Saddle Up

by Victoria Vane

  Chapter 9

  Keith watched with interest as Miranda scrambled on all fours up a steep embankment, camera around her neck, to film the sunset. As much as he’d wanted to, he couldn’t dislike her. She’d kept her composure during the snake incident and afterward had even shown a sense of humor when most women would have gone into hysterics. She’d been reasonably stoic, given the hard ride and rough conditions. She also had tenacity, which earned his grudging respect.

  “Be careful,” he called out. “I don’t want to have to call the chopper when you break your neck.”

  She heaved herself up onto the biggest rock and uncapped her lens. “You worry like an old woman.”

  The barb struck home. “An old woman?”

  She smirked. “You sure sound like one.”

  The second taunt was too much for his ego to bear. Taking a running start, he bounded up the rocky incline with as much ease as a mountain goat. She startled when he laid a hand on her shoulder and spun her around to face him. “What are you doing up here?” she asked, sounding a bit breathless.

  “Take it back,” he demanded.

  Her forehead wrinkled. “Take what back?”

  He jerked his chin. “The insult you just made.”

  She laughed. “It was a joke. You can’t really be that sensitive.”

  “In my culture, men have two roles—hunter or warrior.”

  “A warrior? Aren’t you a little late to that party? I think the cowboy and Indian wars ended well over a century ago.”

  “The identity remains,” he returned staunchly. “It’s who we are. Who I am.” Or at least who he’d always wanted to be. “Comparing me to an old woman is no joke. It is an insult.” His tone was calm and controlled, yet fire simmered in his veins.

  “Are you for real? You honestly expect me to retract what I said?”

  “Yes.” Her careless laugh only stoked the flame.

  Her laughter died. Her hands landed on her hips. She raised her chin a notch to meet his gaze, her smoky eyes challenging. “And if I don’t take it back?”

  “Then I will make you.”

  “Make me? Just how do you propose to do that?”

  “Do you really want to go there?”

  He stepped into her space.

  She backed away, nervously licking her lips.

  “Why did you come with me, Miranda? You knew I didn’t want to bring you, yet you insisted. You would have been safe at camp, but you came even after I warned you of all the dangers.”

  “But we weren’t supposed to be alone. Dave and Donny said they were going to join us.”

  “But they aren’t here yet, are they?” She could have gone back. She should have gone back. “Why did you come?” he asked again, softly.

  “I told you why.” Her gray eyes flickered and then flitted away. “I-I wanted to help find the stray horses, and Mitch needs proof of what happened.”

  He advanced again until they stood thigh to thigh. “I had nothing to do with it?”

  She gave another nervous laugh. “Is that what you think, Keith? That you’re so irresistible that every woman you meet wants to jump your bones?”

  “Not all,” he replied with a shrug. “But I have enough experience to recognize the ones who do.”

  “You’re mistaken this time.”

  “Am I? I don’t think so. Your need speaks to me. It shines in your eyes.”

  Those wide, fawn-like eyes made him feel far too much like a ravenous beast emerging from hibernation. She squeezed them shut, a move that was as effective as an ostrich hiding its head in the sand. He inched in until he was close enough to feel her soft soughs of breath caressing his face, close enough for the subtle essence of honeysuckle to tease his nostrils. Her scent struck him hard, firing a primal need to touch…to taste. He looped a stray reddish-gold curl—the color of a desert sunrise—around his finger. She stared at his hand, swallowed hard, but didn’t pull away. He slowly released the curl and grazed his thumb down her cheek to stroke across her bottom lip.

  * * *

  Finding herself between a rock and a hard place—specifically the boulder at her back and Keith at her front—Miranda recognized that she was in way over her head. Her gut had warned her where all this was heading, but she hadn’t listened. Maybe she’d subconsciously asked for it, but now that he’d taken notice of her, her pulse pounded in panic.

