“Especially the way Conner collects eggs,” Case said dryly.
“My brother hates that chore,” she explained to Hunter.
“I’ll take it over,” Case said. “And I’ll build a chicken run as soon as my own cabin is finished.”
Hunter gave his brother a startled look. “I take it you’re planning on settling here?”
“Yes. The land…” Case hesitated, then shrugged. “The land eases me. I belong here.”
Hunter looked at Sarah. She was very busy scrubbing out the bean pot.
“Well, then we better take care of those Culpeppers once and for all,” Hunter said calmly.
“Amen,” Morgan said. “It’s a durned long ride to make every time we hear rumors that you bit off more Culpepper than you could chew.”
“How well are they dug in?” Hunter asked his brother.
“They’re lazy,” Case said. “Most of them have brush wickiups that wouldn’t stop a bullet.”
“Ab?” Hunter asked.
“He and two of his kin are kind of dug into the side of the canyon.”
“Any good angles of fire?”
“Only one, and it’s guarded.”
“Any chance of burning them out?”
Case shrugged. “It could be done, but I’d hate to be the man to do it.”
“Water?” Hunter asked.
“It’s called Spring Canyon because water runs year round.”
“Supplies and bullets?” Hunter continued calmly.
“Enough of both for a long winter or a short war.”
“Weak points?”
Ute gave Hunter an approving glance.
“Lack of discipline,” Case said promptly. “There have been unauthorized raids on some ranches in the high country.”
“Any raiders get killed?”
Case looked at Ute.
Ute shook his head.
“Sons of bitches cow chasers can’t shoot a fish in a barrel,” Ute said, his voice rich with disgust.
“Any raids here?” Hunter asked.
“Case can shoot,” Ute said succinctly. “We done some buryin’.”
“Not enough,” Case said.
“Are they watching the ranch?” Hunter asked.
Ute and Case both nodded.
Hunter looked quickly at Sarah, who was still scrubbing the pot.
“That’s part of the reason they watch,” Case said roughly. “The rest is Spanish silver.”
“I heard some loose talk about treasure,” Morgan said.
“So did the Culpeppers and Moody’s bunch,” Case said. “They’re hunting silver.”
Sarah looked up from the pot.
“They won’t find it,” she said.
“What makes you so sure?” Hunter asked.
“I’ve been thinking about it.”
Case turned and looked narrowly at Sarah.
“And?” Case prompted.
“They’re looking in the wrong place.”
“What makes you say that?” he asked.
“Like I said, I’ve been thinking.”
“About what?”
“I’m not saying one more word until I get to look for it myself,” she said flatly.
“You think I’d steal it?” Case asked, his voice hard.
She looked as shocked as she was.
“Of all the fool ideas,” she retorted. “Of course I don’t. I don’t think your brother or Morgan or Ute or Lola or the darned chickens would steal it, either.”
Case lifted his left eyebrow and waited.
“I’m getting cabin fever,” she said. “If I can’t hunt silver, no one can.”
“It’s not safe for—”
“—anyone,” she cut in. “But you come and go all the time. I’m tired of being a prisoner in my own house.”
There was a tight silence. Then Case swore under his breath and looked at Hunter.
His brother just smiled.
Case turned back to Sarah. The look in his eyes was colder than winter.
“Where do you want to start?” he asked.
“I’ll tell you when we get there.”
“Of all the stubborn—”
“Looks like you’re going to be busy,” Hunter interrupted. “Morgan and I will divide up your watches.”
Case started to object.
“As long as Sarah is with someone,” Hunter said, “she’ll be safer out of the cabin.”
“But—” Case began.
“In fact,” Hunter continued without a pause, “she might consider sneaking out after dark and sleeping in the brush with a guard. This cabin would burn like a torch.”
Case went completely still.
“We’ve got four men to stand guard over her all the time,” Hunter said to his brother. “If you can’t do it, one of the rest of us will.”
“Conner could—” she began.
“No,” Ute and Case said as one.
“Whoever guards you will be a target,” Case explained. “Conner hasn’t had much practice at that.”
Ute nodded. “Good boy, but he lacks seasoning.”
“I don’t want Conner put in danger because of me,” she said tightly. “I don’t want anyone put in—”
“I’ll see to Sarah,” Case interrupted, looking at Hunter, “except when you need me to scout Spring Canyon.”
“I’m not bad on the stalk,” Morgan said to no one in particular. “Particularly at night.”
Ute grinned. “You almost got me over to Mexico.”
“I came real close,” Morgan agreed.
“You still hunting me?”
Sarah stiffened and stared at Morgan.
“I sure did love that pony you stole,” Morgan said wistfully. “But no, I’m not hunting you anymore. Unless I find you near my ponies…”
Ute chuckled.
“Plenty horses now,” he said. “Conner and Sarah sweet talk them wild ones. Mustangs take to them like flies to jam.”
Hunter looked between the two men and nodded, satisfied that there would be no trouble.
“I take it you know the country best,” he said to Ute.
