weren’t effective if you didn’t sound convincing.
“In my book, that’s as good as a confession,” he declared as he led her and the horse away. “You’re referring to your encounter with Roark Draper, aren’t you? Guilty as charged, just as I thought.” His voice sounded like a pounding gavel.
Savanna cursed herself mightily for trying to bluff the Ranger/Deputy Marshal. She should have kept her mouth shut. The inability to do so was one of her worst faults.
“I didn’t do it,” she insisted.
“Of course not,” he said caustically.
Fletch gritted his teeth and tried to shake off the vivid picture of Savanna Cantrell stark-bone naked. But it was no use. The images of tanned skin, lush curves and swells, full, rose-tipped breasts and well-shaped legs—that went on forever—were burned on to his eyeballs.
It was a wonder he’d managed to circle the pool in time to cut her off at the pass. Then, wham! There she was, naked, and he’d stood there soaking up the exquisite sight of her. He’d been stunned and too mesmerized to react. Fortunately she’d been stunned, too. Her delayed reaction had been a half second behind his, which had given him the edge to capture her.
Now that he had her trussed up, he wasn’t going to let his guard down again. If he did, she’d find a way to elude him. His new motto was to never underestimate this wily woman. She was as cunning as a fox and he better not let himself forget that.
“I know you don’t believe me, but I really didn’t kill Roark Draper,” she mumbled from beneath the quilt. “I swear it!”
“Right. Of course I believe you,” he said mockingly. “Not a doubt in my mind, Paleface.”
“I was only trying to frighten you,” she insisted.
“Didn’t work. You don’t scare me—”
His voice dried up when he heard the clatter of hooves on the rocky path below. Fletch pulled the Appaloosa toward the cover of the trees then watched five rough-looking riders trot toward the inviting pool he had vacated earlier.
Hell of an incredible place, he mused as he surveyed the plunging falls nestled in a remote valley. It was like a little piece of heaven on earth. The Chickasaw tribe had received a spectacular site for their reservation. This must be compensation for being one of the five “civilized” tribes whose members had intermarried colonists and adapted white practices generations earlier. Still, they’d been dragged across the Trail of Tears and thousands had died along the way.
As for the Plains Indians like the Apache, they had been stuck with sand, cactus and rattlers. They had been poisoned, purposely infected with deadly diseases and slaughtered in massacres that the army chose to refer to as battles.
Come to think of it, none of the Indian tribes had fared well in their dealings with the invading white hordes. Those greedy, land-grubbing, fork-tongued bastards…
Fletch shook off the resentful thoughts and focused on the problem at hand. He wasn’t about to turn this naked firebrand over to the vigilantes, even if he was aggravated with her for being such a royal pain in the ass. Even if she had stung his male pride to the extreme, he wasn’t so cruel and spiteful as to feed her to a wolf pack and let her be molested. His conscience wouldn’t tolerate that.
“What’s going on?” she murmured curiously.
“Vigilantes. I’m going to climb aboard my horse with you, so don’t raise a ruckus that draws attention to us.”
He swung into the saddle, squirming for position behind the quilted bundle of naked female he’d captured. He was anxious to pick his way up the trail to retrieve the other horse and hide in the trees before the riders noticed them.
Fletch grabbed the spare horse’s reins and led it into the trees. He wasn’t sure where he was going to hide out, but he was going to tuck Savanna away from the heavily armed vigilantes.
“How many are there?” she asked a few minutes later.
“Five scraggly-looking riders.”
“I spotted them four days ago,” she reported. “There’s another search party of three men lurking about, too.”
Fletch wondered if they were the same three men who’d taken potshots at Bill and him after they’d disembarked from the ferry.
“If you aren’t heading northwest, then you’re making a gigantic mistake,” Savanna told him. “And could you let me up? Blood is rushing to my head. I’m about to pass out.”
“Now that’d be a shame,” he said, and smirked. “It must be as uncomfortable as having the circulation cut off to your hands and feet or being jerked upside down and clubbed on the back of the skull. Sorry, Paleface, but these are the only accommodations you’re getting right now.”
“You are a mean, horrible man, Fletcher Hawk,” she mumbled. “This is no way to treat a lady. My father is the Chickasaw agent and he’ll be outraged by this treatment!”
“There you go with those empty threats again.”
“I mean it! Papa isn’t going to be pleased when I tell him how you’ve mistreated me.”
“Like I said…”
“When he finds out that you held me captive, naked, he will have your head!”
Fletch couldn’t help but grin at her useless attempt to persuade him to unleash her. She was the mistress of threats—empty or not. He’d say one thing for her, though, she put up a tough facade. It was admirable really. Useless on him, but impressive nonetheless.
“I’ll tell your daddy how you stripped me down, tied me up and tried to have your wicked way with me,” he teased.
“I did no such thing!” she erupted in offended dignity.
“Keep your voice down, banshee,” he snapped. “This place is jumping alive with bounty hunters and vigilantes.”
She sagged against the saddle and kept her mouth shut for a good half hour. He wondered if that was some sort of record because she said, “I’ve kept quiet long enough. You should head toward the limestone peak where the rock formations look like cathedral spires. There are caves nearby that are difficult to spot unless you know exactly where to look. If we rely on your knowledge of the area, we’ll be in serious trouble.”
“Thank you so much for your invaluable guidance,” he muttered sarcastically.
But he still headed in the direction she suggested.
Fletch’s traitorous gaze strayed to the curve of Savanna’s rump draped over the saddle. He forced himself to look the other way while he followed the winding trail. He reminded himself that it was his policy to never get personally involved during an assignment. He was especially not going to get emotionally attached to this fire-breathing female who was ten times more trouble than she possibly could be worth…
Well, except for the exorbitant price on her head, he amended. Sharing her company and putting up with her sassy mouth indefinitely would require compensation. If he got Savanna to Tishomingo—without one or the other of
