HIS TENDER TOUCH

by Sharon Mignerey

  Hawk ducked into the corral, moving through his horses, touching them, talking low, reassuring nonsense to them. Gradually, they settled down, giving evidence to the rapport between man and beast. A mare nudging Hawk's shoulder in an unmistakable request for attention imprinted itself on Gray's mind—an image he wanted to sculpt.

  His gaze drifted across the valley toward the ranch and his workshop, where his nearly completed puma beckoned. It was work he wanted to do, but he admitted even thinking about it was an avoidance tactic. He'd made the decision to go back and talk to Audrey before Rafe arrived.

  Gray knew how badly he had hurt her, and one part of him wouldn't blame her a bit if she sent him packing. Another part, a part that scared him spitless, would die if she didn't give him another chance to explain why they had no future together. There had to be a way to do it without hurting her.

  I have enough trust for both of us. If ever a man had been given a blessing and a curse, it was him. Her faith was both, a tantalizing promise he dared not explore.

  I knew you couldn't hit me. Would he ever have that kind of faith? He wanted nothing more than to ride back to Mary's, scoop Audrey up on the sorrel and take her back to the secluded shelf on the mesa and show her what he had so vehemently denied—that he was falling in love with her.

  Each time he remembered the moment she had turned away from him, it was a punch in the gut. He didn't want to feel that way again, and he didn't want ever again to be responsible for hurting her.

  He shouldn't have touched her. But he had.

  He shouldn't have given in to his own temptations. But he had.

  She was a song in his blood, and he knew he would never stop wanting her.

  He wanted to believe she loved him.

  He wanted to believe in the future she foresaw.

  He wanted to believe he would never raise a hand against her.

  And he was scared to death he couldn't live up to her expectations. I have enough faith for both of us.

  Gray looked at the clouds. If he waited much longer, he'd be making the ride across the valley in the rain. The storm clouds had settled low on the far side of the valley, their first curtains of rain sweeping toward the ground.

  "Hawk!"

  Gray turned around and saw Francie running toward them. Behind her, far behind, Mary followed at a slower pace. Even so, both women looked as if they had run most of the way across the valley.

  "Hawk!" Francie called again, waving. "Thank God you're back."

  He came out of the corral, his arms catching Francie when she collapsed against him.

  "I've been looking everywhere for you," she said between gasps.

  "What's wrong? What happened?" he asked.

  She looked past Hawk and met Gray's eyes. "Howard Lambert came a couple of hours ago."

  Ice formed in Gray's veins.

  "Audrey left with him," she added. "It was the damnedest thing. One minute we were talking, and the next, she acted like she couldn't wait to leave."

  "Did she go willingly?" Gray's mind raced, estimating the time to catch up with them, knowing as soon as the rains came again, the back way out would be impassable.

  "Leaving was her idea," Francie said.

  Gray shook his head in disbelief. He'd known she was trusting, but he also thought she was smarter than to have gone off with Howard Lambert alone.

  "They could be miles from here," Gray said tightly. "Two hours is a damned big head start."

  Mary shook her head. "They are still at the ranch."

  "How the hell would you know that?" Gray demanded.

  "I looked with the binoculars. His Jeep is still there."

  "And you just let her leave with him?" A band of pure dread tightened around his chest. Unthinkable possibilities threatened his control.

  Francie shrugged. "She was a guest, Gray, not a prisoner. Of course, I let her leave—"

  "You just signed her death warrant," Gray shouted. "That bastard killed Richard, and he tried to kill her. Us." He raked his hands through his hair, wanting to punch someone, something. "She was supposed to be safe with you."

  Francie advanced on him, her own temper at the surface. "If you had trusted me enough to tell me—" she poked him in the chest "—I would have been able to get help. But no, you keep your secrets to yourself."

  That truth struck him with the force of a gunshot.

  Impotent fury rolled through him, and he stared at Francie, knowing she was right, knowing his actions, not hers, were ultimately responsible. If anything happened to Audrey, the blame lay squarely at his feet.

