The height of the walls and the narrowness of the path gave the impression that they were walking into a yawning mouth that only had to close to swallow them up forever. “This is creepy,” Ari mumbled.
The only blessing was the high walls kept the blistering sun off her skin. The slightly cooler temperature was welcome in the oppressive heat.
Tracker lifted his rifle into position against his shoulder. Shadow, too, had his rifle ready to fire.
“What is it?” she whispered.
“We’re coming to the end of the canyon.”
The part where their brutal little trip was supposed to get worse. The part where they would be exposed. The part where it could all fall apart. Ari shifted the straps of Miguel’s cradleboard on her shoulders. She wasn’t sure she could do this. Already her shoulders were bruised and her thighs ached. Already Miguel’s weight seemed to have doubled.
You can make it. One step at a time.
That’s all she needed to remember. One step at time. She’d promised Tracker. She’d promised Miguel. She’d promised herself. One step at a time.
She wiped the sweat from her brow with her shoulder. More immediately formed. Miguel whimpered. Behind her, she heard Shadow move forward. Miguel’s whimper changed to a coo. There were sides to Tracker’s twin that surprised her. She could see him shooting up saloons. She could see him killing a man, but she never would’ve guessed he was an excellent nursemaid. But he was. An example being the way he kept wiping Miguel’s face with precious water from his canteen so the little boy wouldn’t overheat.
She turned, wincing as the ropes pressed into her shoulders.
“Thank you.”
Shadow didn’t smile. She wondered if he even could, or if the muscles in his face had atrophied into that solemn expression.
“It’s the least I could do for my nephew.”
She opened her mouth to deny the claim.
Do not be so quick to deny him a place.
Whatever problems Shadow had with her, they were with her and not with her son. According to all the rumors and tall tales that surrounded the men of Hell’s Eight, Shadow was a ruthless enemy and an honorable man. She might not remember the past, but the last eleven months had proved to her that a strong, honorable, ruthless man was good to have around. Miguel would need someone like that in his life. Feeling awkward, unsure and definitely not welcome, she smiled at Shadow. “Thank you for that, too.”
He glanced behind him. She couldn’t help but look, too, though there was nothing to see except rocks, canyon walls and the scrub that clung to both.
“What I said before…I’m sorry.”
“When you threatened me?”
“Yeah.”
“You meant it, though, didn’t you?”
“I love my brother.”
She sighed. “Because I care for him, too, I’m going to pretend that was not a threat, but concern in a different guise.”
Her next glance over her shoulder was worth the pain. Shadow actually looked surprised.
“You weren’t threatening me?” she asked.
“I was just explaining…”
He really wasn’t good at apologies. “It’s all right. I think, in the same position, I’d do the same,” she told him.
His surprise turned to shock. Ahead, she saw Tracker cast a wary glance back, and it suddenly struck her that her place between the two brothers was entirely too symbolic. Family was too important. She couldn’t be the bone of contention that broke them apart. Speaking just loudly enough for Tracker to hear, she said, “Thank you, Shadow. I appreciate all you’ve done for me.”
It was kind of good to get a last word in. It was even better to see the pleasure on Tracker’s face. Such a small sacrifice on her part to forgive a man who would give his life to protect her son. And her, too, simply because it was the right thing to do. She’d been as guilty as all the others—using the brothers’ skills to her advantage without seeing the men behind those skills. Oh, she saw Tracker. The beauty of his spirit behind his eyes. But Shadow she’d judged on his appearance. He looked wild and mean, so she’d decided he was.
When she looked back, Shadow was studying her as if she were some strange sort of bug he’d never seen before, and he wasn’t sure if she was going to be beneficial or deadly. She allowed herself a small smile. Let him wonder about that.
She stumbled over her boot and put out her hand. The wall was right there. Wonderful. The canyon was getting narrower. Her skin crawled as the walls seemed to loom higher. Anyone could be hiding up there. And if someone was, the four of them were sitting ducks.
Please, Lord, don’t let Comancheros be up on those walls.
A soft whistle came from ahead. Tracker stopped and walked back to her. The dim, flat light of the canyon was kinder to his face than the sun, softening the harsh planes, diminishing the appearance of the scar, bringing attention to the sensual fullness of his mouth and the beauty of his bedroom eyes. She wanted to snatch the hat off his head and run her fingers through his hair, wrap it around her shoulders and bind them together.
“Why are we stopping?”
“A few feet ahead we’ll be in the open and we start climbing. Are you ready?”
No. She wasn’t ready. She hadn’t had a chance to make love to him in a bed. She hadn’t had the courage to tell him she loved him, too. That she saw him as more than a man who could save her. Tell him that, though she didn’t remember her past, the moment she saw him she’d recognized him in an elemental way. That she couldn’t imagine her future without him in it.
“Yes.”
“Good. Let’s get you ready.”
Tracker pulled that nasty-looking knife from his belt. “Take off your skirt.”
“I beg your pardon?” She looked from him to Shadow. “I’m not getting undressed.”
Shadow eased the cradleboard from her back. For a moment there was no weight, no pain, no feeling. For a moment there was peace. It was a very brief moment. From behind came the distant caw of angry crows.
