by Stacey Kayne
"You're sure these drawings are accurate?" asked Tucker. "I've spent a good deal of time picking my way across Colorado territory, yet this map is littered with passes I've never seen or heard of."
"My grandfather was a surveyor by trade and my father did some scouting for the military before he married my mother."
Tucker's sharp green eyes flickered up, making brief contact with Skylar's before he glanced back down at the journal.
Skylar felt as though she'd been physically touched. Something in the way the man looked at her sent a charge through her body that affected her mind. Like a steer on loco weed. She hadn't forgotten how intoxicating those green eyes could be, or how incredibly soft and gentle his lips had felt against hers. As hard as she tried over the past two days, she couldn't get the recollection out of her mind.
"Sky?"
"Yeah?" Skylar blinked, and simultaneously realized Tucker was staring at her and Chance had been talking to her. She dropped her gaze away from Tucker. "Yeah, that's the pass," she said, noticing Chance's finger on the narrow channel through the San Juan Mountains, hoping that was what he'd been commenting on while her mind had been off chasing rainbows.
Dear God, how long had Tucker been watching her stare at his lips? "If we take that pass, I estimate we could cut a good four days of travel," she said, trying to ignore the burning in her cheeks.
"I'm willing to give it a shot," Tucker replied. "What do you say, Chance?"
Chance muttered an agreement. Skylar closed her journal and glanced up. Tucker's eyes lingered on hers long enough to cause a series of flutters in her stomach, which spiraled up through her body and straight to her head when he flashed those pearly white teeth of his.
In a burst of motion, Skylar grabbed her journal and straightened away from the table. "Let's get to Wyoming." She started for the door, silently cursing the tingling surge she felt clear to the soles of her feet. Did he realize how incredibly charming he was?
Skylar groaned inwardly, disgusted by her thoughts. "Lord, I must be touched in the head."
He's not charming. He's arrogant, and he knows exactly what he's doing. The man was a flirt, plain and simple. He was the sort who flirted with anything female. She'd make it known she didn't care to be a part of any such behavior.
She stopped beside the spotted mare tethered outside the corral. The mustang snorted and flattened her ears. "That's the idea," she said, smiling at the hostile signals coming from the ornery mare. She'd keep it clear that she wasn't interested in Tucker's fallen-angel smiles.
"You're going to ride that paint?"
Skylar jumped at the sound of Tucker's rich voice then spun to face him. Damn the man! She shouldn't be feeling the strange sensations that swirled inside her whenever she caught his gaze. "Do you have a problem with my riding this mare?"
"No, ma'am," he said, raising his hands and backing away from her as though she'd drawn her gun on him. "You go ahead and lead the way."
Listening to his low laugh as he walked toward his horse, Skylar wondered what she was so worried about.
In the past three days they'd covered far more desert ground than Tucker could have imagined possible. Finished roping off the mares, Tucker followed Chance toward their saddled horses staked near one the few patches of sand not littered with cacti and scrub. In the distance, white dunes rose up against an opaque sky, making it impossible to tell where earth ended and sky began.
"Who's taking care of supper tonight?" Chance asked as they began removing their saddles. "You or me?"
"I'll give it a shot," Tucker said, figuring Chance could use the break after handling the chore for the past two nights. Skylar had made it clear that her job pertained strictly to the horses.
"Garret, wait!"
Tucker's gaze whipped around at the sharp sound of Skylar's voice. She ran toward the packhorses. Fifteen yards away, Garret stood beside a mule, releasing the ropes over a sack of supplies that more than doubled his weight. Skylar reached over the boy's head, grabbing a heavy pack before it took the kid to the ground. Together they eased the large canvas sack down.
Garret flashed a sheepish grin as his sister gave him a light scolding. The kid's smile brightened as she reached out and ruffled his white hair, saying something Tucker couldn't make out. Garret gave a sharp nod before running off to do whatever she'd asked of him.
Tucker grinned and turned back to his horse. He'd never seen a kid idolize his sister the way Garret did. But then, he'd never known a woman like Skylar. A born taskmaster, she didn't have a speck of trouble maintaining his herd and distributing orders, all while riding circles around them and keeping a constant eye on Garret.
