The Ranger. Carol Finch
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Annoyed with his insensitive attitude, she slapped his hand away then squared her shoulders. “Understood. Now lead the way, Chief Tough-As-Nails. Heaven forbid that I should freeze up or fall to my death on Ghost Ridge. Never mind about me,” she said with a dismissive flick of her wrist. “After all, I’m just the inconvenience you nearly landed on in midstream this morning and then decided to drag along with you. I don’t know why you didn’t leave me behind. It’s obvious that I’m only slowing you down.”
Hawk couldn’t help but smile at her spunk and sass. He didn’t like learning that heights rattled her, knowing she would be testing herself to the limit of her abilities when they scaled the lofty peak. But the sparkle of determination he saw in her cedar-tree green eyes assured him that she wasn’t a fainthearted shrinking violet. She would do her best to scratch and claw her way up and over the ridge—or die trying. He would be right beside her every step of the way to make sure it didn’t come to that.
Hawk led the way to the larger cave where he had sheltered the horses. Shiloh waited outside. Her attention fixated on the craggy peak that posed an intimidating personal challenge. She couldn’t imagine how she and the horses were going to make the nearly impossible trek, especially at night, especially during a misty rain.
Her anxious thoughts trailed off when Hawk reappeared to hand her the reins to her horse. “I’ll let you lead your mount until we get to the most difficult part of the trail, then I’ll take control of it.”
“I’ll manage that, too,” Shiloh insisted, holding her head high as she surged off.
“Wrong way,” Hawk called out, a smile in his voice.
Shiloh sighed heavily as Hawk walked off in the direction they had come, then veered around an oversize boulder to follow an inconspicuous trail that led up the steep incline. Obviously he knew this canyon like the back of his hand. She envied his knowledge and skill. But at least she wasn’t floundering around in unfamiliar territory with some greenhorn that could get them lost or injured as fast as she could.
“This is one of those places where it’s not a good idea to look down,” Hawk cautioned.
Shiloh braced herself when the trail narrowed to such extremes that Hawk’s mustang, which was directly in front of her, didn’t have enough space to walk without scraping its side on the jagged stone wall. There was nothing but a fifty-foot gorge on the other side. Shiloh grabbed a quick breath and prayed that her horse didn’t stumble and jerk her over the edge before she could release the reins.
To make the difficult trek worse, thunder rumbled overhead, the earth shook and the sky opened up again. Shiloh found herself soaked to the bone in less than five minutes. To compound the problem, there was barely enough light for her to see where she was going. Fear pounded in rhythm with her accelerated pulse. The voice inside her head kept chanting that her next step might be her last.
“This escape route has disaster written all over it,” she said fatalistically.
“It’s a damn sight better than trying to shoot our way past the crack-shot gunmen that are blocking the canyon exit,” Hawk countered.
“I’m not sure one route is better or worse than the other…. Dear God…”
The eerie sounds that Hawk had mentioned this morning suddenly demanded her attention. It did indeed sound as if haunting voices from beyond the grave were howling in the wind. A chill—and not from the soaking rain—slithered down her spine. Shiloh didn’t consider herself superstitious, but this treacherous trek after sunset, with a stiff breeze and stinging raindrops constantly slapping her in the face, was working on her jumpy nerves.
She did not need disembodied voices and tormented wails undermining her composure and preying on her fear of height.
She nearly jumped out of her own skin when Hawk’s hand folded unexpectedly around her ice-cold fingers. She’d been so distracted by the otherworldly sounds that she hadn’t heard him ease up beside her.
“This is where the path becomes slick and hazardous.”
“Well, shoot, and it’s been such a piece of cake thus far,” she quipped.
His white teeth flashed in the gathering darkness. “Sarcasm must be your way of dealing with difficulty,” he noted. “A woman after my own heart.”
She stared at the nearly impossible path ahead of them then spared him a glance. “I’m not after your heart, Hawk. I’ve sworn off men with good reason. I just want to get out of here alive so my two bro—” She slammed her mouth shut so fast that she nearly clipped off her tongue. “Well, damn it all.”
“So you have two brothers. So what?” he said, seemingly disinterested. “It’s not the end of the world if I’m privy to that information. I already told you that I’m not holding you for ransom. My objective is to rejoin my company and report my findings. Then I’ll have one of my compatriots take you home.”
“Right. You’re honorable, noble and heroic. Don’t know why I ever doubted your intentions.” She stared pointedly at the saddlebags of money strapped to his horse. With an audible sigh she turned her attention to the winding trail above them. “I really wish you did have wings, like your namesake, Hawk. Flying looks to be the only safe way to scale this embankment to reach that rain-slick peak.”
“Change of plans,” Hawk suddenly declared as he pulled the reins from her hand. “I’ll take you up first, then come back for the horses.”
“That’s not necessa—”
Her voice evaporated when she stepped forward to reclaim the reins—and slipped in the mud and loose rock. Hawk snaked out an arm and hooked it around her waist before she fell on her face. He kept a firm grasp on her as he propelled her between the jutting boulders.
“Footing here is tricky on a good day. In pouring rain it’s downright perilous. Take shorter steps and widen your stance,” he instructed.
They went about twenty-five yards before he halted beside the eroded crevice that gaped in front of them. Leaving her braced against the boulder, Hawk backed up a step then launched himself through the air to avoid the space where the trail had given way to forty feet of nothingness.
He held out his hand to her. “Now it’s your turn.”
There was just enough daylight left for him to note the color had seeped from her face. But to her credit she gritted her teeth and marshaled her resolve. His respect for her elevated another notch as she crouched in preparation for leaping toward him. He had seen this woman during several telling moments today and he admired her gumption and determination.
Whoever Bernice Colbert really was, she was one spirited, independent and courageous woman.
Hawk braced himself when she hurtled toward him. Since she wasn’t as long-legged as he was, she didn’t quite make it over to solid ground. When she shrieked and lost her balance, his hand shot out to grab her wrist. Thankfully, she was only airborne for a few moments before he hauled her against him.
To his surprise she threw her arms around his neck and practically hugged the stuffing out of him. Hawk was sorry to say that his male body responded instantaneously to having