“Oh,” she moaned. “Ouch. Oh, this is simply awful.”
He shot her a look but said nothing.
She managed to let go of the reins and shift her body toward him. Keeping his injured arm at his side, he extended his left hand up to her. “Okay, now slide off.”
He reached to steady her, but when her feet hit the ground, her knees buckled and her body slammed against his.
He felt hard, hot and damp with sweat, but thank goodness he was there. He smelled of leather and horse and sweat and something pepperminty. His breath? She swallowed and wondered what she smelled like to him—certainly not lavender after miles of choking dust and perspiration.
He stuck a canvas-covered metal canteen in her hand and led her mare off to the spring. She gulped a mouthful of the metallic-tasting water. “How much farther?” she gasped.
“About fourteen miles.”
She groaned and gulped down more water. “I cannot ride fourteen more miles.”
“Yeah, you damn well can. You wanted this. Besides, I’m betting you’re stronger than you look.”
“You would lose, Sheriff. I am what you see before you.”
Jericho studied her with weary eyes. “I see a tired, stubborn city girl who wishes she’d never left Chicago.”
She didn’t answer. She hadn’t breath enough to argue.
“You’ll feel better when we make camp and you can soak your muscles in a cold stream.”
“When will that be?”
“Four, maybe five hours. Maybe a little more.”
“Would it be less if we rode faster?”
“Might, but that wouldn’t be smart. Don’t want to raise a lot of dust that could be seen.”
“By the Tucker gang? Where do you think they are?”
“Dunno for sure. Could be anywhere. Come on, time to mount up.”
Maddie gritted her teeth. Maybe Jericho was right. The West was rough and unforgiving for a woman. If she lived through this, she would never, never leave the city again.
After another grueling three hours, she lost track of time. The pine trees merged into larch and cottonwood groves, the vegetation grew more and more sparse. Patches of buttercups spotted the ground, along with an occasional knee-high bush with prickly stems and pale pink flowers.
The dry air parched her throat; it smelled of sage and something else—wood smoke, maybe. The scent reminded her of food and her stomach began to growl so continuously she was sure Jericho could hear it.
Not once did he twist in his saddle to check on her and he never slowed his pace, just kept moving steadily forward in front of her. Fatigue made her tilt to one side. She righted herself with a jerk, only to find herself gradually leaning to the other side.
Fighting to prevent her eyelids from drooping shut, she started to sing to keep up her spirits. “She was only a girl from the country, you see...”
“Hush up!” Jericho ordered. He rode back to her side. “A voice carries out here.”
“Are we close to anything important?”
“Might be. Can’t be sure.” He pulled ahead of her and as he passed she heard him murmur, “Don’t drop behind. Stay close.”
Her nerves froze. He knew something. Or sensed something. She tried to keep up, but little by little she lagged behind him. The blazing late-afternoon sun that had blinded her all day ebbed into a gloomy, gray dusk and then blackened into night.
She had never been outside in such total darkness. In Chicago, all the streets and storefronts were lighted. Here, trees became men with clutching arms; shrubs loomed like crouching animals. Maddie shivered, but not from cold. She would never admit it, but she was frightened.
“Jericho?” she called softly.
“Just ahead another mile or two,” he intoned. “Good camping place.”
Thank goodness. That meant supper and a chance to wash the dust and perspiration from her sticky skin. And sleep!
He drew rein beside a haphazard pile of river rocks bordering a shallow creek. While she struggled to get down off her horse, he dismounted and tramped off into the dark, apparently to make sure the place was safe. The mere thought sent a chill up the back of her neck.
By the time he stalked back to her mare, she had managed to slide off the horse’s back, but again her legs gave way. This time she grabbed on to the horse’s bushy tail and stood shaking with exhaustion until Jericho approached.
Without a word he reached out his good hand and pulled her upright. “Can you walk?”
She tried a step and tottered. “No. My legs do not do what I tell them.”
