by Jill Gregory
Her cheeks flamed with humiliation. She didn’t know what her excuse was. Did women have this lusting too? Was it only his rugged male beauty that had drawn her to him and made her want to stay in his arms? She couldn’t think of any other reason. Many handsome men had courted her. John Breen was handsome, and he had wanted to marry her.
But she had never felt anything for any of them remotely similar to what she had known when Cole Rawdon held her. None of the suitors who’d flocked to her door, none of the silly, smitten beaux who had sent her flowers and poems and begged her for a dance had ever set her heart to racing or blood pounding to her head. Cole Rawdon, with his cool, nonchalant face and his infuriatingly self-assured way with horses, caves, storms, and campfires, and his stubborn, domineering manner had affected her like the clash of cymbals in a musical piece, jarring her, jolting her, playing havoc with her pulse and her poise.
But she could have no more of that. She mustn’t let this despicable lust, if that’s what it was, get the better of either of them, ever again.
That still didn’t help her with the immediate problem besetting her—how could she face him?
Juliana hesitated as long as she could. When she heard the prospectors moving off, she slipped out of the cave.
He was watching the two men and their pair of pack mules disappear down the mountain and didn’t even glance at her. “Wait here.” He sounded as curt and as cold as ever. “I’m going to follow them a ways and make sure they’re really gone.”
Juliana was grateful he hadn’t looked at her. Yet his cold indifference made her feel even more foolish and ashamed than before. “Why don’t you trust them?”
“I don’t trust anyone.” He didn’t tell her that some of these old prospectors had been known to go loco occasionally and murder anyone found within fifty miles of their so-called claim.
He moved off on foot after them, so quickly and stealthily, Juliana could do nothing but stare after him in awe. Suddenly, she realized something. In his preoccupation with the strangers, he had left her alone with the horses. Both horses. If she took them both before he got back, he’d have no way to follow her.
He’d also be stranded in the mountains.
She stood torn for a moment, battling her conscience and her determination to get clean away. But there was really no choice.
She couldn’t do it.
But she could take one of them, she told herself, starting into the cave with alacrity. Not his precious pinto, but the bay that had belonged to Cash Hogan. He was already saddled and ready to go. She had only to hurry, and she’d have a head start ...
She led him to a rock, but as she began to mount she felt herself grabbed roughly from behind and yanked clear of the horse. Rawdon shook her by the shoulders, none too gently.
“At it again, lady? Don’t you ever learn?”
Frustrated nearly to tears, Juliana thrust up her chin.
“What do you expect me to do?” she demanded. “Wait around to be mauled by you, and then packed off to jail? I don’t know which is worse!”
The only sign he gave that her jibe had hit home showed in the flash of steel in those vivid blue eyes. “I don’t expect anything of you, Miss Montgomery, except trouble. And you’ve already caused me plenty of that. You want to ride?” He gave a grim laugh that chilled her blood. “We’ll ride. Come on.”
Hours later, Juliana was to wish she had never set foot aboard the train leaving the St. Louis station all those months ago. She wished she had never come anywhere near a horse or a mountain.
She had long ago given up trying to remember their trail through the dense forested plateaus of the Mogollon Rim, but as hours passed and the hot afternoon sun blazed down on her head, she decided this could only be a road into hell. The pinto carried both her and Rawdon along a seemingly endless winding canyon trail. The sky was crystal clear, scrubbed clean of all the storm clouds that had descended the previous evening, and the earth was fragrant and damp with the aftermath of rain. It was hot and quiet enough to hear lizards gliding along the rocks. Quiet enough to hear the cry of eagles—or was it vultures?—echoing from distant hills. They dipped through a precarious rocky pass masked by jagged boulders and stands of hardy scrub oak, then picked their way up a steep gorge to a bald hilltop. Below raced a cascading mountain stream, and the sound of the water rushing through the rocks made Juliana’s parched throat ache; but although she glimpsed the beautiful gurgling waters of the crystal stream when Rawdon turned the pinto to a cactus-studded trail headed north, the man sitting in the saddle behind her never paused for rest or drink. On they rode, climbing higher through a forest of fragrant pine, then suddenly descending a canyon so steep, it made her gasp in fright. She closed her eyes against the dizzying sight of jagged gray and purple rocks far beneath the sheer drop, trying to blot out her fear, her exhaustion, and the terrible aching of every muscle in her tortured body. He must be made of iron, she thought at one point when the sun had begun to dip in the western sky and pink shadows of impending sunset tinged the horizon. Throughout this endless day, from the moment they’d left the cave, Cole Rawdon had never slowed the steady pace of his horse, never faltered in his path or direction. It was as if he knew every crevice of the mountains, every pass, every chasm, rock, and tree.
