The Ranger

Because he was completely honorable and trustworthy? Doubtful, thought she. It was because she lacked feminine appeal, personality and charm. Which was why Antoine had disregarded her feelings for him and broken her heart by turning his attention and affection to someone else.

It was demoralizing to have to accept the fact that she possessed very little sex appeal and no alluring charm. The deflating realization caused her shoulders to slump. If she couldn’t attract or intrigue this rough-edged frontiersman, she couldn’t beguile a man she’d fallen in love with, either.

“Well, hell,” Hawk muttered, his deep voice echoing through the dimly lit chamber.

When she noticed his profound concentration on the goings-on outside the cave Shiloh went to join him. She scowled sourly, too, when she noted that two men had dismounted near the mouth of the box canyon and looked to be setting up camp to outwait them. Three men rode back in the direction they had come.

“Morton DeVol and Everett Stiles are guarding the escape route while the other outlaws gather the provisions from their hideout,” Hawk speculated. “I was hoping they’d give up so we don’t have to rely on the treacherous trail that leads over Ghost Ridge to the canyon beyond.”

Shiloh stared anxiously at the towering summit of jagged rock. “We have to climb over that?” She had the unmistakable feeling that her aversion to height was going to make the trek an unnerving challenge.

“That’s right, Bernie,” he confirmed. “In the rain…in the dark. Lucky for you that I’ve used that winding path several times before.”

“Well, that makes me feel so much better. Can’t wait to get started,” she said unenthusiastically.

At twilight, in the drizzling rain, Hawk grasped Shiloh’s hand and led her outside. Waddling like ducks, they made their way beneath and around the protruding rock barriers. They were careful not to expose their whereabouts to the relentless outlaws who had pitched a tent in the valley below.

Shiloh made the mistake of looking over the ledge—and felt her stomach drop a quick twenty feet. She must have squeezed Hawk’s hand apprehensively because he halted on the narrow path to glance curiously at her.

“What’s the problem?” he whispered.

Shiloh gulped down her apprehension and struggled for hard-won composure. “This might be a good time to let you know that heights make me a little dizzy and uneasy.”

“How dizzy? How uneasy?” His dark-eyed gaze sharpened and he stared grimly at her. “You aren’t going to go hysterical on me while we’re scrabbling up the peak with our horses, which are going to have their own problems with footing, are you?”

Shiloh glanced over the cliff, drew a shaky breath and smiled with bravado. “I’ll try to remain calm….”

Her voice dried up when he cupped her chin in his hand, demanding her undivided attention. “There will be no trying to pull yourself together when the time comes,” he insisted harshly. “You’ll do what you have to do, understand?”

Annoyed with his insensitive attitude, she slapped his hand away then squared her shoulders. “Understood. Now lead the way, Chief Tough-As-Nails. Heaven forbid that I should freeze up or fall to my death on Ghost Ridge. Never mind about me,” she said with a dismissive flick of her wrist. “After all, I’m just the inconvenience you nearly landed on in midstream this morning and then decided to drag along with you. I don’t know why you didn’t leave me behind. It’s obvious that I’m only slowing you down.”

Hawk couldn’t help but smile at her spunk and sass. He didn’t like learning that heights rattled her, knowing she would be testing herself to the limit of her abilities when they scaled the lofty peak. But the sparkle of determination he saw in her cedar-tree green eyes assured him that she wasn’t a fainthearted shrinking violet. She would do her best to scratch and claw her way up and over the ridge—or die trying. He would be right beside her every step of the way to make sure it didn’t come to that.

Hawk led the way to the larger cave where he had sheltered the horses. Shiloh waited outside. Her attention fixated on the craggy peak that posed an intimidating personal challenge. She couldn’t imagine how she and the horses were going to make the nearly impossible trek, especially at night, especially during a misty rain.

Her anxious thoughts trailed off when Hawk reappeared to hand her the reins to her horse. “I’ll let you lead your mount until we get to the most difficult part of the trail, then I’ll take control of it.”

“I’ll manage that, too,” Shiloh insisted, holding her head high as she surged off.

“Wrong way,” Hawk called out, a smile in his voice.

