Before she could make up her mind, she heard what was attracting the horse’s attention. There was a faint chorus of yips and howls and cries followed by the distant thunder of galloping horses and the crack of rifle fire. The sounds became louder as the renegades galloped closer to the ravine. For a few horrible minutes she was certain that the renegades were going to race straight up the slope above the ravine—and then she and Lucifer would be utterly exposed, with no place to hide and no way to flee.
The sounds peaked and slowly died as the Indians galloped off to the northwest, where Cascabel had his camp.
Heart pounding, Janna set aside the pistol she had grabbed and went back to tending Lucifer with hands that insisted on trembling at the very instant she most needed them to be still. She watched Lucifer’s ears as she worked on his wound, for she knew that his hearing was superior to hers.
“I hope they’re not coming back,” she said softly, stroking the horse’s hot flank as she examined the long furrow left by the bullet. “Well, Lucifer, if you were a man I’d pour some witch hazel in that wound to keep it clean. But witch hazel stings like the very devil and I don’t have any way of telling you to hold still and not make any noise, so—”
She froze and stopped speaking as Lucifer’s ears flicked forward again. Concentrating intently, she heard the faintest of scraping sounds, as though a boot or a moccasin had rubbed over loose rock, or perhaps it was no more than the friction of a low branch against the ground. Then came silence. A few moments later there was another sound, but this time that of cloth sliding over brush. Or was it simply wind bending the spring brush and releasing it again?
The silence continued with no more interruptions.
Very slowly she reached for the pistol again, listening so intently that she ached. She didn’t breathe, she didn’t think, she simply bent every bit of her will toward hearing as much as possible. The stallion remained motionless as well, his ears pricked, his nostrils flared, waiting for the wind to tell him whether to fight or freeze or flee whatever danger existed beyond the ravine.
“Janna?”
At first the whisper was so soft that she thought she had imagined it.
“Janna? Are you all right?”
“Ty? Is that you?”
“Hell, no,” he said in disgust. “It’s Joe Troon’s ghost come to haunt you. Stand back. I’m coming down.”
A pebble rolled down the side of the ravine, then another and another as he chose speed over caution in his descent. Crossing the open spots from the top of the ridge to the gully’s edge had taken years off his life span, even though there was no reason for him to think that the renegades would come back right away. Nor was there any reason to think that they would not. The sooner he was under even the minimal cover of the gully, the better he would feel.
Janna watched Ty skid down the last steep pitch into the ravine. He braced himself on a dead piñon trunk, looked toward her and smiled in a way that made her heart turn over.
“Sugar,” he drawled, “you are a sight for sore eyes.” His glance moved over her like hands, reminding her that she was naked from the waist up. Blushing, she crossed her arms over her breasts but couldn’t conceal the pink tide rising beneath her skin.
His breath caught and then stayed in his throat at the picture she made, the pale perfection of her body rising from the loose masculine pants. Her arms were too slender to hide the full curves of her breasts. The hint of deep rose nipples nestled shyly in the bend of her elbows.
“Ty...don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“Look at me like that.”
“Like what?” he said huskily. “Like I spent most of the night licking and love biting and kissing those beautiful white breasts?”
She couldn’t conceal the shiver of sensual response that went through her at his words.
“Put your arms down, sugar. Let me see if you remember, too.”
Very slowly her arms dropped away, revealing breasts whose rosy tips had drawn and hardened at his look, his words, her memories.
“God,” he breathed, shutting his eyes, knowing that it didn’t matter, the vision was already burned into his memory. Blindly he dug into his backpack, found the roll of cloth he had refused to let her wear, and dropped the cloth on her lap. “Here. Wrap up before you make me forget where we are. Do it fast, little one. A man never wants a woman so much as when he’s come close to dying.”
“Does it work that way for a woman, too?” Janna asked as she snatched the cloth and began wrapping it over her breasts.
“I don’t know. How do you feel right now?”
“Shivery. Feverish. Restless. And then you looked at me and I felt hot and full where you had touched me...and yet empty at the same time.”
