by Sandra Brown
"I think they're going back to see that girl."
"What girl?" Jake pried his eyes from her chest. "That farmer's daughter?"
"Norma," Banner said sweetly. "Didn't you see the way they were ogling her?"
"I saw it," Jake muttered, turning away. He was doing his fair share of ogling lately. "Her daddy saw it too. Surely those boys wouldn't do anything stupid." His blue eyes pierced the night.
"They're girl crazy. That's all they talk about, think about. It's so silly." Banner lay back down and folded her arms over her stomach.
Jake chuckled. "Silly? What do girls talk about? Hmm? Men."
"Some do. Not me."
"Oh, no?"
"No."
"Why, Banner Coleman, I do believe you're lying. I'll bet—"
He stopped midsentence when popping sounds echoed in the still air. Banner sat up again. "What was that?" It only took another volley to convince Jake what it was.
"Gunfire. A shotgun if I'm not mistaken."
He had already jumped to his feet and was running toward Stormy, toting the heavy saddle in one hand and his rifle in the other. Banner kicked free of her light blanket and went after him. "Do you think that farmer is shooting at Lee and Micah?"
"That's a distinct possibility that's crossed my mind," Jake said through grim lips. He buckled the cinch belt and flopped the stirrup down. Taking his pistol from its holster, he spun the chamber, checking to see that it was loaded. He unfastened the rifle's scabbard and made certain he had ammunition for it. Banner watched his calculated, practiced moves with frightened eyes.
"Wait, I'm coming with you," she said, when he placed his boot in the stirrup and pushed himself up into the saddle.
"No, you aren't, young lady. And I mean it this time, Banner," he said sternly. "You are to stay here and not to move. Do you understand?" He gave Stormy's reins a vicious yank and rode off into the night.
The well-trained animal ate up the ground surefootedly. Jake had only to keep his mind on staying in the saddle and counting the gunshots that split the night air with alarming frequency. They were too close to be coming from the farmhouse. Could he have been wrong? Was this a wild goose chase? He hoped to God it was.
But he knew better.
He spotted flashes of light in the darkness long before he crested a hill and looked down on the dry ravine they had crossed that afternoon. He remembered it. It was a gully about twelve feet deep and forty feet across. There was a narrow bridge spanning it. He drew Stormy to a halt and pulled the rifle from the scabbard.
It was Lee and Micah all right. He could see them cowering behind a clump of pampas grass while the farmer fired his shotgun at them from across the ravine. Thankfully he was a sorry marksman.
Their horses had run out of range. Jake spotted them in a grove of wild plum trees. He crept up to them, quieted them, and secured their reins in the lower branches of the trees.
Running back to Stormy, he pulled himself back into the saddle, laid the rifle across his lap, and took his pistol from its holster. If he rode back and forth along the rim of the ravine, he could cover the boys by firing over the farmer's head while they ran for their horses. As soon as he knew they were out of range, he'd hightail it after them. He doubted the farmer would chase them. He had the girl with him. Jake could hear her pleas as he rode closer.
"Pa, I swear, we weren't doing nothing."
"You call sneaking off to meet two randy cowboys nothing?" Another blast of the shotgun rent the air.
"You don't let me have any fun."
"You ain't supposed to have fun. I promised your ma I'd raise you up proper."
"I am proper. They only wanted to talk to me."
"I know what they wanted. And it appears to me I was just in time to keep them from getting it. I found one of me bastards kissing you."
"One kiss. I swear it."
"Shut up. I'll get to you later."
If it hadn't been so serious, it would have been hilarious. But not so much as a shadow of a grin curved Jake's lips as he gave a Rebel yell that would have curdled the blood of the most ruthless savage and spurred Stormy into a gallop mat defied gravity. His powerful thighs gripped the stallion's back. He thundered along the edge of the ravine, firing both the pistol and the rifle. He aimed well above the heads of Norma and her irate father.
