The Gift of Love

by Lori Foster

  “Yeah,” Brodie answered. “I’m staying.”

  A red stain crept up Stover’s throat as he stepped closer to Brodie and lowered his voice. “Stay the hell away from me and mine. You and I both know what you did that night.” He pointed his finger at Brodie’s face. “You killed my bull so my stock wouldn’t compete with your father’s, and someday you’re going to pay for that.”

  Stover spun away and stormed off before Brodie had a chance to answer—not that it would have made any difference. Brodie’s pa had raised breeding stock for years, mostly so he wouldn’t have to work a large herd of beef cattle. But Stover didn’t understand enough about breeding to be successful at that game, and a man like him found it easier to blame others for his failures than to accept the blame for himself.

  He regretted again that he hadn’t stayed to defend himself that night, but as a nineteen-year-old kid, it never dawned on him to defy his parents. They’d insisted he leave the area so he did, no questions asked.

  Shifting his stance, he darted a glimpse across the crowd and caught Maggie glimpsing back. She froze, and he couldn’t help but wink at her, despite the warning from her pa. The pink blush to her cheeks pleased him more than it should.

  John Stover be damned.

  two

  Nothing cleared Maggie’s head more than climbing onto her horse’s back and heading across the open range. And in the two weeks since Brodie had returned, her head had needed a lot of clearing. She’d been widowed for nearly two years, and even though she couldn’t say she’d loved Dave, she’d respected him, and for most women, that would have been enough. A good, levelheaded man was all she’d wanted, or at least, all she’d thought she wanted. So why did Brodie’s sudden return have her twisted in knots? Why did her heart pitter pat every time he came near, and moreover, why did he keep winking at her?

  She’d seen him only a handful of times since the wedding and there’d been enough people around that they didn’t actually speak to one another, but whenever she’d caught his eye, he’d given her a wink that spoke volumes. Steamy, suggestive volumes that were improper at best and downright scandalous at worst.

  And she couldn’t stop thinking about them.

  Maybe she should have kicked him a little higher.

  “Drat,” she muttered.

  She’d come all this way so she wouldn’t think about Brodie, and all she was thinking about was Brodie, which was not safe considering her location. As a child, she’d gotten into trouble more than once for riding alone to this part of her father’s ranch. Located hours from the main house, the deep canyon had the ability to turn into a death trap in an instant when storms hit and flash flood waters rushed. But it was beautiful with its large boulders and bubbling stream, and once she’d noticed how close she’d ridden, she couldn’t help but enter the canyon before returning home.

  She glanced toward the heavens, frowning slightly as she realized how late it had gotten. If she left now, she should be able to make it back to the house before nightfall.

  “Come on, Clyde,” she said, turning the horse to guide him out of the ravine.

  A blast from his nostrils and an immediate twitch of his ears heightened her awareness, but not quickly enough for her to stay on his back when the hiss of a snake’s rattle sent her to the ground and the horse bolted from the canyon without her.

  WIPING his brow with the back of his hand, Brodie took a moment to watch the clouds forming in the east as he leaned against a fencepost for a quick rest. The morning was already muggier than usual, even for August, and the air felt thick and ominous. He’d been repairing fence since dawn, and in the three hours since then, he’d made a lot of headway, but there were still miles more to go.

  He pulled his pliers from his hip pocket and returned his attention to the broken barbed wire, wondering if the clouds would bring rain to help ease the drought. If they didn’t, he feared the herd would pay the price.

  “Brodie!”

  He lifted his head to see his sister riding toward him, her horse stirring up swirls of dust as it loped in his direction.

  “Something wrong?” he shouted, but his gut already told him something was definitely wrong.

  She pulled her horse to a stop, talking without dismounting. “We need your help. Maggie is missing.”

  “Missing?”

  “She rode out yesterday morning and didn’t come back. John and Leo left to look for her yesterday evening, and they haven’t returned.”

  “I’m sure they’ll find her. Maggie knows how to take care of herself.”

  “We found her horse standing in the barn this morning. He came back without her.”

