“I’m really sorry to be such a burden,” she mumbled. “But this bump on my head is making me queasy and my throat is as dry as a desert.”
Quinn didn’t want to feel sorry for her, didn’t want to feel obliged to accommodate her. He had told her to watch her head, but her instinctive reactions obviously hadn’t been tested and perfected as well as his had. Furthermore, he wasn’t accustomed to having to issue warnings to the other Rangers he worked with on occasion. They were seasoned fighters and trackers who were attuned to their surroundings.
But not this female, he mused. She was a disaster waiting to happen—and if he weren’t careful he would land right smack dab in the middle of it with her.
If he were lucky enough to locate the stronghold without being spotted, he might be able to spare the time to escort Piper to Fort Davis, then rejoin his battalion so they could lay siege to the outlaws’ stronghold.
That was the best-case scenario. Which rarely ever happened in his line of work.
When Quinn reined toward the edge of the rocky cliff, forcing the horses to sidestep downhill, Piper stared warily at him, her face losing all color. “Where are we going?”
Another rush of pleasure shot through him when she plastered herself against him, as if seeking reassuring support while they sidestepped down the steep hillside. Quinn battled tooth and nail to prevent his lusty response to the feel of her curvaceous body pressed to his.
“You said you needed a drink. My canteen is dry and the spring is tucked in a lower valley. The only way to reach it is to pick our way down the footpath to Sunset Springs.”
Piper huddled against the solid wall of his chest, comforted by the feel of his arms holding her securely in place. She refused to glance sideways, knowing she wouldn’t be comfortable peering over bluffs anytime soon without feeling as if she were about to plunge to her death.
“If you can hold out for an hour you’ll have more water than Moses,” Quinn assured her.
Frowning, she glanced back at him. “What has Moses got to do with this?”
“He had forty days and nights of rain, didn’t he?”
Piper smiled. “No, that was Noah and his ark of animals,” she corrected. “You have your stories mixed up.”
Which was no surprise, considering his unusual upbringing.
A long hour later, feeling drained and light-headed, Piper glanced toward the spring-fed pool that glittered in the sunlight. A sense of relief rippled through her, overriding the nagging nausea and throbbing headache. The moment Quinn drew the horse to a halt she swung her right leg sideways and slid to the ground. Her legs buckled immediately.
If Quinn hadn’t snaked out a hand to grab her by the nape of her blouse she would have collapsed. Steadying her with one hand, he dismounted, then propelled her to the edge of the inviting pool. Piper cupped her hands together to scoop up a sip of water.
Her thirst finally quenched, she splattered water on her face and neck. A sigh of pleasure tumbled from her lips while she bathed her face again and again.
When a shadow fell over her, she glanced up to see Quinn looming over her. There was a squint in his golden eyes and a questioning expression on his bronzed face.
“Can you handle a firearm?” he asked out of the blue.
“No. That was just a bluff earlier. I’ve never fired a pistol before.”
“Figured as much.” With practiced ease he slid the Colt from the holster and handed it to her. “You can stay here to rest while I scout ahead. Most likely I won’t be back until dark. Varmints gather here to drink so keep your guard up and the pistol close at hand.”
He showed her how to cock the trigger and informed her that there were five rounds in the chamber. “Use this weapon only if absolutely necessary,” he cautioned. “Sound carries for miles in these stone valleys. We don’t want to alert unwanted guests to the fact that we’re here.”
“That’s it?” she chirped incredulously as he pivoted on his heels to amble toward his horse. “You’re just going to leave me alone indefinitely?”
Piper was sorry to say that she had become shamefully dependent on him. Blast it, part of the reason for fleeing from her father was to establish her independence and regain her sense of self. Unfortunately, being held at gunpoint by bandits and dangling over a cliff had taken most of the starch out of her. Humiliating though it was to admit, she felt secure and comforted by Quinn’s presence—even when she knew she was an unwanted inconvenience to him.
