by Jean Barrett
“What?”
“Nothing.”
She turned her head away and was stubbornly silent. Painfully silent. Gazing at her, Roark sensed that she hadn’t told him everything. There was more. He didn’t press her, though. He understood about secrets and the need sometimes to hold them inside. He had his own deep ache he was guarding.
“It must be hard,” she said after a moment.
“What is?”
“Being a private investigator at the same time you’re living and breathing cattle.”
He wasn’t alone in being perceptive. “It gets tricky,” he admitted, but he didn’t tell her just how torn he was or about the decision he had yet to make.
“My grandfather didn’t have to worry about being divided like that,” she said wryly. “Nothing mattered to him but his precious spread, even when he was dying. I know why he put me on this drive. It wasn’t to harden me. That’s just a small part of a much bigger motive.”
“Which is?”
“He was hoping that before the drive was over I’d fall in love with cattle and ranching. Or at least that I would learn to appreciate them enough I’d want to keep the Walking W in the family. Treat it just like he did and refuse to part with a single cherished acre. That’s how Joe Walker’s mind worked.”
“And will you preserve it?”
She shook her head. “I’ll sacrifice it. Not because it’s a way to get back at him either, but because I won’t have a choice. With his investments having lost a lot of their value, there won’t be enough to save my agency if I don’t sell the whole operation.”
“Too bad.”
“You think I’m being callous, don’t you?”
Roark told her, no, and that he understood her need to rescue the business she had worked so hard to establish. Told her it was regrettable Joe had never given her any reason to share his sentiments, that it wasn’t fair to expect her now to preserve something his treatment of both her and her mother had taught her to hate. Told her that, in any case, what she chose to do about the ranch was none of his business.
And all the time he was telling her this, what Roark actually wanted was to hear her say she was ready to forget the sins of the past. That she was prepared to fight for the Walking W, that whatever effort it took she would hang on to it. Because, given her opportunity, that’s exactly what he would do himself.
But then he and Samantha had opposite views about ranching. So totally opposite it was a mistake for him to be sitting here on this horse looking at her and thinking how much he wanted her. He’d wanted her from the start and had gone on wanting her throughout the two days of this drive as he’d watched her repeatedly riding after the heifer, braid bouncing, alluring backside lifted from her saddle. She was even more desirable like this in the moonlight, full mouth slightly parted as she eyed the herd, her breasts rising and falling with each breath she took.
Yeah, he wanted her. Wanted to drag her off her horse and place her in front of him on his saddle. Wanted to feel that backside squeezed against his groin while his hands wrapped around her and touched those soft breasts. Wanted to turn her face to his so that he could taste her sweet mouth.
Strong though it was, as frustrated as it left him, it was a temptation he resisted. Because it would end up being more than just sex, it would be an involvement bound to hurt both of them when they wanted entirely different things from life. A hopeless conflict. He wouldn’t risk it.
But Roark wondered how long he could hold out.
They were silent for a long time, and then Samantha spoke, an edge of concern in her voice. “That’s not heat lightning up there, is it?”
“No,” he said, looking at the flashes that flared low in the sky above the distant peaks. “There’s a storm in the mountains.”
“Not headed our way, I hope. We’ve had our share of rain down here.”
The sky above them was still clear, the moon bright. “It’s a long way off.”
But not so distant that they couldn’t hear the dull rumbles of thunder that followed each flash.
“It’s making the herd restless,” she said.
“Yeah, they’re a bit nervous about it.”
“What do we do if—”
She got no further. The stillness around them was rent by a sudden, sharp crack that reverberated along the valley. The result of the blast was both immediate and startling. Like floodwaters bursting a levee, the longhorns bolted and took flight.
Roark heard himself shouting what every drover feared. “Stampede!”
Chapter Five
Roark followed up his first shout with another yell. This one was for Samantha. “Stay close behind me!” he ordered her as the cattle swept by them in a panicked stream. “I’ve got to go after them!”
He knew it wouldn’t be necessary to go back and alert the others in the outfit. They would already have been roused by the unmistakable thundering of a herd in stampede.
“What are you—”
“Samantha, don’t ask questions! Just keep safely behind me!”
His horse, sensitive to the urgency of the situation even before his heels dug into its flanks, sprang forward and raced after the fleeing herd. He had to get in front of the cattle, try to turn them. Otherwise, they would either run until they dropped or end up being so scattered it could take the drovers days to round them up again.
Bent low and strained forward in the saddle, Roark urged his mount to greater speed, making every effort to overtake the longhorns. The terrain was in his favor. A hillock lay directly in the path of the herd. It didn’t stop the cattle, but its steep sides forced a division in the herd, resulting in two branches that were slowed in their struggle to pour around the ends of the hillock. The delay was just long enough to permit Roark to catch up with the herd.
He’d need help to turn them. He knew the others would have leaped on their horses at the first sign of trouble. They couldn’t be far behind him. He swung his head around to look for them and to check on Samantha, and that’s when he saw it, a sight that brought his heart into his throat.
Samantha had sped after him, but she hadn’t stayed behind him. She was now opposite him on the other side of the herd, her horse wading into the ranks of the shoving cattle. What in sweet heaven did she think she was doing? And then he understood. That damn heifer!