“Sounds like we’ve got company,” Shadow said.
Comancheros. They were coming for her. Lights started flashing before her eyes. A roar filled her ears. She stumbled as the ground seemed to tilt. Oh no! She recognized the signs. She couldn’t have an episode now. She couldn’t.
One step at a time.
Tracker’s low drawl rumbled over the roar. Yes. She could do this, one step at a time. She reached out desperately, needing an anchor. For a moment she found nothing but air, but then the hard, callused warmth of Tracker’s hand closed around hers. The lights faded. She took a breath. Another flash of light. Another breath.
“Tracker.”
His hand squeezed hers. “Right here.”
Someone else’s hand awkwardly touched her shoulder. A scream stuck in her throat.
“Put your head between your knees.”
Shadow. It was Shadow touching her. And he wanted her to do what? She didn’t think she could do that even as a child.
“I think she’s supposed to be sitting first,” Tracker offered.
“Shit.”
She was hustled to a rock and sat down so hard she gasped. She would’ve complained except the small pain broke the hold of the lights. And she could breathe.
Until her head was shoved between her knees.
“Let me up.”
“In a minute,” Shadow said.
“Now.” Before she puked.
“I’ll just do this while you’re recuperating,” Tracker said, tossing her skirt up over her knee. “Hey!” This was that wicked knife hacking through her petticoats. “What are you doing?”
“You can’t climb in that skirt or those boots.”
“But I can’t be—” the knife sliced through her petticoats from crotch to hem “—naked.”
Shadow chuckled. “This you can trust me on. Tracker would never have you naked in front of anyone else. He’s a possessive son of a bitch.”
That was little comfor
t as the air blew over her inner thighs.
Tracker cut the pieces of petticoat he’d removed into strips, and started wrapping them around her legs. By the time he got to her knees she understood what he was doing. He was making pants for her. When he cut off a foot of fabric from the bottom of her skirt, though, she started having concerns. “I hope you packed the other skirt.”
“I need this to wrap your feet and hands, otherwise they will be cut to shreds.”
She was nearly naked in front of two men, with the sun burning skin that had never felt its touch before. “Well, as long as I’m being scandalous for a good reason.”
Tracker stopped tying a knot at the side of her knee and cupped her calf with his hand. Heat seeped through the material to her skin and then to the nerve endings beneath. His dark eyes took on a smile that spread to the corners of his mouth. And even sitting there in the open, she felt a trickle of arousal.
“No one will look at you cockeyed.”
She tested the wraps. Surprisingly, though it felt weird, she could move her legs. “Says you.”
“Yes. Says me. Your husband. The man with a reputation for being touchy.”
His hand left her leg to cup the side of her face. His thumb settled against her lips. “And I intend to be very touchy about you.”
“Good.” She breathed the word against his thumb, leaning her cheek into his palm.
Tracker stroked her cheek with a finger. Taking his hat off with his other hand, he plopped it on her head. “You’re getting red.”
It immediately fell over her brow. “I can’t see a thing with this on.”
Tracker took the last strip of her petticoat and tied the hat around her head.
“I must look a sight,” she murmured.
He kissed her lips, the soft way he had last night. The way she knew meant “I love you.”
“I’m not concerned with how you look. I’m concerned with how you arrive at the top.”
“And how will that be?”
“Alive.”
She tested the wrapping again. She could bend her knees, to a point. She held out her hand. Tucker took it immediately. She stood, turned around and looked up. All the way up.
“What’s wrong?” He was too intuitive.
She rubbed her palm down her thigh and tried not to think about how exposed she was. “I’m going up the canyon wall.”
“One step at a time.”
She was beginning to hate that phrase.
“You’re going to need your strength. It’s going to be a…” Shadow stopped, obviously reconsidering his choice of words. “Devil of a climb.”
Ari was touched. It was the first time the man had moderated his language around her.
The canyon face was a dull brown, interrupted with splotches of green and gray rock. It seemed to go on forever. “How far do we have to climb?”
Shadow pointed to a notch three-quarters of the way up. “There.”
They were wasting time and it was a long way up. She squeezed Tracker’s hand. “Would this be a bad time to mention I think I might be afraid of heights?”
“You are?”
“I really can’t remember, but I think it might be a good idea to become afraid. Trying to climb that is crazy.”
“It’s our way home, sweets. And I promised to bring you home.”
He took out a length of rope and tied it around his waist.
“What is that for?”
“I’m not taking any chances on you falling.”
She drew a breath and took a step in her new fancy “pants”. “Well, then I guess there’s no sense putting it off.”
“That’s good, because we’ve got company coming.”
“Son of a bitch. There goes the plan.” Tracker grabbed his supplies off the ground before tying the other end of the rope around her waist. “How many do you think, Shadow?”
“Sounds like only about ten horses. Half probably followed Zach. Better odds, at least.” But they’d all be heavily armed.
Comancheros.
They definitely needed to go. Without waiting for prompting from Tracker, Ari grabbed up Miguel’s cradleboard. When she tried to slide it onto her shoulders, her arms could barely move. They were too stiff from the bite of the rope. The climb would be unbearable.