  That didn’t sound good. “Was he hurt?”

  Sara shook her head. “He was fine, but there was no sign of Maggie.”

  Damn, that didn’t sound good at all. He removed his gloves and tucked them into his hip pocket. “John and Leo wouldn’t want my help.”

  “Do you care what John and Leo would want? Maggie is out there and is probably hurt. You’ve been a tracker for the last ten years, right? If anyone can find her, you can.”

  He couldn’t argue that, not that he wanted to. The thought of Maggie being lost and possibly hurt made his stomach drop. He headed for his horse.

  “Do you need to go back to the house for provisions?” she asked.

  “Nope.” He swung into the saddle. “I’d planned to be riding fence for a few days when I left this morning. I’ve got provisions. Do you have any idea which direction she might have headed?”

  “No,” Sara said, pulling her horse beside his as they left the fence row.

  “I’m going to have to start at the barn and follow her horse’s tracks back to her.”

  They rode in silence for a few moments before Sara said, “Brodie? Do you think you can find her?”

  “Yeah, I’ll find her.” he said, eyeing the darkening sky one more time. Rain played havoc with tracks, but after all these weeks of drought, what were the chances of it raining now?

  MAGGIE gripped the side of the rock canyon to pull herself to her feet once more, but the rock was slick from the rain and her swollen ankle still too tender to allow her to do anything other than hop to another boulder to sit. Her belly grumbled. She’d been gone for more than twenty-four hours. By now, there was no doubt a search party would be looking for her, but she needed to get out of the canyon so they could find her.

  Panting, she took a moment to study her surroundings. The rain had been increasing in intensity for the past hour, and based on the darkening clouds, it was nowhere near letting up. On the other side of the stream, a large rock overhang jutted from the canyon wall, providing a cave-like area protected from the strengthening storm. But more importantly, it was well above the rapidly rising stream.

  The tops of a few boulders still poked out from the frothy water, allowing some slippery stepping stones to the other side. She weighed her options. If she attempted to cross to the cave, chances were high that she’d fall into the water. But if she stayed where she was, the flood waters would overtake her within the hour. At least she’d worn trousers when she’d headed out for her ride. Crossing the stream in wet skirts would have been impossible.

  Taking a deep breath to help calm her stomach, she stepped to the first rock then paused to adjust her weight. The second boulder was a few feet farther away and would require that she jump, a task she normally could do with her eyes shut, but slick rocks and a swollen ankle complicated the situation. She took another deep breath. Focusing on the rock and praying with the zeal of a Methodist, she swung her arms to give her momentum and leaped.

  Pain shot through her ankle as she landed, but a quick adjustment shifted her weight to her other foot. She teetered for a moment, concentrating on two rocks ahead of her. The closest had a rounded top, not nearly large enough for her to use, but the flattest one was farther away and partially submerged.

  Her ankle throbbed. Her hair stuck to her face in soggy tendrils and the rain had soa
ked through to her skin, but the roar of the rising water kept her from focusing on her discomfort. If she didn’t make it to the other side, she would likely die in this canyon.

  She shook her head to clear away those thoughts. Death was not an option. Bending her knees, she swung her arms and lunged toward the boulder. She landed with a jolt. The pain searing from her ankle caused her leg to collapse.

  “No!” she yelled in frustration, grabbing wildly for a handhold as she plunged into the rushing waters, the currents quickly sucking her under. She fought for the surface, gasping for air when her flailing arms managed to grab a tree limb caught among the rocks. Pulling her body into the limb, she wove her arms through the branches as the cold water surged against her.

  She didn’t want to die, not here, not like this. But the storm was nowhere near over, and soon the stream would overtake her. Squeezing her eyes shut, she prayed for a miracle.

  “Maggie!”

  Her eyes flew open. She turned her head toward the voice. Brodie was on the bank, sitting on his horse and swinging a lasso over his head. “Hang on!” he shouted, as though she had any other options.

  She started to respond but gasped instead as her branch shifted in the water. “Hurry!” she yelled.