Lee and Micah didn't waste any time. Once they had assured themselves that the nightrider was Jake and not some demon from hell, they scrambled from their cover ami ran toward their horses. The farmer wasn't so easily cowed. They weren't out of range when he started shooting again, cursing virulently.
Jake wheeled Stormy around and began riding back in the opposite direction. He was almost even with the farmer when he nearly ran head-on into another rider. "What the—"
He didn't have time to finish his exclamation before Banner streaked past him like a flash of lighting. Only a shell from the farmer's shotgun whistling past his head too close for comfort caused him to bend over his saddle and continue riding forward. He drew Stormy to a stop and turned him. Without having to think about it from so much practice, Jake reloaded his pistol.
He could see Banner turning her mount around and riding toward him again. The fool! And why hadn't she put a shirt on? Her white camisole was making her a perfect target, but she was peppering the air across the ravine with bullets. When they passed each other again, she shouted over the racket of the fanner's shotgun, "Are they to their horses yet?"
Jake whirled his head around and saw that Lee and Micah had just reached the copse of trees. "Let's get the hell out of here." He wheeled Stormy in that direction, twisting in his saddle to fire across the ravine a few more times for good measure. Banner was right behind him.
When they rode past the plum trees, Lee and Micah joined them. "Thanks, Jake," they shouted over the thundering hoofbeats.
"Keep riding!" he yelled at them. The horses kicked up more dust than a cyclone, but they didn't slacken their speed. They raced toward their campsite. Jake looked over his shoulder once to see if they were being pursued, but all he could see behind them was a ghostly cloud of dust.
When they reined in, he slid from his saddle with one lithe movement. As soon as Micah's feet touched the ground, he caught Jake's flying fist on the chin. His head snapped back and it was a miracle to him that it kept its post on his shoulders.
"What the hell did you think you were doing? Trying to get us killed? Huh?" Jake was enraged. "Keep your pants buttoned up until we get to Fort Worth, understand? Then I don't care if you diddle every whore in Hell's Half Acre. But stay away from nice girls."
Micah's head wobbled in agreement.
"Yes, sir," Lee said, wetting his lips with a dry, dusty tongue and praying to God Jake wouldn't send a bone-cracking fist at his chin. The only man he respected as much as he did his father was Jake. He feared his temper just as much too.
"Now douse that campfire. That sodbuster might come after us yet. Get your horses rubbed down. Then get to your bedrolls. Banner, you—"
He looked around, but saw only Lee's and Micah's properly chastised countenances gazing back at him. "Where'd she go?"
Stupefied from the blow he had sustained, Micah wasn't certain he'd ever heard of anybody named Banner. Lee's eyes glanced around the camp. He was anxious to please and redeem himself, but he couldn't produce Banner. "She was right behind you, I thought."
"Banner!" Jake shouted into the darkness. A squeezing fist of fear got hold of his heart. "Banner!" Nothing answered him but unrelenting darkness and his own pounding heart. "Either one of you see her?"
They shook their heads. Lee said, "I saw her riding right behind you just as I got on my horse. By the time I rode out to meet you, I wasn't looking anywhere but straight ahead."
Jake vaulted onto Stormy's back. "Stay here." He rode out into the night again.
Jake never panicked. He had been called cold and heartless. Men he had ridden with had seen him bury Mends and not show one trace of emotion in
those blue eyes. Nerves of steel. Ice water in his veins. That's how his peers would have described Jake Langs ton.
But not if they could have seen him riding back toward the ravine that night. His face was a mask of fear.
What if that goddamned farmer had got off one lucky shot? What if Banner had caught it? No, she couldn't have. She had ridden back with them. Hadn't she? Hadn't there been four horses racing back to the camp? God, with the dust and the noise, he couldn't swear to it now. If she had gotten back safely, where was she?
He came to the ravine and slowed Stormy to a trot. The horse's sides were bellowing; his coat was lathered. For once Jake didn't notice his mount's distress. His eyes scanned the darkened landscape. Bile filled his throat when he realized he was looking for her body, Banner's body, lying lifeless and bleeding in the dust, that sweet frilly camisole soaked with blood.
