by Gail Barrett
But as they worked their way up the icy slope, night giving way to a somber dawn, the extent of their predicament sank in. The killers knew where they were now. They had no way to call for help. And once they found the cattle, they had to head back down the mountain—possibly into an ambush.
And she only had herself to blame.
They trudged through the mountains for miles, the arctic wind bearing down with a vengeance, whipping the snow sideways and reducing the visibility to nil. Shivering, Bethany pulled her wool scarf higher over her nose and hunched her shoulders in the frosty air. But even the bitter cold penetrating her bones couldn’t distract her from her mounting guilt.
She’d screwed up terribly during her time in Maple Cove. She’d done an injustice to Tony. She’d failed to confront her father and lied to Cole. And instead of coming clean and warning Cole about the threats, she’d recklessly indulged in a night of passion, nearly getting them killed.
The snow swirled, and she caught a glimpse of him on his horse—his broad back straight, his head swiveling as he surveyed the terrain—and her heart made a heavy lurch. Of all the things she’d done wrong, making love with Cole had been the worst—and not only because of the danger they were in.
It had stirred up too many memories, making her yearn for things she couldn’t have.
But no matter how thrilling his touch, no matter how amazing the feel of him, what they’d shared wasn’t real. It had been a moment out of time, a magical interlude. And the last thing she needed was an excuse to start fantasizing about him. She was already perilously close to falling in love with him again.
She caught her breath, horrified at the thought. No way. She absolutely could not fall in love with Cole. So what if he embodied her dreams? So what if she admired the man he’d become? They had no future together. And she’d spent enough time grieving his loss the first time. She refused to go through that torture again—no matter who’d been at fault.
Cole pulled Gunner to a stop. She straggled to a halt beside him, struggling to harness her traitorous thoughts. But then she dragged her gaze to where he was looking. Dark-red splashes dotted the snow.
Blood.
Her breath stopped. She pulled her rifle from her scabbard, her senses suddenly alert.
“Stay behind me,” Cole said, urging his horse forward.
Her heart beating fast, she fell in behind him as he threaded his way through the trees. The trail of blood continued. The bitter wind thrashed the pines. They rode for dozens of yards, the bloodstains growing bigger. Then, by the edge of a tiny clearing, tufts of fur stood out in the snow—the remains of a Black Angus calf.
Her stomach tumbled. Cole leaped down, his horse shying from the scent of blood. Bethany leaned over and grabbed Gunner’s reins while Cole inspected the calf.
“What do you think? Coyotes?” she asked, a heavy feeling settling inside her at the thought of the helpless calf.
He walked around the carcass, pausing to study the tracks. “Wolves, judging by the claw marks.”
“Wolves?” She frowned at that. There were a couple known wolf packs in the area, but they normally left the livestock alone.
“Either way, they haven’t gone far,” Cole said. “The kill is fresh.”
His eyes troubled, he came back and took Gunner’s reins. Then he swung himself into the saddle and rode off, following the churned-up snow.
Her own misgivings growing, she clucked Red into motion and trailed him up the slope. Poor Cole. He definitely didn’t need more trouble. That secret society had shot his cattle. They’d killed a man, burned his barn, and tried to murder him. And if that weren’t enough to deal with, he now had to contend with wolves.
And this was partly her fault. She’d contributed to this mess indirectly, allowing those men to get close. Which meant she had to help fix it. But how?
The sound of lowing cattle reached her ears. Cole nudged Gunner into a trot, and Bethany followed, the freezing wind lashing her face. She crested a rise, then spotted the herd below them in a meadow ringed with towering pines. The cattle were huddled together, indicating that the predators weren’t far off.
“You think they’re all here?” she asked Cole.
“I hope so. I’ll try to get a count. Wait here and make sure they don’t take off.” He reined Gunner around and rode up the side of the herd.