  He threw the rope, but it landed in the water too far away for her to grab. Quickly, he pulled the lasso back to him for another attempt. Heavy now from the water, the next throw missed her as well, though luckily, it managed to grab on to one of the branches. Brodie tied the rope to his saddle horn.

  “Step back,” he said to his horse. The mare stepped back, tightening the tension in the rope like she’d been trained to do for roping calves. “Whoa.” He stopped her then dismounted and hurried to the edge of the stream.

  He cupped his hands to yell above the howl of the water. “Can you reach the rope?”

  Maggie shook her head. “The water is too strong!”

  Brodie ripped off his jacket, hat, and gun belt, tossing them over the saddle while Maggie attempted to move closer to him, but the current penned her to the spot. Brodie held on to the rope, maneuvering his way across boulders and rocks until he had no choice but to jump into the water. He grabbed the branch and pulled up to her, wrapping his arm around her waist to help her as they inched back toward the rope.

  Suddenly, the branch snapped. Brodie grabbed for the line, barely snagging the end of a twig still tangled with the rope as the larger limb rocked in the water. Brodie twisted the rope around his arm and tightened his hold on Maggie’s waist.

  “Step back,” he yelled. A boom of thunder startled the horse, causing her to sidestep and throw her head.

  “Whoa,” Brodie said, his voice calming the animal before he repeated his command. “Step back.”

  With a snort of agitation, the horse backed away from the stream, pulling Brodie and Maggie close enough to gain their footing and crawl from the waters. They collapsed on the bank, panting for breath.

  “Thank you,” she finally managed to mutter.

  Brodie pulled himself to his knees then sat back on his haunches. “Don’t thank me yet.” He wiped the water from his face. “We still have to get out of here. Are you hurt?”

  “I twisted my ankle when I fell from my horse.” She pointed to the cave above them. “I was trying to get to that cave for shelter when I fell into the stream.”

  Brodie looked up at the cave and nodded. “Probably not a bad idea to wait the storm out there—” He stopped abruptly, frowning as he turned his head to listen to a distant noise. “Do you hear that?”

  Maggie sat up and listened. The roar upstream was unmistakable. “Flash flood.”

  “Come on!” Brodie pulled her to her feet, wrapping his arm around her waist to scurry up the bank.

  He lifted her to his horse’s back, pitching Maggie the reins. With a quick swat to the horse’s rump, Brodie sent Maggie and the mare scrambling up the hillside. Maggie allowed the mare to choose her path across the slippery stones and muddy ruts, knowing she’d do a better job at finding her way than Maggie could.

  “Brodie,” Maggie yelled, unable to turn around. “Are you behind me?”

  “Yeah!” he yelled back.

  She shifted her weight forward, leaning over the mare’s shoulders to make her ascent easier. They’d barely made it inside the mouth of the cave when a wall of water crashed through the canyon below.

  “Holy hell,” Brodie said, stepping up beside her to watch the waters surge past.

  Maggie didn’t say anything, but her stomach dropped as she watched the limb she’d clung to wash free of the boulders and tumble out of sight. Had Brodie not come when he had, she would be dead right now. A chill ran down her spine.

  She pulled her attention away from her would-be watery grave to the cave that was now her refuge. The opening of the overhang was at least twenty feet wide and fifteen feet tall. It reached into the side of the hill another twenty feet or so, providing a dry place to wait out the storm for them and the horse. The cave was dry, though she couldn’t say the same thing for herself. Now that the excitement was over, her wet clothes felt like ice against her skin.

  “Are you hungry?” Brodie asked as he helped her from the saddle and over to sit on a rock.

  Rubbing her arms in an attempt to warm them, she forced a smile and said, “Starving.”

  “I thought you might be.” He pulled the saddle from his horse and dug through his saddlebag. “I’ve got some beans, but we’ll have to eat them cold. I don’t think I’m going to be able to find any dry firewood around here.”

  “Right now, I think I could eat them can and all.”

  He smiled, handing her a now opened can with a spoon stuck in the beans. “You won’t have to do that, but you are going to have to eat them from the can. I don’t have any plates.”

