by Linda Broday
A large rabbit darted across the trail in front of her. Panic-stricken, her mare reared up. Sierra gripped the mane with everything she had to keep from being unseated.
“Whoa!” She plastered herself against the horse and prayed. “It’s all right. Nothing’s going to get you.” The nervous little roan landed on all fours only to rise again on her back legs. The horse’s muscles quivered beneath Sierra. “Whoa!” She laid against the mare’s neck, crooning softly.
Sam rode up alongside and grabbed the headstall, holding it until the roan settled. “Are you all right?” Sam patted the horse’s withers.
“I’m fine.” She hoped he didn’t notice the violent tremble of her hands. She could scarcely grip the reins. “Thanks.”
He quickly scanned the distance behind them, his gray eyes darkening.
She swiveled in the saddle, her breath strangling in her throat.
Isaac Ford leads the pack, and they are coming for me.
Sam’s sharp growl split the air, “Move out. Don’t stop, no matter what. I’ll drop back and draw their fire. If they get me, keep riding hell for leather.”
“You’re not doing this alone,” Luke rasped. “We’ll stand together. No other way.”
“Weston, you can barely stay in the saddle.”
“I’ll manage,” Luke snapped.
“Ride west, Sierra. Don’t look back. We’ll catch up.” With those orders, Sam slapped her mare’s rump with his hat, and she held tight as the little horse sprang forward.
Though myriad gunshots fractured the spring day, she didn’t slow, nor did she glance back. She kept her gaze glued on the rugged terrain in front of her and prayed.
That she rode alone didn’t frighten her. She was used to that. What froze her heart was Sam and Luke facing danger. For her. Useless prayers to a God who had long since stopped listening repeated over and over inside her head.
Please don’t let anyone else die.
Her father’s stony features crossed her mind as he’d put her into a stagecoach in Billings, Montana, two months ago. She still felt his scorn.
He was right. She brought death to all who touched her life.
Whitney. Her mother. Even now, her brother Rocky could lie rotting in a grave somewhere. All because she’d not done enough.
Why did she keep living when they’d perished? Why?
She’d even brought her curse to Luke Weston.
A sob caught in Sierra’s throat as she raced across dangerous land dotted by gullies and ravines. The cactus, horse nettle, and clumps of juniper she sped past barely drew a notice, so intent was she on watching for drop-offs.
Once the gunshots became sporadic, she chanced a quick glance back to reassure herself that bodies didn’t litter the trail.
Thank God! Sam and Luke were only a few lengths behind. More heartening was the fact that the gang had fallen back. Sadness washed over her to see one of their horses lying on the ground.
As she slowed to a trot, Sam rode alongside her and Luke. “Horses gave out,” he said. “They never stopped to rest them like we did.”
“Poor animals,” she murmured.
“They’re not going anywhere till morning. We can rest our mounts and give them fresh water at a place I know a little farther down the trail.”
Sierra nodded and turned to Luke. “How are you?”
“I won’t lie.” Luke’s lips were white. “I think some wild varmint’s gnawing on my shoulder.”
“How far to this place where we can stop, Sam?”
“Panther Creek Gap is probably three hours away, I’m guessing. We’ll most likely camp there for the night. Our horses need the rest, and it’s too dangerous to cross this country at night.”
Three hours? She didn’t know if Luke would make it.
Pain had dulled Luke’s green eyes. “Never bet against me, dulce.”
“Am I that obvious?”
“I’ve run across lots of folks who bet the wrong way. I’m hard to kill.”
“Seems we have that in common, Weston.” The gritty rasp of Sam’s voice made her wonder if he referred to the ones who’d tried to hang him.
She met his glance, those eyes that could be so hard one minute and soft the next. “You’re both made of granite. I’m sure you can do whatever you set your mind to.”
“Always have. Always will,” Sam assured her. “We’re safe for now. They won’t follow until they can get some horseflesh under them. It’ll probably take all night to let their animals recover enough to ride.” He grinned at Luke. “We make a pretty good team.”
Even though she knew more about the pair than she had yesterday, their quixotic relationship kept her baffled. Would she ever understand why they kept putting their lives on the line for each other? And what effect would this have on the tough decision Sam had to make?
His face revealed how he wrestled with the complex issue, how torn he was between duty and his obligation to Luke for saving his life. Faces told so much, and Sierra prayed hers didn’t betray the secrets she hid. She’d wasted so much of her life letting her father set the rules and determine her fate.
But she was free at last, and it gave her a heady feeling. She finally had freedom to put down roots, fall in love, get married, start a family if it wasn’t too late—to thrive.
Texas Ranger Sam Legend had made her dream again.
Made her hope.
Made her feel like a woman for the very first time. At twenty years old, that seemed wrong. Her father, William Hunt, had taken so much from her.
“I’m glad they can’t come after us,” Sierra admitted. “I’m looking forward to camping for the night without having to worry. We can all use a restful night’s sleep.”
“Amen,” Sam said. “We’ll need our strength for the river crossing tomorrow. With the heavy rain, the Brazos will be swollen out of its banks.”
Sudden fear twisted her into a mass of knotted nerves.
