by Jill Gregory
“I won’t.” Juliana’s voice was fraught with pain. Frowning, Cole moved off toward the cluster of men. What the hell was he going to do if she had a broken foot? It would slow things down considerably, but he couldn’t just drag her off without letting a doctor set it, or bandage it, could he? He’d never had a woman prisoner before and he didn’t intend to treat her any different from a man, except ... except she seemed to be in a lot of pain, and he figured he’d best get that foot seen to before they started out. It could be a rough trip back to Denver, Cole knew. Every bounty hunter for two hundred miles around would be after that reward. Cole’s eyes narrowed at the thought. He wasn’t about to lose that money. It just might be enough to help him outbid McCray. Fire Mesa actually could be his again, he thought with a little flicker of hope, it could come back into Rawdon hands, thanks to Miss Juliana Montgomery. But he’d have to push her hard and fast across rough terrain to get back to Wells with the money in time. He hoped she could endure the ride ahead. She looked to be a weak, fragile thing, and she certainly had no stomach for bloodshed. Chances were she’d see more of it before this was over. Part of Cole almost felt sorry for her. Almost. He reminded himself that she was an outlaw, and that he’d better treat her like one. And he would, he vowed, once he got that foot of hers taken care of.
Juliana, in the meantime, watched him walk away from her with a frantically beating heart. She had fooled him. She had done it. She couldn’t believe that he had fallen for her trick, but then, he probably thought her a perfect idiot anyway. Why wouldn’t he believe that she’d have been clumsy enough to have broken her foot? Now, if she could only go through with the rest of it ... She could scarcely believe what she was about to do next, but she had no choice. She looked at Cole Rawdon, walking in one direction, his back to her, and then swiveled her head to study the pinto tethered no more than twenty feet away in the other direction. She took a breath, readied herself. Not yet, not quite yet. Rawdon reached the group of men at the end of the street and started to speak to them. Now, she told herself, summoning her courage. Now.
Juliana thrust herself to her feet and ran. Her heart in her throat, she plummeted straight toward that pinto, trying to make as little sound as she could in the dusty road. Above her, a turquoise sky blazed, but below it was gray and quiet, too quiet, she thought, as her own footsteps drummed in her ears and the beating of her heart seemed like an explosion. She heard a yell as she grabbed the tether, and the next instant she had a foot in the stirrup.
Somehow she vaulted into the saddle, her skirts askew, and grabbed up the reins.
Cole Rawdon was sprinting toward her, his face black with fury. He went for his gun.
“Giddyap!” she screamed, and dug her heels into the pinto’s flanks. They were off like a bolt of lightning, racing away from Rawdon, away from Cedar Gulch. A shot blasted to the right of her, but Juliana never flinched. Cole Rawdon wouldn’t kill her. The poster had clearly stated that she was to be brought back alive. She laughed almost hysterically to herself as she bent over the horse’s mane and urged him on faster. Cole Rawdon was trying to frighten her. He expected her to give up. Well, she wouldn’t give up. She had a horse now, and, glancing down at the thick saddlebag tied on behind, realized she had supplies as well. There would be a canteen, maybe even food. Whoever this horse belonged to had been prepared for traveling. She owed its owner, whoever he was, a big debt of gratitude.
Suddenly the laughter died out of her throat. As the pinto swept over a rise that led into a high stretch of pine forest, it dawned on her that there was only one person to whom this horse could belong. There had been no one else about.
She gulped at the enormity of what she had done.
She had tricked Cole Rawdon and escaped from him. She had made him look a fool before the men of Cedar Gulch. And despite all her protestations that she wasn’t a thief ...
She had stolen his horse.
9
Night was coming, and with it a storm. Her tracks would be washed away if he didn’t find her before then—but he would, Cole vowed to himself. Come hell or high water, he would.
Anger flicked through him every time he thought of how he’d been tricked. Treacherous little bitch. She’d made a damned fool of him in front of the entire town. Riding Cash Hogan’s bay through the pine forests above the Rim, he inspected every branch and twig, every print in the earth, reading the evidence of her passing like a clearly marked map. She hadn’t had much of a start, just enough to keep ahead of him for a while. He’d let her think she was safe, that she’d given him the slip. When she least expected it, he’d take her. Rawdon smiled grimly at the thought.
