His Bundle of Love / the Color of Courage

by Patricia Davids

  “Help me, God,” she whispered again, grappling to the sides of slick rock, edging closer to the beckoning water, to the screaming falls. The footpath was worn and well-used, as if others had come this way before her. She followed the stones, clinging with cold fingers to the jutting rocks as she edged along the cliff face, hoping to hide from searching eyes above.

  The roar of the falls grew louder still. Her heart thundered in answer. Before her was the waterfall. Behind her was the direction she’d come. An awful thought engulfed her. Why had she begun the descent to the falls? If he spotted her, she’d be trapped between him and the raging water.

  But she knew why. She’d been running blindly with no destination in mind other than escape.

  She sensed him coming, felt the air change with another presence. In desperation, Annalisa moved forward, praying there was sanctuary against the wet cliff face. One more step and...

  The world went silent. A deafening silence.

  Shocked, Annalisa wondered for one beat if she’d actually jumped into the foaming pool below the waterfall, if she was dead.

  Trembling, she reached out, touched the silver curtain of water in front of her. A hard rain shower soaked her hand, cold and prickly like needles of ice.

  In awe, she glanced to each side and then upward. The sight was dizzying. Behind was solid rock, wet and slick and shiny, with a jutting overhang high above. Water rocketed over the cliff with such force that a quiet space, like a white-noise machine, formed behind the cascade. She stood on a two-foot ledge, protected in the back by a wall of rock and hidden in front by the waterfall. It was like something out of the movie The Last of the Mohicans.

  Her shoulders relaxed a tiny bit. Maybe James hadn’t seen her descend. Maybe he wouldn’t know she was here. Warmth oozed from her nose. Swiping at the liquid with the back of her hand, Annalisa came away with blood. She shivered, both from cold and shock.

  James had nearly killed her this time. He’d kicked her out of the car, tried to run her down and then driven away. She’d seen him angry plenty of times, but never like this. Never so completely out of control.

  With a shaky sigh, she closed her eyes and leaned her head against the hard, damp rocks at her back. Her arm ached all the way to her wrenched shoulder. She wondered if the bone was broken.

  Never again. Never, never again. She’d said that the first time he’d hurt her, but this time she meant it.

  She listened, intent, but could hear nothing from within the watery cocoon.

  Maybe James hadn’t followed her. Maybe he would go home to California without her. He’d said she wasn’t worth the headache. But she also knew his terrible egotistical pride. James got what James wanted. He hated being the loser.

  A scrambling noise jerked her to attention. A rock clattered against rock.

  Annalisa’s heart jacked into overdrive. Blood pounded in her ears. If he’d found her, she was as good as dead, a casualty to the rocky pool below. No one would ever know he’d pushed her.

  For a second she was helpless. Then the need to survive kicked in. He would not take her down easily.

  With her one good hand, she groped the space at her feet and found what she needed. A rock. A small one, but a weapon just the same.

  The sound of movement increased, grew closer. A shadow moved. A big shadow.

  Shaking hard, she raised her arm.

  A hulk ducked behind the curtain of water. Annalisa’s heart hammered wildly. She braced to defend.

  “Hey, lady, are you ok—”

  With a sob, she struck, crashing the rock down with all her ebbing strength.

  “Hey!” The shadow staggered back, arm upraised in defense.

  The haze of fear cleared from Annalisa’s eyes. A man had joined her behind the falls but not James. He wasn’t James. He was a big, dark, angry stranger in a cowboy hat.

  And she’d bashed him with a rock.

  * * *

  Austin blinked rapidly at the slender woman with the stunned face. She was as pale as strained milk and bleeding from the nose and mouth.

  “What’s going on here?”

  She dropped her whamming rock and shrunk away from him.

  Austin frowned. Why the heck was she cowering?

  “I’m sorry. I thought—” She clamped her pale, chattering lips shut.

  He rubbed at the growing knot at his temple, surprised to find his hat barely askew. As he adjusted the Stetson, the stars subsided enough that he could remember why he’d come down from the ridge to begin with. “What happened to your face?”

  She shook her head. Hair as gold as a palomino horse clung to the sides of her face. It was a good face, nice bone structure, with long blue eyes that took up a lot of physical real estate. But her nose was bleeding and her upper lip puffed out like a bee sting.

