You could almost see steam coming out of her ears.
Tall shook his head, thought about his friend up there on that mountain, and wondered if maybe he should ride out and warn him. But in the next instant, he set that notion aside. No, sir. The only safe place in this mess was out of range. Tall would back his boss in a gunfight with no hesitation. But like every other man when it came to women problems... from here on, Ridge was on his own.
●
“Now, Miss Sophie,” Toby said, shaking his head, “this ain’t a good idea.”
“Thank you for your concern, Toby,” she said and smiled, despite the fury nearly blinding her. “But I shall do quite nicely.”
The big man grumbled to himself, wiped one hand across his mouth and asked, “You ever ride with a Western saddle before?”
She looked up at the saddled beast beside her and thought for just an instant she caught a mocking gleam in the animal’s eye, but dismissed that notion quickly. The horse was merely a conveyance, she told herself. A wagon without wheels. A carriage with teeth. She frowned to herself, then shifted her gaze back to Toby. “Actually, no.”
He opened his mouth to protest.
“But,” she cut him off before he could, “I’ve read several books on equestrian arts and I’m quite sure the horse and I will get along splendidly.”
“Wish I had a sidesaddle,” Toby muttered.
“It wouldn’t matter,” she said, laying one hand on his forearm. “I’ve never ridden with one of those either.”
He groaned. “Miss Sophie, I can’t let you do this.”
“Toby, you can’t stop me.”
“I don’t have to rent you this horse,” he said sternly.
“True,” she said and wished he would stop arguing. She was going onto that mountain to find Ridge Hawkins if she had to crawl all the way. “However, if you don’t, I shall simply borrow a horse from someone in town.”
Defeated, the big man’s shoulders slumped. Catching her eye, he said, “You’re a mite hardheaded, aren’t you, ma’am?”
Magnanimous in victory, Sophie smiled. “Yes, I suppose I am.” Then turning to look at her horse again, she asked, “Are you sure you don’t have a smaller one?”
He grumbled again, but she didn’t quite catch what he said. “Moonlight here is real gentle. She shouldn’t give you any problems. But if she does, you just let go of the reins and she’ll trot on home.”
She frowned up at him. In all the books she’d read, she distinctly remembered that they’d made quite a point of the rider keeping a firm grip on the reins at all times. “Really?”
“Nothin’ she likes better than her own stall. You just hang on to the saddle pommel and she’ll bring ya home.”
Sophie nodded abruptly, pushed her straw hat back into place, and said, “Thank you. That’s very good to know. But could you tell me what exactly is the pommel?”
His brown eyes smiled as he slapped one huge hand onto the leather hump jutting up at the front of the saddle.
“Of course,” she said. “Now, if you’ll excuse me...” She stuck the toe of her shoe into the stirrup, held on to the pommel, and hopped up and down in an attempt to swing her right leg up and over the broad back of the beast. To no avail. Strange, it looked much easier when other people did it.
Toby tried not to watch.
Her hat slid down over her left eye and she looked at him from the corner of her right. “If you would be kind enough...”
“I’m gonna regret this, I just know it,” the man said softly as he grabbed hold of Sophie’s waist, lifted her as easily as though she were a child and plopped her down onto the saddle.
“Oh my,” she said, her fingers curling around the very handy pommel. “This is very high up, Toby.”
“Miss Sophie—”
“It’s all right, Toby,” she assured him, smiling down into his worried brown eyes. After all, it wasn’t Toby she wanted to shout at. It was his friend. “If you could just hand me the reins now.”
She took a leather strip in each hand and, holding them up and away from her body, nodded a thank-you at the watching man and said clearly, “All right now, Moonlight, I believe the term is ‘giddy-up.’”
“You should hold ‘em together in one hand, ma’am,” Toby said softly, wishing to hell he was anywhere but here.
“Of course.” She took them in her right hand, still holding them high in the air. “Come, Moonlight,” she said. “Let’s be off.”
“You stick to the trail now, Miss Sophie,” Toby said, pointing off toward the mountain. “It’s real clear, you can’t miss it.”
“I will,” she told him. “Thank you for your help.”
“And you remember what I said about the horse bringin’ you home.”
“Of course,” she said, sighing just a bit. “But how do I make her leave home?”
Toby muttered a heartfelt prayer to the Indian gods and gave Moonlight a gentle swat on her backside. The horse lurched forward and Sophie teetered precariously for a long moment, before catching her balance.
“Thank you,” she called as the old mare trotted off toward the mountain.
Toby watched her go for a long minute. He figured the way Sophie was bouncin’ around in that saddle, she had about an hour before her behind was so sore, she’d give up this notion and come on back before she got into trouble. Then again, she was so damned stubborn, she probably wouldn’t quit at all until she’d found Ridge.
And Toby wondered if it might not be safer for him to leave town before Ridge came down off that mountain.
●
A quiet ride through the high country was generally enough to fix whatever ailed Ridge. The soft plop of his horse’s hooves on the forest floor, the sigh of the wind through the treetops, a stream chuckling across the stones in its bed... all of it was as close to a religion as Ridge had ever been.