He hadn’t been smiling when he’d grabbed Cash’s horse back in town and set out after her, all the while trying to ignore the expressions of the men in Cedar Gulch. Not one of them had dared say a word to him about being outwitted by a woman, or had had the nerve to laugh out loud, but he knew they’d wanted to. They had probably burst out with it when he’d gone. And that bartender, Kelly, damn his eyes. He’d grinned when he saw the girl ride away.
“The luck of the Irish, that’s what that lassie has—aye, that’s what I think,” Kelly had remarked to no one in particular as Rawdon had swung himself onto the bay in front of the Red Snake Saloon.
The man had kept grinning, even when Cole, rigid in the saddle, had gritted his teeth.
“We’ll see how lucky she is when I’m done with her,” he had bitten off, and then he’d ridden out without waiting for the bartender’s reaction. Kelly might be in sympathy with the girl, but that wouldn’t do her one damn bit of good once Cole found her. When he got his hands on her ... Cole’s muscles tensed in anticipation. Nothing would help her then.
Any ideas he’d had of showing Juliana Montgomery mercy on the way back had vanished like night mist at morning light. She didn’t deserve mercy. Hell, she didn’t deserve anything but to have her pretty little neck wrung. He’d never lost a prisoner before, not once in all these years, not until she had come along.
That’s what you get for going soft, Cole told himself. Because she’s a woman, you let your guard down. You’re just damned lucky she didn’t blow your head off.
“I’m not a thief. There’s been a mistake.” How damned convincingly she had spoken those words. So now he knew something about her, besides the fact that she was guilty as hell. Lies came easily to Juliana Montgomery. She could stare a man in the face and look as soft and innocent as a woman could look, and lie through her teeth. Well, he hoped she would enjoy this brief fling of freedom because it was the last she would know for a good long while. He’d turn her in to the law in Colorado if it was the last thing he ever did, reward or no reward.
Even the two thousand dollars and the chance of getting Fire Mesa back dimmed beside the satisfaction he’d feel hauling her in to Denver, trussed up like a roped calf. When Cole spotted Arrow’s tracks swerving up a trail that flanked White Canyon, he spurred the bay forward and gave a grunt of satisfaction. He cleared his mind of everything but the job before him, and let himself become wholly intent on his prey. All his energy and concentration focused on tracking the girl who was trying so desperately to elude him.
She was inexperienced, that much was obvious from the loco trail she was taking—and he’d bet his boots she was bone-tired by now. He’d have her by dark, easily. Another hour, at the most, he guessed, and then he’d give her a surprise she’d never forget. Beneath his hat, Cole’s face wore an expression of taut anticipation. His eyes gleamed like shards of blue ice as he pursued Arrow’s all too visible trail.
* * *
Juliana looked around her in bleary exhaustion. She had no idea where she was, except that she was on the lip of a limestone walled canyon that zigzagged dizzyingly down to a narrow ribbon of water far below. She’d been riding for hours, heading west, hoping to eventually hit Cooper Creek. But the trail was twisting and dangerous with unexpected drops and turns, and the mountains kept getting in her way. She could go no fa
rther tonight. Storm clouds were gathering in a sky that had turned an odd, ominous shade of cobalt blue. A cold wind sliced through the trees, and every few moments heat lightning seared the sky.
Up on the plateau, overlooking the high canyon, Juliana was afraid.
“Don’t worry, boy. We’ll he all right.” She patted the pinto’s scruffy mane as she spoke to him, but it was really herself she was trying to reassure. There was a world of difference between traveling through this immense, mountainous country in a stagecoach, with a driver to look after her and a host of other passengers for company, and riding it alone. She felt as tiny and insignificant as a dormouse in this vast, fierce land. The endless expanse of sky, towering rocks and sculpted mountains, and the deep-shadowed, scented forests along the Mogollon Rim threatened to swallow her up, and she felt as though she might wander forever through the wilderness and never glimpse another soul, much less a town or outpost of civilization.