“Can we take another route and miss the river?” Her voice quivered, giving away the worry she tried desperately to hide.
“Nope,” Sam said. “Afraid we have no choice. I’ll make sure nothing happens to you. You’ll do fine.” His hand covered hers.
The warmth of his touch did little to banish the icy chill that seeped down into her bones. She didn’t think she’d ever be warm again.
Leather creaked as Luke shifted in the saddle. “You have me too, dulce. Trust Sam and me to keep you safe. Once across, Flatbush lies on the other side. They’ll have anything you might need.”
Except she’d have to swim the Brazos first.
She couldn’t. She just couldn’t force herself.
Even if by some miracle she reached Flatbush, she doubted the mercantile would stock the courage she’d lost a long time ago.
“Thank you both.” She tried to force a smile, but it balked, refusing to come. The comforting squeeze of Sam’s hand told her he’d noticed her struggle.
Soon he would know she was a coward.
Sierra wouldn’t be able to bear the disgust on his face or in those gray eyes—eyes that could grow cold and hard at a moment’s notice. Eyes she so wanted to keep looking at her with gentle respect.
Ten
The purple and orange hues of twilight bled together into a beautiful tapestry as they made camp a little while later. Panther Creek Gap, with rippling water alongside its abundant trees, offered everything they needed.
Sam tended the horses, but his attention kept moving to Sierra. He found it most difficult to keep his mind on work whenever she was anywhere near. His senses instantly honed in on her. He grinned. No complaints from him.
She gathered wood for a fire, seemingly oblivious to his scrutiny. He could picture her in the mountains, doing her chores just as she was doing now.
Exhausted and in pain, Luke lay on a bedroll
Sam had laid out for him, unable to do more. Sam knew that kind of pain.
His thoughts went back to last month when the rustlers surrounded him. Each time he closed his eyes, he could still see the sneer on the bearded outlaw’s face. That cold wash of fear when the noose tightened around his neck seemed a constant part of him now.
The strangling panic as the horse bolted and left him dangling.
One day he would cross paths again with the lynch man who sported the spider on his hand. And when he did…
Sam shoved the nightmare back into its hole and turned his attention back to Sierra. The calm that surrounded her lay around his shoulders. A warmth settled over him. He didn’t know exactly why or how, but she always grounded him, brought him back to a safe place.
But what would happen when he found her brother and she left—would he return to that darkness? Without her, maybe he’d stay lost inside his mind. Sam pushed that frightening thought out of his head.
His gaze moved lazily over those lush curves that made him ache with desire. A light radiated from her beautiful face. It should be a sin for a woman to arouse such yearning. He took in the last warm rays of daylight kissing her hair, so dark that it gave off a bluish cast at times. He recalled the silky feel between his fingers and the fresh fragrance that now drifted around him.
She was the woman he wished he’d met before he’d become hard and suspicious of everyone. Before his dreams shriveled and died beneath the Texas sun. He was right back there at the springs. They had things to talk about when all of this was over.
With her arms full of wood, she strode toward him in that easy way she had of moving. Her hips swayed in rhythm to a song that was probably as old as time.
“What else can I help you do, Sam?” Sierra’s soft voice did things to him as she dropped the wood near a circle of rocks she’d arranged as a fire pit. She’d likely learned the art of fire making, plus many other useful things, from her vagabond lifestyle. Something troubled her though, and it had to do with swimming the Brazos. Had to, or she wouldn’t keep mentioning it.
“Just watch after Luke while I hunt for game.”
Sierra’s lips curved in a smile. “That’s easy enough.” Worry replaced the smile. “He’s in bad shape, Sam. His wound has soaked the wrapping.”
“Little we can do until we reach town.”
“I noticed some yarrow while I was gathering wood. That would help the fever and pain some. In the mountains, we used comfrey for bleeding, but I haven’t noticed any here. Maybe I can find some spiderwebs.”
Sam nodded. “Never heard of comfrey, but I recall my father once making a poultice using gunpowder one time. We might try that.”
“Did you see all the scars on Luke’s body?”
“Yep. A good many. Not surprised though.” He glanced at the outlaw, whose toughness came unequaled. He sorrowed for the man who’d made so many wrong choices.
“Clearly, he’s had a hard life. Too hard.” With a light hand on his arm, Sierra told him to get their supper and she’d do her best for Luke.
After staking Sierra’s, and Luke’s horses within reach of the water and good grass, Sam got his rifle and rode out. The last of the jerky and apples he and Sierra had shared that morning had long disappeared. They all needed meat, or they wouldn’t be able to keep going. With luck, he wouldn’t have to go far. It bothered him to leave Sierra alone to care for Luke. She was tough, he’d give her that, but he asked too much of her.
A little ways from camp, he saw a doe, but he passed her up. It was too much meat and would be difficult to take back. A turkey caught his attention, and he quickly took aim and hit it. That would feed them tonight and in the morning.
Sierra came to greet him when he strode into camp. “That’ll make us a nice meal. I found a patch of wild onions to go along with it.”
“You’ve been busy.” He glanced toward Luke and saw he was sleeping.
