Chapter Three

If there were a road agent out there, Brady thought, he hadn’t delivered any commands. Brady glanced at Annie, deciding he could leave her long enough to learn just why they’d stopped so abruptly. Where was she going to run to here in the middle of nowhere? On the other hand, being the slippery little she-devil she was...Well, he’d have to chance it.

“Stay put,” he instructed her, “while I find out what’s going on.”

She didn’t argue with him, anyway. Hand on the grip of his revolver, ready to flash it out of its holster, Brady climbed cautiously out of the coach. None of the other passengers joined him. From their facial expressions, he guessed they were in no state to confront a bandit. He wasn’t exactly eager himself to dodge a bullet, but he did want an explanation.

No bandit was visible anywhere. The driver, still swearing his head off, scrambled down from his perch.

“What’s the problem?” Brady asked him. “Trouble with the team?” The horses looked uninjured, despite their backs steaming under the pale sun that had appeared after it finally stopped raining. “Or maybe the coach?” Given the condition of the road, a damaged undercarriage wouldn’t have surprised him.

The paunchy driver removed his battered hat, slapped it against his thigh and spat a stream of chewing tobacco into a puddle before shaking his head. “It’s the bridge.”

“What bridge?”

“Can’t see it down here. Have to be up on the box to see it. Only I didn’t see it, ’cause it ain’t there. And that there is the problem, see.”

Brady didn’t see at all and was forced to wait impatiently while the driver stuck his head through the open door to reassure his passengers.

“Ever’thing’s fine, folks. We ain’t in no danger.”

Murmurs of relief emerged from the interior of the stagecoach.

“Now, about that bridge,” Brady urged the driver when he stepped back from the door to permit curious occupants to exit from the coach. “What’s happened to it?”

The man pondered his question for a few seconds. “Way I figger, it was washed out by all them rains we’ve had. Happened once before. Had to rebuild it.”

Not satisfied, Brady started forward along the road. The other passengers, Annie among them, trailed after him, picking their way through the slop.

They arrived at the edge of a stream, which Brady guessed from the width of the ravine it had carved, had probably been a tame creek.

It was that no longer. Swollen from the daily rains, it was now a wild torrent. That a bridge had once spanned the ravine was evident in the shape of the supports that remained, crooked timbers clinging precariously to the banks on both sides. The rest had been swept away, leaving a considerable gap.

The company silently, soberly gazed down at the raging waters beneath them. Brady turned to their driver.

“How far are we from Rock City and the rail station?”

“’Bout a mile or so from here. Not that it’s gonna do us much good with that there mile on the other side an’ us stuck on this side.”

Brady gazed in frustration at the stretch of road across the ravine, damning the loss of the bridge. The stream in its present state was too deep to wade and its current too powerful to try anything like swimming across it. But his urgency to reach that rail station was just as strong.

He kept remembering Walter’s failing health and how he had promised the old man he would deliver his granddaughter to him while there was still time. If they didn’t make that noon train, there wouldn’t be another one heading to Wyoming until the day after tomorrow. Possibly too late for Walter.

“Well, folks,” their driver declared, “since there ain’t no other road or bridge, it looks like we don’t got us a choice but to head back to Sweet Spot ’til they git around to fixin’ this thing.”

Groans and gloomy expressions were the reactions of the passengers. All but from Annie, Brady noticed. Not surprisingly, she wore a pleased little smile on that appealing mouth. Too bad she wasn’t going to realize her desire to return to Sweet Spot. Not if he could help it.

The driver started to lead them back to the coach. Brady stopped him. “There must be another way across this ravine.”

“Now, mister, ain’t I jest said—”

“Not a road bridge but something on foot.”

Annie’s smile turned into a frown. Brady ignored it and focused on the driver, pressing him for an alternative. “Come on, man, there has to be something. Upstream? Downstream?”

“Well...”

The driver’s mouth worked soundlessly as he thought about it. Brady waited impatiently.

“Could be there is. Seems to me I recollect a rope bridge the trappers and prospectors used in the old days afore they cut the road through here. Mind, I ain’t sayin’ it’s still there. Might have rotted an’ fallen in long ago.”

“Which way?”

“Upstream.”

“How far?”

“Dunno. Maybe a fair piece. Maybe not.”