  Turning from the three of them, Gray ran toward the corral where his horse was tied. Only one thing mattered: getting to Audrey before Lambert could— Gray broke off that line of thought. He would get to her in time. Anything else was unacceptable.

  Before he mounted the horse, Hawk had caught up with him and grabbed him by the arm. "You can't go off half-cocked like this."

  Gray shook off Hawk's hand. "I know exactly what I'm doing!"

  He vaulted into the saddle without touching the stirrup. The horse shied, as if sensing his pent-up energy. Ignoring Hawk, Gray pulled his weapon from the waistband at the small of his back. He removed the clip, double-checked the ammunition and reloaded the gun.

  Why in hell he wondered, hadn't he told anyone else that he believed Howard had killed Richard? He turned the horse away from the corral and lightly touched his heels to its sides, flicked the reins across its flanks.

  The horse leaped forward, its gait lengthening into a dead run.

  Beneath the anger, fear spread through Gray like a cancer. He knew all the shades of fear, but this was new. Intense. Consuming. Suffocating.

  Seconds later, he heard the cannonade of other galloping horses, and out of the side of his eye saw that Hawk and José and the other young man, Sam, had caught up with him.

  A breeze from the impending storm overtook them, carrying the scent of rain and the pungent aroma of raindrops hitting dry earth.

  Above the rumble of the horses' hooves drumming over the earth, Gray heard thunder.

  Or was it a gunshot?

  Racing over the flats, guiding the horse through rabbitbrush, sage and yucca, Gray focused on the ranch buildings, which were getting closer. Not fast enough to suit him, though.

  He couldn't shake the feeling that he was too late.

  Off to his left, a sudden streak of blood red appeared, then disappeared. He searched, looking for the color again.

  A splintered bolt of lightning flashed, illuminating the bleak landscape. And the color appeared again.

  Audrey's sweater.

  He pressed the horse into a harder gallop.

  She ran toward him as though chased by the hounds of hell, her hair streaming behind her in a dark cloud, something clutched in her arms. She glanced over her shoulder, and though he couldn't hear her, he knew she had cried out.

  A shot rang out, muffled by the roll of thunder and the beat of hooves against packed earth. In the distance, he saw the muzzle-flash from a high-powered rifle. Gray finally spotted the Jeep.

  Howard Lambert stood in the vehicle, bracing his arm against the frame of the windshield, aiming a rifle at Audrey.

  Too much distance still separated Gray from Audrey; there was no way to put himself between her and Lambert.

  As Gray drew closer, he could see her face had no more color than the white curtains of rain that would soon be upon them. At a distant corner of his mind, he noted she was carrying a cradle board—looking exactly like the one he had seen with the ghost of Puma's Lair.

  That day, he had been helpless.

  Not so today.

  Audrey ran faster, her lack of coordination mute testimony to her fear.

  Another shot rang out, and she screamed.

  "No!" Gray roared. He pulled his gun and fired at Lambert, knowing the distance was too far, knowing he had zero chance of hitting anything, knowing he had nothing more precious in this life than Audrey.

/>   A bolt of lightning split open the sky. The crack of thunder that followed rumbled across the valley, intense and deafening. The first drops of rain fell, icy against Gray's heated skin.

  Lambert fired again.

  Audrey suddenly swerved.

  Gray saw a spray of dirt, the bullet striking where she would have been had she not changed direction.

  He had only one thought. Reach Lambert before he killed her.

  Yards separated him from her.

  "Get down!" he shouted. "Audrey, lie down!"

  Instantly, she obeyed.

  Galloping past her, he turned in his saddle to make sure she presented less of a target for Lambert. She lay flat against the ground, only partially shielded by the sagebrush. Gray had pulled his mount to a halt, putting himself and his horse between Audrey and Lambert. Gray refocused his attention on Lambert and raced forward.

  Lambert pointed the rifle toward him, and Gray lifted his own weapon. Close enough that he could hit the man if he had a steady aim, Gray fleetingly realized there was no chance Lambert would miss. Gray trained the gun on Lambert and squeezed the trigger.

