Chase yanked at Blue's reins, throwing them over the horse's head. "Where are you going now? Hey! Do you realize how many head of horses just passed us back there?" he called, mentally calculating the size of the herd and what its capture could mean for Libby's Army contract. He swung up on Blue's back. "Why aren't we following them?"
"We will... after we get what we came for," she called over her shoulder. Urging Lady into a lope, she followed the churned earth and headed toward a wide canyon that veered off to the east.
Chase frowned and rode to the spot where the quail had dropped. After fastening it to his saddle with his whang strings, he tightened his knees around Blue and urged him on, cocking his Henry one-handed as he went.
It wasn't until he and Libby reached the mouth of the ravine that he heard a sound that sent his neck hair rising—the furious scream of a horse, and the answering bestial roar which echoed hollowly across the walls of rock.
Chase grabbed for Libby's reins and pulled his own mount up short. Years of military training had made him wary of riding blind into a potentially dangerous situation. He'd learned to approach a problem like this tactically. Clinically.
The narrow arroyo was surrounded on two sides by steep, nearly vertical walls of loose shale rock, while the center of the canyon spilled open to a panoramic view of the valley below. The arroyo floor was clogged with ferns, brittle stands of brushwood, and the remnants of ancient rock slides.
Fifty yards away, a giant of a grizzly and an ebony black stallion were squared off in battle. The bear, up on his hind legs, let out a bawling roar and made a sweep with his powerful paw at the stallion. His four-inch claws glittered in the sun like bloody daggers, and Chase noted the torn flesh on the horse's neck. This time, however, the bear misjudged his swipe and the stallion reared up and connected with the grizzly's head with a vicious sharp-hoofed kick.
They were downwind of the bear and both Lady and Blue balked and tossed their heads in near-panic at the scent of him. Chase and Libby fought to keep them under control. "Not here," Chase told her, yanking Blue's head around. "Up there." He pointed to the narrow trail that led to the rim overlooking the narrow gorge.
"He'll get away before we can get up there," Libby protested.
"Better that, than cornering us in that arroyo the way he has the stallion. Going in on his level would be suicidal. It puts all the advantage in his corner. From above, the advantage will be ours. And from the looks of him, we'll need all the help we can get. Let's go." He kicked Blue and started up the steep trail that skirted the gorge.
It took them less than a minute to reach the top.
They tied their nervous horses to the branches of a chokecherry bush and flattened themselves to the ground. Below, the screams of the stallion had grown frantic. His neck and forelegs were bloody, his coat flecked white with foamy sweat, but incredibly he was holding his own against the grizzly.
Chase cocked his Henry and shouldered the gun, taking careful aim.
"Don't hit the stallion," Libby warned, shouldering her own rifle.
"He's a dead horse, either way," Chase predicted grimly. Diablo's magnificent black mane and tail tossed like gleaming raven's wings and his eyes boiled with fury. Chase's heart pumped harder at the sight of him.
Thoroughbred blood ran in that horse's veins, pure as that of any stallion his father had bred for the Bradford stable. In truth, Chase had no wish to kill him. But the stallion was wounded. There was no question about that. How badly, it was hard to tell. "It would probably be doing him a favor to put him out of his misery."
"No," she cried, grabbing his arm. "Just try. For my sake?"
The stricken look in her eyes took him aback. Wondering briefly what stake she had in the horse, he nodded. "I'll do my best." Taking aim again at the bear who was charging the horse with a series of daring feints, Chase squeezed back the trigger. Just then, the stallion reared and dove at the bear's upper body. The bullet drove harmlessly into the wall of rock behind Goliath.
"Damn," he cursed through clenched teeth. Hold still, you bastard.
Taking aim again, he pulled off another shot. A spurt of blood erupted in the haunch of the moving bear, drawing an enraged howl from the beast. Goliath bounded around, eyes red with fury, seeking the source of his pain. He tossed his head violently. Saliva dangled from his teeth.
Frozen in panic, the stallion hesitated to take the freedom Chase had offered him. Forelegs planted unevenly before him, Diablo let his frenzied black eyes meet Chase's gaze for a long moment. They were proud, fierce, wild eyes that reflected a spirit so indomitable even the bear could not break it.