Shiloh sighed heavily as Hawk walked off in the direction they had come, then veered around an oversize boulder to follow an inconspicuous trail that led up the steep incline. Obviously he knew this canyon like the back of his hand. She envied his knowledge and skill. But at least she wasn’t floundering around in unfamiliar territory with some greenhorn that could get them lost or injured as fast as she could.

“This is one of those places where it’s not a good idea to look down,” Hawk cautioned.

Shiloh braced herself when the trail narrowed to such extremes that Hawk’s mustang, which was directly in front of her, didn’t have enough space to walk without scraping its side on the jagged stone wall. There was nothing but a fifty-foot gorge on the other side. Shiloh grabbed a quick breath and prayed that her horse didn’t stumble and jerk her over the edge before she could release the reins.

To make the difficult trek worse, thunder rumbled overhead, the earth shook and the sky opened up again. Shiloh found herself soaked to the bone in less than five minutes. To compound the problem, there was barely enough light for her to see where she was going. Fear pounded in rhythm with her accelerated pulse. The voice inside her head kept chanting that her next step might be her last.

“This escape route has disaster written all over it,” she said fatalistically.

“It’s a damn sight better than trying to shoot our way past the crack-shot gunmen that are blocking the canyon exit,” Hawk countered.

“I’m not sure one route is better or worse than the other…. Dear God…”

The eerie sounds that Hawk had mentioned this morning suddenly demanded her attention. It did indeed sound as if haunting voices from beyond the grave were howling in the wind. A chill—and not from the soaking rain—slithered down her spine. Shiloh didn’t consider herself superstitious, but this treacherous trek after sunset, with a stiff breeze and stinging raindrops constantly slapping her in the face, was working on her jumpy nerves.

She did not need disembodied voices and tormented wails undermining her composure and preying on her fear of height.

She nearly jumped out of her own skin when Hawk’s hand folded unexpectedly around her ice-cold fingers. She’d been so distracted by the otherworldly sounds that she hadn’t heard him ease up beside her.

“This is where the path becomes slick and hazardous.”

“Well, shoot, and it’s been such a piece of cake thus far,” she quipped.

His white teeth flashed in the gathering darkness. “Sarcasm must be your way of dealing with difficulty,” he noted. “A woman after my own heart.”

She stared at the nearly impossible path ahead of them then spared him a glance. “I’m not after your heart, Hawk. I’ve sworn off men with good reason. I just want to get out of here alive so my two bro—” She slammed her mouth shut so fast that she nearly clipped off her tongue. “Well, damn it all.”

“So you have two brothers. So what?” he said, seemingly disinterested. “It’s not the end of the world if I’m privy to that information. I already told you that I’m not holding you for ransom. My objective is to rejoin my company and report my findings. Then I’ll have one of my compatriots take you home.”

“Right. You’re honorable, noble and heroic. Don’t know why I ever doubted your intentions.” She stared pointedly at the saddlebags of money strapped to his horse. With an audible sigh she turned her attention to the winding trail above them. “I really wish you did have wings, like your namesake, Hawk. Flying looks to be the only safe way to scale this embankment to reach that rain-slick peak.”

“Change of plans,” Hawk suddenly declared as he pulled the reins from her hand. “I’ll take you up first, then come back for the horses.”

“That’s not necessa—”

Her voice evaporated when she stepped forward to reclaim the reins—and slipped in the mud and loose rock. Hawk snaked out an arm and hooked it around her waist before she fell on her face. He kept a firm grasp on her as he propelled her between the jutting boulders.

“Footing here is tricky on a good day. In pouring rain it’s downright perilous. Take shorter steps and widen your stance,” he instructed.

They went about twenty-five yards before he halted beside the eroded crevice that gaped in front of them. Leaving her braced against the boulder, Hawk backed up a step then launched himself through the air to avoid the space where the trail had given way to forty feet of nothingness.

He held out his hand to her. “Now it’s your turn.”

There was just enough daylight left for him to note the color had seeped from her face. But to her credit she gritted her teeth and marshaled her resolve. His respect for her elevated another notch as she crouched in preparation for leaping toward him. He had seen this woman during several telling moments today and he admired her gumption and determination.

