“He’ll do,” Josie said at last. “I’m going to take him for a ride to work out the kinks.”
“I’ll get the gate.” Bart jumped down and opened it for her.
“Any suggestions about where to take him?”
“Follow the rim. Then you can’t get lost.”
“Oh, he won’t lose me.”
“It’s a big canyon,” Bart warned her. “You could ride all day long without ever seeing this place again.”
“Well, then, if I’m not back in a half hour, send out the cavalry.”
He watched her go, admiring her seat…or maybe it was her pretty little derriere, he decided with a chuckle. He hadn’t considered her all that attractive to start, but she certainly was growing on him.
Just then, the sound of an engine caught his attention. He turned as one of the ranch pickups crested a hill and headed straight for them.
“Hey, there’s Frank and your kids,” Moon-Eye said, moving around the corral to join him.
The truck pulled over and stopped, and a cowboy who was fast approaching middle age got out from behind the wheel. Frank Ewing was short and wiry, and his thin face was nearly overwhelmed by the size of his mustache.
Bart’s kids tumbled from the back of the truck where they’d been standing. They had seemed pretty happy until they’d spotted him. Then, as if they’d remembered they were angry with him, they’d both sobered. Now Lainey flounced toward the house without so much as a by-your-leave. Daniel stayed, though he kept some distance behind Frank, who was looking none too happy himself.
“How did it go?” Bart asked.
“We got another problem, boss. The windmill in the far northwest pasture is busted.”
“How?”
“Something must’ve come loose in the head—looks tore up.” Frank shook his head. “It was fine last time I was out that way a couple of days ago. Now there’s no water for the cows.”
“We’d better truck in some, then. Moon-Eye, you fill the tank, and Frank, you see to the tools and any spare parts. Maybe we can patch it up.” Figuring this might take a few hours, he said, “Daniel, you’d better get back to the house and let Felice know I’ll be late for supper tonight. Tell her to go ahead and serve whether or not I’m back.”
It wasn’t until his son said, “Sure, Dad,” wearing a sour expression, that Bart realized Daniel might have expected to go along with the other men of the ranch.
And it wasn’t until they were on their way to the far northwest pasture with the water truck and a box of tools and spare parts that Bart realized a half hour was long gone and so was Josie.
DIRT CHURNING up a yard in front of them made Josie start. The gelding whinnied and backed up, but she quickly got him under control even as she looked around uncertainly.
The earth was blasted along the wash’s incline near the horse’s head. His protest squealing around the canyon, the bay threw himself upward and tried to unseat her.
Josie fought him, brought him down on all fours. Hands shaking, breath coming too quick, she felt sweat break out all over her body.
“What the heck?” she muttered.
What was going on?
Practically before she could reorient herself, something whined past her and into a boulder perched at the lip of the wash.
The explosion of rock was accompanied by the big bay screaming as he jumped away from the unseen threat.
Josie was frantic…twisting in the saddle…trying to figure out what was happening…missing completely any indication of trouble.
Then she was fighting the bay, trying to get him back under control. The animal was half-crazed, bucking and twisting.
Little left in her, Josie could only hang on.
Chapter Six
Fear ripped through Josie as the bay screamed and jerked and she heard a crack, all seemingly at once.
“Oh, my God!”
Knowing she’d lost all control—that the horse was going down and she with him no matter what she tried—she bailed, body flying….
World turning upside down…dangling from a web of seat belts that stole the breath from her…
She hit solid ground and rolled just before the gelding landed, legs bouncing, head jerking, mane flying into her face. Mere seconds before his body could pin her beneath his awesome weight. Could crush her. Maybe kill her.
The dusty earth of the wash clouded around her. Threatened to smother her. Gag her.
This wasn’t happening! Another nightmare.
“Wake up!” she choked out.
But she was already awake and the reality was far worse than any bad dream. The bay was squealing and twisting, fighting back to his feet. What the hell was happening? she wondered frantically.
“Easy, boy, easy.” She got to her knees, her movements purposely slow so as not to threaten him. “Calm down, Mack,” she said in a singsong, her voice at once purposely sweet and uncontrollably shaky. She darted her gaze to every inch of him that she could see. “You’ll be all right.”
Was that blood on his hide? From what?
The crack echoed in her head even as Mack found his legs and veered away from her.
A shot…that’s what she’d heard…maybe more than just one!
Had Mack taken a bullet? He seemed to be running all right, so maybe a rock had cut him when he’d fallen.
Even so, Josie whipped around, looking for any sign of threat, but as far as she could tell, she was alone. Seemed alone. Sensed she really wasn’t. That someone could really be out there with a gun.
Gunning for her?
Still on her knees, Josie felt gripped by fear, and her mind suddenly whirled with terrible visions.
Flashing red-and-blue lights. A beam in her eyes. Couldn’t really see them. Eyes closed, mind shutting down. They floated out there, though, just out of reach.
“Stay with us…be okay…” Words, all disconnected, floated through her head. “Get you out…hospital…”
She tried to answer…screamed at them inside her mind…but they couldn’t hear.