He gestured his head toward the mutt that was lapping water on the far side of the pool. “He’ll be here to keep you company.”
“That is hardly comforting, I—”
Her voice fizzled out when he walked off, towing his horse along behind him. The clatter of hooves against stone echoed around her, leaving her feeling more alone and isolated than she had been in her life.
Muttering at Quinn’s insensitivity, she braced herself against a slab of stone and cursed inventively. Just when she began to feel kindly and sympathetic toward Callahan he turned as hard as the rocks she had propped herself against.
She asked herself which was worse, being abandoned and ignored by this hardhearted Ranger, or bored to tears by her would-be fiancé who yammered incessantly about the merchant business and his grand plans for his future.
Piper laid back her aching head and decided that once she got to where she was going she would refuse to rely on—or associate with—men unless absolutely necessary. Now all she had to do was emulate Quinn’s impressive survival skills and she could become as much a free spirit as she wanted to be.
Quinn halted his horse on a flattop mesa, then fished his field glasses from the saddlebag. He was aggravated at himself for feeling guilty about dragging Piper on this arduous trek through the mountains.
Not to mention that she had suffered a painful injury—one that he might have prevented if he had been more attuned to her inability to function in the wilds. Plus, he had spent so much time trying to ignore the attraction he felt for her that he had forgotten to adequately warn her about the hazardous terrain.
Now, thanks to his lack of consideration, she had a nasty-looking bump on her forehead and she was battling nausea and exhaustion.
He shifted restlessly on his horse as he scanned the rocky terrain, looking for signs of the outlaw gang. It frustrated him that his mind kept trying to veer in two directions at once. Just when he thought he had focused absolute concentration on those murdering thieves, the image of Piper popped into his head.
If the sight of her in those form-fitting clothes wasn’t hard enough on a man’s senses, he had held her familiarly against him for an hour while he descended the winding trail to the spring. Now he knew her scent, knew the tantalizing feel of her body…and he wanted more.
Damn it, he did not need this right now! Did not want to be intrigued by this woman. He had never spent so many consecutive hours with a woman and he wasn’t sure how to relate to her because his previous liaisons with women were of a brief, sexual nature.
Plus, he wasn’t sure he trusted her to tell him the truth. The fact that she had refused to divulge her last name suggested that she was hiding something important from him. Quinn didn’t like surprises and secrets. They always spelled unexpected trouble. Piper was trouble and that heaping pouch of money and jewels made him suspicious.
To be fair though, he had to admit that he didn’t trust anyone very much. Life had taught him that counting on anyone but himself was risky business. Taylor Briggs had been the exception. It was the first time in years that Quinn had taken anyone into his confidence. Taylor had never been judgmental or prejudiced. He had accepted Quinn for what he was—a man without strong ties or connections to family or one culture in particular.
A lone wolf prowling the frontier, ridding the area of the kind of injustice that tormented his past. That, according to Taylor Briggs. He had been the only man who had cared enough to find out what made Quinn tick and Quinn had come to understand what made Taylor the
man he was. They had learned to think alike, to predict each other’s actions in the face of battle. They had come to depend on each other to guard their backs when trouble descended on them.
His thoughts scattered when he noticed a thin flute of smoke rising above a craggy peak to the north. He put away his field glasses and nudged the horse across the mesa. The horse stumbled as they moved along the fingerlike arroyos that could provide cover—in case a lookout had been posted to take potshots at unwanted intruders.
Quinn dismounted to lead the horse through the labyrinth of ravines before he hiked up the steep slope to investigate. Sprawled on his belly, he peered over the ledge to see six men sitting around a small campfire. There was barely enough daylight left to identify the group, but with the aid of his spyglass he noted the red bandanas around the men’s necks and identified their horses.