Bethany sipped some water from her canteen, the half-frozen liquid making her molars ache, then scanned the rugged terrain. Dense stands of timber covered the mountains below the tree line. At higher elevations, granite out-crops jutted from the mounting snow. Gunmetal clouds inched across the range, their wispy edges obscuring the highest peaks.
The wolves were their immediate problem, along with the deadly cold. But assuming they survived those issues, they still had to deal with those killers, who’d be lying in wait below. And there wasn’t another route down the mountain.
Unless they went over the pass…
Her pulse quickened. She peered through the blowing snow, wracking her memory for details of the terrain. From what she remembered, it wouldn’t be easy. The slope was steep, treacherous, especially in the snow. They’d have to cross various streams, making it hard to manage the herd. But if they succeeded, they could escape those men.
And just maybe, she could make up for the harm she’d done.
But first she had to convince Cole.
He rode back a minute later, snowflakes covering his wide shoulders, his face swarthy from the cold. Her traitorous heart faltered when his gaze landed on hers. She wondered wildly if she could ever react normally to this man.
“They’re all here,” he said. “It looks like we only lost that one calf.”
“That’s a relief.” Although she still felt bad for the calf.
“Yeah.” He angled his stubble-roughened jaw toward the trail. “We’d better start down while we’ve still got light. We’ll set up camp when it gets dark.”
“I have a better idea. Let’s go across the divide.” He opened his mouth to argue, and she forged on. “It’s a risk, I know. But it would shorten the distance a lot. And once we get near the highway we can pick up a signal on our cell phones and call for help.”
“It’s not just risky, it’s suicidal.”
“So is riding into an ambush. You know those men are going to come back.”
“But at least this way we have a chance.” He shook his head. “We’re tired. The horses are nearly done in. We can’t keep pushing them all night. And that storm’s about to pick up. It could dump a couple of feet of snow before daylight, closing off that pass.”
“All the more reason to try it. You know those men won’t expect it. They’ll be waiting for us to go back the way we came.”
“Because it’s the only way we can go.”
“No, it’s not. We can make it across that pass.”
His mouth flattened. “I’m not willing to take the chance.”
“But why not?” He had to know it made sense. And he wasn’t the type to quail before a challenge, especially if it would save his herd.
She frowned at him in frustration. They would run into an ambush down the trail. He knew that as well as she did.
Unless he planned to sacrifice his cattle to get her through.
Horror rippled through her. She stared at him, aghast. But she knew instantly that she was right. He’d protected the father who’d treated him badly. He planned to fire Tony for insulting her, even though it hurt his ranch. And now he was willing to risk himself—and the future of his beloved ranch—to make sure she survived.
And suddenly, she realized she wasn’t close to falling in love with Cole, she’d already taken the plunge.
He exhaled. “Look, Bethany. You’re exhausted. We both are. Let’s head down the trail a ways and make camp. We’ll deal with the danger in the morning.”
Badly shaken by the revelation, she looked away. She was tempted to agree. Her body ached. She could hardly feel her frozen toes. And the
thought of going over that pass in the darkness, the cold wind howling around them, didn’t appeal to her in the least. They could get frostbitten or attacked by predators, lose their footing and stumble over a cliff. And she needed time to compose herself, to sort through her emotions and gather her defenses against Cole.
But she’d damaged him enough. She’d hurt him badly when she’d left after high school, reinforcing his lack of trust. Maybe she could never repair that. She couldn’t undo the past. But she could save the one thing he cared about—his ranch.
She stuffed her rifle back into the scabbard and tightened her grip on Red’s reins. And a deep feeling of certainty settled inside her. This was right.
She wheeled her horse around, then glanced back and met Cole’s eyes. “Suicidal or not, I’m taking the cattle over that pass.”
Then, with the snow whipping against her, she started to ride.
Cole didn’t know which he wanted to do more—strangle Bethany or hole up in a cave somewhere and make love to her for days.
He picked his way down the icy hill in the predawn darkness, riding ahead of the exhausted herd. He still couldn’t believe she’d insisted on taking this treacherous route, risking her life to save his cows. He’d never been more in awe of her courage and determination.