  Those eyes shifted to one side. In a low murmur she said, “I fell.”

  “Here? On the rocks? Did you fall from the ridge?”

  “Um, yes. On the rocks. I was...um...hiking.” Again, her eyes skittered all over the place. Everywhere but on him. Austin’s sixth sense crackled like milk-drenched Rice Krispies. There was something the little lady wasn’t saying. His gaze dropped to her shoes. Heels. Strappy, spiky heels. She was hiking in those?

  “Looks like you need a doc. Can I call someone for you?” He fished in his pocket and dragged out a cell. “No guarantee of service up here.”

  She shook her head. “There’s none. I tried.”

  Other than his, Austin didn’t see a cell phone. In fact, she carried nothing at all, and unless his eyesight had worsened in the past three minutes, she had no pockets in the sleek pants and fitted sweater. The sixth sense squealed louder. Something was amiss.

  He glanced at his trusty little flip phone. The woman was right. The satellite logo was spinning like a top and coming up short. No service. “You hiking up here alone?”

  “What?” She looked startled, doe-eyed and guilty about something. A drop of blood rimmed one nostril. She dabbed it with a wrist.

  “You said you were hiking and fell. You alone?”

  “Oh. Um...yes. Alone.” Again the shifty eyes, the jittery movements. Add a hard swallow for measure and he was sure the lady was lying through her even, white teeth.

  She started to move as if to pass him. Austin stepped back but not in time. She bumped the rock face. A cry slipped from swollen lips as she grabbed for her left arm. “Oh, God, please.”

  Austin jacked an eyebrow. Was she one of those fruitcakes lured by the town’s “rumor” of answered prayers? “Forget it. It’s just a story made up to draw tourists.”

  She blinked, cradling the arm against her chest. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Praying under the waterfall.” He motioned toward the foaming spray of water. “Useless.”

  With a bewildered look, she doubled forward and moaned. Her body shook like a motherless calf on Christmas morning.

  Against his better judgment, Austin accepted what he had to do. “That’s it. You’re going to a doctor.”

  “I think my arm may be broken, but...” She ended on a sob.

  “But what?”

  Her pale lips tightened beneath worried eyes. Austin huffed a frustrated sigh. One, the woman was hurt. Two, she was lying. Three, he wasn’t sure what else to do.

  He didn’t like getting involved in other people’s business. In fact, he didn’t like getting involved with any kind of people for any reason, but he wasn’t a heartless mule, either, who’d leave a woman with a broken arm five miles from the nearest working telephone.

  “Come on.” He edged his way from beneath the falls and out into the perfect early autumn day. Or it had been perfect until the calf disappeared and a woman showed up.

  Austin started up the rocks toward his wai
ting horse before he remembered. The woman had only one good arm. Going down to the falls was an adventure. Getting back up required two good hands and a stout disposition. With a sigh, he pivoted, taking care on the slick limestone.

  Wet and shaking, the blonde edged cautiously along the wall, still cradling the arm.

  He trudged back to her. “How did you get down here anyway?”

  She shrugged but said nothing. Her silence bothered him.

  “Oh, right, you fell.” And I flew in on a Learjet. “Come on. You first.” If she slipped, he could catch her.

  She skittered past him, huddled into herself, the bright blue sweater stretched taut across her stooped back. She was like a wounded blue jay, a flash of color against the deep gray rocks.

  Austin wanted to take hold of her elbow to steady her ascent but she didn’t give him the chance. She was a strange creature, a mystery with her scared-doe eyes and defiant rock thumping.

  He lifted a hand to his temple, found the knot. It didn’t hurt much, nothing compared to how the woman’s arm must feel. He’d had a broken bone once when a horse and cow collided and his leg was sandwiched between. Hurt like the dickens.

  He could hear her breathing, the puffs of someone unaccustomed to long hikes on rough terrain. He thought of her girly heeled shoes, her upscale clothes, the bleeding face. She was lying.

  The question was, why?

  He moved in behind her and took her elbow with one hand and supported her back with the other. She flinched, a motion that made Austin grind his back teeth. But she didn’t pull away, a good thing, because Austin was a stubborn man. If he had to, he’d swoop her over one shoulder and cart her up the rise like a sack of sweet feed. She probably didn’t weigh much more than a hundred-pound sack of oats.