Whoever Bernice Colbert really was, she was one spirited, independent and courageous woman.

Hawk braced himself when she hurtled toward him. Since she wasn’t as long-legged as he was, she didn’t quite make it over to solid ground. When she shrieked and lost her balance, his hand shot out to grab her wrist. Thankfully, she was only airborne for a few moments before he hauled her against him.

To his surprise she threw her arms around his neck and practically hugged the stuffing out of him. Hawk was sorry to say that his male body responded instantaneously to having her supple curves and swells pressed familiarly against him. He reminded himself repeatedly that this was definitely the wrong time and wrong place for a lust attack.

Damn it, what was there about this defensive, elusive, hostile woman that kept getting to him? He’d dealt with several female victims during his years with the Rangers, but not one had affected him the way this one did.

“You can let go of me now,” he murmured as he accidentally brushed his lips against the side of her neck.

And it was an accident, he tried to convince himself. He was only nuzzling against her because she needed comfort and reassurance after her near brush with calamity.

Shiloh tried to loosen her fierce grasp on his neck, tried not to burrow her head against his sturdy shoulder. But for those few unnerving seconds, when it felt as if the earth had dropped out from under her, panic had overwhelmed her. She had grabbed hold of Hawk and clung to him for dear life. She savored his solid strength, enjoyed the feel of his warm breath against her cold skin.

Arousing sensations flooded through her, thoroughly baffling her. How could she possibly be attracted to this man? She still wasn’t sure if she trusted or even liked him. But he sparked the same kind of sensations that she had experienced when Antoine had taken her in his arms while they danced at parties in the palatial ballrooms of New Orleans.

She shouldn’t have felt those vulnerable feelings then and she shouldn’t be feeling them now. With him.

What the blazes was the matter with her?

Aggravated with herself for experiencing pleasurable tingles she swore never to feel or trust again—and at the worst of all possible moments, and with a stranger, no less—Shiloh lurched back to brace herself against the crumbling stone wall.

“Sorry,” she said unevenly. “My survival instincts must have caused me to get a little carried away.”

“You have both feet beneath you now. You’ll be okay.”

His crackling voice drew her bemused frown. “Are you all right, Hawk? Did I injure you when I threw myself at you?”

“No.” He cleared his throat and looked away. “I’m fine.”

He lied. He was not fine. He wasn’t even remotely close to fine. He did not want to be attracted and distracted by this prickly woman. He didn’t want the slightest emotional ties to her or any other woman. Period. He didn’t have a personal life because his professional life with the Rangers was a demanding challenge. He didn’t have the time or inclination for tender feelings that conflicted with duty.

Unfortunately, today’s sequence of unfortunate events was conspiring against him. For one reason or another he’d had his hands all over this woman. Necessity had also demanded that he plaster his body against hers more times than he cared to count. Now he was so aware of her scent, her appearance and the feel of her that he couldn’t look at her or touch her without reacting fiercely.

And, damn it, this had to stop! He had to concentrate on the serious task of getting them up and over Ghost Ridge to reach Sundance Canyon—a haven that held bittersweet memories that he didn’t want to deal with unless absolutely necessary.

Which it was right now.

Annoyed with his uncharacteristic preoccupation with this female, he clamped hold of her good arm and half dragged her uphill. He was anxious to reach the peak before total darkness descended. He gave her a boost onto the rain-slick boulder that led to the next leg of the treacherous journey.

“This is where the horses will have the most difficulty,” he said as he gestured for her to continue on without him.

“Dear God…”

He heard her voice wobble, saw her drop to her knees. She clutched her stomach when she made the critical mistake of glancing at the wild tumble of boulders that filled the V-shaped arroyo beside them.

“Look at me!” he barked sharply. “This is not the time to lose your nerve. If you can’t proceed without me, then you’ll have to wait here until I return with the horses. Find something to anchor yourself to until I get back.”

She bowed her neck then surged from her knees to her feet. “I’ll be fine,” she called over her shoulder. “I’ll—”

“Watch out for that—” Hawk cursed mightily when she banged her head on the jutting rock.

Her groan died beneath the report of long-range rifles. Bullets whistled over their heads and zinged off the rocks. Hawk cursed the fact that the bandits had spotted them and were trying to pin them down so they could catch up.