"Get out of there, horse," Chase urged under his breath. As if his words had broken through Diablo's terror, the horse bolted from the circle of rocks he'd been trapped in. Goliath reared on his hind legs, and roared in fury as the stallion made good his escape, careening in a flash of gleaming ebony past the mouth of the canyon.
Chase aimed his gun once more. He had Goliath's heart centered in the sight of his gun. From here, he knew he couldn't miss. Carefully, he squeezed the trigger, only to hear the dull pop of a misfired cartridge. Nothing but smoke emerged from the tip of his rifle, but the sound drew the bear's furious gaze upward. With a snarling shake of his tawny head, Goliath bounded up the slippery wall of shale directly toward them.
"Uh-oh..." Chase muttered, slapping the side of his rifle.
"He's coming," Libby warned taking aim.
"My gun's jammed," he told her, still trying to shake it loose.
"Don't tell me that," she cried, squeezing off a shot at the oncoming bear. Her bullet pierced Goliath's shoulder. He stumbled and slid on the shale before getting his feet under him again. She cursed under her breath.
"Reload!" He tossed his rifle aside and dragged the revolver from his holster. Pain shot up his leg from the uncomfortable position he was in, but he ignored it.
Libby fumbled to reload. Her hands were shaking, making it all the more difficult. She fired again, hitting the grizzly in the upper chest, but the bullets seemed to have little effect on him. "Chase—he's not stopping!"
"I know. I know." He aimed the revolver, a determined grimace on his face. "Die, you—" His Colt exploded, drowning his words and a bright red splotch appeared on Goliath's right shoulder. The slippery shale carried the bear five feet down the incline. But it didn't stop him. He came on again, like some indestructible killing machine.
"Get the horses," Chase ordered. "Give me your gun and ammunition. I'll hold him off until you're on Lady."
"No! You come, too!"
"Libby! Do it!" He fired another round into the bear. "We've got to get out of here. We don't have the firepower to stop him now. Hurry."
She knew he was right. Unfastening the cartridge belt from her waist, she placed her rifle beside him. She rose on her hands and feet to go, but felt the shale rock suddenly give beneath her left heel. An ominous splintering sound accompanied her sudden plunging slide.
She heard Chase call her name, but the sound was swallowed by her own wretched scream as she slid downward, toward Goliath.
Chapter 10
"Cha-aase..."
Libby clawed at the shale rock at the top of the rim, trying desperately to stop her downward momentum. Its sharp edges bit into her fingertips and scraped her arms, leaving bloody gashes, and the rock slid from her grasp like shifting sand.
Chase made a desperate grab for her, but she slid just out of his reach. "Libby! The branch—get hold of the branch."
Three feet below the rim of the ledge, she slid past a lone, stubborn shadscale bush poking out of the rocky soil. Her fingers found the slender woody stalk and closed around it. The bush jerked from the shock of her weight, but held fast. Below her, a mere twenty feet away, Goliath roared defiantly and pounded up the incline. For every step he took he slid back two.
Libby's heart felt like it had risen and lodged in her throat. Tears sprang to her eyes. Above her, she could see the helplessness in Chas
e's expression as he strained to reach her. Dangling against the side of the hill, Libby tried to get her feet under her.
"Hang on," Chase called. Stripping off his jacket, he waved it over his head to get the bear's attention. Once he succeeded, he took aim and tossed the garment into the air. It sailed down and landed squarely across the beast's face. Goliath tore at the jacket as if it were a live thing, biting it and shredding it, all but forgetting—for the moment—about the real prey above him.
Chase flattened himself to the ground again and extended the butt of the rifle to Libby. "Grab it, Lib."
She did, clamping one hand around the slender stock.
"Both hands!" Chase ordered.
A metallic taste filled her mouth. Blood seeped from where she'd bitten her lip. She glanced again at the dizzying drop below her. The land seemed to be moving, shifting. "I... I can't!"
"C'mon, Libby, don't look down. Just grab the gun with both hands. I'll pull you up."