  “Do you deny that want me, Miranda?” he whispered seductively. His gaze dropped to her mouth. Was he going to kiss her? Her nerves coiled tighter, her anticipation ramping up another notch. “Isn’t that the real reason you came out here with me?” His mouth hovered inches from hers, his hot, humid breath inciting tiny ripples down her spine. “If I can’t hear it from your lips, I’ll make your body speak.”

  He dipped his head, but instead of the kiss she’d anticipated, he nuzzled her throat. His scorching mouth blazed a trail of liquid fire up her neck. Her breaths came short in almost painful rasps at the searing sensation of his tongue licking the tender hollow behind her ear. She shut her eyes on a shudder of pleasure. She’d never experienced a man touching her in such a sensual way. She’d also never been so quickly aroused. It was all she could do to keep her hands off him.

  She gasped as he shifted his hips against her. He was aroused and wanted to be sure she knew it. She knew she should pull away but couldn’t quite bring herself to comply. Her body jolted with a shock of pleasure, as pelvis to pelvis, he began a slow, rhythmic rocking. It was primal and erotic.

  “Just say the word,” he murmured, “and I’ll give you what you want.”

  The single syllable was about to escape her lips when his words jolted her back to her senses. Her eyes snapped open. “What I want?” She shoved hard against his chest. “You egotistical prick! You’re deluded if you think I’m going to become another notch on your…your…totem pole.”

  “Wrong tribe.” A hint of a smirk curled his sensuous lips. “The plains Indians didn’t carve totems.”

  “You get my gist!” she snapped. How could she have been such an idiot to let him lead her on like that? She knew what he was, and he sure as hell knew what he was doing. She’d seen him work his magic on an entire crowd of women. It was all just a game to him.

  Miranda snatched up her camera and scuttled back down the embankment, mostly on her butt. Returning to the campsite, she tossed a few more thick branches on the fire. Hurt and humiliated, she stared into the flickering flames, refusing to look up even when the toes of his boots came into view.

  “You forgot this.” Keith offered her ball cap, his dark eyes dancing with amusement. Was he laughing at her? She tore her cap from his hands and shoved it back on her head, but he didn’t take the hint and leave. Instead, he stood watching her, hands in his pockets, rocking back on his heels.

  “It’s getting dark,” he remarked after a while. “I’m guessing Dave and Donny found more horses along the way and had to turn back again.”

  “Can you call them and find out?” she asked, wishing she was anyplace but out here with him.

  “Can’t. Mitch has the other satellite phone.”

  Her stomach sank. “So we’re here alone together for the whole night?”

  “Looks that way.” He shrugged, the mocking look still lingering in his eyes. “I warned you how it would be.”

  Yes, he had. He’d cautioned her from the outset about snakes, scorpions, and even Gila monsters, but she never could have imagined that he’d be the greatest danger. Coming out here alone with him was foolhardy in the extreme. She watched covertly as he collected his saddlebag and rifle, and then cleared a space by the fire where he went to work laying out a bedroll. “Only one?” she remarked.

  “It’s all we need.”

  She glared at the bedroll. “I’m not sharing your bed, Keith. I thought I made myself clear about that.”

  “Now look who’s being egotistical. I didn’t ask you to. This is for you.”

  “Oh.” Her face burned with embarrassment. “
Thanks. But what about you? Where are you sleeping?”

  “I’m not. I’ll be keeping watch over the horses.”

  “What do you mean ‘keeping watch’?”

  “There are predators out here that make tied horses vulnerable to attack. If Donny and Dave were here, we’d take shifts, but since they aren’t, I’ll have to stand guard.”

  “All night?” she asked with a sudden pang of guilt. “That makes no sense when I can help. Why don’t you and I take shifts?”

  “Do you know how to use a rifle?” he asked.

  “No.” She shook her head. “I don’t like guns.”

  “Then what are you going to do if you see a coyote, bear, or mountain lion? Wave your hands and try to shoo it away?”

  “No.” She scowled back at him. “I’ll just scream and wake you up.”

  His lips curved into a half smile. “I guess that would work.”

  “Then we have a plan.” She stood and brushed the dirt from her hands on her even dirtier jeans. “Who takes first watch?”