Two nights back she'd surprised Tucker again by relieving him of his night watch just after midnight. He and Chance had been splitting the late-night and early-morning shifts, but Skylar didn't cut herself any slack.
"I'll get a fire started," Chance said as he walked away with his saddle slung over his shoulder.
As Tucker finished with his horse, Skylar approached the saddled Arabian staked beside him. She drew a long breath as she stroked her hand across the horse's black mane.
Tucker figured three days of grueling riding and little sleep had to be catching up with her. As her hand drifted away from the stallion, her horse stepped back and nudged her arm with its muzzle, clearly wanting more of her touch.
"Spoiled rotten," she murmured, and stretched her arms around his big head, giving him a petting embrace she seemed to enjoy as much as the stallion. Her gentle smile didn't hide the exhaustion Tucker could see in her eyes.
The horse gave a snort of protest when she withdrew her caressing hands and stepped toward her saddle. "Chores first, you big hound," she said, tugging at the cinch.
"Can I give you a hand?" Tucker asked, moving beside her.
The second she met his gaze, her soft expression soured right up. "No. Why would I need help removing my saddle?"
"I just thought—" Tucker snapped his mouth shut, realizing he'd thought wrong. "Never mind."
Just another cowhand, he silently repeated. Normally, he wasn't so slow.
She turned her back to him. "Garret and I can handle the horses. You should probably get started on camp."
"Right." After three days of the same routine, he was beginning to catch on. He'd clearly blown any chance they'd had at being friendly that night in the barn. If she wasn't giving him orders, he was all but invisible.
Too bad she wasn't.
By sundown, Chance had set up camp and Tucker had charred a couple of batches of biscuits and scorched a few jackrabbits. He certainly hadn't done anyone any favors by volunteering to cook.
Serving what was left of the food onto two plates, he covered the second with a tin and left it by the fire for Skylar. He took his plate and sat beside Chance. Garret sat on the other side of the fire, reclined against an embankment of sand, his face fixed with a frown as he tapped his fork against a piece of overcooked rabbit.
"It's meat, kid," said Chance.
"You sure?"
"Fairly," Chance answered, in the midst of some extensive chewing.
Garret took a bite and grimaced.
licker didn't see how the kid could complain when their ramrod couldn't do any better. Hearing the sound of Skylar's approaching footsteps, he glanced through the darkness. Despite his efforts not to, Tucker watched as she walked into the warm firelight, not paying them any notice as she tossed her hat and gloves onto her pack and began removing her chaps.
She stood a mere five feet away with her back to him, completely unaware of how her feminine curves and long, graceful limbs were driving him to distraction. Her fingers worked the buckle just above the curves of her backside. Successfully freeing the clasp, she bent forward to unlatch the straps around her thighs.
Good God. He shifted his gaze back to the unappetizing food on his plate. Grabbing his fork, he began picking at the rabbit meat.
"Your plate's by the fire," he said when she'd folded h
er gear and tossed it toward her pack.
Firelight flickered across her blond hair as she whipped her gaze toward the fire. She spotted her plate then shifted her wide blue eyes toward his gaze.
Apparently she hadn't expected him to fix her a plate. "I figured if I didn't set some aside, your little brother would inhale the rest."
"Thanks." She picked it up and walked around the fire to sit beside her brother.
"Not a chance," Garret replied. "If I gotta eat this stuff, she does, too. Is this meat or bread?" He wrinkled his nose as he tapped his fork against a charred biscuit.
"It's a biscuit," Tucker answered.
"Tucker, I don't think the boy cares much for your cooking," said Chance.
"No offense or nothin'," Garret quickly put in. "I'm just not used to crunchy...biscuits ?"
"I never claimed to be a damn trail cook," said Tucker. "I suppose you can do better?"
"Me? No. But Sky—"
Skylar's boot tapped against Garret's. Her stern glance instantly cut off the kid's words.
"Sky what?" Tucker prodded.