Sure enough, these were the hombres who had robbed the stage. Quinn would have liked nothing better than to pick off these bastards one by one and send them to hell where they belonged. Unfortunately, that would defeat the purpose of his reconnaissance mission. He wanted to trap the entire nest of outlaws and remove the threat they posed to nearby ranches and communities.
His Kiowa and Comanche training had taught him to be deliberate and patient, to consider the advantage and disadvantage of each option. Unfortunately, the need to avenge Taylor’s death made him eager to act.
If not for Piper, Quinn would camp out right where he was to keep a close eye on these scoundrels so they could lead him to their stronghold. Too bad he had to backtrack to Sunset Springs.
Scowling, he inched backward, then moved soundlessly down the slope to fetch his horse. He picked his way back to the secluded pool by the light of the full moon that glowed like a silver dollar in the cloudless night sky.
Piper was right where he had left her hours earlier, sprawled beside the spring, using her satchel as her pillow. His pistol was lying an arm’s length away. But to his dismay he noticed that a sidewinder had crawled to the water’s edge and lay across her knees. The pup was obviously off hunting and wasn’t around to alert her to trouble.
Quinn reached for the bullwhip coiled over his shoulder. With practiced skill he popped the whip, catching the snake unaware. The lashing whip brought Piper straight up to stare wide-eyed at him. Wheeling, Quinn slung the snake that he had snared with the whip against the stone cliff.
Piper’s shriek of alarm overrode the deadly hiss and rattle, but Quinn refused to let her distract him. He hurled his dagger, anchoring the snake to the sand gathered at the base of the cliff. With one swift slash he rendered the viper harmless.
Piper swallowed with a gulp while she studied the dark profile of the man who had appeared from nowhere to save her from a nasty bite. The sting of the whip against her leg had awakened her abruptly and she had nearly suffered heart seizure when she realized the serpent had used her for a pallet. Even now, the aftereffects of icy fear were thrumming through her quaking body. Lord, that was close!
Mutely, she watched Quinn behead the snake, as if he had performed the task a hundred times before. Which he probably had since this untamed wilderness was his domain.
“Thank you,” she wheezed as she watched Quinn toss the scaly reptile onto the pile of wood and twigs that he had obviously picked up on his way back from wherever he had been for the past few hours.
“You should have been paying attention,” he said darkly. “Snake bites are about as much fun as getting shot.”
She stared distastefully at the snake. “Please don’t tell me that’s going to be our supper.”
He glanced at her then smirked. “Okay. What do you want me to call it then?”
“I’m not hungry.” Her stomach growled, making a liar of her.
“Well, I am.” He dropped into a crouch, using his dagger to chop up the meat. “Gather up some stones. I’m going to teach you how to build a campfire that doesn’t attract unwanted attention.”
Piper did as she was told, then stacked the rocks according to his specific instructions. She constructed the semblance of a miniature chimney, then watched as he lit the fire. Only a narrow ribbon of smoke wafted in the breeze.
“This traps in the heat for cooking without giving away our location. Old Indian trick,” he explained.
“I wish I had an instruction manual of old Indian tricks,” she murmured wistfully. “I definitely need to brush up on my survival skills.”
“We’ll start with learning to handle a dagger,” Quinn announced as he retrieved the knife from the sheath on his thigh.
Piper paid close attention while Quinn showed her how to hold the blade in her fingertips, cock her arm then snap her wrist. Her first attempt to hit a clump of grass near the spring left the dagger thunking on the ground and bouncing twice before it came to rest.
“Get yourself aligned with your target,” Quinn instructed as he retrieved the knife.
He moved up behind her to position her shoulders. The feel of his lean fingers curled on her shoulders sent a tingle of pleasure trickling through her. When he situated himself directly behind her, surrounding her with his body as he guided her arm in the proper motion, her pulse kicked up. His musky scent invaded her nostrils, heightening her awareness of him.
“It’s timing and precision,” Quinn said, his voice a husky murmur beside her ear.