“Then it works the same for a woman, if the woman is like you,” he said, trying to control the heavy beat of his blood. “Satin butterfly. God, you don’t know how much I want to love you right now. I saw Lucifer jump and fall into the ravine and then you threw yourself after him and I couldn’t get a clean shot at his head and—”
“What?” she interrupted, appalled. “Why did you want to shoot Lucifer? He isn’t that badly injured.”
“I know. That’s why I was afraid he’d beat you to death with those big hooves.”
“You would have killed him to save me?”
Ty’s eyelids snapped open. “Hell, yes! What kind of a man do you think I am?”
She tried to speak, couldn’t find the words and concentrated on wrapping herself tightly.
“For the love of God,” he said in a low voice. “Just because I seduced you doesn’t mean that I’m the kind of bastard who would leave you to be killed when I could have saved you.”
“That isn’t what I meant. It’s just that…that…”
“What?” he demanded angrily.
“I’m surprised you would have killed Lucifer without hesitation, that’s all,” she said, her voice shaking. “Lucifer is your best chance of building a fine horse herd. He’s your best hope of getting enough money to buy your silken lady. He’s the beginning of your dreams. He’s… everything. And I’m…” She drew in a deep breath, looked away from Ty’s harsh, closed expression and continued quietly. “I’m not your blood or your fiancée or anything but a…a temporary convenience. Why should you kill your dream for me?” She glanced quickly at him. “But thank you, Ty. It’s the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
“How bad is the stud hurt?” Ty asked.
Janna jumped in surprise. It was the first thing he had said to her in the hour since she had thanked him for being prepared to sacrifice his dream in order to save her life.
After that, he had gone to Lucifer’s head, knelt and put himself between the horse’s teeth and her. He had spoken gently to the stallion, stroking Lucifer’s powerful neck with slow sweeps of his hand until the horse relaxed and accepted the strange voice and touch.
Except for those murmured reassurances to the big horse, he had said nothing as he watched her tend Lucifer. He moved only to stroke the stallion or to hand her a packet from her leather pouch or to rinse the rag she was using to clean Lucifer’s cuts and abrasions.
“He’s strong. He’ll be fine,” she said, smiling tentatively at Ty.
“That’s not what I asked. I’ve treated horses for sprains and stones in their shoes and colic and such, but bullet wounds are new to me. It’s not a deep wound, but I’ve seen men die of shock with wounds not much worse than that. Do you think Lucifer can walk?”
She turned and reached for the stallion’s muzzle, only to have Ty quickly intervene.
“I can’t answer your question until I’ve looked at Lucifer’s mouth,” she said.
Ty gave her an odd look and reluctantly moved aside. She bent over the stallion’s muzzle and spoke in low, even tones as her fingers lifted his upper lip. His ears flattened warningly and he jerked his head away. Patiently she worked over him until he tolerated
her fingers around his mouth without laying back his ears.
“What the hell are you doing?” Ty asked quietly.
“Papa said you can tell a lot about men or animals by the color of their gums. Lucifer was real pale when I first checked him, but he’s nice and pink now. He’ll be able to walk as soon as I untie his feet, but it would be better if he didn’t move around much. That wound will start to bleed all over again at the first bit of strain.”
Ty looked at the long gash on Lucifer’s haunch and muttered something beneath his breath.
“What?” she asked.
“We can’t stay here. Those renegades could come back or some of their friends could come prowling to see if anything was missed the first time around. Lucifer left a trail a blind man could follow.” Ty glanced at the sky overhead. “No rain today and probably not any tonight, either. And if there was enough rain to wash out the trail, we’d be washed right out of this gully, too. There’s no food, no water, and no cover worth mentioning. The sooner we get out of here the longer we’ll all live.”
She looked unhappily at the stallion but didn’t argue. What Ty said was true and she knew it as well as he did. She just didn’t want to have to force the wounded stallion to walk.
“I wish he was human,” she said. “It would be so much easier if we could explain to him.”
