Fletcher's Woman. Carol Finch
a badger,” he whispered back. “Vicious little beasts.” He held his pistol—backward—in his left hand like a makeshift club. He clamped the knife in his right fist.
When the varmint snarled and charged, Fletch struck out with his boot, sending it rolling across the floor. Savanna ducked behind him and curled her bound hands against his hip, giving the impression that she was cowardly seeking his protection.
Let him think what he wants, she mused.
Fletch growled as ferociously as the badger, then gave it another kick when it attacked. The beast came back for more and Savanna decided this was the prime opportunity to escape. She wheeled around and took off barefooted, making a beeline toward the Appaloosa. And freedom. She hoped.
Savanna made it twenty feet before Fletch knocked her off balance and left her sprawled facedown in the grass. He landed on top of her. She gasped for breath—after he’d knocked the wind clean out of her.
“Damn it, stop trying to escape,” he muttered at the back of her head, after he’d tired of cursing her. “You’re really starting to tick me off. And thank you so much for the help back there.”
“You were managing fine without me,” she panted. “I thought I’d grab a breath of fresh air while you finished the fight.”
“Right.” He bounded agilely to his feet, then hauled her up beside him. “So much for your respect for the honor system. Here’s yet another example of why I don’t trust you.”
To her dismay, Fletch marched her back into the cave and forcefully sat her in the corner. He attached the shackles to a rope that he secured to an oversize boulder that blocked a narrow tunnel leading into the bowels of the earth.
“These manacles are too tight,” she complained.
“And you’re a lot of trouble,” he retaliated. “Since you won’t behave, I’m forced to treat you like the criminal you are.”
She could hear the annoyance in his voice. But she was annoyed, too. He’d thwarted her escape attempt then anchored the cuffs to stone, so his remarks had little effect on her.
“I guess I should be grateful that you didn’t grab my pistol and shoot me while I was doing hand-to-hand combat with the badger.”
“Damn, I had my chance and I didn’t take it,” she muttered caustically. “What could I have been thinking?”
“I’m sure you’ll have another opportunity. We’re a long way from Tishomingo, after all. Better luck next time, Paleface.”
“Thanks for the encouragement. I’ll try not to botch up my next attempt.” She nodded her tousled head toward the right. “There’s a stack of logs and some torches in the corner. Old Chickasaw motto—Always Be Prepared.”
“The Apache have the same motto.” He struck a match. When the small torch flared to life, he propped it against the rock wall. “My brother and I stockpile a similar stronghold for emergencies, beneath Ghost Ridge in Sundance Canyon in Texas.”
The light flickered over his high cheekbones and emphasized his muscular physique. Entranced, Savanna watched the play of light and shadows. He was six feet four inches of powerful masculinity and it nearly took her breath away just staring at him. His vivid blue eyes seemed out of place on his bronzed face. Their piercing intensity always caused her thoughts to detour into the wrong direction when she peered into them for too long at a time. They were so striking, so mesmerizing that a woman could get lost in them if she didn’t watch out.
A wave of fierce sexual attraction washed over her, even while she acknowledged the absurdity of it.
Dear God, Savanna, snap out of it! This man has no interest whatsoever in you as a woman. He wants to turn you over to the authorities so he can collect his reward. Of all the men on earth, this is the last one you should be attracted to. He will betray you in the blink of those incredible blue eyes. If you know what’s good for you, you won’t forget it.
She glanced toward the motionless carcass that he scooted from the cave with his booted foot. Then she peered up at him again, realizing this man was the epitome of what she had spent the past eight years trying to become. He was the personification of independence and self-reliance—completely competent in the wilds, utterly fearless and undaunted.
Fletcher Hawk possessed the skills and characteristics she strived to attain. Except that he had a heart of granite. She preferred not to become that callous and unfeeling.
When she noticed that he was gathering logs to build a fire, she gestured toward the mouth of the cave. “There’s a way to build a small fire so the vigilantes—”
“I told you that I’m half Apache,” he cut in, then sent her an exasperated look. “I know how to build an inconspicuous campfire. Hell, I was doing it while I was still in diapers, living a hand-to-mouth existence with my clan.” He stared at her darkly. “Then the army massacred men, women and children in our village. My mother and grandfather died from their wounds. Your people stole our land, our freedom and made life hell for my people.”
“I don’t think it’s fair to hold me personally accountable for those cruel practices,” she countered. “And it’s not as if your kind didn’t retaliate just as cruelly against my kind…”
Her voice fizzled out when she realized she was waving her bound arms in expansive gestures instead of clamping her elbows against the quilt to hold it in place. Fletch’s gaze dropped to the cleavage she had unintentionally exposed before he surveyed the scrapes and faded bruises on her forearms.
“Compliments of Roark Draper,” she said bitterly. “You’re lucky you never knew him. Believe me, he deserves to be as deep in hell as a buzzard can fly in a month.”
When she noticed his dubious expression, she huffed out a frustrated breath. Her comments might be falling on deaf ears, but that didn’t stop her from trying to drive home her point. “It could have been self-defense,” she insisted. “I was fighting for my virtue and my life. I’m not the first woman Roark terrorized, either. My best friend, Willow, caught his fancy last month. Then she suddenly disappeared. I feel responsible for whatever has happened because I convinced her to come to town for a visit before we returned to the Chickasaw girl’s academy to begin our fall teaching session. Now she’s missing.”
Savanna frowned worriedly. “I wondered if perhaps she was pregnant and too ashamed to rejoin Morningstar if Roark refused to marry her. Either that or Willow was injured during one of Roark’s drunken binges. Oliver Draper might’ve ordered his hired guns to clean up after his son,” she muttered bitterly.
“You think there’s a possibility that Willow is dead?”
Savanna nodded bleakly. “I’m hoping for the best, but I fear the worst. She could be hiding to protect herself and her unborn baby, if there is one. But if Roark became angry, she could have come to harm. His father always bailed him out and covered for him when he got into trouble.
“I also think Buck Patterson doubted I’d need my horse after Roark finished with me. Roark kept threatening bodily harm and certain death to keep me quiet. Believe me, I made plenty of racket about Willow’s disappearance and his possible involvement to counter his accusations. Buck simply jumped the gun to edge out competition for ownership of my horse.”
“You do have an amazing way of spinning a tale to your advantage,” Fletch remarked as he stoked the fire he’d built by the cave entrance. “Coffee?”
“I’d rather have my clothes back.”
He shook his raven head. “Not unless your friends get so close that we have to make a run for it.”
“They are not my friends,” she insisted resentfully. “They are my would-be executioners. If they dispose of me, Oliver can dole out the reward money as salary to his hired guns. But I’m absolutely certain that I won’t be allowed to have my day in court.”
“I’ll see that you have your day,”