Brady squinted up at the sun. Almost mid-morning, he judged from its position. That left a good two hours for them to find the rope bridge, regain the road on the other side, and walk to Rock City in time for the noon train.

He looked inquiringly at the other passengers. They shook their heads. Apparently, none of them shared his fixed determination to reach Rock City today, preferring to go back to Sweet Spot and wait it out.

“Looks like it’s just you and me, Miss Johnson.”

Annie’s full mouth tightened into a narrow line of obstinacy. “You’re out of your mind if you think I’m going with you, Brady Malone.”

He didn’t say anything. He just scowled at her, but he made sure his scowl said it all. A reminder to her he carried the evidence of her swindles. That, if she refused to accompany him, he wouldn’t hesitate to give the Pinkerton agent’s report to the driver with instructions to turn both the report and her over to the sheriff in Sweet Spot. A scowl that in the end left her no choice.

“Fine,” she relented with a note of sarcasm, “let’s you and me go commit suicide together.”

“Pleased to have you with me, Miss Johnson. Driver, unload our two bags from the carrier.”

****

Brady didn’t miss the forlorn look on Annie’s face as she gazed after the stagecoach until it disappeared around a bend in the road. He might have expressed a bit of sympathy. If she hadn’t swung around to glare at him.

“I won’t hope you know what you’re doing, because I’m sure that you don’t.”

He wasn’t going to argue with her. They had to get moving. But first he had to make something clear to her. “I won’t tie our wrists together, if you promise me you won’t try to get away.”

“Much good it would do me to take off in this wilderness.”

“The promise,” he insisted.

She blew out her cheeks in exasperation. “Promise.”

Her word probably wasn’t much good, but he was willing to trust it. For now, anyway.

Before he’d left them, the driver had pointed out an old trail that paralleled the ravine. Brady led her to the mouth of it. The path was narrow. They would have to navigate it single file.

“You lead the way,” he said.

“What kind of man lets a woman go first in such a situation?”

“The kind who knows better than to have his back to her.”

“I suppose you’re not going to offer to carry my bag either.”

He patted the Colt on his hip, drawing her attention to it. “Being as how I’m busy with my own bag in my other hand, I need to keep this one free. Understand?”

She moved off ahead of him without further objection, but he could hear her grumbling as he followed close behind her. Though what she muttered was almost under her breath, he was able to catch snatches of it. Friendly things like:

“...suppose it’s too much to hope he falls in the river...”

“...ornery lout, stranding us out here like...”

“...always the chance, of course, he’ll go and shoot himself in the foot...”

Maybe those mutterings were meant for her own benefit. Maybe not. Maybe she intended for him to overhear them. He certainly didn’t misunderstand the way she punished him by pushing aside overhanging branches to permit her own progress and then letting them snap back against his chest.

The trail was difficult enough to manage without that deliberate performance. Overgrown from disuse, with exposed tree roots that threatened to trip them at almost every step and mud that caked their boots, the path was a menace.

That wasn’t the worst. The worst, unconsciously executed or not, was the tantalizing swing of her hips in front of him. The sight aroused him with an unwanted thickening in his groin.

There was no question of it. The little witch aggravated the hell out of him on too many levels. Brady would be glad when he could rid himself of her. That, of course, wouldn’t happen until Wyoming. And it was a long way to Wyoming.

Meanwhile, he could do nothing but try to curb his anxiety about Walter. A maple tree on the other side of the ravine, whose heavy crown of leaves was beginning to show autumn hues, reminded him again of how they needed to reach the ranch while there was still time for Walter to get friendly with his granddaughter.

A friendliness Brady had no business trying to cultivate for himself. Certainly not when it came to her enticing backside and an image of those shapely legs wrapped around him. His business was strictly to be responsible for her welfare. And to hold his tongue and hope she held hers, which she did not.

“I’m tired. I need to rest.”

“You can rest on the train. Keep going.”

She did and this time in a merciful silence. It didn’t last. A little farther on she stopped and turned to him, nodding in the direction of his gun.

“I hope you know how to use that thing.”

“The Colt and I are on familiar terms. Why?”

“Because you may need it. There’s something out there. I could hear it. Maybe a bear.”

Brady listened. “I don’t hear anything.”