Or more scared.
The wind gusted sideways, pelting Cole with ice. His back ached; his face was frozen stiff. His stomach had gone beyond empty the day before. Even his horse could barely stay upright, plodding wearily through the snow.
He brought his worn-out horse to a halt and glanced back at the lowing herd. Incredibly, they’d navigated the slippery slopes without a mishap—thanks to Bethany’s skill. And he couldn’t believe her stamina. They’d spent twenty hours straight in the saddle, and she still kept slogging on.
But at long last they’d nearly reached the road. As soon as he could get a signal bar on his cell phone, he’d call for trucks to pick up the cattle and get the sheriff to deal with those men.
And then he’d get as far from Bethany as he could. He desperately needed space to regain his equilibrium and get his mind off the torrid sex. Because if he didn’t come to his senses soon he’d do something he’d regret.
Like beg her to stay.
Without warning, Gunner balked. Snapping his attention back to his horse, Cole reined him hard to the right. But Gunner only pranced sideways, trying to distance himself from the trees.
Alert now, Cole scanned the forest for signs of danger. Gunner tossed up his head and snorted, sensing something Cole couldn’t see. The cows continued plodding past him, funneling into a valley flanked by the timbered hills.
Bethany rode up a minute later, her eyes exhausted, the wool scarf she’d wrapped around her face crusted with snow. “What’s wrong?” she asked, her voice muffled.
“Nothing yet, but Gunner’s acting spooked.”
“You think the wolves are still nearby?”
“Something is.” He returned his gaze to the timber, and uneasiness crawled through his nerves. “Take the lead. I’ll bring up the rear.” Wolves would be more likely to attack a faltering cow. “Turn the herd when the valley levels out. If you go straight you’ll go over a cliff.”
“All right.” She nudged Red forward.
“And Bethany?” She halted Red and looked back. “Be careful.”
Their eyes held. Emotions swirled inside him, a jumble of feelings he didn’t care to name. She nodded, then rode up the line.
Still beating back his tumultuous feelings, Cole waited for the rest of the herd to pass by, his eyes on a trio of dawdling cows. Reining in Gunner with effort, he circled behind the stragglers to hurry them back into the herd.
But Gunner ignored his command and spun around. Cole hauled on the reins, battling to control his panicked horse. “Whoa,” he said. “What the…”
And then he saw them, their eyes glowing, creeping silently from the woods.
Wolves.
His heart stopped. Still fighting his spinning horse, he grabbed his rifle from the scabbard and racked a round. The wolves began to spread out, acting on some hidden signal, forming a semicircle around the frightened cows.
Using all his strength, Cole forced his spooked horse backward, trying to stay between the wolves and the vulnerable cows. But a huge black wolf stalked forward. He paced back and forth, steadily coming closer, then stopped and began to howl.
The others joined in. The eerie sound sent a chill jolting down Cole’s spine. Gunner rolled his eyes and tried to run, but Cole managed to hold him in place. He couldn’t abandon his cows.
The lead wolf yipped. The wolves began to move. Cole continued riding backward, praying Bethany stayed away. He didn’t want her trying something heroic that could get her killed.
The leader growled, his hackles rising, his wild eyes fixed on Cole. Cole’s fingers twitched, but he held his fire. He couldn’t legally shoot the endangered wolves unless they attacked him first.
Suddenly Bethany came racing toward him, and his stomach coiled with dread. “Get back,” he shouted. “For God’s sake, get away.”
Ignoring him, she pressed forward. She pulled to a stop beside him, then fired a warning shot in the air.
The wolves turned toward her, their attention snagged.
And then the lead wolf charged.
Chapter 13
Cole didn’t hesitate. He fired at the wolf just as Bethany’s gun barked out. The animal stumbled, then dropped in its tracks.
The other wolves paused. Behind him, the panicked cows scattered, racing down the valley toward the herd. His heart galloping, Cole hauled on the reins, battling to keep Gunner from bolting after the cows. A flight response would trigger another attack.