  “You will,” he said. “It’s safer. Most predators prefer the darkest hours before dawn.”

  He went to his saddlebag and produced a battery-operated Coleman lantern that he suspended at the near end of the picket line. “Unfortunately, there’s almost no moon tonight. This light and the campfire will discourage them, but don’t grow complacent.” His eyes grew dark and predatory, reminding her once more of her own very real peril. “A hungry beast is always dangerous.”

  * * *

  After laying out a tarp as a moisture barrier, Keith arranged the makeshift bed. If he were back in Wyoming, he’d have used it to create a shelter, but there was little chance of getting caught in the rain out here in the desert. Dew from the ground, however, was another matter. After pulling off his boots, he sprawled out full length on the bedroll, pillowing his head on his crossed arms. Once more, he watched Miranda watching him.

  “Aren’t you concerned about snakes?” she asked.

  “No. They aren’t as active at night. It’s too cold.”

  The cooler temperature also magnified the beauty of the night. There was almost nothing he appreciated more than staring up at a canopy of shimmering lights. Tonight, the cloudless, moonless sky, showcased the full brilliance of a million stars.

  “Do you do this often?” she asked. “Camping out under the stars?”

  “I’ve done it often enough. When I was fourteen, I spent a few days alone in a place a lot like this.”

  “Why were you alone?” she asked.

  “It was a vision quest.”

  “What is that exactly?” she asked. “I’ve heard the term, of course, but I don’t really understand the purpose of it. There’s a film I like called Vision Quest in which one of the main characters pretends to be an Indian, but it never explains what a real vision quest is.”

  He stared into the fire. “It’s a rite of passage. When a young man reaches warrior age, he must go away to a secret place until he finds his boo-ha-gant, a kind of talisman to help him through life.”

  On his own quest, he’d gone to Crow Heart Butte, the same peak he’d scaled with his grandfather the year before when they’d scattered his father’s ashes to the four winds. He’d remained for three days, immersed in fervent prayer, but no vision had come to him.

  “Did it work?” she asked. “Did you find your boo-ha-gant?”

  “No.” He recalled his profound disappointment that the Great Spirit had deemed him unworthy. Was it due to his mixed blood, or was it a character flaw? He’d never know. Either way, he was determined that no one would learn of his failure. “I said I had a vision, but I lied.”

  “Why would you do that?” she asked.

  “For acceptance. I’d been with my adopted family for over a year, but many on the rez still regarded me as an outsider. I was desperate to fit in. In the beginning, I suffered many black eyes and bloody noses, mostly from my own cousins. Although I had lots of practice fighting back home, the rules were different on the rez. I lost often but never backed down. That’s what finally won their respect. My cousin Tonya was the first to come around, deciding that even mixed blood was thicker than water. Eventually, my male cousins followed. After that, they accepted me as family—at least until my decision to leave.”

  “Why did you leave?” she asked.

  “In the beginning, I was enthralled by my native roots and embraced Indian culture as warmly as my grandparents embraced me, but as I grew older, I began to miss the material things I’d known before. Perhaps the novelty of the native life had worn off. I started to resent rather than revere the old traditions. I found them superstitious and oppressive; so when the opportunity was presented, I left.”

  “I can understand wanting to fit in,” she said. “I lied about a lot of things too when I was young.”

  “What kinds of things?”

  “I don’t even remember now. Just a lot of stupid things that don’t even matter. Wanting to belong can be a painful, sometimes damaging thing. Did you ever see the movie Heathers?” she asked.

  “No. Told you I haven’t seen many movies.”

  “It’s a totally over-the-top dark comedy about this girl who wants to run with the ‘in crowd’ but gets involved with this cool new guy who starts killing the most popular kids. It won several independent film awards.”

  “You seem to spend a lot of time watching movies. Movies are only an imitation of life, Miranda.”

  Her lips compressed. “Are you implying that I have no life?”

  “I’m wondering why you would prefer to watch other people’s lives than living your own. Why do you hide behind your camera? What are you afraid of?”