He frog-marched her to the stream and plopped her down on the sandy bank. “Roll up your jeans and get your legs in the water. It’ll be cold, but try to stay there as long as you can.”
Jericho left her hunched over, her limbs submerged in the creek and her neck bent so far her chin almost touched her shirtfront. For damn sure she wasn’t cut out for this. He’d wanted to teach her a lesson, but he didn’t want her to die on the trail.
With a snort he turned his thoughts to supper, dug a small hole in the ground and built a fire. It burned hot and made no smoke.
Maddie stumbled back to camp, her jeans soaked up to her crotch and her cheeks dewy with water she’d splashed over her face and neck.
“Sit,” he ordered.
She sank down where she stood.
“Closer to the fire. If you want to dry out quicker, take off your trousers and hang them on a bush.”
“I most certainly will not.” Her voice sounded so forlorn he felt a little jab of regret. For a woman who hadn’t ridden much, she had done surprisingly well.
On the other hand, he told himself, she’d asked for it. Begged for it, in fact. But when he saw how tough this was for her, something inside him began to soften.
The summer night was mild, with a thin silver crescent of a moon. He liked nights like this: not enough light to be seen and not cold enough to bundle up. Nights like this at the orphanage he’d sneak out to sleep in the corn patch.
He searched in his saddlebags for a can of beans, some of the dried jerky he always carried and a can of fancy apricots. The beans he pried open with his pocketknife and set in the fire.
When the tin was black and the beans steaming, he offered Maddie the spoon. “Careful, they’re hot.”
She gobbled three heaping spoonfuls and stopped. “Why aren’t you eating?”
“Only got one spoon,” he said.
Instantly she held the utensil out to him. “Then we will share.”
He was too hungry to argue. She’d probably think it unsanitary, but at least she was eating. He noticed that each time she handed the spoon back, her fingers shook. His breath hitched in.
They ate out of the single can until the spoon scraped bottom. To his surprise, Maddie said very little.
They ate the apricots the same way. Each time Jericho glanced at her he felt a twinge of concern and a healthy dose of apprehension.
By the time he untied the blankets rolled up behind his saddle and spread them out by the fire, his belly was doing flips.
The last thing he wanted to do was to like this woman, but he couldn’t help admitting she was a courageous companion, capable of strength he’d never thought possible. Also, when she kept quiet, she wasn’t bad company.
But it was crazy to bring her out into the wilderness where he had nothing to do but listen to that whiskey-burred voice and watch those damn green eyes widen at all the things she wasn’t used to, the cry of an owl, a coyote yelping on the next ridge, even the whiffle and stomp of the horses picketed a few yards away.
He strode off to the stream to wash the spoon. When he returned she was eyeing the two side-by-side bedrolls. She bent down to grab one corner of the closest blanket, then straightened with a gro
an and looked at him.
“Must they be so close together?”
Jericho lifted his hands, palms up. “Not safe to be separated, Maddie. Sorry, city lady, I don’t have any fancy pillows.”
She sent him a look that made his heart do a somersault. “I can manage without pillows,” she said tightly. “What I cannot abide is...is...” Her voice cracked.
Jericho sighed. “Is sleeping next to me.”
“Well, yes, but it is more than that. It’s being left in the dark, not knowing what you are planning. I like to be part of things on an assignment.”
“What you mean is you like to run things your way. Out here—” he waved his good hand at their camp “—you’re out of your depth.”
“You mean,” she said in a weary voice, “that out here I am helpless.”
He could practically see the bristles popping up along her spine. Her lips trembled, but she forced them into an unsmiling line.
“I admit I feel off-balance out here in the middle of nowhere, Jericho. But I am here, whether you like it or not. And whatever your—our—plan is, I intend to help.”
Something inside planted a hand on his heart. Damn her dogged, single-minded sense of duty. He worried about the burden she’d be out here. She knew nothing about this country. He’d have to nursemaid her every step of the way, protect her from snakes, saddle sores, scratchy bedrolls, spiders and other dangers, including the Tucker gang.