From the tension in his body she sensed that he was very angry. He didn’t speak to her once that entire day. Which was just as well, because after hours on horseback over grueling trails, Juliana couldn’t have spoken a single civil word to him, and she knew that would have only made him angrier. Behind them on a lead rope came Cash Hogan’s bay, bearing the gear and supplies. At first Juliana had wondered why Rawdon hadn’t let her ride Cash’s horse instead of forcing her to ride with him, then she had realized as the day wore on that he probably doubted her ability to survive the precipitous trails over which they were riding. He didn’t want to see his two-thousand-dollar reward tumble over a cliff any more than he had wanted to see it die of exposure last night, and that at least, was something for which she could be thankful. He wouldn’t kill her—she was too valuable to him alive. Now all she had to do was figure out how to get away from him. It shouldn’t be too difficult, escaping a man much stronger, more experienced, and more familiar with the terrain than she was—eluding him in the middle of this godforsaken Arizona Territory, with nothing around for miles but mountains and cliffs and snakes and coyotes—and other bounty hunters searching for her besides. Simple. Easy. Like baking a strawberry pie—without benefit of flour, sugar, berries, or stove.
Hours passed, long, bone-crunching, scorching hours, and still they rode in silence, with his muscular body, solid as the rocks around them, pressed against her weary spine, his powerful arms encasing her slender frame as he held the pinto’s reins.
At last, when deep gray shadows had nearly obliterated the rose and gold of the sunset-painted sky, they halted. They were in a wide grassy valley beneath an overhang of granite rock. A stream of water tumbled into a shallow basin of smooth stones. Beside this pool was a stand of blue spruce that rolled away to their left, disappearing into dark forest. A rabbit scurried away beneath a piñón, grouse circled overhead, and in the distance, Juliana, raising her weary head, saw an elk silhouetted for a moment upon a bald plateau before it bounded away into the shadows.
Rawdon swung down from the saddle with ease, then pulled Juliana down beside him. Her sore legs sagged beneath her weight and she groaned, nearly collapsing. With one arm around her waist supporting her, he frowned down at her flushed, weary face. “You’ll get used to it” was all he said.
“Another day like this will kill me. You’ll never get your filthy reward money if I’m dead,” she muttered.
“Don’t count on it. I could always bring back your scalp for proof.”
“My ... scalp?” A sick, weak feeling churned through her stomach. “You’re ... joking, of course.”
“Think so?” He studied her a moment, then turned away and began the business of making cam
p.
Juliana shuddered uncontrollably. She should at this moment be on the stagecoach getting nearer to Wade and Tommy every mile, instead of at the mercy of this impossible man who hunted human beings for a living. He was a monster, she thought, watching him tend the horses with the competent movements of someone who had done this all a thousand times before. He had no feelings, no human compassion, no morals whatever. Had he shown one ounce of emotion after shooting those men back in Cedar Gulch? Had he shown the least bit of concern or even common decency for her throughout the torturous past hours when she had ridden without rest across this savage land? Suddenly, staring at him, she was overwhelmed with hatred of this man—and of John Breen, who was truly responsible for her plight. She vowed to herself never to go back to Denver, no matter what. She would get away from Cole Rawdon somehow, anyhow. Sooner or later. He would have to sleep, to let his guard down sometime. When he did, she would be ready. And, she thought, straightening her shoulders unconsciously, she would do whatever was necessary to get clean away.