  “You’re wrong! I’m not hiding, and I’m not afraid of anything…besides maybe snakes and other creepy things,” she confessed. “But I even braved all that to come out here.”

  “Why?” he pressed again, suddenly wanting to understand her better. “Why is this so important to you?”

  “I don’t know how to explain it,” she said. “I guess my camera is my view of the world. It’s my eyes and ears and my voice.”

  “You think you’re blind, deaf, and mute without it?” he asked, growing even more puzzled.

  “No.” She glanced up at him with a shake of her head. “It’s just that I’ve always felt like I don’t matter, as if I mean nothing to this world. Like I’m no more significant than a grain of sand in this desert. I guess someone like you could never understand that.”

  The remark irked him. “What do you mean someone like me? You seem to make a lot of assumptions about me.” That fact annoyed him even more.

  “I only meant you aren’t like me,” she said. “You’re the kind of person people instantly notice. I’m usually invisible.”

  “Maybe because that’s what you secretly want,” he suggested.

  “Why would you think that? I’m just stating facts here. I’m not beautiful or brilliant or even funny. I have no athletic ability. I can’t read music or even carry a tune. There’s nothing special about me.” She tilted her head up to the sky, continuing wistfully. “But I want to be special. I want to matter, or at least feel like I do. That’s why I want to tell stories that matter.”

  He took a moment to digest her words. “If you look to others for validation, Miranda, you look in the wrong place. They’ll never give you what you need. What you seek can come only from within.” At least that was what he told himself.

  She visibly bristled, telling him he’d touched a sore spot. “Easy for you to say.”

  “I speak from experience, Miranda. I know it’s true.” It was the goal he’d been working toward for months—to find the inner peace and contentment that had always eluded him. He’d left the rez at twenty with stars in his eyes, but his success in the outside world had done nothing to soothe his restlessness or fill the emptiness.

  “Shouldn’t you get some sleep now?” she asked.

  “I doubt I can,” he replied. “I’ll be fa
r too worried about you alone and shivering.” The temperature had already dropped at least twenty degrees from when they’d first set out.

  “I’m fine.” She jutted her chin, hugging herself tighter. “Beth loaned me her jacket.”

  He studied her. She looked cold and defiant sitting on a rock near the fire, arms wrapped around herself, but like the desert cacti, he recognized her prickliness as purely a defense mechanism.

  “It’s going to get a lot colder before morning,” he warned. “There’s a blanket in the other saddlebag…or…better yet”—he patted the place beside him—“you’re always welcome to come here and share mine.” He grinned. “I promise we’d both wake up warmer and happier.”

  “Or,” she replied, “they’d find our dead carcasses, half-eaten by a mountain lion.”

  “Or that.” He laughed and rolled onto his back, where he continued to watch her through hooded lids. Although he’d allow himself to doze, his protective instincts wouldn’t let him fall into a deep sleep. He was also far too aware of her for comfort. His body was still coiled tight with unresolved sexual tension. Despite her viper tongue, her restless fidgeting and glances in his direction suggested that she felt the same. “Don’t wander off,” he mumbled. “If nature calls, wake me.”

  It was too dark now to see her face, but he chuckled at the snark in her reply. “Yes, old woman. I’ll wake you.”

  Chapter 10

  Once she thought him asleep, Miranda plopped down cross-legged closer to the fire, staring thoughtfully into the flames. Though she’d rather have her toenails yanked out than admit it, Keith was right that she had no life. In truth, it sometimes felt as if she lived hiding in plain sight with no one ever really seeing her.

  She’d given up almost everything to pursue her dream, but L.A. was expensive, loud, dirty, and very far from home and family. She had few friends beyond her roommate, Lexi, but hardly fit in with her crowd. So Miranda filled her waking hours with work, usually alone in her tiny apartment with a bag of Orville Redenbacher extra butter. She wondered now if the path she’d taken would eventually lead to happiness, or at least to the end of dissatisfaction with her life…with herself.