“I don’t think so,” she said, shaking her head against him, her hair brushing his cheek. “And I only spotted one man.”
That she’d seen only one man worried McCain. It meant that the men riding with Cardis could be anywhere—wait—ing. “What happened to your horse?”
The woman seemed to be calmer as she answered, “He bolted and ran when the shots were fired.”
John didn’t know if he should believe her or not, but he really had no other choice at the moment. “Where will he go?”
“Back to the barn.” She said it matter-of-factly, but John knew there wasn’t a ranch house within a day’s ride.
He played along with her. “How far is that?”
“An hour or two, depending....”
He felt her shrug against his chest. She sounded so honest, but there was no way what she said could be true. There was no type of shelter so close by. He wanted to turn her around to face him, though he couldn’t read her eyes in the total blackness.
If what she said was true, someone would come looking for her in four or five hours, and he, Captain John McCain, would be discovered, wounded, cowering in a cave. But no, she had to be lying.
No one was going to come. Still, he felt vulnerable. They had to get away from the front of the cave. As he took a step, his boot bumped against a bundle the woman had dropped on the floor when he grabbed her. He held on to her upper arm while he bent to pick it up. His groping hand contacted what he immediately recognized as leather saddlebags. Maybe they held food and water. His stomach rumbled at the thought.
When he straightened up, a wave of dizziness washed over him and he clung to her to keep from falling. His fingers dug into her flesh as he steadied himself. “Come on. Let’s go back a ways. We don’t want to make ourselves sittin’ ducks up here.”
Thrusting her before him so she couldn’t possibly see him, he turned toward the darkened interior of the cave. The blackness folded around them. When he stopped and looked back at the light, he felt her shiver, perhaps because of the chill in the air, but probably due to her fear, a fear he could feel. A fear he shared.
When they were far enough into the cave that he would have time to react if someone entered, he stopped. The woman stumbled against his side before she caught herself and tried to pull away. Not again, he thought. He really didn’t have the strength to fight her if she put up a struggle. But maybe she hadn’t realized how weak he was. He tightened his grip, hoping to bluff her into submission. Though her bones were small, she didn’t feel fragile. She felt dainty and feminine, but not weak. He knew that from experience.
He wondered what she looked like. Was she pretty? What color was her hair? Her eyes? If he was a betting man, he’d bet she was a real looker.... He brushed the thought from his mind. Hell, the last thing he needed was a female to mess things up right now. His life was at stake.
He didn’t know how long he had been unconscious earlier, but it seemed like it had been days since he’d taken a drink from the shallow creek. His throat ached. He pressed the soft leather of her saddlebags against her arm. “Water. Do you have some water in here?”
“I don’t remember.” The woman didn’t move. She stood absolutely still, as if wanting to try his patience. And she was succeeding.
Disgusted, he said, “Why don’t you check?” He didn’t want her pulling a knife or gun on him, so he maintained his hold on her arm while she fumbled around in the saddlebags.
He hadn’t realized he had been holding his breath until she pulled out an object and said, “Here.”
“You open it,” he said, determined to keep at least one hand free if she should try anything. Hiding his desperate need for a drink, he willed himself to stand still while the squeak of the metal cap being slowly turned echoed off the cave walls. Finally, she handed him an open canteen.
The musty smell of damp earth teased his nostrils as he took the canteen in his free hand and raised it to his cracked lips. At first he allowed the liquid to trickle slowly down his throat, then he began to drink deeply, relishing the cold, life-giving fluid.
Feeling almost human again, he reluctantly handed the canteen back to her. “Much obliged.”
“Think nothing of it.”
Though she’d said only four sarcasm-laced words, they were spoken with a slow drawl that reminded him of the Southern women he’d grown up with. It was a voice that wrapped itself around a person, seductive in its naiveté. He was still bewildered by her presence here. With less than a hundred white people in the whole territory and only a few of them women, he was confused that she would be in this rugged and remote area.
After returning the canteen to her pack, she asked, “What are you going to do now? We can’t just—” The distant sound of tumbling rocks interrupted her. “Listen.”
He strained to hear. As the noise grew louder, he felt the woman edge closer to him, as if asking him to protect her from the person outside. He doubted she was even aware that his fingers had grown slack in their hold, and the only thing keeping her near him was her own free will. He pressed a finger to her lips to keep her silent.
“Stay where you are,” he whispered, “while I go see who it is.”
She pulled out of his loose grip. “No way. I’m going, too.” Although her voice was a whisper, it radiated strength. And stubbornness.
He caught her to him and bent close to her ear. “If you want to get killed, go right ahead. I’ll be right behind you, though, so don’t do anything stupid. If you so much as make a sound, just one peep, I’ll kill you. Do you understand?” It was a bluff. He wouldn’t kill her, but she didn’t know that. He felt her nod her head against his shoulder, indicating she understood him.