She followed his gaze. “Luke’s worse. I found some spiderwebs to put on his wound later and cover it with a poultice. I didn’t have the heart to wake him now though.”
The sight of her took his breath. Her blue eyes glistened like stars. That she could know so much at her age astounded him. She had the grit and heart of a survivor. Most women would complain about the grueling pace he’d set, but Sierra quietly did whatever was required with never a word. She was the kind of woman he wanted at his side. A fighter.
The struggle to speak took great effort. “Sleep helps a person heal. Did you gather the yarrow?”
“Yes. Look what else I found.” She gently freed some speckled eggs from her pocket.
“Looks like prairie chicken eggs.”
“I thought so. We used to eat similar ones in the mountains.” She laid the eggs aside where they wouldn’t get broken and sat next to him on a rock to help pluck the bird.
He loved having her near. “I’ll wager you learned a lot of survival skills.”
“Had to or I’d starve.” She frowned, her face darkening. “My father was forgetful. The next adventure, next important discovery crowded out our names from his mind. He especially had trouble remembering that we needed to eat, so Mama and us kids became adept at managing.”
“Sounds like a rough life.”
“My brothers seemed to love it, though.”
“And you?” Sam asked softly.
A distant light came into Sierra’s sad eyes. “The conditions were too harsh. After a while, it became something I prayed to survive. Only, that didn’t quite work out either. I…I disappointed everyone.” Her voice broke. She glanced away, whispering, “I was my father’s biggest failure.”
Something had happened, something so terrifying she couldn’t bear to think about it. Trembles shook her body in the silence that spun between them.
Sam wiped his hands and put his arms around her. It was so easy, centering her the way she centered him. Natural. “What’s bothering you, Sierra?”
She gave her hair an impatient shove. “It’s no use talking about it.”
Tightening his embrace, Sam said, “Let me help. Are you worried about your brother?”
“If I just knew he was all right. You know?” She rested her head on his shoulder, sweetly trusting. “If he’s cold. If he’s still alive. If he’s hurt. This waiting is killing me.”
“It’s tough not knowing, and I wish I could start my search so you could have some answers.” He splayed his hand across her back. “But Rocky’s not all that’s bothering you. I sense more.” A lot more. The beauty held so much sorrow inside.
Sierra’s voice simmered with rage. “No one can fix me.”
Whoever said silence was golden didn’t know beans from squash. This eerie quiet was loud and angry and black as sin.
“I can try,” Sam murmured against her temple.
She suddenly pushed away, all business. “Too much work to do. If I don’t lay the fire, we can’t cook this plump bird.”
Shadows had begun to fall around them. He watched her arrange the kindling and place smaller pieces of wood on top. With a strike of the match, she breathed life into the spark, coaxing barely a flicker into flames capable of withstanding the breeze.
His heart ached for her.
Who would breathe life into her, banish the memories keeping her in a stranglehold?
Anger shook him—seeing for the first time how truly alone she was.
Except for the sounds of the creek and birds chirping, silence filled the air around them. Sam studied the woman who bore secrets. At last he spoke. “Where did you learn to ride like that?”
“My brothers.” She gave him a sad smile. “It was the only way I could keep up with Rocky and Teton. They never eased up because I was a girl and younger. I had to prove I was every bit as tough.”
“And?”
“I did, and loved it. But it was even more fun making
them admit it.”
Sam could picture her outrunning her brothers and making them concede. “You haven’t mentioned Teton before. Is he with your father?”
She shrugged, turning away. “Who knows where my oldest brother is.”
“Will he be worried about you?”
“No.” Now that the fire had caught, she rose, added a larger piece of wood, and changed the subject. “I love horses. I admired your buckskin from the moment I saw him.”
Her curt answer about Teton told Sam there was no love lost between Sierra and her brother. In fact, with the exception of Rocky, her family appeared to have forsaken her.
“He’s the perfect friend for a lawman. I raised Trooper from a foal and trained him to come when I whistle. Sure helped me out of a lot of tight situations.”
“Money can’t buy a horse like that. Excuse me.” Sierra moved to check on Luke.
Once he’d readied the turkey and got it onto the fire, Sam walked down to the murmuring brook.
The creek ran like a dark thread, reflecting the shadows of the trees growing near the banks. The horses stopped nibbling on the lush grass nearby and raised their heads, as though sensing his frustration.
A month ago, Sam had been content with his calling, his horse, the freedom to simply be who he wanted. Then everything changed. He’d realized how quickly his heartbeats could stop.
His father had been on his mind in those final seconds, regret that Sam hadn’t tried harder to mend their relationship. Remorse for not telling Stoker he loved him had weighed heavy. A person should never put off important things. He took out the silver watch and stared at the inscription. Proud of you, son.
Seemed strange that in the seven years since, Stoker had never once said it aloud. Maybe the hardest things were easier to write. Except Sam hadn’t even done that.
He shook his head, scattering the unwelcome memory.
With the soft ground muffling Sierra’s footsteps, he didn’t know she was close until she bumped his elbow.
“Luke’s burning up and mumbling something I can’t make out,” she said.