"Nothin'." Garret dropped his gaze to his plate and shoved a hard clump of flour into his mouth.
"Boy, are you gonna let her shut you up like that? What's she gonna do? Take you over her knee?"
Garret glanced up at his sister, a grin pushing high into his cheeks. "Maybe."
Skylar cracked a slight smile at her brother's answer.
The kid obviously didn't have any real fear of his sister, but he didn't offer any further comment.
Knowing Skylar planned to take the first watch despite her clear exhaustion, he said, "Why don't you have Garret take first watch so you can—"
"Garret won't be doing night watches," she interrupted.
"Why the hell not?" Tucker inquired.
"I could take a watch, Sky," Garret protested.
She ignored him. "Because I said he's not. It's not open for discussion. The three of us splitting the watch should be sufficient for all of us to get enough sleep."
Tucker glanced at Chance sitting beside him, who only shrugged his shoulders in response. Tucker's gaze moved between the disappointment in Garret's eyes and the sheer determination crackling like blue embers in Skylar's.
The kid wouldn't be doing night watches.
"Fine. I can take—"
"I'll take the first watch," she cut in again. "You two can debate the rest."
Skylar dropped her gaze, disengaging herself from further conversation. She didn't have to glance beside her to know her little brother was angry with her for interfering, but Garret hadn't buried any inexperienced cowhands who'd found themselves on the underside of a spooked herd. She had. As long as she was in charge of her little brother, he wouldn't be doing any night watches.
The weight of something dropped onto her shoulder. Skylar glanced to her right. From the corner of her eye, she saw a long black leg stretch across her tan vest.
Tarantula!
With a shriek she was on her feet, smacking the spider from her shoulder. Her gaze pinned to the spot of black she'd flung across the low-burning fire, she drew her revolver and fired a single shot. The bullet pounded the spider into the ground, spraying bits of sand toward Tucker, sitting a mere foot away.
"What the hell!" he shouted, jumping to his feet with Chance clamoring up beside him.
"Did you get it?" Garret asked.
Skylar's lungs burned as she tried to catch her breath, while silently berating herself for creating such a scene. She'd actually screamed. Her father would have had a fit over such a reaction.
"Get what?" Tucker asked, leaning over the tarantula she'd shot into a sandy grave. "It's a damn spider!"
Skylar cringed as she watched Chance's and Tucker's identically twisted expressions glance up at her.
Realizing she could have spooked the horses that were barely a hundred yards away, she stilled, trying to hear past the pounding of her pulse for sounds of disturbance and retreating hoofbeats. It would serve me right. The fact that she heard no such sound was pure luck. There was no excuse for the way she'd overreacted.
"Sky don't have much tolerance for tarantulas," said Garret, still sitting calmly on the ground, grinning up at the others.
Damnation, but she hated those hairy critters! More than the tarantulas, she hated having a fear she couldn't control. Anything with eight legs made her stomach churn and her skin crawl.
"You nearly shot me over a goddamn spider?" Tucker shouted. "If you'd have flung that thing a foot to the right, I'd have a hole in my chest!"
"Don't shout at me," she said, holding his stern gaze.
Don't shout at her? Tucker was two strides away from reaching out and shaking her until her teeth rattled. She'd scared the holy hell out of him. The woman was a lunatic! "You go popping your gun at every damn tarantula in this desert, and you'll bring every horse-thieving outlaw down around our ears."
"I think she hit it right between the eyes," said Chance as he squatted beside the spider.
Tucker bent down and scooped the spider into his hand and held it toward the fire to get a better look. The dead tarantula filled his palm, its twitching legs even hanging over a bit. Damn if Chance wasn't right. Seemed their ramrod was also handy with a side iron. Seeing Skylar take a step back, he said, "Hold your fire, boss lady. You killed it."
Skylar turned and ran from the campsite.
"What the hell is she doing now?"
"Sounds to me like she's puking her guts out," Chance said mildly, the unmistakable sound echoing back from the darkness.
"I saw her turn her nose up at a diamondback rattlesnake today when we stopped to rest the horses, yet she can't stand the sight of a spider?"