Shadow took it from her. “From this point, I’ll carry him.”
She got a sick feeling in her stomach. “I can do it.”
“You can’t climb with the extra weight.” Shadow looked at Tracker. Tracker looked back. The men looked at her.
“What?” The sick feeling in her stomach was never wrong.
“We can’t be sure they won’t be shooting at you.”
Her knees threatened to buckle. “I thought they wanted me. That’s why they were holding me hostage.”
“You’ve got a son now. If you and your sister are dead, he inherits.”
“Money?”
Tracker’s expression was grim. “A lot of it.”
“I’m an heiress?”
“Yes.”
So that’s who she was. A woman with money. A woman used to the finer things. A woman used to having things done for her rather than doing them herself. A woman who had had everything. She looked at her hands, with their split nails and calluses. A woman who had lost it all. A woman who stood to lose it all again. A cold, empty feeling spread through her gut.
“You keep him then,” she told Shadow as the feeling spread, numbing her fear, her hope, an inner pain she couldn’t remember. Grabbing a ledge, she started climbing. Tracker moved around her, climbing with an ease she envied, taking the lead. Stones fell on her hands and hair.
“I’d rather go first,” she told him.
“Sorry, sweets.” The apology didn’t sound sincere. He handed her a knife.
She reached for it warily. “What’s this for?”
“First in line clears the path of snakes.”
She jerked her hand back. “I changed my mind.”
Tracker might be a handsome man, and he might be charming, but she wanted to smack the smile off his face. “I thought you would.”
A chuckle came from right behind her. She glared at Shadow. Damn him, he was smiling, too. “I want a gun.”
“No.”
“Don’t say no. I have my reasons.”
“You’re not clattering up that rock wall with a gun in your hand.”
“You’re carrying one.”
Tracker’s hand on her butt urged her forward. “But I’m not likely to shoot off my foot.”
“I’ll bite,” Shadow interjected. “What’s your reason?”
She tentatively put her hand on the rock above; thinking of snakes made her think of spiders and scorpions. “I’m going to shoot the first man who looks at my bloomers.”
Unbelievably, Tracker laughed. Overtaking her, he wrapped his hand under her braid, tilted her head back and kissed her lips. “There’ll be no worry about that.”
“Not if you give me a gun.”
“You don’t need a gun.” He gave her another kiss and a swat on her ass.
“Why not?”
“Because if there’s any shooting that needs to be done, I’ll be doing it.” His hand skimmed down her body, grazing her butt as she crawled upward. “And I’m the better shot.”
“Well, I don’t want you looking up my bloomers, either.”
Shadow laughed. “Now there is something every man wants to hear.”
“Oh, shut up.” She liked it better when Shadow had been quiet.
“He’s only speaking the truth, sweets,” Tracker stated.
“Has anybody ever told you that you’re both very contrary men?”
“I don’t think it’s ever been put quite that way before.”
“Then let me be the first.”
“Duly noted.” He looked back down the blind canyon. “Now, sweets…”
“What?”
“Get that cute ass moving.”
Looking down, she could see why. Ri
ders followed the same path they had, weaving among the trees and rocks, distance making them look like small ants. Ants that were rapidly getting closer. The Comancheros were heavily armed. The flashes of light off their weapons were almost blinding.
She started climbing as if the hounds of hell were after her, which they were. Snakes, scorpions and spiders weren’t anywhere near as scary as Comancheros.
Halfway up, the shooting started. Bullets pinged off rocks, splattered into the dirt. She looked down. The Comancheros had dismounted when the canyon became too narrow for their horses, and were nearing the base of the of the cliff wall on foot. Some of them started to climb.
Tracker came up beside her, while Shadow lagged behind. Shielding her, she understood, putting their bodies between the bullets and her son. Just as they reached the ledge that Shadow had shown her, he slid his arms out of the cradleboard and shoved it at her. “Take him.”
He took a position behind a rock, pulled his rifle off his back and took aim. There was a gunshot, then a scream. When she looked down again, the Comancheros were diving for cover.
Their shouts echoed up the canyon, echoed in her blood. Horrible. Threatening. Familiar. The bright light splintered behind her eyes. So familiar. The shouts were so familiar. Tracker grabbed her arm and hauled her up against him.
“Not now,” he growled. “Move!”
Yes. She needed to move. But she couldn’t. Her fingers were locked on the stones and her feet stuck in the sand on the ledge on which they stood.
Tracker dragged her behind the rocks and spun her around. His hand anchored at the base of her braid. His mouth slammed down on hers. Hard. Hot. Pain followed by tenderness, so much tenderness. She anchored herself in the softness of the emotion, letting the lights beat harmlessly in the background.
“Not now,” he growled against her lips. “You can’t afford to fall apart now.” Tracker kissed her again, his big body sheltering her and Miguel. “You need to climb, for yourself, for your son.”
For them. “One step at a time,” she gasped.
“Exactly.” His gaze narrowed on her face. He looked every inch the warrior, his expression hard, the scar on his cheek white with tension. A man not to be trifled with. A man to be believed in. “Don’t look down. No matter what you hear, just keep looking up.”
Tracker’s Sin Page 15
