feet she guessed, plenty strong enough to have clobbered her and shoved her into the trunk. Then again, if his goal was to hurt her, why would he have kept her from falling into the ravine? Doubt clouded her thinking along with the cold that seemed to be freezing her one layer at a time.
“All right,” he said. “My brothers are going to pull us up on the rope, so you have to hang on to me for a minute, okay?”
Not okay. The furthest thing from okay. To deliver herself into the hands of this stranger and now his brothers? Needing more time to think, she shook her head.
His expression went a little softer, or so she imagined. “I know you’ve been through a fright and you’re scared, but I’m a good guy, mostly.” He offered a wry smile. “At least, some folks might say so. I’m not here to hurt you, but there’s really no way I can prove that to you under the present circumstances.”
He could be telling the truth but her fear still ran rampant. She pressed herself to the cliff wall, staying far out of reach.
He tucked his hands onto his hips. “All right. If that’s your choice, we’ll honor it. I’ve never in my life forced a woman to do anything she didn’t want to, but I for one am tired of being out here in the rain, and I’ve got a horse to find, so if you really want to stay down here by yourself, it’s a long wait until sunrise.”
She saw now there was a rope knotted around his waist. He looped an extra length around himself, grabbed hold above his head and shouted to his brothers to start pulling.
Below, the river water rushed wildly on past the rocky ground. The wind teased her wet skin, her body shivering uncontrollably. She recalled her mother’s admonition, always gentle, too gentle. So stubborn, Shell. It’s not always you against the world.
“Wait,” she said.
Water ran down his crew-cut hair and wide chin. Slowly he held out a hand to her.
Just get out of the ravine, she told herself. Then you can figure if this guy is the genial cowboy or the man who locked you up. She reached out shaking fingers. His palms were rough and calloused, the hands of a working man, and he scooped her to his side in one strong movement.
His shoulders were solid, wide under the sodden jacket, his waist tapered and trim as she clung to him, gripping his leather belt.
“Keep holding on tight,” he advised.
She did as the rope was pulled up from above. The journey threatened to spin them in circles, but the man she’d heard called Barrett kept them relatively steady by bracing his long legs against the canyon walls.
Foot by slippery foot, they gradually reached the top where she found herself surrounded by three more men and their horses. Their physical similarities marked them as brothers, except for the one who was more slender and lanky than the other three.
“I’ll call for an ambulance when I can get a signal,” said the brother who was still astride his horse. He peered down at her curiously.
Another handed her a blanket. Barrett helped wrap it around her shoulders.
“Mama’s waiting at the house,” one of the brothers said.
Barrett nodded, taking the reins to a big horse from one and retrieving his wet hat from the saddlebag. “You can ride with me—” he hesitated “—unless you’d rather not.”
She was miserable and shivering badly as she surveyed the men who stared at her. Something in their appearance took the edge off her suspicion, or maybe it was the reference to Mama. She’d always called her mother that, a sweet endearment that bridged the gap between angry daughter and desperate mother. Mama. Two syllables packed to the brim with feelings, and she would give anything to say it one more time and see understanding in her mother’s eyes.
We’re oil and water sometimes, Shelby, but I’ll always be your Mama.
Oil and water. More like fire and ice.
Mama, I miss you.
Expelling a breath and straightening her shoulders, she nodded. Barrett got onto his horse in one fluid motion and offered her an arm.
After a moment of paralyzing doubt, she took it and he swung her up behind him.
“Where are we going?” she said into his ear.
“Home,” he said, urging the horse through the pounding rain.
Barrett was not too cold to feel uncomfortable at having a woman’s arms wrapped around his waist. It had been four long years since any woman had touched him except his mother and assorted relatives. The lady was strong and soft at the same time, holding on to him tentatively, it seemed to him. Fortunately, Titan was eager to get back to the barn so his pace was brisk as they returned to the house.
The string of Christmas lights twined around the porch railing twinkled in the gloom. His father met them, taking the reins from Barrett as he helped the woman off the horse. Barrett tied the horses under the wide porch as a temporary measure until he could unsaddle them, dry them down and see to their feed.
His father tipped his wet hat to her and introduced himself. “Tom Thorn. Very sorry for your trouble, miss. Come inside and my wife, Evie, will help you feel comfortable.”
“Thank you,” she said.
“Got Swanny,” he said to Barrett. “She’s in the barn, looking plenty sorry.”
“I’m sure.” Barrett chuckled. More likely, she was pleased as could be now that she was back in a warm stable with a bucket of oats. It eased his mind to know that his wife’s dotty horse was unhurt after her mad escape.
Barrett’s mother stood in the doorway, gesturing. “Enough chatting, Barrett. Bring that poor girl in the house.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He followed her in where Evie looked the woman up and down. His mother was all of four feet eleven inches, hair graying but green eyes sparkling as brightly as they ever had.
“What’s your name, honey?” she asked.
“Shelby,” the woman replied, teeth chattering.
“Well, Miss Shelby, I am eager to hear how in the world you got halfway down a ravine on Joe Hatcher’s property, but first things first. Everybody needs some dry clothes. I’ve got a pot of coffee on, so go change, boys, and we’ll have a talk.”
She put an arm around Shelby’s shoulders. “Come with me. We’ll get you a change of clothes and check out your bruises.” She chuckled. “Don’t worry. I was an RN before I traded it in for ranch life, so I’m not just a nosy mom to those four gorillas.”
Barrett marched to his room, stripped off his wet clothes and pulled on a dry pair of jeans and a T-shirt, along with his less favored pair of boots. He tried not to rush, but he was dying to hear Shelby’s story. It was an odd sensation. Since Bree died, he had been interested in nothing and no one, only his family and the workings of the Gold Bar Ranch where his life was 100 percent about the horses.
Forcing