“Well, it’s there.” She tilted her head, indicating the thick undergrowth along the side of the trail away from the ravine.

This time he did hear it, a soft rustling of some animal stirring in the brush. He wasn’t worried. If it had been anything as large as a bear, it would have been crashing, not rustling.

“Relax. It’s nothing more dangerous than a squirrel or a chipmunk.”

He was to regret his careless dismissal of a possible encounter with the local wildlife when, a few seconds later, the animal in question appeared on the path several yards in front of them. It was neither a squirrel nor a chipmunk.

Annie yelped at the sight of the skunk and backed up hastily until she clutched Brady’s arm.

“Do something!”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. Talk to him. Since you’re something of a polecat yourself, maybe you can convince it to go away.”

“Just keep still. It won’t bother us if we don’t threaten it.”

He hoped. Having had little experience with skunks, other than the two-legged variety, he didn’t know that for sure. This one didn’t seem to be particularly worried about them. It stood there, head lifted and sniffing the air. Probably catching their scent. Brady hoped it wouldn’t return the favor and treat them to its own scent.

Losing interest, the skunk trotted off again in the direction from which it had arrived. Annie still clutched his arm.

“This ought to convince you we shouldn’t be out here getting personal with the wildlife on a trail that probably goes nowhere.”

“You’re cutting off the circulation in my arm.” To his relief, she released her grip.

“You’re not giving up, are you?”

“Nope. Now let’s find that bridge.”

He was prepared for another protest and grateful when she had none. Obeying the thumb he jerked in the direction they were headed, she started off again in silence.

Brady was no longer gullible enough to believe he might now enjoy a prolonged interval of that silence. And, of course, he was right.

When the path widened, permitting them to walk abreast, she dropped back at his side. At first she said nothing, but he could almost hear her busy brain working on something. He waited for her to put whatever it was into words. Which she finally did, looking up at him with a totally unexpected “Who are you, anyway, Brady Malone?”

“The man who’s escorting you back to Wyoming. And that’s all you need to know about me.”

“I think I’m entitled to know a lot more than that.”

“So now you want to get friendly?”

“This isn’t social, Malone.”

“Then what is it, if it isn’t personal?”

“Since you’ve practically kidnapped me, I don’t feel it’s unreasonable of me to want to understand just what your connection is with my grandfather.”

Brady was in no mood for her questions, particularly on this subject, but he knew she wouldn’t quit until she had answers. Fine, he would give her the essentials, but no more than that. The rest was private, and he meant for it to stay that way.

“There’s nothing mysterious about it, Annie. I work for both your grandfather and myself, that’s all.”

“As what? A cowhand?”

“Foreman. Walter’s land adjoins my own spread. I manage both ranches.”

“I don’t remember any family by the name of Malone.”

“Why should you, as young as you were when you left?”

She wasn’t satisfied. “My mother would have mentioned a Malone neighbor. Where did you come from? How long have you been managing both places?”

“Since Walter got too ill to manage his own. You ask too many questions.”

“In other words, you aren’t going to tell me. What’s wrong with my grandfather? You might at least tell me that much.”

“His heart.”

“Serious?”

“That’s what the doctor says, and he’s a reliable sawbones.”

She was quiet after that, but she wasn’t finished with him. “Know what I think?”

“No, but you’re going to tell me, aren’t you?”

“I think you’re far more devoted to Walter Johnson than any neighbor would be.”

Brady didn’t respond. He had the feeling now she wasn’t interested in hearing about her grandfather. Why should she be, when she’d made it clear to him back in Sweet Spot that she hated the old man? What was she after, then?

“I think you’re Walter Johnson’s man. That for some reason you’re willing and ready to be used by him. Whatever he wants, whatever he asks. Including dragging me back to Wyoming.”

Brady understood her motive now. She was taunting him, and he didn’t like it. Not one bit. He shouldn’t have lost his self-control, not when this was probably what she wanted to see him do. But he couldn’t help himself.

Coming to a halt, he snagged her by the arm and swung her around to face him. “Listen, you little witch—”

“What? You’re no man’s faithful dog? Obedient to his every command?”

That was it. She’d gone too far. Dropping his bag, he gripped her by both elbows and hauled her up against him, his eyes burning into hers.