Through the ordeal of being lifted, carried, strapped to a board, the pain kept her from leaving completely…reminded her that she had to fight…that she was still alive…
Alive.
But for how long?
Sudden terror drove her as she realized she was in the open, a perfect target.
Tears blurring her vision, Josie crawled along the wash, huddling against the incline, praying that it would be protection from another bullet meant for her. But who? Who hated her enough to want to kill her?
Her memory was returning slowly. Bits and pieces. If only she could force it…
She crawled until her knees stung and her palms felt raw through her thin leather gloves, and the visions inside her head made her want to roll up into a ball and let her mind float away to some safe place….
HE FOUND THE HORSE FIRST—Mack was heading for home, riderless.
Jumping out of the truck, Bart tried to intercept him, but the lathered-up bay danced out of his reach and lengthened his stride, leaving a cloud of reddish dust behind him.
“What the hell…”
So she’d been dumped. Why did that surprise him? Everyone who sat on a horse got dumped occasionally. Only, after seeing Josie on Mack, he was having a hard time imagining it.
Maybe something weird had happened. An accident?
Bart flew into the driver’s seat and took off, a curl of fear snaking through his gut.
Thank God instinct had made him turn the water truck around and head back to the house. When he hadn’t seen Josie or Mack, he’d sent Frank and Moon-Eye back out to water the cows and make the repair without him.
Instinct. A man’s best friend out here in God’s country. He relied on it now to guide him.
Mack had been running parallel to the canyon wall, so undoubtedly Josie had done as he’d suggested and followed the line of the rim. But how far had she gone? From the looks of him, the gelding had worked up quite a head of steam,
so Bart went a ways before starting to look for Josie.
The earth here shifted and swung, as did the flow of water during monsoon season. Heavy rains cut swaths through the canyon. The wash dipped and curved, widened and narrowed, all according to the amount of dirt and rock moved by the rushing waters.
Josie could be anywhere. Hurt. Possibly unconscious. He could easily miss her.
Unfortunately the horn on this particular truck was long gone, so he yelled out the open window. “Josie!”
He called her name again…and again…and until his throat felt raw.
No answer.
Likely he couldn’t hear her over the truck’s engine even if she were calling out to him. He stopped the vehicle and stepped out and away from it.
“Josie, where are you?”
He listened hard. Nothing.
Then he whistled—instinct again—using the same sharp code that she had used to round up the horses. A moment later, the code was returned, the sound clear, if faint. Relief flooded through him. He hadn’t even realized how tense he was not knowing what had happened to the woman.
Another exchange and Bart got an idea of Josie’s whereabouts, some distance toward the heart of the canyon.
The truck took him closer, but the incline into the wash was far too steep, the earth too loose. He wasn’t foolish enough to chance taking the vehicle any farther. Whistling yet again, he descended on foot to an area that was two or three times as deep as he was tall.
When Josie returned the signal, he pinpointed her whereabouts more accurately.
“I’ve got you!” he yelled, jogging now.
Following a bend in the wash, he saw her coming straight at him. She appeared unhurt if shaky. He had never been so glad to see anyone in his life. He felt as if he’d been holding his breath and just now was able to get much-needed air.
Slowing, he said, “The cavalry has arrived.”
“I thought I told you a half hour,” she said, attempting the indignant.
At which she failed miserably. She forced a smile, the action defining smudged tracks of dirt on her face, indication that she’d been crying. Her nerves showed raw to Bart.
A very basic instinct bade he take her in his arms to comfort her.
This instinct he fought.
Arms crossed over his chest, he stopped directly in front of her. “Mack passed me like the devil was after him. What happened?”
“I’m not sure.” She looked down at her gloved palms, then wiped them on her filthy jeans. “An accident.”
“Tell me.”
“Something scared Mack bad” was all she said.
Rather than meet his directly, Josie darted her gaze to some point beyond his left shoulder, as if she was looking for something.
“What?” he pressed, glancing over his shoulder as well, not seeing anything to worry him. “An animal?”
She shrugged. “What does it matter, anyhow? I proved to be as incompetent as you expected, so you can wash your hands of me. I would appreciate a ride back to town, though. I don’t think I’d make it on foot right now.”
Taken aback, Bart stared at her. “You’re giving up?”
“You’re not ready to?”
“You think I’d send you packing over a spill?”
“I figured you’d look for an excuse,” she admitted, her expression cautiously hopeful at best. “Besides, I wasted your afternoon.”
“Let me be the judge of that.”
“So this isn’t a deal-breaker?”
“We don’t have a deal.” This time he was the one to add “Yet.” Putting an arm around her back, he said, “C’mon, let’s get out of here.”
He felt her stiffen slightly, but she didn’t shrug off his arm. Despite the bravura, she seemed deeply shaken.
Instinct at work again, Bart sensed there was more to Josie’s story than she was sharing. Her expertise with horses indicated a long history with them. And anyone with a long history was bound to eat the dust a time or two. No reason to be unnerved, but she was, just as when he’d followed her into the abandoned building.
She’d had an “accident” then, too, he remembered.
Something was definitely wrong, Bart thought, but he wouldn’t get anywhere pressing her. Not right now.