"What if I—?"
"Libby, don't think, just do it!"
Taking a steadying breath, she dove for the rifle and felt herself swing against the sharp black rocks. But Chase held her.
He released a breath. "Good girl. Look at me, Lib. Right here. Now hang on. Help me with your feet if you can."
She focused first on his strong brown hands just above hers, then on his arms. His muscles bulged and strained against the blue chambray fabric of his shirt. Her gaze leaped to his face. She could almost hear his teeth grind together as he lifted her, but his green eyes didn't leave hers. Not for a second. She clung to them like a drowning swimmer to a floating piece of driftwood.
Slowly, she felt herself being lifted. The toes of her boots fought for footing in the shale. Below, she heard the rocks slide again with Goliath's weight. "Chase! He's—"
"Don't look down," he told her through gritted teeth. "Just look at me. You're almost there."
The crack of a gunshot rent the air.
Chase heard the ping of shale rocks splintering and Goliath's answering roar. What the—?
Two more shots followed in quick succession, each digging into the grizzly's thick coat with a dull thwack. The bear bellowed in fury and tumbled down the slope. Enraged, he headed at his new tormentor at a limping gallop, but a final, killing shot between the eyes sent Goliath crashing to the earth like a fallen ponderosa giant.
Chase didn't have time to wonder who had done the shooting. He wrapped a fist around Libby's belt when she came up even with the ledge and hauled her toward him.
She landed on top of him and together, they sprawled backward in the dirt. Panting for breath, they lay there, too exhausted to speak.
Libby closed her eyes and the shaking started. The tremors began at her fingertips and knifed through the rest of her. She clamped her teeth together to keep them from chattering. Chase pulled her up against him and tightened his arms around her. She could feel him shaking, too.
"It's all right now. Shhh, you're safe," he whispered. His lips brushed the top of her head. She gave in gratefully to his comfort, because she needed it right then. Needed to feel someone's arms around her.
"Hey, up there!" called a voice from below. "Are you two all right?"
Chase eased up, one arm still around Libby. He shook his head at the man on horseback at the bottom of the arroyo. "As always, Bradford, your timing is impeccable. You couldn't have cut that any closer, could you?"
A half-smile curved El's mouth, and he rested the stock of his Winchester against his thigh. "As Father always said, timing is everything. Good God, is that what you call a bear in these parts?" he asked, looking at the grizzly. "I've never seen anything quite so... huge."
"He looks a hell of a lot bigger when he's getting ready to make a meal out of you," Chase replied humorlessly.
"Thank God we weren't too far off when we heard your shots," Elliot went on, running a hand through his tousled blond hair. "Early and I found no sign of the bear along the south fork of the stream, so we were headed back this way, looking for you. But we ran into the prettiest herd of mustangs you ever did see just south of here. Galloping like blazes. Early was running down a few head when we heard the shooting start. I split off from him to come and find you."
"Lucky for us." Chase pulled a still-shaky hand down his face.
Elliot gestured to Libby. "Is she hurt?"
Chase glanced down at the scrapes on Libby's arms.
"I'm fine," she declared, trying to quell the tremor in her voice. "Really."
"Give us a minute, El. We'll be right down."
"Sure," he answered, glancing uneasily at the carcass of the bear. "I'll just... uh, stay here and... keep an eye on him. Make sure he doesn't... move or... anything."
Chase glanced at Libby, realizing how close he'd come to losing her. She was still shaking like a leaf and was white as chalk. "You're not going to faint on me are you, Lib?"
She managed an indignant look and pushed a strand of straw-colored hair from her eyes. "I don't faint."
"Is that a hard and fast rule or do you make exceptions after being chased by renegade grizzlies?"
The amused sparkle in his eyes wrenched a reluctant smile from her. "I've never fainted in my life and I'm n-not going to start now. I'm just... sh-shaking a little. That's all."
His arm tightened around her, and he rubbed his hand briskly up and down her arm. "You're shaking a lot. I'd offer you my coat," he said, casting a forlorn look at the tattered remnants of the garment strewn on the slope, "but I'm afraid it wouldn't do you much good."