He wiped the image from his mind and rode in closer. All was quiet on the opposite side. He rode along the ravine, back again. Several times he made that ride, but saw nothing, not Banner, not the borrowed gelding.
He had no choice but to return to camp. Maybe she had just gone into the bushes to relieve herself and hadn't heard him call her. That was probably it. He had gone off half-cocked and hadn't given her time to come back. They were probably all in camp laughing at him.
But when he arrived,, the gelding wasn't with the other horses. Lee and Micah had obediently curled up in their bedrolls. Lee raised his head.
"Find her?"
"Not yet. But I will. She's bound to be around here somewhere. Get some sleep."
God, where was she?
Jake remembered every cruel thing he had ever said to her. He regretted the times he had deliberately hurt her. Self-loathing tasted vile in his mouth. He would never forgive himself if something had happened to her. Never.
What if that farmer had shot her and dragged her back to his house? What if he let her bleed to death? What if... what if...what if...Jesus, the "what ifs" could drive him crazy.
He circled the camp one more time, his eyes spearing through the darkness looking for a trace of her. He was on his way back to alert the boys, wondering how he would break the news of Banner's death to Ross and Lydia, when he heard something that didn't belong with the other night sounds.
Humming.
A lilting tuneless song coming from the direction of the creek was discordant with the environment. He came off Stormy's back and, pushing aside grapevines and thorny bushes, slashed his way toward the creek.
The gelding was tied to a cottonwood sapling near the bank. Banner's pants and boots were piled on a boulder. She was in the creek, about midstream, cupping handfuls of water over her shoulders.
Humming!
She heard Jake's spur strike a rock and turned her head in that direction. She was still wearing the chemise, but huddled down deeper in the waist-deep water just the same.
"You scared the life out of me," she said breathlessly.
"Me? Scared you? Where the hell have you been and just what the hell do you think you're doing?"
"I'm taking a bath."
"A bath!" he hissed across the distance between them. He threw his hat on the ground and began unbuckling his holster. "When I get my hands on you..." He let the threat dangle as he hopped first on one foot, then the other, tugging off his boots. He sent them flying into the tall grass lining the bank of the creek.
They spoke in whispers for reasons neither could explain. "Why are you angry with me? I didn't go riding off into the night like the boys did. Did you punish them?"
"Yes. Now it's time you got yours."
"What for?"
"You disobeyed me. I told you to stay in camp. What the hell were you doing out there, riding like a cavalry charge and... Where'd you get that gun?" he demanded.
"My papa gave me that pistol on my sixteenth birthday, and I couldn't obey you, Jake. Lee and Micah were in trouble. Did you expect me to stay here and do nothing? I thought I could help and I did. They got away safely."
He worked impatiently at the buttons on his shirt. When they didn't cooperate with his clumsy fingers, he began to tear at them. "Why didn't you ride back to camp with us? We got back and you were nowhere to be found."
"I had eaten about a pound of dust. I was hot and sweaty and wanted a bath. What difference could it make to you?"
"I'll tell you what difference it makes." He finished unbuttoning the shirt. Now he struggled out of it, balled it up, and flung it to the ground. "Didn't you hear me calling you?"
"No. I washed my hair too. I dunked my head several times."
He advanced into the water. Instinctively Banner began backing up. "Well, while you've been out here dunking your head and having a cool, leisurely bath"—he virtually spat the word—"I've been combing the countryside like a madman looking for your body."
"My body?"
"I thought you'd been shot! No one saw you after we rode into camp, no one remembered seeing you after you pulled that little stunt of yours at the ravine."
"And you thought I'd been shot? That farmer couldn't hit the broad side of his barn."
"He could have got lucky. You sure as hell made yourself a target. What possessed you to do such a damn fool thing? You could have gotten yourself killed."
"Well, don't sound so disappointed that I didn't. And you stay away from me, Jake Langston," she said, putting out a hand to ward him off. "What are you going to do?"