  They reached the top of the ridge and she paused for a moment to catch her breath and look around. Not a casual glance at nature’s beauty, but a search. A furtive, wary search.

  For what?

  Austin’s eyes narrowed. “My horse is this way.”

  She spun toward him. “Horse?”

  “Look, lady, there are no roads back in here. The nearest ATV trail is three miles and then it’s another two miles to town. You either walk or ride horses.” Or like some high-rollers, you flew over in helicopters. Man, did that ever set his teeth on edge. He scowled. “You didn’t fly in on a helicopter, did you?”

  “No.” She hitched her chin. He noticed long red marks on her throat. Funny place to be injured in a fall. “I can walk if you’ll lead the way.”

  Stacking fists on hips, Austin rolled his eyes. “Afraid of horses?”

  “No.”

  “Then why walk when you can ride?”

  “But you said...it’s your horse.”

  “I don’t know where you come from, lady, but around here a man doesn’t ride while the woman walks. What’s your name anyway?”

  She hesitated before saying, “Annalisa.”

  No last name. Interesting.

  “Fancy name.” But then she was a fancy-looking woman, sleek and well-groomed. Except for the blood and bruises. “I’m Austin Blackwell. You’re on my ranch.” Practically.

  She pressed her lips together in an expression of worry. “I’m sorry.”

  He glared at her. “For what?”

  Her fingers fluttered. Exactly like the pulse above her collarbone. “Trespassing. I should have asked before...uh...hiking.”

  Austin pinned her with a look. “Yeah. Hiking.”

  It was none of his business if she fell or jumped or was attacked by Sasquatch, just as it was none of his business if she lied. None.

  Austin started to sweat.

  The last thing he needed was a woman with suspicious injuries.

  They approached Cisco who’d found a patch of grass to nibble on. The sooner he got Miss Annalisa mystery woman off this mountain and into someone else’s care, the easier he could breath.

  “You know how to mount? One foot in the stirrup. Throw the other over. I’ll give you a boost. You take care of the arm.”

  She nodded and with a gritty determination given her condition, stuck a foot in the stirrup and hopped. Austin leaned in to help, a hand beneath her free foot, the other ready to brace her back. The scent of perfume, definitely not the cheap stuff, but mysterious like her, contrasted with the earthy, wetness of the falls. He did his best not to notice, but the fragrance reminded him of something. Something he’d put out of his mind long ago.

  He clenched his teeth against the fantasy, hoisted her other foot and put her into the saddle as gently as possible. She was light if leggy, tall enough to reach his stirrups. And he was no small fry.

  Annalisa’s face paled with the movement. She bit back a groan. A small one, but he heard it.

  “Easy,” he said, feeling like a heartless slug for hurting her. If he wouldn’t have been thinking of her long legs and heady scent, he could have been more careful.

  Yeah, and if that sorry calf hadn’t gotten out, he wouldn’t be here in the first place with his sixth sense screaming like a banshee.

  Ifs didn’t mean much in Austin’s vocabulary. If life was as it should be, he’d still be in Texas.

  He took Cisco’s reins and tossed them over the saddle horn. In quick, efficient movements he swung into the saddle in front of his guest, taking care not to jar her. Annalisa leaned back, away from contact.

  Austin shifted in the saddle to look at her. “Brace your bad arm against my back and give me your other.”

  She hesitated, clearly not wanting to touch him. Well, too stinkin’ bad. He didn’t want her falling off.

  “One broken arm is enough,” he barked. She flinched, eyes widening.

  He grabbed her good hand and slapped it against his rib cage. With a tsk and slight tightening of his knees, he set Cisco on an easy walk through the trees.

  Behind him, Annalisa was as stiff as new leather.

  What was up with this lady?

  ISBN: 9781460310694

  Copyright © 2013 by Harlequin Books S.A.

  The publisher acknowledges the copyright holder of the individual works as follows:

  HIS BUNDLE OF LOVE

  Copyright © 2006 by Patricia MacDonald

  THE COLOR OF COURAGE

  Copyright © 2007 by Patricia MacDonald

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  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

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