Libby leaned into the comfort of his embrace, needing it as much as she'd ever needed a caress. "I'm sorry about your coat. I... I'm indebted to you again, Chase. Truly, I'm usually not this much trouble."
"No?" he asked with a grin. "How much trouble are you usually?"
A shiver rattled through her as she brushed the dirt from her scraped arms. "That d-depends on who you ask." She let out a nervous little laugh. "Thank you."
"For what?" he asked, his brows rising questioningly.
"For saving my life, for not saying I told you so."
Chase smiled. "If you're referring to our little encounter with Goliath, you've got nothing to be ashamed of. Most women in your position would have had the vapors at the first sight of that bear. You did well, Libby. Better than well. Besides, what happened was more my fault than yours."
Libby looked at him as if he'd lost his mind. "What do you mean?"
He let go of her and picked up his jammed gun. "I mean it's El you should be thanking for saving you." He picked up his rifle. "I got us into more trouble with this gun than we counted on."
"You couldn't have known it was going to jam that way," she argued. "Guns are unpredictable. It could have happened to anyone."
But it happened to me. "Yeah, just another piece of bad luck, I guess," Chase muttered with a hint of sarcasm.
Libby jerked her head toward him. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"You've been having more than your share of it around here, from what I hear."
"Where did you hear that?"
"C'mon, Lib. It's no secret. Even your pal Jonas Harper mentioned it. I think this might be a good time to fill me in."
Her shivering stopped abruptly and she stared at him. "You say that as though you think your gun's jamming was no accident."
"I'm not saying anything until I have a good look at my rifle. I just like to cover my flank," he admitted. "Why don't you tell me what's been going on?"
Libby looked down at her hands. "It was nothing at first. Just little things after Malachi died. Gates left open, horses getting out, a brush fire on some of my best graze acreage. It took us nearly a day to put that out. Then, the men started having accidents. One of my hands, Will Barlow, was thrown from his own horse when his cinch broke in the middle of chasing down a string of horses. Shattered his leg and ended his career as a buster. He was the first to leave.
"The rumors started around that time that the ranch w
as jinxed. That blew it all out of proportion. I mean, those things happen on a ranch. But, it didn't help that a woman was running things. There are those who resent me for it. Nate and Wilson, the two who left the night you came, were next."
"And you believe these things were all accidents?"
"Not one of my men is careless, Chase. I don't know how else to explain it. Do you?"
He looked at her for a moment, unsure of how to answer her. His gun hadn't simply jammed. It had been tampered with. He ran a hand down the brass-plated stock. The last bullet he'd fired had been light on powder and had traveled mere inches down the barrel. Had he fired off one more round, the bullet would have collided with the half-spent one in the barrel, blowing both him and the gun to kingdom come. Possibly Libby, too. Neat, and nearly impossible to prove—after the fact.
He'd seen dozens of men die in the heat of battle that same way during the war. It had made him meticulously careful when loading his gun. A light cartridge and a full one felt decidedly different. He would have known, unless the cartridge had been tampered with after he'd loaded it.
His jaw tightened. He had his suspicions, but wasn't ready to voice them yet. She had enough to worry about. But if someone had tampered with his gun, he vowed silently to make damn sure he found out who it was.
He eased himself up off the ground, gritting his teeth against the old ache that shot down his leg, then offered her a hand up. "Let's get those cuts cleaned up and get you home. Time enough to think about the rest later."
She took his hand and felt his strength travel down her arm like a shockwave. Yes, she'd think about all that later, she decided shakily. Right now she wanted to concentrate on keeping her knees from knocking together, so Chase wouldn't know how really frightened she'd been. Nor how much she wished he'd just keep holding her like he had. It had been a long time since she'd felt a man's arms around her, giving her comfort.
Too long.
* * *
The men crowded around the long wooden table in Libby's common room passing plates of corn-bread, greens, the lone quail and the fat mint-wrapped trout Straw and Tad had caught earlier in the day. Elliot was animatedly regaling Tad with an exaggerated version of the grizzly adventure while Bodine, Early, and Chase savored Libby's cooking.
Chase the Fire Page 13