Cursing inventively, Hawk scrambled over the slick boulder, trying to reach Bernie before she took another bullet or staggered so far sideways that she keeled over the ledge and bounced off every sharp-edged rock until she landed in a broken heap at the bottom of the ravine. Unfortunately, the volley of bullets startled her and she lost her footing. Hawk made a wild grab for her, but only connected with air.

Serenaded by gunfire and the ringing in her ears caused by the blow to her forehead, Shiloh cartwheeled over a boulder. The world spun before her eyes and nausea churned in her stomach. One moment she was glancing back at Hawk and the next instant she smacked her head—hard—into the jagged overhang. And then bullets started flying.

She shrieked in terror when she couldn’t gain her balance. But there was nothing beneath her right foot. The wind was howling like a chorus of banshees, it was spitting rain again and now the crack-shot bandits were after them.

Wild eyed, she tried to pivot on her left foot and throw herself down on the narrow trail. But momentum and a fierce wind pushed her over the edge. She could see nothing but the ghastly shadows of boulders that reminded her of prehistoric monsters waiting to gobble her alive.

She cried out when her left foot slipped and she banged her hip against the rocks. Panting for breath, she dug in her nails as she slid downward, hoping to find a handhold before the pull of gravity dragged her to her death.

“Hawk!” she howled, even though she knew there was nothing he could do to help her.

Despite her best attempts, she slid downward, bumping over the angular stones and eroded pebbles that left her feet dangling over the ten-foot drop—and then the rest of her body went over the ledge before she could anchor herself.

She crash-landed on another jagged boulder, twisting her ankle—and knocking the air clean out of her.

The wind wailed like the eternal damned, drowning out her hoarse cry for help. Her panicky gaze leaped to Hawk. She was amazed by his ability to bound from one boulder to the next like a graceful cougar, in his attempt to reach her. There was just enough daylight left for her to see the grim expression on his face. She heard his pithy curses above her as she clutched her throbbing ankle and struggled to draw breath.

Shiloh couldn’t decide if the pain in her head, the fiery sensations in her injured arm or the throb in her aching ankle hurt the worst. It was too close to call.

“Bernie? Are you all right?” Hawk called down to her when the bandits ceased fire to reload.

“My name is Shiloh,” she confided with a seesaw breath.

The way she had it figured, she was going to be stuck in this crevice of this rocky ravine until buzzards came along to pick her clean. There was no way she could climb back to the ledge and no way for Hawk to reach her without endangering his own life. Plus, the bandits were hot on their trail and they would execute her when they found her.

“You need to know the right name to engrave on my headstone,” she added defeatedly, then shooed him on his way. “Might as well go on without me.”

Grimacing she shifted onto the hip she hadn’t bruised during her fall, then tried to stretch her swollen ankle out in front of her. She glanced up to see Hawk’s head appear from the shelf of rock above her.

“You aren’t dead yet, Shiloh,” he growled down at her. “You have too much spirit and resilience to adopt that defeated attitude.”

She tried to bolster her flagging spirits, she really did. But when she glanced down, hopelessness engulfed her like a suffocating fog.

“Just sit tight.”

She smirked. “I have a choice?” She gestured to the narrow cavity that held her like stone jaws, then winced when more gunfire erupted.

“I’m going after the horses and my lariat,” he told her. “I’ll be back for you.”

Her last ray of hope died when darkness swallowed her up and the sky opened. The wind kicked up and the echoing sounds, reminiscent of howling phantom voices, swirled around her. She slumped against the unyielding boulder as rain pounded down.

She knew Hawk wouldn’t come back for her because she was slowing him down. He could be up and over Ghost Ridge, hiding in the valley beyond, with his stolen loot, before the desperadoes could catch up with him.

Shiloh sighed heavily, battling the numerous aches and pains that pummeled her weary body. She resigned herself to the fact that she was stuck here, listening to the phantom voices wailing in the wind, waiting for the outlaws to arrive to put her out of her misery.

Chapter Four

H awk scurried along the rain-slick path to retrieve his lariat and the horses. He cursed himself, harshly and repeatedly, for not taking better care of Shiloh. And he’d be damned, he was not engraving her name on a headstone, no matter how grim her future looked right now.