“No one owns me, man or woman,” he growled.

Her eyes widened as she stared up at him. With alarm? he wondered.

A long moment of silence passed between them. Brady was conscious of having drawn her so tightly against him he could feel her breasts pressed to his chest. And the way those breasts swelled inside her bodice as she took a deep breath, making it difficult for him not to groan. He was aware, too, of her mouth, with that small, intriguing mole above its corner, just mere inches under his. And of how it parted to permit the tip of her tongue to nervously wet her lips.

She was a temptation he had to resist, but he was afraid he might not have the will to manage it. Not when he longed to know what that lush mouth tasted like, how it would feel to have her tongue stroke his own tongue as he inhaled the flavor of her in a deep, hot kiss.

Provocative. The situation was far too provocative. If he fastened his mouth on hers, he would be crossing a line that could produce all kinds of complications. He didn’t need any more problems. He had enough trouble just getting her to Wyoming.

Damning his lust and, fair or not, damning Annie Johnson for awakening his carnal appetite with her sweet body, he released her with a massive effort and stepped safely back from any further contact.

“Sorry,” he muttered.

With the sudden loss of his support to steady her, she swayed on her feet.

“You all right?” he asked.

She nodded and bent down to recover her bag. Although Brady had no memory of it, the bag must have slid to the ground when he seized her by the elbows. Without any urging from him this time, she turned around and proceeded along the trail. He retrieved his own bag and followed her.

They trudged forward without any further word between them. The only sound now was the rushing stream. Annie seemed curiously fascinated with its waters. Her silence was different this time, too, as if she’d been too shaken by his impulsive action to speak. He regretted that action now. Hell, it even stirred a sense of guilt.

Not that he expected to actually feel relief when she finally found her tongue again. But that’s what he did feel when she stopped after another hundred yards or so and wheeled around to confront him.

“This is madness! We’ve been tramping forever without any sign of a bridge! It doesn’t exist, and if it ever did exist, it probably fell in long ago! You know we’re going to die out here, don’t you?”

He listened calmly until she’d drained herself. Only then was he able to command her attention.

“Annie?”

“What?” she snapped.

“Turn around and look.”

She did as he asked and, with his raised arm pointing it out over her shoulder, was able to discover what he, himself, had glimpsed through a gap in the trees. The rope bridge just ahead of them and still intact.

****

Annie was exhausted by the time they reached the rail station and boarded the train. The hike along both sides of the ravine and then on into Rock City had been difficult enough, but not as bad as crossing that stream.

She didn’t like heights, anyway, and to find herself clinging to a questionable guide rope on a narrow, swaying bridge that had missing footboards...Well, it was an experience she didn’t care to repeat. Much as the sight of water ordinarily soothed her, the prospect of plummeting into its angry depth wasn’t welcome, whatever her companion’s confidence this wouldn’t happen.

That confidence was still very much in evidence when the train got underway, and Brady turned to her with a relaxed “Conductor says our next stop is almost an hour away. Time enough for me to get a nap in.”

“Trusting now, aren’t you?”

“I don’t think you’re going anywhere. You may be as hardheaded as a steer, but I don’t see you trying to jump off a moving train. Even if you did make it without a broken leg, there’s nothing out there for you but forest and mountains.”

Had she the ammunition to argue with him about it, which she didn’t, he gave her no opportunity to do so. Sinking down in the seat beside her, arms folded across his chest, Stetson tilted forward over his eyes, he promptly went to sleep.

Annie wished she could get just as comfortable herself. She couldn’t. Not with the sight of his long legs, crossed at the ankle and stretched out in front of him. Had she chosen to try it, they were a barrier that prevented her from easily moving out into the aisle and slipping away. They were also a disturbing reminder of Brady Malone’s riveting masculinity.

She was all too aware of those muscled legs clad in his form-fitting denim jeans. She had been just as aware of them, as well as his eye-pleasing backside, back at the rope bridge when he had crossed ahead of her to test the reliability of the structure.

The memory was strong. Almost as strong as her recollection of his mesmerizing mouth hovering just above hers when he’d captured her by the elbows and tugged her against him. She could swear that, for a brief moment there, he’d intended to kiss her. He hadn’t, but he’d left her feeling weak and vulnerable when he finally let her go.