It was like riding through God’s church. No walls. No people. Just the trees and the earth and the sky. And normally, he’d have felt refreshed. Renewed.
But not today.
Just one more thing to blame on Sophie Ryan, he thought, disgusted with the turmoil still boiling and churning inside him. Maybe he should have gone to see her, he told himself. Maybe it would have been best to just face her down, tell her about the damned wanted poster and demand an explanation.
But even if she’d given him one, how could he have believed her? Wouldn’t a woman wanted for kidnapping lie her fool head off to keep from getting caught? And now that she was caught, what was he going to do about it? Could he really turn his back on everything he believed in? Had made his life into?
Damn it.
No peace. No peace anywhere. In the clear, still air, he heard the low hum of activity from the lumber mill farther up the mountain. A brace of birds shot up from a clump of bushes as his horse walked past, and the skitter of small feet sounded above him in the trees.
Hell. Even the squirrels were keeping shy of him today.
“Well, this was a waste of time, boy,” he said quietly and leaned forward to run the flat of his hand along his horse’s neck. The big animal shook its head, sending its black mane flying.
Then reaching up to yank off his hat, he shoved one hand through his hair before jamming that hat back on and gathering the reins in one clenched fist. He should have known that getting Sophie out of his mind would require more than a ride through the forest.
In fact, he had the distinct feeling that thoughts of her would plague him long after his death.
Turning his horse, he headed farther up the narrow path that passed as a trail, aiming for Foster’s meadow. A cool, pine-scented breeze drifted past him, tugging at his shirt collar and stirring the fallen needles at his feet.
His horse moved quietly enough that a whisper of sound reached him above the soft thud of his own animal’s foot
steps. He pulled up short on the reins, turned in the saddle to face back down the trail and listened for a long minute.
●
Sophie bounced in the saddle and tried to understand why anyone would choose such a means of travel deliberately. Moonlight seemed a good-natured animal, but her back was broad enough that the muscles in Sophie’s legs were screaming from having to straddle her. And she was absolutely certain that her behind had been broken half an hour ago.
“Where is the wretched man?” she muttered as she rode deeper into the treeline. Dappled shadows stretched out to meet her, wrapping her in blessed coolness. The mare’s hooves sounded muffled against the pine-needle-littered ground, making an eerie sound that felt almost like a heartbeat in the still forest.
Her own heart quickened slightly as she realized just how alone she was at the moment. If she couldn’t find Ridge... if she got lost… no. She was perfectly safe, she thought, remembering Toby’s words. All she had to do was drop the reins and Moonlight would go home, taking Sophie with her.
Still, she looked around at the shadowy darkness surrounding her, noticing that the sun barely reached the forest floor through the thick stand of trees. Ridge could be five feet from her in these woods and she wouldn’t know it unless he spoke up. And, she told herself with a frown, he probably wouldn’t. So it would be up to her to find him and she would if she had to comb every foot of this forest.
“Come along, Moonlight,” she said and rocked in the saddle trying to convince the mare to pick up her pace a bit. When she did, though, Sophie had to muffle a groan as her backside slapped the saddle. As the narrow track curved to the right, her gaze landed on a man on horseback in the shadows and she gasped, startled.
“Damn it, Sophie,” Ridge nearly growled. “Can’t you give a man a moment’s peace?”
Her heart dropped from her throat back to her chest and she drew in a long, steadying breath.
“I beg your pardon,” she said, wincing slightly as Moonlight hurried to meet the other horse. “But if you had bothered to come and talk to me as I asked, this trek through the forest primeval wouldn’t have been necessary.”
“What in the hell are you doing up here?” he demanded.
She winced. “Please don’t shout,” she said quietly.
“Hangover, huh?”
“You don’t have to sound so pleased at the thought,” she said.
“Look, Sophie,” he said, shifting his gaze to the meadow just beyond the treeline. “This isn’t a good idea, you being here.”
“Perhaps not,” she said, “but we have to talk and—”
“You want to talk?” he asked suddenly, cupping both hands on the pommel of his saddle and leaning in toward her. “Fine. We’ll talk. How about we start with, how did you know that Jenna was in trouble yesterday?”
“What?”
“You heard me,” he said. “You busted into the schoolhouse out of breath and half out of your mind just a second or two after she screamed. That means you started runnin’ a long time before anyone knew something was wrong.”
Sophie swallowed hard and told herself she should have expected this. But somehow, she hadn’t. “Instinct,” she blurted. “It was a... feeling.”
“A feeling.”
“That’s right.”
He shook his head. “There’s more to it, Sophie, and you damn well know it. You’re keeping something back. Why?”
She’d always heard that the best way to defend yourself was to attack your attacker. “Aren’t there things in your life you’d rather not talk about?”
“This isn’t about me.”
“I saw you shoot that snake,” Sophie said, reliving the moment again. “You drew your pistol, fired, and had it back in its holster almost in the same motion.”
