. Then she watered and fed Caroline. Maggie was still sleeping when Beth squeezed between the trunk and Maggie. Beth put her arm around Maggie, felt the child snuggle into her for warmth and comfort. She had to keep her safe. She had to. Three days to Georgetown. Several more to Denver. And then she would sell the stallion. Perhaps start a small restaurant with the proceeds.

Just three more days, and they should be safe. With that reassuring thought, Beth finally slept.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

As the sun peaked through the eastern hills, Morgan paused on the rough, rutted road that led downward. It twisted and turned along the side of the mountain. The other two horses kept moving until they were abreast of him, but he didn't spare them a glance, just as he hadn't since they'd left the clearing. He was doing his damnedest to distance himself from them, although it was growing more and more difficult.

Somewhere along the way Nick Braden had become a person to him, not just an object to deliver to justice. And Lori? He couldn't even think of her without hurting, and the ache wasn't confined to his lower regions. That was precisely the crux of his difficulty. If what he felt had been merely lust, he could have disciplined his body. But she'd made him want something more. She'd exposed a raw emptiness in his life, an emptiness she had filled so fleetingly during that second kiss at the cabin, when her lips had gentled and her hand had touched him with something close to tenderness. He kept remembering that instant, so much that he started wondering if perhaps he imagined it, giving it substance where there was none.

Now she hated him, with ample reason. She had flinched every time he neared her last evening as they prepared to go. She had refused his help in mounting. She hadn't glared at him as she usually did, but rather turned her head as if even the sight of him was more than she could bear.…

A scream shattered the uneasy silence. Then gunshots. Another scream, then the loud, terrified wail of a child or animal. A war cry.

Morgan's blood went cold. He'd heard that sound before. He'd heard it in Texas, and he'd heard it in his nightmares. The scream came again. He looked over toward Nick and Lori. Their faces were intent on him, wailing. He moved to the edge of the road, looking down to its bend. A buckboard sat at the bottom where the road evened out. He saw a woman in the back clutching a child, one of her hands holding a pistol helplessly as seven painted warriors circled the wagon.

Braden had moved up, too, his horse responding to the pressure from his knees. His face went white. He turned to Morgan. “You're going to need help.”

Automatically, Morgan hesitated.

“Goddamn you,” Nick said. “I'll give you my word I won't try to escape, not until …”

“Until you're back in my custody,” Morgan said softly, knowing he'd already made his decision. He did trust Braden that much.

Braden nodded. Morgan took Nick's holster and gun from his saddlebags, loading it with bullets from his own gunbelt, thanking a higher being that they used the same caliber. He took the key to Nick's handcuffs from his pocket and leaned over, unlocking them, leaving them to dangle from the cuff connecting them to the saddle horn. Morgan's voice was low as he warned him. “I have your word, Braden. Don't forget it.” He handed him the gunbelt and then he took a knife and cut Lori's bonds. “Stay here,” he said curtly.

Braden was already riding ahead of him, his body low on the neck of the horse as he raced down the road. Morgan took his Colt from the holster and followed his prisoner. As they reached where the road leveled off, he saw that two of the Indians were in the wagon, one swinging up the child to a mounted warrior as the second held the struggling, screaming woman around her waist. Braden fired his gun into the air, apparently trying to frighten them off, but Morgan saw one of the mounted warriors take aim at Braden and fire. The bullet missed, but Braden whirled around and fired. He didn't miss, and the Indian fell from the horse.