Fearing the smaller animal would be crushed in the melee, she was striving to rescue Irma, to cut the heifer out of the herd. The little fool!
Standing in his stirrups, Roark roared a warning. “Samantha, no! Go back!”
Either she didn’t hear him above the bellowing of cattle and the pounding of hooves that shook the ground, or she was too determined to commit suicide to listen to him.
Her horse had better sense than she did. The animal was trying to turn back, trying to carry her to safety as it had been trained to do. Samantha made the mistake of fighting the mare. Reacting with fear and confusion, it reared back. Its inexperienced rider, unable to hold on, was thrown to the ground into the midst of maddened cattle. Cattle with hooves that could trample. Horns that could gore. She would be cut to pieces.
Roark didn’t hesitate. Spurring his mount, he plunged into the mass of surging beasts, battling to reach her before it was too late. It was like swimming across a river against a powerful current that wanted to drag horse and rider downstream. And all the while his desperate gaze searched the area where Samantha had gone down. He couldn’t find her. Where was she?
There! She was just yards away, on her feet now. And as yet miraculously untouched by the longhorns that raged past her on all sides. But how long could she remain a safe island in that deadly sea?
He was close enough now to read the terror on her face. Close enough to count in seconds the time it took him and his horse to squeeze through the swarm to her side. Seconds that felt like light-years.
Understanding his intention to pluck her from danger, Samantha was ready for him, body tensed, arms upraised. His horse managed to slide past
her as Roark leaned out from the saddle, intending a rescue that would have thrilled a rodeo crowd.
But this wasn’t a competition. It was a life-or-death necessity, which was probably why he was able to successfully execute it even though he was on the move. Arm catching her around the waist, he scooped her up in front of him, recovered his balance in the saddle, and hung on to her tightly while his horse led them to safety.
As they broke free from the herd, Roark had a vague awareness of the last of the cattle vanishing around the hillock, followed within seconds by the other drovers giving chase. Then there was silence. He could feel Samantha trembling against him.
“Are you all right?”
“Irma—”
“Forget about the heifer. She’ll survive. I want to know if you’re okay?”
“All in one piece, thanks to you and your horse. That was some feat, cowboy. You can let me go now.” He released her, and she slithered to the ground. She looked around, concern still in her voice. “But my own horse seems to have disappeared.”
“She’ll come back.” He climbed down, drawing the reins of his mount over its head and dropping them to the ground to hold the animal in place. Then he faced Samantha, his hands closing around her shoulders, his tone anxious as he scrutinized her in the moonlight. “You’re sure you’re not hurt?”
“No, I’m fine. Well, a little dazed maybe and still trying to catch my breath, but otherwise fine. And, like I say, very grateful.”
Roark couldn’t remember when he had ever experienced such relief. Or pure anger, which he couldn’t keep himself from expressing now that he knew she hadn’t been injured.
“What in hell possessed you to try something as reckless as that? Why didn’t you listen to me? Why didn’t you stay behind me? Do you realize you could have been killed?”
That I could have lost you?
That’s what he actually meant. Which was why, with the shock of his anger still registering on her face, he obeyed another unexpected impulse. He abruptly stopped lecturing her, hauled her protectively against his chest, and did what he had promised himself earlier he would not do. Crushing his mouth over hers, he kissed her. Kissed her fiercely, possessively.
It was a wild business, all hot and hard and demanding. At first, that is. But once Samantha stopped resisting him, understood he wasn’t punishing her, that his kiss was a demonstration of how much she had already come to mean to him and how scared he had been, the kiss became something else.
Her mouth, which had opened under his in a struggle to voice an objection, now welcomed him. He answered her invitation with his tongue, and she responded to his invasion with her own compliant tongue. A molten fusion of tasting, cherishing, needing. A need that neither one of them could any longer deny.
As their kiss deepened, escalating into a passion that was in turns both rough and gentle but always intense, Roark found himself yearning to bury more than his tongue inside her. He could feel himself swelling, aching with his desire, as he strained against her. Could feel her breasts pressed against his chest, warm and heavy with her own desire.
Oblivious to all reason, he might have sunk to the ground with her, taken her then and there had she permitted it, if sanity hadn’t returned in the form of approaching hoofbeats. They parted, Roark with great reluctance and, by the expression on her face, Samantha with guilt. But not regret, he hoped.
Unhappy with the interruption, Roark scowled at the rider who arrived on the scene leading another horse behind him. Alex McKenzie gazed down at them with his boyish, engaging grin. Either the moonlight was that bright or what they had been doing was that obvious because the grin slowly sagged on Alex’s face. Poor puppy, Roark thought. The young drover was devoted to Samantha, maybe even had expectations, and now he was disillusioned.
Embarrassed, Alex cleared his throat. “Brought your runaway back to you, Sam.”
“Thank you, Alex,” she said kindly.
“What about the other runaways?” Roark asked, referring to the herd.
“Managed to turn them. They’re driving them back now. No more fight in them. They’re docile as sheep. How about you guys? You okay?”
“Fine,” Samantha assured him. “Did you see Irma? Is Irma all right?”