Piper shivered uncontrollably, amazed at the unprecedented sensations that rippled through her. Why was it, she wondered, that this man affected her on so many different levels when none of her suitors ever had?
When she cocked her arm, while his hand guided the motion to ensure the proper flick of her wrist, she could feel his muscled chest pressed against her back. His solid thighs were meshed against the back of her legs. The whisper of his breath caused goose flesh to pebble her skin. Awareness intensified and Piper had difficulty breathing normally.
Sweet mercy! she thought. It was impossible to concentrate on hurling the dagger when all she really wanted to do was turn in his surrounding arms and satisfy the feminine curiosity that was burgeoning inside her.
“Piper?”
His raspy voice vibrated through her while his masculine body remained so tormentingly close that it felt as if they were sharing the same skin. “Yes?” Was that her voice? It sounded rusty and completely unfamiliar to her ears.
“Hurl the dagger.”
“Right.” She inhaled a steadying breath and then caught another tantalizing whiff of him. Her senses reeled and desire burned through her. She felt herself easing instinctively closer to him, yearning to savor this moment for as long as it lasted. She liked the feel of him, liked the scent of him and she seemed to need something more.
And suddenly Quinn stepped away. The pleasure of being so close to him vanished in a heartbeat and disappointment overcame her. Her arm still cocked in midair, she glanced back at Quinn. He was staring at her with those glowing amber eyes and a muscle leaped in his clenched jaw. His hands were fisted at his sides and he had an odd expression on his face.
“Throw the damn dagger,” he said through his teeth.
Piper dragged in a fortifying breath and asked herself why standing so close to her seemed to annoy him so much. Then she concentrated on her target and flung the dagger. She was amazed that the knife speared directly into the clump of grass because her hand was still shaking in the aftermath of the pleasurable sensations that had bombarded her.
“Keep practicing while I check on supper,” he commanded before he wheeled around and walked away.
Piper retrieved the knife and practiced her newfound skills repeatedly. She kept flicking glances at Quinn at irregular intervals, wondering why he had been in such a rush to break physical contact with her. Did he find her that offensive? She didn’t usually have that effect on men. It was disheartening to realize that she found him altogether irresistible and he wanted nothing to do with her.
Ten minutes later Piper rejoined Quinn and watched as he turned the skewered meat ove
r the fire.
“I caught up with the outlaws earlier,” he said, averting his gaze from her. “They made camp in Devil’s Canyon. Damn appropriate, I’d say.”
Piper smiled briefly. Quinn’s manner of speech was short and to the point, unlike her would-be fiancé who yammered nonstop and imparted little in the way of information—except as it pertained to his favorite person. His Truly.
“How’s your head feeling by now?”
“It still hurts. Throbs is more accurate.”
“I thought it over and decided it was my fault you got hurt,” he announced out of the blue.
Piper frowned, bemused. “I’m the one who didn’t look where I was going. How can that possibly be your fault?”
He shrugged impossibly broad shoulders—and she wished she would stop noticing all his masculine attributes, stop longing for the feel of his muscular body pressed familiarly to hers. It was more than obvious that Quinn resented any close physical contact with her. The instruction with handling a dagger indicated that he didn’t enjoy being close to her for too long at a time.
“I didn’t take into account that you’re a female,” he went on to say.
The comment scattered Piper’s wandering thoughts and got her dander up in one second flat. If he dared to talk down to her, dared to equate her gender with stupidity, the way her father had done on several occasions, she was going to use her new skills with the dagger on his throat!
Chapter Six
“Which means?” she baited, giving him enough rope to hang himself.
Something in her voice must have given away her indignation because he glanced at her, and she noticed the ghost of a grin that tugged at the corner of his mouth.
“Don’t get all riled up, greenhorn. I only meant that you aren’t conditioned to cope with life in the wilderness. You haven’t perfected your skills or sharpened your instincts. But don’t take it personally because most women never do.”
Carol Finch Page 7