The last thing he’d wanted was to get roped into protecting her; made him nervous being responsible for anyone other than himself. Especially a woman.
Especially this woman. Mrs. Detective couldn’t keep her pretty little nose out of anything and she paid no attention to her own limitations. She could get herself hurt or even killed. That thought pumped cold, sweaty fear into his gut.
This whole thing was making him crazy.
“Jericho?”
Her measured voice sounded an alarm in the back of his brain. “Yeah?”
“I do not believe I can sleep like this.” She pointed to the two side-by-side bedrolls.
“You got another idea?”
She said nothing, just snapped her mouth closed. He kicked dirt over the fire, hobbled both horses, and sat down on one of the blankets.
“Get some shut-eye, Mrs. Detective. Tomorrow could be rough.”
He slipped the sling off his injured arm, forced himself to do a dozen wrist stretches and deliberately flexed each of the fingers of his right hand. It hurt too much to do more. He grabbed the bottle of painkiller, swallowed a double mouthful and shucked his boots. Folding them up with his Colt underneath, he laid them under his head. Then he positioned the two rifles he’d brought next to him and patted the bedroll beside his.
“Come on, Maddie, crawl in. You’ve got to get some sleep.”
Maddie glowered at him. He wanted her to wrap herself up like a sausage in a smelly old blanket? He made it look easy, but... Oh, all right, she would try it.
She planted her bottom on the wool and let out a cry. Her derriere was on fire! Quickly she scooched down to a prone position, kicked off Sandy’s huge boots and folded the blanket edges over her body.
“Good girl,” the motionless figure beside her murmured.
Tears threatened, but she blinked them back. Even if every inch of her ached as if she had rolled down Mt. Everest, and even if she felt like having a good cry, she felt absurdly pleased with herself. Tomorrow, she vowed, she would do even better. Jericho would be proud of her.
A hard knot formed in her belly. Careful, Maddie. Do not look to this man for approval. Do not let him become important. Beyond showing her how to survive in this wild country, Sheriff Jericho Silver had nothing she wanted.
Nothing.
She had learned her lesson the hard way. Trapped in a suffocating marriage when she was too young to know better, the life in her had been all but snuffed out. She would never, never let that happen again.
Chapter Nine
Jericho laid his arm across Maddie’s slumbering form and put his mouth so close to her ear he could smell her lavender scent. “Don’t move,” he murmured. “And don’t make a sound. Someone’s coming.”
Maddie snapped her eyes open to a star-dotted sky and an impenetrable thick blackness surrounding them. She had not been asleep, but she had heard nothing in the quiet but the shuffling of the horses and the occasional tu-whoo of an owl.
What was it Jericho heard? She tipped her head sideways until her lips brushed the rim of his ear. “I hear nothing,” she whispered.
Jericho did not answer. Very slowly he slid his Colt from under his boots. He didn’t cock it—the click would be audible. Instead, he rested the barrel on the slight rise his knee made under the blanket, aimed it across the cold fire pit and waited.
There it was again, a soft step and the breathing of a third person. Maddie froze and he could tell she was trying not to breathe.
A twig cracked somewhere behind the horses and Jericho adjusted his aim. Whoever it was halted. Maddie gripped his arm and he winced.
The silence stretched. He felt the gentle gust of Maddie’s exhaled air curl into the shell of his ear and his controlled breathing grew unsteady.
Jesus and Joseph, now was not the time to get hot and bothered by a woman; he had to concentrate. He peered into the darkness but could see nothing. Then came a tiny sound, like something rubbing against a smooth surface.
At once he knew who was out there. He lay back down and slid the Colt back under his boots. Maddie again clutched his sore arm and without thinking he brushed her hand away. He heard her soft gasp. He leaned over her and once more brought his mouth to her ear.