Hawk clutched the reins of his sure-footed mustang then tied a lead rope to Shiloh’s mount. Her steed was reluctant, but the mustang forced it to follow—or be dragged.

Hawk patted the mustang’s muscular neck. “Sorry, Dorado. We’ve been to hell and back together many times. This is just another tough day on a tough job.”

The coal-black gelding nickered, as if in agreement, and methodically towed the skittish mare along behind him.

By the time Hawk reached the place where Shiloh had slipped and fallen, lightning was flickering from one low-hanging cloud to another. Hawk was able to make out the silhouettes of DeVol and Stiles as they picked their way around the boulders. Although they hadn’t located the path, they were making headway and they posed a threat.

Feeling a sense of urgency Hawk turned his attention back to Shiloh who was wedged in the ravine below. Your fault, the voice of conscience scolded him as he secured the lariat to the saddle horn. This morning he had stumbled onto Shiloh, unintentionally forcing her to suffer through all sorts of perilous situations, the worst of which was a nasty fall down the rugged embankment. But she was wrong if she thought he was going to turn his back on her to save his own hide.

Thunder grumbled overhead, causing the mare to bolt sideways then slam into the stone wall. “Easy, girl,” he soothed, then anchored the lead rope to a scrub bush.

Hawk clamped his hands around the dangling lariat then eased over the rough ledge. He cast a wary glance at the two outlaws that were trying to overtake him then worked his way down to the next shelf of rock. When lightning flickered on Shiloh’s slumped form, he scrabbled north toward the crevice. His feet shot out from under him when he hit the slick mud at the base of a boulder. He grimaced when his shoulder slammed into the slab of stone.

Hawk steadied himself with the rope and gathered his feet beneath him. He inched along the narrow ledge until he was an arm’s length from Shiloh. He nudged her shoulder, but she didn’t respond.

Hawk sighed heavily. “Why can’t just one thing be easy?”

His hard, unadorned life in the Apache camp in Sundance Canyon was a constant exercise in survival training. His experiences with the Rangers consisted of one dangerous foray following closely on the heels of another.

Maybe this is all there is to life, he mused as he reached out to hook his arm around Shiloh’s limp body. With a heave-ho he scooped her from the V-shaped wedge between boulders. Maybe it was simply a man’s lot in life to face one challenge after another and try to bury the unpleasant memories he encountered along the way.

His pessimistic thoughts scattered like buckshot the moment he levered Shiloh over his shoulder and felt her luscious feminine curves against his masculine contours. For some reason her weight seemed more of a comfort than a burden to him. Damn if he could figure out why.

When she moaned groggily and clung to him, as if he were a pillow she was trying to snuggle up against, his trying day—hell, who was he kidding?—his trying life—didn’t seem so bad. Shiloh was warm and soft and cuddly…and he better not get sidetracked with these ridiculous whimsical thoughts. He still had a rugged hillside to scale and this was just a part of his job—rescuing folks from disastrous situations. Just because Shiloh’s sassy disposition and feminine allure sparked an ill-fated fascination inside him didn’t change a thing. He’d be every kind of fool if he let himself forget that.

Hawk clamped his arm across the back of Shiloh’s thighs then shifted her on his shoulder so she wouldn’t fall. Grabbing the rope anchored to the mustang that waited above him, he walked south along the narrow ledge, using the same route going up the hillside that he’d taken coming down.

He was one third of the way up the steep embankment when Shiloh regained consciousness. When she reared up, trying to get her bearings, Hawk clamped his arm tighter around her hips.

“It’s just me,” he reassured her hurriedly. “It will be a lot easier for me to negotiate this slope if you’ll stay where you are and hang on to me.”

“You came back for me.” Her voice held a hint of wonder. “I expected you to be long gone by now,” she said as she locked her arms around his waist.

“Just goes to show you how badly you misjudged me.” He grunted as he pulled himself hand over hand to another stone slab. “Right now I’m the best friend you could have because I’m familiar with this area. I grew up here with my clan. I’ll get you to a place that’s dry and safe and then patch you up.”