The old outlaw grunted, swallowed the last drop of his coffee, and stood up. “I know it.”
“Show me the best lookouts around the ranch,” Hunter said, “the best ambush sites near Spring Canyon, which canyons are blind and which can be climbed by a man afoot.”
Ute looked at Case.
“If Hunter had been a general,” Case said, “the South would have won the war.”
“Doubt it,” Morgan said.
“So do I,” Hunter muttered. “Tactics are one thing. Repeating rifles are another. Those Yankee rifles were a blazing wonder.”
He stood and looked at Ute.
“Afoot or on horseback?” Hunter asked.
“Ride now. Walk later.”
“When are you due on the rim?” Morgan asked Ute.
“Noon.”
“I’ll take noon to sundown,” Morgan said, standing.
He looked at Sarah.
“Thank you for breakfast, ma’am. A man misses a woman’s hand at the stove.”
“You’re welcome,” she said. “Feeding you is the least I can do. This isn’t your fight.”
“Where there’s a Culpepper, it’s my fight.”
She looked at the suddenly hard lines of Morgan’s face and wondered what the Culpeppers had done to him. Despite her curiosity, she didn’t ask. After hearing about Hunter’s family, she didn’t really want to know anything more about the Culpeppers than where to bury them.
She turned and looked at Hunter.
“Why don’t you just shoot them from ambush?” she asked bluntly. “There are ‘Wanted Dead or Alive’ posters out on every last one of them.”
“If it were that easy, the Culpeppers would have died in Texas,” he said. “They’re real canny when it comes to surviving.”
“I been to their camp,” Ute said. “Next time I kill some.”
“No,” she said. �
��Not if Conner is with you.”
“You can’t protect him forever,” Case said.
“I’ll do whatever I have to,” Sarah said coldly. “Conner has the whole world in front of him. I want him to have every bit of it.”
“If it’s all the same to you,” Hunter said, looking at Ute, “I’d rather you didn’t kick over the beehive until we’ve had a chance to lay some traps.”
Ute shrugged. “Today. Tomorrow. Next week. Makes no never mind. Them Culpeppers is dead men walking.”
“Are you riding a particular grudge?” Hunter asked.
“They shot Sarah’s jacket to rags. Thought it was her. Dead men walking, every last one.”
Surprised, Case looked into Ute’s clear black eyes. Before the ambush in the canyon, Ute had simply played pranks on the raiders for the hell of it.
Ute was through playing.
“Ride now?” Ute asked Hunter.
“Ride now,” he agreed dryly. “Walk later.”
“I’ll take a look around out back,” Morgan said.
“Don’t trip over Conner,” she said. “He’s sleeping near one of those clumps of big sage.”
Morgan grinned and headed for the cabin door. “I’ll be real fairy-footed, ma’am.”
Hunter and Ute followed Morgan out. The door shut behind them.
Sarah was intensely aware of being alone with Case. Without warning she turned toward him.
He was watching her with smoky green eyes.
“Set some beans to soak,” he said. “I’ll saddle Cricket and Shaker.”
“For what?”
“Hunting silver.”
She told herself that the odd little lurch her heart gave had to do with looking for treasure, not with the veiled hunger in his eyes.
“All right, I’ll set out the beans,” she agreed.
“Will three packhorses be enough?”
“For all the silver?”
He made a disgusted sound.
“For all the firewood,” he said. “It burns a damned sight better than foolish dreams of silver.”
20
Talons of icy wind raked over the canyon country.
Low, pewter-colored clouds boiled overhead. Where the clouds had stacked up against peaks or plateaus, gray became a blue-black mass concealing the land.
“Smells like snow,” Sarah said.
“If it is, we’ll be hunting deer instead of silver tomorrow.”
Case turned up his collar against the wind.
She started to argue but thought better of it. There were extra people to feed. Animal tracks would show clearly against new snow. It was an opportunity they couldn’t pass up.
“No argument?” he prodded.
“I like to eat as well as the next person.”
“Wouldn’t have guessed it lately. I’ve had to shove every bite down your throat.”
She ignored him.
He was tempted to bait her. He could handle her anger better than he could the way she avoided looking him in the eye.
Or the way she stepped aside to prevent even the possibility of brushing against him in the small cabin.
What am I so touchy about? he asked himself grimly. I told her not to tempt me. She’s doing everything she can to avoid it.
And me.
Yet, short of vanishing, she couldn’t help tempting him unmercifully.
Every moment he was awake, something reminded him of the incandescent sensuality he had discovered beneath her fear. The shine of lamplight on her hair, the scent of roses on her skin, the whispering of the spindle as she made yarn, the curve of her chin as she watched a hawk flying free across the sky…everything about her called to him.
And the natural sway of her body as she rode ahead of him aroused him to the point of pain.
“Come on, you stubborn beasts,” he muttered, pulling on the lead rope.
Very reluctantly the first mustang speeded up. The three packhorses were tied together, and all were of the same mind. They wanted their rumps instead of their heads pointed into the winter wind.