Rawdon turned suddenly and looked at her. For a moment, while the sky blazed overhead, he studied her with a penetrating look that made her feel he could read her thoughts. “Forget it,” he said, with a light, mocking grin that chilled her blood. “You’ve failed twice already.”
It was all she could do to keep her mouth from dropping open. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said after only a moment, her chin lifting.
His grin deepened.
“Sure you don’t, lady,” he drawled. “And you never stole anything in your life.”
With that he hunkered down to start a fire. Juliana sank down upon a rock under an overhanging cottonwood, as far from him as she could get. Glancing about the secluded clearing with its tufts of brown grass, cactus, and wilting wildflowers, she debated the wisdom of bolting while his back was turned. But much as she was tempted to put as much distance as she could between her and Cole Rawdon at the earliest opportunity, common sense told her such a move would be plain stupid right now. For one thing, she was exhausted and weak from thirst, and her muscles burned with pain. She wouldn’t get far, and even if she could get a head start, elude him, and hide herself in the wilderness, she would probably die of starvation in these mountains without ever seeing another human face. No, she would need a horse and supplies if she was going to get away and live to tell about it. That might take some time and planning. But she could wait, Juliana told herself, glancing darkly at Cole Rawdon’s broad back as he worked to start a fire.
As daylight fled, a bleak, cold loneliness seemed to descend over the valley. In every direction, all Juliana could see were towering jagged peaks stretching upward like giant’s fingers toward the vast, purple sky. Leaves rustled in the sweeping north wind, which swirled through the clearing in sudden, sharp gusts that made the embers of the fire dance wildly. The air was laced with pine and its mournful wail echoed through the crevices of the surrounding rocks. Beyond the campfire, unseen creatures scurried in the brush, making Juliana distinctly uneasy as she huddled before the flames, eating the wild grouse Rawdon had shot and plucked and shown her how to cook. She would not look at him, but stared instead into the flickering flames, wondering if he would tie her to him again when it was time to sleep. She dreaded it, but there was little she could do against him. He was too big, too strong. And something told her that once he made up his mind about something, he didn’t relent easily. The only thing in her favor was that he had so far shown no sign of trying to hurt her. She could only pray that would continue.
Juliana knew one thing. She would not beg for mercy or show any sign of weakness in front of him. She had nothing left now to use against him but her pride and her wits, and she would cling to those with all her strength.
Chewing the last juicy morsel of the grouse, Cole studied her across the fire, a queer feeling in his gut. It was as if he was hypnotized by the sight of this slender, fair-haired beauty with the haunting green eyes sitting so close to him in this lonely clearing. What the hell was wrong with him?
His eyes narrowed as she hugged her arms around herself, and he saw her shiver. Damn. This wasn’t turning out to be as simple as he had first thought. The more time he spent with her, the more she got under his skin. Like this morning, he thought, feeling anger and self-contempt surge through him again. How had he ever let himself get to kissing her—and then get so caught up in it that he hadn’t even heard those prospectors coming up on them until it was almost too late? We could’ve both been killed, he reflected, stung by his own carelessness. If I’d been in my right mind, I’d have heard those hombres long before they got within shooting distance of the cave entrance. What the hell is she doing to me?
No woman since Liza had ever had this kind of effect on him. It wasn’t healthy. A man could get killed thinking about yellow hair and dazzling eyes, about a woman’s mouth so sweet, he couldn’t draw himself away from her ...
“Going somewhere?” he asked as she rose and brushed off her skirt, then stepped purposefully toward the shadowed stand of spruce.
“I require a few moments of privacy,” Juliana retorted, gritting her teeth at the indignity of having to discuss such intimacies with him. As if she needed his permission! “I assure you I have no intention of trying to run off.”