He kept his gaze on the ring of wolves. Their savage eyes gleamed back. “Don’t move,” he warned Bethany.
“I’m trying not to,” she gritted out, struggling to control her frantic horse.
He rose in the stirrups and waved his gun at the wolves. “Go on. Get out of here!” Several turned tail and slunk back into the woods.
Encouraged, he fired a shot in the air. “Get out. Go!” he shouted again, and the last few wolves disappeared.
His eyes still locked on the forest, Cole hissed his breath through his teeth. That had been too damned close.
He waited several heartbeats to make sure they wouldn’t come back. Then he reined Gunner around, giving vent to his gut-wrenching fear. “What the hell were you thinking? I told you to stay away. Those wolves could have—”
A deep drumming sound snagged his attention. He snapped his gaze to the valley and peered through the shadowy snow. Bethany shoved her rifle into the scabbard and urged Red forward just as he registered what was wrong.
Stampede.
His heart stumbled hard. Fierce dread shot through his veins. The cows were running through a valley. At the end was a cliff. If the herd didn’t turn in time…
And Bethany had just leaped into the melée.
He kicked Gunner into action, then charged down the snowy slope after Bethany, pushing his horse to a break-neck pace. He had to get Bethany out of there before they reached that cliff.
“Bethany!” he shouted, but the bellowing of the herd, the thundering of hoofbeats drowned him out.
Fueled by abject panic, he dug his heels into Gunner, accelerating to a reckless speed. The bitter wind whipped past. The horse skidded, but regained his feet. Cole squinted, riding like a fury, trying to see Bethany in the blinding snow.
“Come on. Come on,” he urged Gunner. He hurtled down the icy valley, leaping over rocks and deadfall, terror lodged tight in his throat. Then he drove his exhausted horse even harder. He knew he was risking a deadly crash but didn’t have a choice.
After a moment he saw her, riding near the edge of the panicked herd. He knew what she intended. She’d try to outrun the cows and turn them, curving them inward to end the stampede.
But if she failed…
His heart cong
ealed. A wild feeling of dread seized his gut. Forcing Gunner to the absolute limit, he raced alongside the herd, slowly gaining ground on Bethany as they neared the cliff. But they would never make it. They were running out of time.
She miraculously gained the lead. The valley leveled out—and his heart stopped dead. Only a few more yards to the cliff.
But she pulled out her rifle and fired into the air. The lead cows balked and turned away. She held her ground, still shooting above their heads, and the column began to curve. Cole reached her side a second later, and added his shouts and shots to hers.
The startled cows slowed. They gradually began to mill around, their frenzied flight finally subdued. Cole let out an incredulous breath, amazed that Bethany had pulled it off.
But she had nearly died.
He pulled his blowing horse to a stop. He leaped down and stormed through the snow, then pulled her off her horse.
Her full mouth wobbled. Her eyes were huge in her pale face. Her courage and fragility slammed through him, a sucker punch to his heart.
Overwhelmed by a barrage of emotions, he hauled her into his arms. He closed his eyes, buried his face in her silky hair, and then just held her, his heart beating violently, relief shuddering through him, his feelings a disordered mess. She’d risked her life to save his stampeding cattle. She’d endangered herself to fight those wolves.
He’d never met anyone so brave or reckless or amazing in his life.
He lifted his head, raised his hands to her delicate jaw, framing her ashen face with his hands. He gazed into her glimmering eyes, still unable to form a word. Then he bent and fitted his mouth to hers, glorying in the soft, living feel of her, giving vent to his terror, his awe.
His love.
His heart tumbled hard. He pressed her tighter against him, buffeted by his raging emotions, pouring everything into the kiss—everything he couldn’t say. Revealing his fear, his yearning, his need.
He’d nearly lost her. That horrific thought kept ricocheting through his mind, threatening to drive him insane. He plundered her lips, her mouth, needing to convince himself she was alive.