Case looked around the rapidly narrowing canyon. From what he had seen of similar canyons so far, he guessed that the head of this one would be a wall only hawks could get over.
It wasn’t a comforting thought. This was the same canyon where the raiders had shot holes in Sarah’s jacket.
Another blind canyon, he thought. Hope the damned raiders have given up on ambushes.
Sooner or later, even dumb, bone-lazy outlaws figure out that ambushing me just isn’t smart.
The back of his neck was prickling. He had a clear feeling that someone was watching them. Carefully he examined every high point for the flash of metal or glass that would give away the presence of raiders. He also watched the horses for any sign that they scented more than rock and piñon ahead.
Wonder what Sarah saw while she was dragging firewood out of here, he thought. Nothing looks promising to me.
Just one of hundreds of similar canyons. She would have a better chance looking for a horseshoe nail in a haystack the size of Texas.
Not that the silver mattered to Case. There was plenty of wood to be gathered, and that was all he cared about.
Sarah finally reined in when they were well past the place where they had been ambushed. A barrier of dead trees, boulders, and rubble lay across the canyon like jackstraws.
“I’ll just be a minute,” she said, dismounting.
He kicked free of the stirrups, landed running, and caught her arm before she had taken two steps away from her horse.
“Where do you think you’re going?” he asked.
His voice was rough with the hunger riding him. The sound of it sent a small shiver through her.
How can I not tempt him when his need is working on my nerves like a file? she asked.
And so is mine.
Lord, I never expected to want a man inside my body, and now I can’t think about anything except holding Case just as close and hard and deep as I can.
Nothing ever felt like that. I didn’t even know anything could.
A thrill of heat shot through her that made her breath catch. She wondered if she would ever again know that astonishing, almost frightening ecstasy.
“If you tell me what’s on your mind,” he said, “I can help you find it.”
She laughed raggedly and hoped she wasn’t blushing.
“I want to climb up that for a better look at the sides of the canyon up ahead,” she said huskily, gesturing toward the mound of rubble.
“If you can see the canyon clearly, a man with a rifle can see you clearly.”
“Do you really think—”
“Hell, yes, I really think,” he interrupted impatiently. “You should try thinking too, or you’ll end up as full of holes as your damned jacket.”
She swallowed.
“Riding into the wind the way we are,” Case said, “the horses can’t scent anyone following us. But I’m betting someone is doing just that.”
Sarah licked her suddenly dry lips.
His hand tightened on her arm as need sank its talons deeply into his body. Then he caught himself and eased his grip.
Even through gloves and heavy clothes, she felt good. Warm and sleek and female.
“What are you looking for?” he asked almost caressingly.
Her mouth went dry. She had seen his eyes like that before, green fire barely banked.
And then he had pressed into her, filling her completely.
“I’m looking for different ruins,” she said huskily. “Not real rooms, but little stone caches built in cracks that are too small to stand upright in.”
“Where?”
“Up canyon. On the south side. I thought I saw something when I was pulling firewood out of that mess.”
Slowly he released her arm.
“I’ll look,” he said. “You wait here. If the horses hear something behind us, get under cover and stay there.”
Case began scrambling up the mound of
debris. It was a jumble of shattered logs, rock of all sizes, and dirt. The higher he climbed, the more obvious it was that a flood had cleaned out the upper reaches of the canyon sometime in the last few years.
Maybe it was the year Hal tried to pistol-whip Conner once too often, he thought.
Then he wondered if this might not be the same canyon where Hal had died.
What was it Sarah said? he asked himself. Something about the side canyons being full of water and Lost River turning into a muddy flood.
Using every bit of cover he found, he went to the top of the mound and flattened himself in a crevice. Carefully, thoroughly, he looked at the upper canyon through his spyglass.
Nothing moved but the wind.
He looked again, this time concentrating on the walls of the canyon, where pockets, crevices, and small overhangs had been weathered out of the solid rock.
Finally Case spotted something he thought might be ruins.
Not much to speak of, he thought. More like a hunter’s cache than a real shelter.
No matter how carefully he scanned the narrow head of the canyon, he found nothing more impressive. He shifted his focus back to the modest ruins. When he was satisfied that he had found a route up to them, he turned toward the lower canyon again.
Methodically he quartered the middle and lower reaches of Ambush Canyon with the spyglass.
Something flashed down in the mouth of the canyon.
Spyglass, likely, he decided. Everywhere we go, someone is watching us.
Or trying to kill us.
Case came off the debris pile faster than he had gone up.
“Well?” she asked. “Did you see anything?”
“There’s at least one man watching the mouth of the canyon.”
“How close is he?”
“Out of rifle range,” he said succinctly.
She lifted her head and smelled the wind like a wild creature. Then she smiled. It was a baring of teeth rather than a sign of amusement.
“They’ll be real cold down there,” she said. “Storms scour the canyon mouths something fierce.”
“There are some ruins up along the south side of the canyon,” he said. “Nothing much to speak of.”
“Can we get to them from down here?”
“It won’t be easy.”
“But we can do it?”
Winter Fire Page 26