  Gray saw the muzzle-flash of Lambert's rifle.

  Gray fired again.

  An instant later, an impact against his shoulder knocked him out of his saddle.

  In the next moment, a tremendous explosion sent a huge fireball into the sky.

  Gray hit the ground hard, and rolled to his back. Pain, hot as a poker, speared through his shoulder.

  Screams and the searing smell of hot metal and burning gasoline and cold splashes of rain against his face filled his awareness. He touched a hand to his shoulder. It came away bright red.

  "Damn," he muttered, aware he was on the verge of losing consciousness. This was bad.

  Clear as a bell, he heard his mother's voice. A man who lives by the gun, dies by the gun. He had broken his promise. Abruptly, tears filled his eyes.

  * * *

  Chapter 16

  « ^

  "Oh, God. Oh, God," another feminine voice cried out, repeating those words again and again. Audrey's.

  Cool hands touched his face, his neck, his chest. "Don't you dare die on me," she cried, her voice choked.

  Gray clamped a hand around one of her wrists and, with immense effort, opened his eyes. Tears streamed down her face.

  He released her wrist to touch her tears, which hurt him more than the searing pain in his shoulder. "It's … okay."

  "It's not okay." She shook her head. "I love you."

  His own eyes burned. Hers was too generous a gift, especially after the way he had treated her. He longed to think he was worthy of it, longed to be the man she seemed to think he was. But he wasn't. No matter how much he wanted to tell her that he loved her. She became blurry, and he couldn't imagine why. Then, he felt her soft fingers against his cheek … brushing away tears he hadn't shed since he was a child.

  Beyond her, he could see the burning wreckage of Lambert's vehicle and knew the bastard was dead. Audrey was safe. She would be okay. And that was what mattered. Relief swept through him. He loved her, and he had never beaten her. She'd be safe. He looked back at her, her beautiful face etched into his soul for all time. The effort to keep his eyes open became too much.

  "No. Gray, don't leave me." She bent over him, her lips touching his cheek. Soft. Her tears touching his skin. Hot. "Help him. Oh, God, please help him."

  It's okay, love.

  His instincts had been right after all, he thought, memorizing her features. He'd leave her before hurting her any further.

  In the distance, beyond the edge of the storm, he could see the Indian woman. Her arms opened wide, her face filled with concern and worry. Then somehow, he was there … with her. She clasped him fiercely, her arms holding him as though she would never let him go, her cheek pressed against his. Within her embrace, the overwhelming pain faded, and his arms came around her. She felt like peace.

  She pulled out of his embrace, then shook him. Slivers of pain sliced through him.

  You don't belong here. You must go back.

  He shook his head.

  Yes. She turned him around and made him face the scene behind him. Audrey crying as though her heart was broken. Hawk and Francie working frantically over his body.

  She is your future. Not I.

  He turned back to her.

  She glanced at Audrey, then smiled. Go home. Go. Trust your heart.

  Beyond her, Gray sensed another presence. A tall man wearing only leggings and a breechclout. She turned to face him, and the joy on her face told it all. She ran toward him, and he lifted her into his arms, whirling her around.

  Ann in arm, they walked across the valley and disappeared into the mist.

  Gray watched, unbearable pain consuming him.

  * * *

  Fourteen weeks later, those moments on the valley floor when Gray hovered between life and death were as vivid as though they had happened an hour ago. Seared in Audrey's memory were the panicked efforts to stop his bleeding, Francie's competent care of him while they waited for a helicopter to take him to Albuquerque, the endless vigil at the hospital over the next days, wondering if he would die or if he would live. During bouts of delirium, he relived those last moments before he lost consciousness, muttering a protest against going home.

  Worse … far worse … was the finality of his voice after he was better. "Nothing's changed, Audrey," he told her. "I don't want you here. Go home."

  And she had. Not that she had much to go home to. Federal and state agencies were investigating Howard Lambert's business dealings. The offices had been closed, and she had no job. The assets belonging to Lambert Enterprises had been frozen except for one. Puma's Lair. The old deed Audrey had found took precedence, and the ranch was being returned to the people of La Huerta. The property's transfer reinforced one of the beliefs Francie had shared with Audrey—good comes from all things.