“How far do you think he can go?”
“As far as he wants to, I guess.”
“He moved fast enough getting here,” Ty said dryly.
“He was running scared then. I’ve seen frightened mustangs gallop on sprained ankles and pulled hamstrings, but as soon as they stop running, they’re finished. They can barely hobble until they heal.”
Ty said nothing. He had seen men in the heat of battle run on a foot that had been shot off. After the battle was over, those same men couldn’t even crawl.
“The sooner we get going the better our chances are,” he said finally. “At the very least we’ve got to get to decent cover and wipe out as much of our trail as we can. Do you know any place near the meadow?”
She shook her head. “Not where a horse could hide long enough to heal. The only place Lucifer would be safe is my keyhole canyon, and I don’t know if he’d make it that far. By the time we got over to the Mustang Canyon trail and down into the canyon and then clear out away from the plateau to the Santos Wash trail…” She shook her head again. “It’s a long way from there to my winter camp.”
“And the renegades are real thick in Santos Wash,” Ty added. “We’ve got no choice, Janna. We’ll have to take Lucifer down the east face of the plateau. From there it’s only a few hours to your hidden canyon.”
Her objections died before they were spoken. She had come to the same conclusion he had. She just hadn’t wanted to believe it was their best chance. The thought of taking the injured stallion down the fearsome eastern edge of the plateau, and from there through the tortuous slot canyon, made her want to cry out in protest.
But it was their best hope of keeping Lucifer—and themselves—safe while his bullet wound healed.
“I know how you feel about restraining a horse, so I won’t ask you to do it,” Ty said firmly. “I don’t think Lucifer’s going to take too kindly to it, either, but there’s no damn choice.” He looked at her. “Get your medicine bag packed and stand lookout up on the ridge.”
“I’ll help you with Lucifer.”
“There’s not room enough for two of us.”
“But I’m used to mustangs.”
“You’re used to coaxing mares into gentleness when they have all the room in the world to run. Lucifer is a stud and trapped and hurting and probably of no mind to be meek about wearing his first hackamore. I don’t blame him a bit. I’ll be as gentle with him as I can, but I want you a long way away when I pull off that blindfold. Besides, someone has to stand watch. That someone is going to be you.”
She looked into the crystalline green of his eyes and knew that arguing would get her nowhere. “I’ll bet you were an officer in the war between the North and the South.”
He looked surprised, then smiled. “You bet right, sugar. Now shag your lovely butt up onto that ridge. If you see something you don’t like, give me that hawk cry you use to call Zebra. And don’t forget my pistol.”
Without a word she tucked his pistol in place behind her belt and began climbing out of the ravine. When she was safely up on the rim, Ty turned to Lucifer once more.
“Well, boy, it’s time to find out if all your piss and vinegar is combined with common sense, or if you’re outlaw through and through.”
Speaking gently and reassuringly, he reached into his backpack and pulled out a pair of sheepskin-lined leather hobbles that he had taken from the Preacher’s store in hope of just such an opportunity to use them. When the hobbles were in place on Lucifer’s front legs, Ty cut through the cloth that joined the stallion’s hind and foreleg.
Lucifer quivered but made no attempt to lash out with his newly unbound feet. Ty stroked the horse’s barrel and talked soothingly until the stallion’s black hide no longer twitched and trembled with each touch.
“You did real well, boy. I’m beginning to think you’re as smart as you are handsome.”
He went to the backpack for the length of braided rawhide and the steel ring he had also bought. A few quick loops, turns, and knots transformed the ring and rawhide into a workable hackamore.
“You’re not going to like this, but you’ll get used to it. Easy, son. Easy now.” As he spoke, he slipped the makeshift hackamore onto the stallion’s head.
Lucifer snorted and began trembling again as soon as he felt the rawhide against his skin. Patiently Ty rubbed the horse’s head and neck and ears, getting him used to the pressure of human hands and hackamore on his head. Lucifer calmed quickly this time, as though he were losing the ability to become alarmed—or questioned the necessity for alarm—at each new thing that happened.