“So?” He drew his head back and stared at her like she was crazy.
“So, I’ve read books about gunfighters and—”
“Books again!” He lifted one hand high into the air and let it fall again.
“That’s right, books,” she said. “Books have taught me everything I know about life.”
“That explains a lot.”
“There’s no reason to be nasty.”
“Sophie, go home.”
“So when we’re talking about you, you don’t want to talk.”
“I don’t have questions about me,” he told her.
“I do.” Sophie watched him as she asked, “You were a gunfighter, weren’t you?”
“And if I answer that one, do you answer my questions?”
That stopped her cold. Slamming her mouth shut, Sophie stared at him, wishing things were different. Wishing she could tell him everything. It would feel so good to be able to talk to someone. To him. To feel as though she weren’t all alone. But she couldn’t risk it. There was simply too much at stake.
Her expression must have told him everything he needed to know because he said, “Sophie, you found your way here, you can find your way home.” Tugging on the reins, he pulled his horse’s head around and headed off.
“You’re just going to ride away?” she called after him and urged Moonlight on as the mare chased after his horse.
“Red, we’re through talkin’.”
“This is about last night, isn’t it?” she asked, almost afraid of what he might say.
Ridge shook his head, pulled his horse to a stop again and waited for her to catch up. When she had, he looked into that forest-green gaze and knew that every time he saw her eyes he would remember this moment. This time in the woods, when the trees reflected the color of her eyes and made them seem deeper, more mysterious than ever.
Damn it, he wanted her more than his next breath. And because that need was strangling him, his voice sounded harsher than he’d planned when he said, “Forget about last night. I’m tryin’ to.”
“I don’t see why you’re so angry,” she muttered and shifted uncomfortably in the saddle.
“You sure don’t or you wouldn’t be here,” he said tightly. He had too many questions. Too many feelings. And didn’t know what to do about any of ‘em.
“It’s not as if you made a fool of yourself, singing and dancing in the street,” she said, as if he hadn’t spoken.
He laughed shortly, despite the situation, remembering her enthusiastic, if off-key voice. Then other, stronger memories intruded and his laughter faded away. Staring directly into her eyes, he felt his defenses weakening. Damn it, it didn’t matter who she was or what she’d done. He needed her like he’d never needed anyone else in his life. His gaze moved over her face, and he memorized every line, every curve, until he knew that fifty years from today, he could recall this one image of her and relive the moment completely.
Everything inside him tightened almost unbearably as he said simply, “Go home, Sophie.”
She licked her lips, shook her head slowly, and said, “No.”
Later he wasn’t exactly sure how it happened, but suddenly, he was reaching out, she was leaning in toward him, and he scooped her off her saddle and dragged her across his lap.
“Ridge,” she said, looking up at him, “I think we should talk about—”
“No more talkin’, Sophie,” he muttered, his right hand moving to cup her face. “You should have let me be, darlin’,” he said softly. “Because once we start, there’ll be no stoppin’. You know that, don’t you?”
She swallowed hard, blinked once, then nodded. “I know. I think I knew that when I followed you.”
His thumb traced gently across her cheekbone and she turned into his touch, letting her eyes slide shut.
Bending his head, he claimed her mouth in a kiss he’d been thinking about since last night. And with the first brush of her lips on his, he knew he was lost.
CHAPTER Sixteen
Sophie closed her eyes and gave herself up to the wond
er of his touch, his mouth. Swirls of sensation pooled within her and rippled out to the tips of her fingers, her toes. She felt as though every inch of her body had suddenly leaped into life. Her skin where he touched her burned with a deep inner fire.
This is why she’d followed him up onto the mountain. Whatever other excuse she’d given herself paled beside this one reality: She’d needed to be held by him again. Needed to feel the flames only he could stoke. The fears and doubts that plagued her constantly faded into the background. The risk of becoming too close to this man was now overwhelmed by the want claiming her.
For once in her life, Sophie needed to know what it was to be wanted, needed. And if this moment never came again... if this was the only time with him she would ever have, then she would make it be enough.
Wrapping her arms around his neck, she arched into him, lifting herself off his lap, to press her chest against his. To feel their heartbeats pounding in time together.
His hands moved up and down her back, scooping high into her hair, releasing it from its knot and scattering hairpins like pine needles on the earth below. Her hat fell off and lay forgotten as the big horse moved forward restively on the trail. And still Ridge kissed her, his lips and tongue working her into a frenzy of need that sizzled through her bloodstream like a fireworks display on the Fourth of July.
Her breathing labored, she struggled for air even as she admitted that if she’d had to make a choice between breathing and feeling his mouth on hers, she would have chosen the latter. Nothing, nothing could be as important to her as tasting him on her lips.
And then he lifted his head, breaking that contact and she wanted to weep for the loss of him. Opening her eyes, she looked up into his gaze and saw the same hunger she felt shimmering in her own.
“Decide, Sophie,” he whispered brokenly, his voice catching on the words as his gaze moved over her face, her throat, her breasts.
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