  Strangely, that belief provided the encouragement Audrey needed to follow her brother's suggestion from months ago—use her mother's life-insurance proceeds to do something for herself. Go to Hawaii if she wanted, buy jewels if she wanted. What she wanted was a house in a small town, complete with friendly neighbors and a big tree in the backyard from which a swing could be hung.

  With the return of the property to La Huerta, Mary treated Audrey as though she were a long-lost and honored daughter, telling anyone who would listen about her vision and Audrey's connection to her grandmother. Francie encouraged her to stay, even suggesting she might be a suitable manager for Puma's Lair. Now that the pueblo owned the property, they would continue the operation of the guest ranch. Audrey couldn't imagine being there, and she certainly couldn't bear the idea of being so close to Gray knowing that he didn't want her at all. She had somehow resisted asking where he had gone. For all she knew, he'd left the ranch.

  With Lambert Enterprises closed down, nothing held her in Denver, and she began exploring small communities. Some impulse she chose not to question too closely led her south. Part of it, much of it—if she was totally truthful with herself—was rooted in wanting to be closer to Gray. She found several small towns in southern Colorado she liked, but the one that drew her most was La Veta. Nestled at the base of the Spanish Peaks, the town was charming, and Audrey found a house that was her dream home come to life. Her brother had been pleased for her, promising to visit soon.

  Audrey had last spoken with Francie a couple of weeks before to let her know she had moved. It was a chatty conversation on Francie's part, with no mention of Gray at all. Audrey wondered how he was doing, but she didn't have the courage to ask.

  Every day since leaving the ranch, Audrey thought of Gray. Through her decision to leave Denver and her subsequent move. Through the chaos of packing and unpacking.

  Through the discovery that she was pregnant.

  Even though she was busy moving, she had time to think, to remember, to wish for things that could never be. Her mother had successfully ra
ised two children alone, so Audrey knew she could raise this child. However much she wanted Gray's child, being a single mom wasn't a life she had envisioned for herself. She wished for a husband, a friend, a soul mate. In Gray, she had found the last two, if only briefly. Her mother's remembered advice was bittersweet: if you don't have a lifetime, be thankful for the time you do have.

  The sorrow and the regret for all that might have been sometimes overwhelmed her. During those times, she thought about the Indian woman and hoped for a fraction of her courage. That woman had also been pregnant and without her man. Somehow, she had found the courage to go on. And Audrey would, as well, joyfully as her mother would have wanted.

  Each day, Audrey thanked God for the pregnancy, and each day, she faced a dilemma for which she had no answer. Should she tell Gray he was going to be a father?

  That thought, as always, made her stomach clench and brought on a surge of restlessness that took her to the open window. Outside, summer was in full force, heat waves shimmering above the roof of the house across the street and birds chirping in a tree outside her window. In the next yard, children played beneath a shady cottonwood tree, their laughter happy and carefree. A woman in shorts stood outside her house, watering her lawn, chatting with her neighbor, an elderly woman wearing a broad-brimmed straw hat and holding gardening tools.

  These were reminders of all the reasons Audrey had decided to leave Denver. The idyllic scene made her feel lonely today. She knew from experience that time healed. Even so, she doubted the hole Gray had left behind would ever be filled.

  The quiet was interrupted by the rumble of a freight truck as it slowly made its way up the street. To her surprise, the vehicle stopped in front of her house, and the driver got out, coming to her door.

  "Delivery for you, ma'am," he said, meeting her at the open screen door and handing her a manifest to sign.

  "I haven't ordered anything," she said.

  He shrugged. "I just deliver what they put in the truck." Beyond him, she could see his helper open the back door and lower the ramp. Seemingly assured that she wanted whatever had been shipped to her, the driver went back down the sidewalk, leaving Audrey with his clipboard in her hand. They loaded a huge crate onto a dolly and headed up the sidewalk and into the living room.