He meant to get back to it, though, as soon as he saw an opening.
Reaching the incline, Josie shot ahead a little. But halfway up to the truck, she stepped wrong. Her foot hit loose gravel and she started to slide. She threw a hand out against the fall, but Bart snaked an arm around her waist before she could make contact.
“Gotcha.”
“Thanks,” she gasped, shuddering as if in pain where he gripped her. “I’m okay.”
He loosened the fingers pressed into her ribs. “That you are.”
More than okay. She felt great pressed against his side. Again he experienced the overwhelming instinct to pull her into his arms.
And then what?
Unable to help himself, he reached out and brushed a thumb down her cheek to remove the dust. He imagined pulling her closer, cradling her head in his hand and tilting it back so he could study her face up-close-and-personal. He wanted to rub the furrow from her forehead, lick the dried salt from her skin, taste the mysteries of her mouth….
Josie’s gray eyes widened, exactly as if she could read his thoughts. Her breathing changed subtly, growing a bit quicker, a bit more shallow.
And a whole lot more exciting than he could stand.
Bart couldn’t help himself. He turned imagination into reality. He pulled Josie against him as if she belonged there. She was a little on the thin side for his taste—he generally liked the softness of a fuller woman’s flesh—but he knew her fragility was an illusion. A woman unafraid of hard work, she was strong, both in body and in spirit.
Above all, he liked his women spirited.
A wildness deep in her eyes called to him and he answered, skipping the forehead and the cheeks and going directly for her mouth.
At the first touch of his lips to hers, his blood sang. Her mouth was soft if the rest of her wasn’t. It opened under his like the petals of some exotic desert flower. He drank at her, tasting her sweet nectar until his head went light and his groin grew heavy.
She fisted his shirtfront, pressed herself closer, kissed him deeper…then, as if catching herself, she gasped and pushed at him.
Bart let go immediately, if with great regret.
Without a word, Josie turned and challenged the incline again, making it to the top in record time. She seemed to have recovered nicely from that case of nerves.
Too bad Bart couldn’t say the same. Every nerve in his body was alive.
But what in tarnation did he think he was doing here? He had a ranch to run and two motherless kids to consider. Besides, getting personally involved with someone who worked for him would be damn awkward, so it was out of the question. Or so he tried telling himself.
Suspecting that his life would never be the same for meeting Josie Wales, Bart followed in thoughtful silence.
ON THE WAY BACK TO THE BARN, Bart didn’t try to start a conversation, but Josie figured that to be all well and good. She certainly didn’t want to talk about that kiss. Not that she expected he would.
He’d just been feeling sorry for her. Poor, pitiful woman who couldn’t stay on her horse. Couldn’t even stay on her feet. The kiss had been his way of comforting her.
And it had been a mistake, Josie knew, no matter how it had kick-started her pulse, no matter how she’d longed to lose herself in Bart’s arms.
The craziness had been momentary. Easy to forget, she assured herself, even as she crossed her arms over her chest to hide a perfectly normal human response to something that never should have happened in the first place.
No, she didn’t think Bart would want to talk about that.
What she did fear was that he’d backtrack to the accident. Demand details that she wasn’t willing to share.
Gunshots. Had
they really happened?
The more she thought about it, the more convinced she was.
If she told Bart, he would either think she was lying to save face, or he would believe her and set a real investigation in motion. He was a lawman at heart if not in fact, after all. She had to keep that in mind.
Not let him get too close.
Not let him get to her.
Racing hormones tended to be distracting and were the last thing she needed in her life right now, Josie decided. She had to keep her head. She had to keep Bart focused on the ranch’s future, not on her own past.
That would be the path to disaster, Josie thought. Surely she could keep him from it.
Buildings coming into view offered comfort to a woman who didn’t want to be alone with a man. Buildings meant people and she saw a few near the barn. Bart’s kids were talking to someone she hadn’t yet met.
“Ah, he’s here,” Bart said. “Over there with Daniel and Lainey. That real cowboy I hired.”
As if drawn by the sound of the approaching truck, the cowboy turned to look. He was young and handsome and wore a big smile as easily as he wore his white hat.
Bart stopped the truck and they both got out. Josie was stiff and hurting everywhere. Her bruises now had bruises, she was certain. All eyes in the yard were on them. She bit back the pain she was feeling and tried to act naturally. Bart made the introductions, first the kids, then adult to adult.
“Josie Wales…Will Spencer. You two are gonna be working together.”
“Josie, is it?” he asked, a touch of incredulity in his tone.
He appeared about to challenge her, then changed his mind. Will offered his gloved hand for a shake. When she took it, he gave her an intense stare, his light golden brown eyes narrowing to slits, making Josie wonder if they’d met before.
“Mighty pretty name” was all he said.
And he was a mighty pretty cowboy, she thought, admiring his long, well-muscled lines. Brad Pitt with long curly blond hair and a deep tan. Then it hit her—he was the same cowboy she’d seen sleeping in town just before going into that building after the cat.
“Hey, what happened to Mack?” Daniel demanded.
“We had a little accident,” Josie told him.
Heart of a Lawman Page 8