Not at all trusting the woman to remain quiet, he tightened his grip on her arm as a warning before he released her and crept toward the mouth of the cave. The blazing sun was just rising above the canyon rim, illuminating everything in the canyon one inch at a time. But even with its help, he couldn’t see who had dislodged the rocks. Crouched at the side of the entrance, with his back to the wall so the woman couldn’t jump him from behind, he waited until he saw a man crossing to the other side of the canyon. When he was satisfied the figure was moving away from the cave, he rejoined the woman in the dark recesses. Maybe they were safe for a while.
“Was it him? The man who shot at me?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper.
“I don’t know for sure who shot at you, but this was likely the same man, and he’s headed away from us, going farther up the canyon.”
“Who do you think it is?”
“I have no idea.” It wasn’t really a lie. John hadn’t recognized anything about the figure.
“I don’t believe you,” she challenged, her voice slightly stronger. “You were expecting someone, weren’t you?”
John felt around in the darkness until his hand brushed the woman’s shoulder to reassure her—and restrain her if he was forced to. He still didn’t trust her not to run at the first real opportunity. Just because she had remained quiet once didn’t mean she was on his side in this.
He felt her stiffen as he ran his hand down her arm, seeking her hand. When he closed his fingers around her cold ones and pulled her closer to him, the breath she had been holding escaped against his chest and she wilted slightly. He couldn’t tell whether it was from relief or from fear, but her unconscious response made him feel guilty. He didn’t really want to frighten her. He just wanted her to keep quiet. “I’m not sure I know who it is. I thought I did, but I don’t understand it myself.” Cardis wouldn’t operate the way this man had. Cardis would have come charging down the canyon with a whole posse of Mexicans.
“What’s there to understand?” Her voice pleaded with him to explain what was happening.
He shrugged. There was no way he could explain that her very presence, a female where there weren’t supposed to be females, made him unsure of himself, of Cardis, of the whole god-awful situation.
She repeated her ear
lier question. “What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to sit right here and wait.” Until he figured out if she’d been seen entering the cave, or if she’d been sent to the cave, or if the man outside was truly leaving, there was nothing else he could do. Besides, he was so weak it was an effort to remain standing.
“Wait for what?”
Her repetitive questions were beginning to tire him. “To make sure the man who shot at you leaves.”
“I still don’t understand why he shot at me.”
“Well, at the moment, lady, I can’t help you solve that riddle.” He didn’t tell her that Cardis had shot at him, too—from a firing squad. John wanted to ask her some questions to learn if there was a connection, but a sudden wave of dizziness, from hunger or loss of blood, left him feeling light-headed. He didn’t know how much longer he could stand upright without assistance, so, setting aside his need for answers, he felt for the cave wall with his free hand and slowly levered his body to the floor. “Lady, I need some rest in the worst way. Why don’t you lie down here beside me?”
She hesitated as if weighing her options before she tried to pull away. “No.”
. He squeezed his fingers around her hand. “Come on, I don’t have time for games. Look. What I said about killing you before, that was just to get you to be quiet. I can’t risk you giving away my hiding place if you try to leave.” He tugged her downward until she stumbled and almost fell to the floor.
He caught her to keep her from hitting the rock, and for a split second her slight weight pressed along his body before she pulled back and rested on her heels. She appeared to ignore the fact that he had pulled her down on top of him. Maybe she wasn’t as aware of him as he was of her.
In a voice that seemed to reflect a sudden insight, she said, “That man is after you, not me, isn’t he?”
“It looks to me like he’s after both of us,” he told her, settling back against the cold wall.
The woman sitting unwillingly by his side asked insistently, “Who are you?”
“We’ll both be a lot safer it you don’t know.” It sounded trite, but it was true. He was sure there was a price on his head, because Cardis’s pride wouldn’t allow Ranger John McCain to live. If this woman really didn’t know who he was, he sure wasn’t going to tell her and endanger her further.
“What have you done that you can’t tell me who you are?”
He knew by the tone of her voice she was beginning to think he was an escaped convict. In a way she was right. He’d just let her think that, he decided, and maybe she would be scared of him and not give him any more trouble. Playing on her growing doubts, he growled, “You sure ask a lot of questions that are none of your business.”
At her silence, he edged into a prone position and pulled her against his side to restrain her. He had to keep her close in case she tried to get away while he slept, but he hadn’t counted on the way her body would feel pressed to his. Even in his beleaguered state, he was very aware of the warm curves against his arm, of the loose tendrils of hair spilling across his shoulder, and her scent. Oh, the glorious scent of a woman—the blend of flowers and clean skin and just a hint of musk that stirred his half-dead senses as he began to slip into unconsiousness.
Her sudden squirming, as if to get away, had him instantly alert. “Listen, lady. I’m not going to hurt you, so be still. I have to get some rest,” he told her harshly.
In a surprising display of submission, the woman obeyed him, and after some time, his body started to relax, only to be jarred again as she began shifting as if trying to get comfortable on the hard floor. He was never going to rest if she kept this up.
“Here, put your head on my shoulder.” He let go of her hand and tried to slide his arm under her, at the same time knowing it was a mistake to hold her closer. “I’ll never get to sleep with you squirming around.” Another wave of chills crept over him. One minute he was hot, the next cold. “Besides, we’ll both be warmer.”