Water pulled at his pants as he waded through the creek. His tread was steady and underterred, as though he were on dry ground. He was intent on his purpose. The unwavering light in his eyes told her that much.
"I'm gonna give you the paddlin' you deserve. And I think Ross would back me up."
"Oh, no, you're not." She turned and began thrashing her way to the opposite bank. She slipped in the soft mud and clawed through the water until she gained firmer ground. She had almost reached the grassy bank when her ankle was clasped in an iron fist.
Softly she screamed and began to climb up the bank. But Jake was right behind her, making her efforts to escape him futile. Finally she fell face first into the deep grass, breathing hard from her struggles. He crawled over her body, grasped her shoulders and turned her over.
Their panting breaths echoed each other. He stared down into her face. She met his angry stare defiantly.
"I told you to stay in camp for your own good, Banner. You could have been killed."
She gazed up into his eyes and saw not only his fury but his fear. His hands were trembling slightly even as he held her shoulders anchored to the ground. Her lips parted slightly when the truth dawned on her.
Slowly she raised her arms. Her fingers sank into the white-blond hair that hung around his lean, rugged face. "And you would have cared, Jake," she whispered. "You would have cared."
He blinked. Then in a heartbeat, he lowered himself over her and his mouth came crushing down. Low, guttural, animal sounds emanated from deep in his throat. He was one with every male in creation, driven by that need to claim his female, to protect, to mount, to mate.
She clutched handfuls of his hair and held his head fast. His tongue slid along hers, deep, deep, into the sweetest depths of her mouth. He twisted his lips against hers, realigned them, tasted her again. His fingers softly gouged the flesh of her shoulders.
Restlessly she moved beneath him. When her thighs parted, he nestled himself between them. She was very soft and he was very hard. Woman and man. Fitting perfectly. Hungry for each other.
He lifted his head and smoothed the wet hair from her cheeks. "God, yes, I would have cared. I care. I've tried not to, but I do."
He sipped the water from her face, her ears, her neck. He levered himself up to look at her. The chemise was bunched around her hips, leaving her calves and thighs bare. The sheer cloth clung to her, molding to her body.
Her breasts were no longer a mystery. They were high and round and beautiful. The dusky aureoles were puckered around perfect nipples th
at were beaded with passion. His hand pulled the ribbon free at the top of her chemise. Five pearl buttons later his gaze burned down onto her wet, naked skin.
He touched her. Her eyes fluttered closed. "Jake," she breathed through kiss-dampened lips.
His hand was warm, a delicious contrast to her water-cooled skin. She opened her eyes when that warmth was momentarily withdrawn. Jake paused to study her, then carefully he covered each breast with a hand. His eyes drifted up to hers and they held that telling gaze for a small eternity.
Then he began gently to rub the sensitive tips of her breasts with the pads of his middle fingers.
She whimpered and he looked up at her again. Their gaze held for another long moment. Banner thought her heart would fly out of her chest and join his, so closely were their tempos timed. He smiled at her. It was the tenderest expression she had ever seen on Jake's face, an almost apologetic, gentle smile that rid his face of that cold cynicism that was part of him.
His attention was drawn back to his handiwork. His hand cupped one of her breasts. He reshaped the soft mound to fit his palm, pushed it up slightly and served it to his descending lips. He pecked tiny kisses on the nipple until it thrust its way between his lips.
Had Banner been able to draw a breath, she would have gasped. Never had she imagined such an intimate caress. Touching, yes. But with his mouth? No. Yet it was happening. She could feel the heat of his mouth closing around her snugly, the wet silkiness drawing her inside, the gentle rolling motions of his tongue over her nipple. He whipped it lightly, then lapped at it languidly.
"You have the sweetest breasts... the sweetest... the..."
His mouth moved over her, tasting and licking and kissing her until she feared she would go mad. She raised her hips against his and made a cradle for the hard ridge of muscle that his wet denims conformed to. Moist and warm, she flowered open, her body aching for him to fill that void. She was desperate for the feel of him and ran her hands down his chest.