The Ranger. Carol Finch
ask for my hand, was a devastating emotional blow. It also sent me running home with a lot more speed than dignity and common sense.”
“Which is why you were paddling around in the river without a chaperone,” he presumed as he weaved around the gigantic stone slabs that formed the peak of Ghost Ridge. “Understandable, even if it was a risk to your personal safety. But I guess I can’t blame you for striking out alone. I also needed time alone to conquer my bitter thoughts after the army took my clan prisoner and herded us off like cattle.”
“Were you allowed to go your own way when the soldiers learned that you were half-white?”
Hawk snorted derisively. “Allowed? Hardly. My brother and I escaped captivity with several other braves. Two of them were shot down the first day. Another friend died the third day from the wound he suffered. My brother, Fletcher, and I eventually took refuge with an old friend who advised us to change our appearance and split up so the army couldn’t track us down easily. Fletch headed north and I went southwest.”
“And you haven’t seen your brother since? I can’t imagine not seeing my brothers regularly, especially after we lost our parents in the fire that destroyed our original homestead. We needed mutual compassion and support to deal with our loss.”
“Fletch and I made a pact to rendezvous two years later at Jackson Hole, where the trappers and traders camp.”
She held her breath. “Did he show up?”
“Yes. He had taken a job scouting and riding shotgun for a stage line in Montana while I found the same kind of work in Arizona. Since then he has relocated in Colorado as a cattle detective and bounty hunter and I came back to Texas.”
Shiloh was relieved that Hawk had one family connection left. No one deserved to be alone and isolated. Except maybe those ruthless cutthroats that were out for her and Hawk’s blood.
“I presume the army is unfamiliar with your white name and that’s why they’ve had difficulty tracking you down.”
“That and the fact that our style of clothing and appearance has changed drastically the past decade.” Hawk drew the horses to a halt. “This is where the trail becomes even more difficult. You’ll have to dismount.”
Shiloh eased from the saddle, grateful that Hawk was there to steady her on her good leg. The other one was throbbing in rhythm with her heartbeat.
The wind had picked up again, howling and whistling around the jagged precipice. Shiloh shivered uncontrollably in her damp clothes. These were the same unnerving sounds that echoed in her ears the instant before she stumbled off balance and fell into the ravine.
Hawk must have sensed her unease because he cuddled her closer rather than prop her against a boulder for support. She was beginning to realize that he wasn’t a soulless outlaw. He might very well be an outlaw that seized every opportunity to make money, but he obviously had a smidgen of compassion and integrity.
“I’m going to take the horses over the ridge.” Hawk stepped away, leaving her feeling cold and alone again. “Don’t go wandering off while I’m gone and alert the bandits.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Shiloh glanced sideways, grateful that the darkness concealed the plunging depths of the canyon and granted her relief from her fear of height. “Please be careful. I promised to return the favor of saving your life, but I’m going to need time to recuperate. One bad leg and arm will seriously hamper my rescue skills.”
He chuckled lightly. Then, to her complete surprise, he leaned down to kiss her cold lips. As before, when she had impulsively kissed him, she got just a quick sampling. But she dared not ask for more—for fear she’d like it too much.
That was definitely taboo for a woman who had recently sworn off men and vowed to form no emotional attachments.
“Why’d you do that?” she whispered curiously.
“That’s in case the Great Spirit decides it’s my time to follow the Ghost Path to rejoin my clan.” He handed her one of his saddlebags. “If I don’t make it back, there’s enough pemmican and hoecakes to last you until your ankle heals and you can cross over to Sundance Canyon. The Ranger battalion is headquartered at an abandoned outpost eight miles from here.”
When he turned away, Shiloh clutched the collar of his shirt and pulled him back. “I know I didn’t put my best foot forward, but if we never see each other again, I’d like to die knowing that I’m not the worst possible match for a man.” She peered earnestly at him, wishing her feminine pride wasn’t pressing so hard when staying alive should be the only thought on her mind. “Even if I’m the last person you’d be interested in, Hawk, would I at least be worth consideration as a wife?”
He could hear the need for reassurance and acceptance in her voice and he wanted to strangle that French bastard that had shattered her self-esteem. “I’m not the marrying kind, but you’d be at the top of my list,” he insisted. “You’ve got courage, spunk and spirit. Any man who doesn’t appreciate those qualities in a woman can’t be much of a man.”
“Do you really think so?” she asked, her gaze searching his hopefully.
“I really think so….”
He cursed his lack of self-restraint when he impulsively angled his head to kiss her again, as if it were his right and his privilege—which it wasn’t and it never would be.
Damn it, once he got started kissing her he couldn’t seem to stop. What the devil was the matter with him? It was out of character for him to respond so recklessly to a woman, especially when faced with the arduous task of keeping them both alive. Willfully, he dragged his mouth away from hers before he did something insanely stupid—like help himself to a long, deep taste of those dewy-soft lips and crush her luscious body against his.
“Sit tight, Shiloh,” he said, his voice raspy and disturbed—much to his dismay. “DeVol and Stiles won’t find you here. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
Hawk led the horses along the winding trail, chastising himself for taking another quick taste of Shiloh. Damn it, he kept breaking every hard-and-fast rule about remaining distant and detached during assignments. This had to stop right now! A moment earlier would have been even better.
Hawk forcefully tamped down the warm tingles of lusty pleasure pulsating through him. He concentrated on scaling the difficult section of the trail. Even his mustang turned skittish when the footing became difficult. The mustang balked and nearly jerked Hawk’s arm from its socket in protest.
“This isn’t the first time I’ve asked you to stick your neck out, Dorado,” Hawk told the mustang. “I don’t know what I’m going to do if you become as contrary as Shiloh.”
The second time he tried to coax the mustang into bounding uphill, the wailing wind picked up. The jittery mare reared up then slammed into the mustang. Both animals shifted nervously beside him.
“Enough!” Hawk growled impatiently. He slapped Dorado on the rump, forcing him to bolt forward. The mare whinnied in fear when she was forced to follow the mustang. The horses collided with each other and struggled to regain their footing on the ledge above him.
Hawk muttered several salty oaths when the sky opened up and rain pounded down on him. He wondered what else could possibly go wrong with this escape from the vicious outlaws. But he wasn’t sure he wanted to know. It might destroy what little enthusiasm he had mustered for the occasion.
In grim determination, Hawk climbed over the slabs of rock to regather the horses’ reins. Together they scaled one angular stone slab after another.
A half hour later, Hawk stood on the summit that had felt like the top of the world when he was a child. From here, he had stared into the past and into the future, wishing for a better life. But no amount of Apache training had prepared him for the near extermination of his clan. No amount of consoling platitudes could make him forget how he had hated the whites for their butchery and treachery.
Hated