Stories of Apache atrocities kept creeping into her head, much as she tried to banish them. Every time a branch rustled in the wind, or a pebble rolled underfoot, she thought she was about to be attacked. If not by Indians, then by some wild creature or—and her heart pounded painfully in her chest every time she thought of it—by Cole Rawdon, who was no doubt ready to kill her without a second thought. She knew he was her most likely source of danger, if not an exclusive one, and she would have to hide from him with all the cunning she possessed if she was ever going to make it to Cooper Creek.
At least, he hadn’t been able to set out after her immediately, she thought, clutching the reins more tightly between her sweating palms. That was something to be thankful for.
With any luck, she’d find a town and a place to hide before he could buy himself another horse.
With any luck. Yes, she would need luck. And she’d need her wits about her. Remembering the murderous expression in Rawdon’s eyes when she’d wheeled the pinto about, she felt a twisting of apprehension in her stomach. If he caught up with her ...
She couldn’t let him. Despite the risks of Apache, snakes, mountain lions, losing her way, of being unable to find food or water, she knew with every ounce of her being that Cole Rawdon’s getting his hands on her would present the worst danger of all.
Opposite the canyon, on the other side of the trail, stretched a ragged stand of aspen and pine trees that opened onto a flat, grassy expanse. This area was sheltered by the wall of yet another massive gray cliff rising up to a sheer point above. It looked like the best place to make camp that she’d seen in a while. But why couldn’t it be a cave? Juliana thought in despair. She needed shelter from the storm. When the rain came, as she was certain it would at any moment, she would be at its mercy, completely unprotected. But there was nothing she could do about that now. There was no time to go farther, in search of one, for both darkness and the storm would close in on her any moment now. Besides, she was too exhausted to ride another step. Every muscle in her body cried out in agony, begging for rest.
At least this spot was secluded, she told herself, sliding from the saddle in one weary movement. Cole Rawdon could never find her here in the middle of this huge mountain, one among so many. Glancing about, she saw that there was no indication of movement from any direction. Only the leaves shuddering in the rising wind. Before her, far across the canyon, there were rising forests of pine, as deep and impenetrable as dark, looming clouds. Behind her rose the gray-and-red granite cliff, nearly touching the sky.
Well, at least the trees and the storm and the encroaching darkness would help to conceal her camp, she told herself, trying to be grateful for the isolation of this place. Cole Rawdon, if he was still following her, couldn’t possibly track her here.
For tonight, Juliana whispered to the pinto, as she led him to an aspen, we’ll be safe. Wet, perhaps, and cold, but safe.
Rest, how she needed rest. It was almost beyond her strength to see to the pinto and then sink down onto the grass with Cole Rawdon’s saddle pack before her. The wind had picked up. It blasted around her now in a rising gale, whipping at her hair as she ransacked the pack, one by one rifling through the bounty hunter’s supplies.
This is better than gold, Juliana exulted as she eagerly examined the contents. There was an oilcloth coat, which she could cover herself with when the rain came, and also a folded bedroll and extra saddle blanket tucked inside, along with a canteen filled with water. Juliana’s spirits rose with the discovery of each treasure. She found two flannel shirts and pairs of trousers, razor blades, and a strange little wood carving of a horse, but she was mainly interested in the food: strips of dried beef jerky, the remains of some hardtack biscuits, a tin of coffee, and some campfire utensils, along with a knife and tinderbox. Thank you, Mister Cole Rawdon, she thought, not without satisfaction, as she wrapped the blanket and the oilskin around her and settled down against the cliff wall with the jerky and biscuits. Her stomach growled its hunger as she took her first bite. How many hours had it been since that meal in the Cedar Gulch hotel? It seemed an eternity since then, but at least she was free, free of Cole Rawdon and Cash Hogan and John Breen and all the other monstrous men in the world. For the moment, she reminded herself. Fear sliced through her every time she thought of the deadly fury on Rawdon’s face when he had seen her riding off on his pinto, right out from under his nose. But she didn’t want to think about what would happen if he caught up with her. He wouldn’t, she told herself with forced bravado. She had outmaneuvered him today, hadn’t she? All she had to do was keep a sharp lookout, stay one step ahead of Cole Rawdon, and steadily make her way west. She’d be bound to hit upon a town sometime tomorrow, surely, and then she could inquire about the way to Cooper Creek. And as soon as she found Wade and Tommy, Cole Rawdon wouldn’t be such a threat. With them and their gang, experts at eluding trouble, she’d be safe.