  She reached for the can, but instead of releasing it, he paused for a moment as her fingers lay against his on the side of the can. His gaze locked on to hers, making it impossible to look away. His whiskey-colored eyes had always fascinated her, but now there was a depth to them that had been missing in his youth, a smoky intensity that made her temporarily forget about beans as he searched her face.

  “Are you sure you’re all right?” he asked, brushing a strand of wet hair away from her cheek.

  She swallowed and nodded. Neither said anything for a moment longer, until he finally glanced away from her and mumbled, “That’s good.” Then he quickly returned to the other side of the cave to dig through his saddlebags for more beans.

  The sight of him down on one knee as he opened another can thwarted her attempt to focus on the beans. Wet clothing clung to him, outlining his muscles as he moved. Broad shoulders, narrow hips, thighs bulging against the fabric of his trousers …

  She jerked her attention back to the beans. She had no business thinking about Brodie’s thighs or hips or any other part of him that looked as hard as the canyon walls. Hard and slick and …

  Beans.

  She shoveled in another spoonful, proud of her ability to divert such lustful thoughts with something as simple as beans. They weren’t exactly what she would call tasty, but they were filling her belly and getting her mind away from scandalous thoughts that served no purpose. At the moment, beans were the center of her universe, the goal of her existence, and the purpose of her being.

  “Are you finished?” he asked.

  “Yes,” she said, pleased that the last bite of the infernal beans squelched her errant thoughts once and for all.

  “Good,” he said, unbuttoning his shirt, “because you need to take off your clothes.”

  three

  “I—I beg your pardon?” Not a brilliant response, but it was the best Maggie could do under the circumstances.

  Brodie removed his shirt. “I only have two blankets. If we wrap those around our wet clothes, they’ll be soaked in no time and then we’ll have nothing dry to wear,” he said… or at least that’s what she thought he said. It was difficult to focus on his words
when his hands were unbuckling his belt and the muscles that had teased her from beneath the wet shirt were now on flagrant display.

  “Maggie?”

  Merciful heavens, he’d caught her staring at his flagrant display. “I … um… I’m not cold.” Her declaration probably would have been more believable if she hadn’t shivered from her nose to her toes at the end of it.

  Shaking his head, he returned to his saddle to untie the bedroll. With a quick flip of his hands, the blankets unrolled. He returned to Maggie, handing her one of the blankets, and said, “I’ll turn my back,” which he did, returning to his blanket and the task of removing his wet clothing.

  Her cold and trembling fingers attempted to work the wet fabric of her blouse over the buttons while her eyes glued themselves to his every move, as a precaution, of course. She had to be at the ready in case he turned around to catch a glimpse of her. But true to his word, he kept his back to her as he pulled off his boots, setting them to the side … and then he dropped his britches.

  Thankfully, Maggie’s gasp was quiet enough that he didn’t hear it. Long, sleek, powerful … her husband had not looked like that. She squeezed her eyes shut, but it was too late. The image of him standing as naked as a babe was burned into her mind, probably forever.

  “Are you done?”

  She opened her eyes. Brodie stood with his back to her, the blanket wrapped around his waist and his hands resting on his hips.

  She swallowed. “No. I’m having trouble with the buttons. I guess my fingers are colder than I realized.”

  “Want some help?”

  She didn’t want his help, but she needed it. Her boots were going to have to come off before she removed her trousers, and with numb fingers and a swollen ankle, she could not manage that alone. “I’m afraid so. I don’t think I can get my boots off.”

  He turned toward her, running his hand back through his wet hair, which returned to its original place as though he hadn’t touched it. As a young woman, she had dreamed of threading her fingers through his hair, cradling his head as he kissed her.

  Whoa! Those thoughts had to stop. This was the man who had maliciously set fire to their barn, destroying a priceless bull and their future all in one night. How could she have forgotten that? It didn’t matter that as a child she’d imagined herself in love with him. It didn’t matter that he’d grown into the most handsome man she’d ever seen. It didn’t matter that he was now kneeling in front of her with his well-muscled thigh jutting from the gap in his blanket.