“No I—”
“Just do it, lady, so I can go to sleep,” he commanded, his voice filled with exasperation. She raised her head slightly to allow him to slide his arm beneath her. He pulled her to him, cradling her head in the indention of his shoulder, then, as the warmth of her body settled along his side, he sighed.
It was the first comfort he’d felt in...he had no idea how long. He drew her close and, giving up his fragile hold on consciousness, drifted off to sleep.
John tightened his embrace on the woman he held in his arms as visions of a massacre danced gruesomely in his head. He was the last Texas Ranger standing on the dusty street in San Elizario after his compadres had been felled one at a time by the firing squad. He twisted and turned as he struggled in his sleep, then a scream ripped from his body.
“Atkinson!”
Chapter 2
Startled by the man’s cry, Lauren opened her eyes abruptly. In the total darkness she couldn’t see a thing. She tried to move but was effectively pinned by someone’s arm. Where was she? Who held her? Then she remembered the sniper from the crest above, her mad scramble to the cave, then a new terror—this man who held her like a lover. She felt his warmth pressed along her breasts, stomach and thighs. While she slept she had rolled onto her side, facing him. Now her head rested comfortably in the muscled indention below his shoulder and she could feel his heartbeat under her cheek. In her partially awakened state the whole thing felt so natural and right, but as she gained more consciousness, reality began to soak in.
Was she crazy? How could she have gone to sleep in the arms of a stranger—a man she had never met and had yet to see? The only explanation was that she was exhausted from long hours at work. Last night at the ranch she had been so keyed up she’d been running on excess adrenaline and hadn’t slept well. Fatigue and the stress of her recent misadventure must have finally claimed her, and she had virtually passed out in this cowboy’s arms.
No matter how good his arm felt around her, she had to remind herself she was a captive. He hadn’t hurt her, if you didn’t count the tender flesh of her underarm, where his fingers had dug into her. Tomorrow she would have bruises. If she lived to see tomorrow.
Though he’d threatened her, she didn’t really believe he meant to kill her. There was something about his manner, his voice, that was reassuring despite his words. When he’d grabbed her and hauled her against him she’d been terrified, but that had faded into an uneasy awareness as he demanded a drink, then rest.
His arm tightened, drawing her closer, and his even breath became shorter and faster as every muscle pressed along her side tensed. She froze. Was he awake? Having a nightmare?
A moan escaped his clenched lips, then from an unconscious hell he groaned, “Don’t shoot! My God, Atkinson! No!”
The words seemed to have been wrenched from his very soul and Lauren lay still waiting for more. But the man grew still. Who was Atkinson? Who was shooting? Nothing made sense. She waited until she felt the tension leave the man’s body before she stirred, trying to relieve the pressure of the rock floor on her hipbone.
Her movements made her more conscious of the fact that she was lying next to a living man. A man who was definitely running from something—someone. Was he a criminal? Her logical brain said yes. Her instinctive side refused to believe he was bad.
But if he wasn’t a criminal, then who was he? Why was he hiding in a mountain cave? She put her hand on his left shoulder to wake him from his nightmare, but when he said nothing more, she thought better of it and decided to let him sleep.
As long as he was asleep, he couldn’t stop her when she tried to escape. And she had to try. The man who shot at her might come back when he realized he’d lost her trail.
She wondered what time it was. She couldn’t tell how long she had slept. Would Ted be looking for her yet? Her left arm was pinned against the man at her side, so she couldn’t check her watch.
Surely Doc had gotten back to the ranch by now and alerted everyone. She
knew her father would be very alarmed when he saw the riderless horse. He tended to be very protective when it came to his little girl, and though he was proud of her accomplishments, he still didn’t understand her need to succeed and stand on her own. Several times lately, he’d hinted that he would like to see her married. Unless she got out of this cave that wasn’t likely to happen.
But her brother or father might not come for a while. She had no way of knowing if they’d learned she was in trouble. And she couldn’t just sit and wait. To wait like a helpless female for someone to come to her rescue wasn’t her nature. She’d always been a person of action.
Maybe she could get away from her captor while he slept. Keeping her torso still, she carefully inched her legs back, putting a narrow space between them and the man’s warm body. But when she began to ease her hips away, he wrapped his arm tighter around her and pulled her closer, until she was almost on top of him. It was difficult to ignore the contours of hard muscle that didn’t give against her softer flesh. The man was built like a well-trained athlete.
She lay quietly until his breathing became deeper and more regular, then she tried moving backward again. His embrace immediately tightened. That wasn’t going to work, so she decided to try something different. She wondered if he had a weapon. That knowledge might determine her next move. Carefully, she fingered the duster under her cheek. The coat felt expensive. It would be a luxury for most ranch hands she knew. A couple of neighboring ranches had been sold in the years since she had left home to attend college and open her practice. She had never met the new owners but wondered if this man could be one of them.
McCain's Memories Page 2