Ty hoped that it was common sense rather than weakness that was calming the stallion, but he wouldn’t know until he got Lucifer up on his feet how much strength the wound had cost the horse.
“Well, son, this is the test. Now you just lie still and show me what a gentleman you are underneath all that bone and muscle and wildness.”
With slow, smooth motions, Ty eased the blindfold down Lucifer’s nose until the horse could see again. For a moment the stallion made no movement, then his ears flattened and he tried to lunge to his feet. Instantly Ty pinned the horse’s muzzle to the ground and held it there, all the while talking soothingly and petting the rigid muscles of the stallion’s neck as he struggled to get to his feet and flee.
Ty never knew how long it took to get through Lucifer’s fear to the rational animal beneath. He only knew that he was sweating as hard as the stallion before the stud finally stopped struggling and allowed himself to be calmed by the voice and hands whose gentleness had never varied throughout the pitched, silent struggle.
“How the hell did she ever hold you long enough to get the blindfold on?” Ty wondered aloud as he and Lucifer eyed each other warily. “Or were you just used to her smell?”
The stallion’s dark, dark eyes regarded Ty with an intelligence that was almost tangible. There was no malevolence, no sense of a feral eagerness to find an opening and strike. There was simply an alertness that had been bred into the horse’s very bones and had been honed by living in the wild.
“Wonder who your mammy was, and your daddy, too. They sure as hell weren’t bangtail ridge runners. You’ve a lot of the great barb in you, and maybe some Tennessee walking horse thrown in. My daddy would have traded every stud he ever owned to get his hands on you, and he would have considered it a bargain at twice the price. You’re all horse, Lucifer. And now you’re mine.”
Lucifer’s ears flicked and his eyes followed each motion Ty made.
“Well, you’re half mine,” he amended. “There’s a certain stubborn girl who owns a piece of you whether she admits it or
not. But don’t worry, son. If you can’t take the tame life, I’ll set you free just like I promised. I don’t mind telling you, though, I hope I don’t have to. I left some fine mares with Logan. I’d love to take you up to Wyoming and keep you long enough to have at least one crop of foals from you.”
While Ty talked he began to shift his weight off the stallion’s muzzle a bit at a time until very little was left to hold the horse down.
“Ready to try getting up again? Slowly, son, slowly. Real nice and gentle. You lunge around this little gully and you’re going to hurt both of us.”
Once Lucifer realized that his head was free, he rolled off his side and got his feet underneath him. He quickly learned that the same man who could pin his muzzle to the ground could also help getting him to his feet with a few judicious pulls on the hackamore rope. Very shortly the stallion was standing again, unblindfolded and trembling all over at the strangeness of being close to a man.
“You’re as smart as you are handsome. It’s a shame you ran loose so long. You would have been a fine partner for a man, but after all these years I doubt you’d accept a rider. But that’s all right, son,” Ty said, slowly coiling the rawhide lead rope until he was right next to Lucifer’s head. “I don’t need to strut and show off how grand I am by breaking you. There are a thousand horses I can ride, but you’re the only one I want covering my mares.”
The words meant nothing to the stallion, but the calm voice and gentle, confident hands did. Lucifer gave a long snort and stopped rolling his eyes and flinching at every touch. Slowly he was accepting the fact that although man in general had been his enemy in the past, this particular man was different. The stallion had been pinned and blinded and helpless, but the man hadn’t attacked him. Obviously he wasn’t going to, either.
As the stallion slowly relaxed, Ty let out a long, quiet breath. “You’re going to make it easy on both of us, aren’t you? I’m sure glad that bullet and a few miles of running took the starch out of you. I’ve got a feeling you wouldn’t have been nearly so civilized about this if I’d caught you fresh. But then, if you’d been fresh, we’d never have caught you, would we? The Lord works in strange ways. I’m glad He saw fit to give you to us, if only for long enough to heal you and set you free.”
Elizabeth Lowell Page 20