"You ever have one of those spiders crawl up your pant leg while you were sleeping?" asked Garret.
Tucker tossed the tarantula into the fire then shifted his gaze toward Garret sitting with his plate resting on his long, folded legs. "Sky did? No kidding?"
"Yeah. A few years ago. She woke up and swatted at something itchin' her leg, and that's when it bit her. She let out a scream and whipped her pants clean off, right there in the middle of camp. My pa gave her a real hard time for carry in' on like she did in front of the men. The crew made cracks for weeks about Sky dancin' and screamin' like a girl. Which was sorta funny," Garret said with a grin, "'cause she is a girl."
"Hell, having a spider that size sink its fangs into you would cause any man to howl and jump about," Tucker said as he sat back down and picked up the plate he'd tossed aside.
Garret shrugged. "Don't matter. Bein' smaller than most the men, Sky has to keep her wits about her if she intends to keep their respect."
"From what I recall," said Chance, "Sky never had trouble keeping any man's respect. After the way she beat the tar out of that smart-mouthed cowhand who knocked her from her horse after she fired him, no one could question her ability to throw a good punch. If I'd known she was a girl, I'd have been real impressed."
Tucker couldn't believe his ears. "She fought a man?"
"Sort of," said Chance. "The kid she fired couldn't have been more than eighteen. Your typical wiseass who thinks he knows it all and can't follow orders. He'd been harassing her for days, challenging her authority. He may have gotten in the first punch, but once she was on her feet, he didn't do nothin' but bleed. She pulled his saddle from the mare he'd been riding and said she'd fire any man who had a problem with leaving him behind." Chance grinned. "Zach had to be glowing with pride that day."
"She couldn't have been but sixteen," Tucker protested.
"There about," Garret agreed, his pale blond hair glowing in the firelight.
"I'm sure Zach would have stepped in if he thought she couldn't handle herself," Chance said as he tossed another log into the fire, sending a spray of orange embers swirling up into the night air. "Wouldn't have looked good for Sky, though, and it's not like we all haven't had a few busted lips and bruised ribs from working with cattle."
Chance's reasoning didn't keep Tucker from being appalled by the thought of Skylar having to defend herself against a man. He'd worked a few cattle drives and knew how rough-and-tumble a crew could be. As a young girl, she had to have been terrified when her father tossed her into such a mix of men. Rage warmed his blood at the thought of Skylar fending for herself with rowdy cowhands with her father standing idly by, allowing such incidents to take place.
"You look like you're about to murder someone," Chance said as he sat beside him.
"The more I learn of Daines," Tucker said in a low growl, "the less I like him. What kind of a father raises his daughter around a bunch of cowpokes? What made you hire Daines, anyhow?"
"I said he was good with horses, not kids. We needed a horse trainer, not a damn nanny. You're mighty worked up over something that had nothing to do with you. What's gotten into you?"
Tucker wasn't really sure. He guessed being responsible for Skylar and Garret for the time being made them his concern. The woman was his legal wife.
But Chance was right, he thought, noticing the tension in his muscles. What difference did it make to him if Skylar had boxed with cowpunchers? He was allowing his mind to be jumbled by a woman who'd just as soon shoot him than look at him.
From the corner of his eye, he saw a figure emerge from the shadows. Skylar walked into camp, her narrowed eyes pinned on Garret. Tucker gathered she'd heard part of the conversation and wasn't happy about having any of those past incidents revealed.
"You all right?" he asked, noticing her chalk-white complexion, then realized he'd done it again. He was starting to act like Chance, fussing and fretting about every little thing.
"I'm fine." She grabbed her hat and chaps and started in the direction of the horses.
"You haven't eaten," he called after her.
"Worry about someone else, Morgan," she called back as she disappeared into the darkness.
Chance's low chuckle put the pinch back in his muscles.
He wasn't worried! It was an observation. Anyone could
see the woman was exhausted. The last thing he needed was for her to get sick from malnutrition.
She's capable of looking out for herself He needed to get that through his head.