“Safe along with the rest.” Alex cleared his throat again. “Well, I’ll see you back at camp. Gotta let Ramona know to put the coffee on. Man oh man, what a night.”
He left the mare with them and rode off. Roark didn’t wait until he was out of sight to address Samantha, his voice husky with emotion. “About what just happened between us…”
“I know what happened,” she said, making an effort to smile about it. “You were branding me. Or trying to. That’s what cowboys do, isn’t it?”
Knowing how she felt about cowboys, he wasn’t sure whether it was a teasing observation or an accusation. “Is that how you saw it? I thought it was a kiss between two people who’ve come to care about each other.”
“Let’s not discuss it. Come on,” she said, turning away and mounting the mare. “I could use some of that coffee.”
She thought that what had happened between them was a mistake. Hell, she was probably right. Except his acknowledgment saddened him.
“WHAT HAPPENED OUT THERE?” the irritated trail boss asked them as everyone sat around the campfire drinking coffee. All of them, that is, except Dick and Cappy, who were watching over the herd.
Roark knew that Shep was referring to the stampede and not Samantha and him. “The cattle were spooked.” Before he could continue, Ramona spoke up.
“There was lightning and thunder,” she said quickly. “It woke me up. You must have all heard it yourselves.”
Roark eyed the woman. She looked tired, worried…and anxious for them to believe that the stampede had to be the result of a natural cause. He felt sorry for the cook, wished he didn’t have to contradict her.
“It wasn’t lightning or thunder,” he said. “That storm was too far away to set them off, though I grant you it did make the herd restless. Ripe for an opportunity, you might say.”
“What are you telling us?” Shep demanded.
“The stampede happened because of something much closer than a storm up in the mountains. Right on the spot, in fact. Wouldn’t you agree, Samantha?”
Roark looked to her for confirmation. She had seated herself well away from him on the other side of the fire. She was nervous herself, though not for the same reason as Ramona. He could tell by the way the lobe of her ear was squeezed between forefinger and middle finger as she pulled at it slowly.
She looked so much younger in those jeans and with that braid hanging down her back, nothing at all like the businesswoman back in San Antonio with her self-assured, sleek image. This was another Samantha, a vulnerable one who tugged at his gut, making him all the more determined to defend her against any threat.
Her eyes met his, and he knew she was remembering their kiss and wishing it hadn’t happened. “Roark is right,” she said quietly. “It wasn’t lightning, and it wasn’t thunder. It was another sound.”
“Gunfire,” Roark informed them. “Probably the crack of a rifle over their heads.”
The trail boss leaned toward him earnestly. “Are you sure of this? Did you see someone out there?”
“I’m sure, and I didn’t see anyone. It came from out of sight over on the other side of the herd. Samantha?”
She shook her head. “I didn’t spot anyone either.”
Alex was perplexed. “Somebody out there hunting at this time of night?”
“It wasn’t a hunter,” Roark said. “And it wasn’t an accident. It was someone taking advantage of the storm, because I’d swear that shot was deliberate.” Meant to sabotage the drive, because if the cattle are somehow prevented from reaching Alamo Junction in time, Samantha will fail to qualify for her grandfather’s inheritance. But he couldn’t voice this part of the explanation, not when there was no way to be certain of it. Yet.
“But w
hy?” Alex wondered. “And who?”
Roark glanced at Ramona. She was looking more distraught by the moment. “Ramona,” he said easily, “I know it’s too early for breakfast, but this puzzle has got me all hollow inside. Do you suppose you could scare up something for me from that pantry of yours? Anything will do.”
Ramona wasn’t a fool. She had to realize his request was an excuse, that he was sending her away because he didn’t want her to hear his answer to Alex McKenzie’s question. That he suspected she was somehow connected to this whole business. But the cook offered no objection. Tight-lipped and silent, she got to her feet and reluctantly moved off in the direction of her pickup.
Once Ramona was out of earshot, Roark started to quickly explain his intention to the others. “I don’t know the why, but there is a good candidate for the who. Our shadow on the ridge. Which means—”
Shep interrupted him. “Why are we still worrying about this guy when you and I found no evidence of him evening before last? Plus, all yesterday there was no sign of him up there. I thought we’d agreed he left the area.”
“I think we were wrong. I think he’s still with us. And there was a sign of his presence. Samantha spotted the smoke from a campfire just before sundown last evening. Okay, that’s not proof it was his campfire, but after what happened here tonight, I don’t think we can afford not to deal with him.”
“If he’s still around,” Shep said. The trail boss paused, and Roark knew he was thinking of the cattle and his responsibility to prevent any further danger to them. “What do you have in mind?”
“Surprise. It’ll start to get light in another couple of hours. If we can find where he’s bedded down, sneak up on him before sunup has him on the move again, there’s a chance we can take him.”
“All right,” Shep agreed. “I suggest we try to get what sleep we can before then.”
It was decided that Roark and the trail boss would handle the confrontation while Alex and the others remained with the herd where they were needed. Ramona returned and handed around a container of sourdough biscuits. She continued to wear an unhappy expression, but she kept her thoughts to herself.