“Glad to hear it.” He nodded. “You might have more sense than I gave you credit for.”
She stalked away from him, staring straight ahead, and made her way deep into the pines, well away from Cole Rawdon. When she had finished tending to the needs of her body, reveling in the few moments of total privacy, she became aware of the sound of rushing water to her left and, turning, discerned through the growing darkness the wider path of the stream that fed the basin of water near their camp. She started toward it, her skirts gathered in one hand, determined to wash the day’s dust and grime from her face and perhaps in doing so, revive her flagging spirits. But she had no sooner dipped her hands into the icy water than a sound quite close to her made her quickly turn her head to the right.
She screamed, the bloodcurdling shriek echoing through the forest in a crescendo of pure terror.
11
Cole heard her scream as he was tossing another branch on the campfire. He swung toward the forest, every muscle taut.
Damned woman, what the hell has happened now?
With his gun drawn he sprinted toward the sound that had chilled his blood. There had been nothing but silence after that one shrill cry, and Cole didn’t know what that meant. He moved silently through the brush and trees, every sense alert, not knowing if he was going to meet up with Apache or outlaws, not knowing if she was already dead, killed in her tracks, or if someone was going to spring at him out of nowhere ...
He heard her voice then, high-pitched, frightened, coming from the direction of the stream, but he couldn’t make out her words. At least she was still alive. He ran soundlessly through the trees until he reached the water, then stopped short at what he saw.
Juliana Montgomery was clinging to the limb of a tree, while below her, pawing at the trunk, was the largest black bear Cole had ever seen.
“Get away,” she was ordering the creature while holding to the tree limb with arms, knees, elbows, and bloody fingers. “Shoo. Go back wherever you came from and leave me alone.” Then, “Aaaaa ...”
She shrieked like a banshee as her grip on the branch slipped and she nearly toppled from her perch.
“You do have a penchant for trouble,” Cole remarked, watching her struggles from a distance of ten feet.
At his voice, Juliana tore her petrified gaze from the bear and stared at him in frozen fear. “D-do something!” she gasped. “I c-can’t hang here much longer, I’m s-slipping ...”
The bear swung toward Cole, a growl in his throat and his black eyes shining. He reared up on his hind legs and appeared to be wavering between whether to rush Cole or stay with the prey he had trapped in the tree. His growl ripped through the falling darkness of t
he descending night.
“Don’t shoot him,” Juliana ordered, gasping as she concentrated on maintaining her hold. “Just ... get rid of him ... somehow ...”
“Seems to me you’re not in a position to be giving orders,” Cole drawled, noting the interesting picture she made with her skirt hitched up around her thighs, revealing long, slender legs. “You sure as hell could’ve told me you were meeting up with a friend. Maybe I should just leave you two alone.”
“Don’t you dare make fun of me at a ... time like this!” Juliana gave a shriek as the branch she was clutching began to crack beneath her weight. “Oh, dear Lord ...”
The bear glanced up and swung a giant paw upward toward the girl hanging almost directly over him. Juliana screamed again.
“What’s the connection between you and the Montgomery gang?”
“What?” Juliana couldn’t believe her ears.
“You heard me.”
Her fingers were raw with splinters from the branch, and every muscle in her arms burned with the effort of holding herself aloft. “This is ... hardly the time ...”
“Can’t think of a better one. If you don’t want to dance with that fellow, you’d better talk fast. And make it the truth.”
“Cole ... please!”
“What’s the connection?”
“They’re my brothers—but they have nothing to do with—”
“Tommy—that’s your brother?”
“Yes, yes—one of them—now please ...”
The bear started to shinny up the tree.
“Cole!” Juliana shrieked.
“Why did you faint outside the Gold Dust?”
Her hands were slipping. She clutched desperately, pressing with her knees, elbows, fingertips, everything she had. Less than ten feet away the bear snarled, showing her its teeth.