Safe. To think that her brothers and safety could be less than a hundred miles away filled her with a buoyant hope that could not be destroyed by the oncoming storm. As Juliana hugged her arms around her, a blast of wind ripped in from the north, sending ice-cold chills over her. She couldn’t give up, she insisted to herself, shivering, while darkness fell over the clearing like a heavy woolen shroud. She would make it through this storm and this night, and tomorrow would bring her that much closer to Wade and Tommy.
She tried not to let herself think about what it would be like here in this desolate spot once the storm began. It was starting now, she realized, as a smattering of drops fell onto her head, and the grass began to blow as if it would be ripped from the earth. Huge drops pelted the trees, the cliff wall, the rocks and brush, striking Juliana’s small figure as she huddled beneath the oilskin. Suddenly, lightning struck, so close that the pinto reared up screaming its panic, and Juliana cried out. She half rose, then froze in terror as from the darkness above, dropping down into the clearing directly before her like a monstrous phantom, sprang a dark, massive figure.
She screamed, but the sound was bit off by the roar of the wind. Then she saw with a gasp of dread that the apparition before her was not a phantom at all. While thunder crashed around her like cannonballs, she stared in transfixed horror into the gleaming eyes of Cole Rawdon.
Juliana bolted sideways and started to run, even as he lunged for her. His hands closed over the oilskin and it whipped from her back, but she never paused, crashing headlong through the rain, not knowing where she ran or how she would escape, knowing only that she had to get away from him. She slipped on the wet grass but stumbled on, unable to hear his pursuit for the wind and rain. She skittered desperately forward, seeking the path, the trail, but it was too dark to see ...
Rain poured down her face, soaked her hair, her cheeks, blurred her vision. She whirled sideways, first one way, then another, searching frantically for the trail. She saw from the corner of her eyes that he was upon her. She threw herself forward into the murky darkness and realized too late that she had overshot the trail, she was at the edge of the precipice, h
urtling over the lip of the canyon, and that there was nothing below but jagged rocks and stream. Her scream died in her throat. She knew in that instant she was going to die, even as she teetered backward, trying to save herself. The wind struck her, knocking her forward and she saw below a vast black chasm. The instant that she hovered there on the brink seemed an hour, a year, a lifetime. As she felt herself falling forward into the nothingness, she was grasped so fiercely from behind that the breath swept out of her, and Cole Rawdon hauled her back.
He dragged her backward and threw her down upon the ground and pinned her there with the weight of his body, gazing down in pure fury into her terrified face.
“Damned idiotic bitch. I ought to have let you fall,” he shouted at her over the blast of the wind. He was as soaked as she; his black hair streamed into his eyes, but that only seemed to emphasize the ferocity of his appearance. Juliana, held helpless beneath him, with rain pounding into her face, streaming in rivulets down into her neck to soak her flesh, could do nothing but stare up at him, too stunned by what had almost happened to her to speak.
“You don’t even have the sense to find shelter from the rain!” he yelled. “I should leave you here to drown!” As suddenly as he had thrown her down, he dragged her to her feet. Driving wind buffeted them but he managed to propel her along the track, around a sharp bend, and then they scrambled down a ravine. He half dragged, half carried her, and none too gently. Juliana lost track of all direction, but the next thing she knew they were at the mouth of a cave. He pushed her ahead of him, and she saw at once Cash Hogan’s bay horse tethered well inside the opening.
Shelter. She stumbled in gratefully, stooping a little due to the low rock ceiling. Outside, the vicious rain slashed, and thunder filled the sky with a deafening roar that echoed through the mountains, but here it was dry, blessedly dry, and she hurried in as far as she could get from the opening. Then Cole Rawdon grasped her, and before she even realized what was happening, he had tied her wrists together with rope. He forced her to the ground, ignoring her protests, and bound her ankles as well.