“Relax, Maddie. I know who it is. He won’t harm us.”
She tilted her face up to his. “How do you know that?” she whispered.
He laid his hand over her rigid form. “Just lie still. I’ll explain later.”
They waited. Jericho kept his gaze on the horses; they moved restlessly but didn’t slip the hobbles. Beside him, Maddie began to tremble. He wanted to say something to calm her, but he’d have to wait until the intruder was gone.
It wasn’t so bad, lying here next to her. It had been a long time since he’d been this close to a woman. He’d forgotten how good they smelled.
At last he heard quiet footfalls moving away from their camp and then the far-off nicker of a pony. He waited five more minutes, then lifted his hand off Maddie and sat up.
“He’s gone,” he said, keeping his voice low.
“Who is gone? Who was it?”
Jericho chuckled softly. “An old Indian brave, Nez Percé, I’d guess. Every damn time I’m on the trail he sneaks up at night and searches my saddlebags.”
“What does he want?”
“Food. We ran his tribe off their land, and now they’re starving. I always leave a little jerky and some biscuits or something for him to find. Gotten kinda used to it. One of these nights I’m gonna surprise him with a chocolate cake.”
She drew herself up to a sitting position beside him. “I feel sorry for someone who does not have enough to eat. I hardly know what to say.”
Jericho barked out a laugh. “Well, that’s a first.” He settled back on his blanket and stared up at the ceiling of stars overhead. It was nice when she blew her breath into his ear. Real nice. Made him tingle all over.
* * *
Maddie woke when the sun turned the sky to gold and heated her body through the blanket. She yawned and rolled over to look at Jericho.
He was gone! Heavens, surely he would not abandon her in this wild, uncivilized place? Her hands closed into tight fists. When she saw him again—if she ever did—she would grab her pistol and shoot him right between those maddening blue eyes. She patted the small firearm she carried in her jeans pocke
t.
But she couldn’t just lie here thinking murderous thoughts. She bolted upright, shook out her bedroll and folded it up with hands that trembled. Oh, goodness, every muscle in her body was so sore she could scarcely move. Groaning, she pulled on Sandy’s huge leather boots and limped through the brush down to the creek.
There he was, kneeling on a flat rock scooping water over his face, neck and bare chest. So he hadn’t abandoned her! Relief made her a bit giddy. Without a word she settled a few feet upstream and began washing her face.
“I thought you had left me alone out here,” she said between splashes.
He looked at her as if she were painted purple. “You crazy? You’d survive out here about twenty-four hours and I’d hang for murder.”
“That is certainly an excellent reason for not riding off.” She used her best put-him-in-his-place voice.
Jericho hurriedly dried his face and chest with his shirt and shrugged into it. “I wouldn’t ride off and leave you, Maddie. Lord knows I might want to, but I wouldn’t.”
“Are you sure?”
He eyed her with some disgust. “You have my word on it.”
“I find it hard to believe you.”
He marched up close enough to spit at her. “Out here in the West there’s two things you can always believe in, Mrs. Back-East-Detective. A man’s word and a man’s handshake.”
Maddie stood up and faced him. “Jericho Silver, if you lie to me you will live to regret it.”
“Oh, for—I haven’t lied, and I’m already living to regret it. You don’t have much faith in people, do you?”
“No, I do not.”
He buttoned his damp shirt. “Is it all men you don’t trust, or just me?”
“All men,” she said pointedly. “In my line of work, most of the men I come in contact with are criminals on the run. The rest of them just want to chain you up in a pumpkin shell.”
“Huh?”
“You know,” she said in exasperation. “Men want to marry you. Lock you up in a prison.”
“Well, dammit, here’s one man who doesn’t. I just want to get you back to Chicago in one piece. As soon as possible,” he added.
Harlequin Historical September 2014 - Bundle 1 of 2: The Lone SheriffThe Gentleman RogueNever Trust a Rebel Page 8