You’re a varmint, Brady Malone. Do you know that?

On the other hand, Annie supposed she had deserved his less than gentle treatment. She’d been pretty hard on him along that trail. She was better than that. Or maybe she wasn’t. She no longer knew anymore.

What she did know was that she was tired herself. Neither one of them had gotten much rest last night, and with that arduous trek this morning...

No question about it. She would like to put her head back, close her eyes. Except she was still too unsettled for sleep. Willing her gaze away from the man at her side, she stared out the window at the safer scene rolling past them. As Brady had said, nothing but wilderness. Still, it was a lulling sight.

One apparently conducive to sleep, after all, Annie realized when she abruptly woke up a bit later as the train jerked to a stop. Ever alert, Brady was also sitting up.

“Not again,” he grumbled in reference to the sudden halt of the stagecoach earlier. He leaned across her to look out the window. “This can’t be the next station already. There’s nothing out there but rocks and trees.”

The other passengers in the coach were also stirring in their seats, wondering why they had stopped. Brady started to get to his feet, presumably to seek an explanation. Before he could rise, the uniformed conductor appeared from the car behind theirs, swung down the aisle, and turned at the far end to address them.

“Sorry, folks, but it looks like we’re going to be held up here for a while. We’ve got us a rock fall blocking the tracks up ahead. It happens along this stretch of the line where the bank on the one side is too high and too close.”

A bombastic man in a top hat spoke up across the aisle. “Just how long we gonna be stuck out here?”

“When we don’t turn up at our next scheduled stop, the stationmaster will realize we need help and send out an engine with a flatcar and a crew to clear the tracks. Could be a couple of hours, so just relax until they get here.”

“Sounds like good advice to me,” Brady said when the conductor moved on to the next coach. “I could use a few more winks.” He eyed Annie thoughtfully. “This delay isn’t something I like, but I’m going to like it a whole lot less if you try to leave the train.”

“Oh, you’re not going to tie our wrists together again. You said it yourself. Where am I going to go without a road or a building in sight?”

“I hope I’m right about that, Annie.”

“Just go to sleep.”

She meant what she said. She had no intention of leaving the train. Not then. But a few moments later, she had a reason for violating her promise. A totally unexpected motive far too powerful to withstand.

Annie was gazing out the window while Brady slept. Watching without much interest as some of the other passengers, curious about the rock fall, she supposed, emerged from the train. To her disbelief, he was among them.

Even from where she sat, she could see his looks had begun to deteriorate. Not just from age but from too many years of alcohol and rich food that had added lines to his handsome face and flesh to a body that women had once admired without knowing the vileness inside.

Judd Halter!

Although she’d had no absolute confirmation of it, Annie had known he was somewhere in this area. She had felt it in the darkest corner of her soul. Felt it without ever dreaming she would find him here on this train.

Forget fate or coincidence. Whatever the explanation for his presence, all that mattered was she had finally caught up with him. Judd Halter, the man she had been chasing all over the West. The man she had vowed over her mother’s grave to send to hell.

Annie had her opportunity to do just that, and she wasn’t going to lose it. In her ferocious resolve, it didn’t matter she no longer had a weapon on her. She’d find some substitute to arm herself with when she needed it, a rock if necessary.

Brady had that revolver, of course. Bad idea, though. Pickpocket though she’d once been, she would never manage to lift it from its holster without waking him. She was wasting time even considering it.

What she did achieve, by hitching up her skirts and stepping carefully, slowly over Brady’s legs, was to reach the aisle without a challenge from him. A glance down at him assured her he remained undisturbed. Turning, Annie fled quickly up the aisle.

Judd was no longer in sight when she climbed down from the train. Had he gone back to his own coach? She searched in both directions. And then she spotted him.

He’d left the rail embankment and was scrambling down a slope below. Where was he going and why? Whatever his purpose, there was something furtive about his haste.

His beefy figure was already among the tall pines. He would disappear entirely in another moment. Without further hesitation, heedless of the risk to herself, Annie plunged down the slope in pursuit.

The sound of the huffing locomotive, idling on the tracks, faded behind her as she wove her way through the trees. She was aware of nothing now but the silence of the pine forest and Judd Halter somewhere ahead of her.