CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Lori realized immediately that the level of tension, already near the boiling point between the Ranger and Nick, had increased even further in the minutes after the shooting.

Nick’s knife wound was bleeding again, and Beth tended it, carefully sewing back where the threads had broken. Lori tried to calm Maggie and a disgruntled pig, which had been disturbed from its dinner.

Neither of the men seemed disposed to talk about what had happened. After accompanying Nick back to his blankets, Morgan disappeared again without words. Nick was unusually sullen, bearing the pain of restitching with clenched teeth.

As Lori comforted a still frightened Maggie in her arms, she kept her eyes on her brother. Something vital had drained from Nick, and a twisting pain snaked through her. She wondered what had happened now to plunge him into such despair. She squeezed Maggie affectionately and asked her to help look for Nick’s harmonica. They finally found the mouth organ, a bullet stuck halfway through it. There would be no more music from that source, and it had been one of Nick’s most treasured possessions, a gift from years back.

She whispered to Maggie, telling her a story until Beth finished doctoring Nick and moved over to Lori to take Maggie in her arms. Lori traded places with her, sitting next to Nick, wanting desperately to know what had taken place.

“What happened?” she asked quietly, keeping her voice too low for Beth and Maggie to hear.

“I had a chance, Lori, I had a chance to take him, and I couldn’t”

“The shooter?”

“Hell no—Davis. After he’d shot the man. Bounty hunter, he said. I had Davis in clear sight, a gun in my hand, and I couldn’t pull the trigger.”

Lori privately thanked God, but she wisely refrained from saying so. And she was surprised. She knew Nick, knew his temper, knew how the anger had been building against Morgan, especially after the past two days. Her hand went to him, locking her fingers in his.

He looked around, saw that Beth was out of hearing distance, calming Maggie. “I’m a coward, Lori,” he said with a defeat that almost broke Lori’s heart.

“Cowardice had nothing to do with it,” she said. “Look how you exposed yourself to help …”

“To help the man who’s taking me to hang and who’s sleeping with my sister.” This time Nick’s frustration exploded with words he hadn’t said to her before, though they had been in his eyes.

Lori swallowed, her face reddening, but she wasn’t going to lie to him. “That was as much my doing as his,” she said. “I care about him. I didn’t want to. I still don’t, but I do, and … dear God, I’m so glad you couldn’t shoot him.”

He was silent.

“The family will be waiting in Pueblo,” she said. “We can find some way to free you.”

“Without killing him?” he asked, disbelieving. “He’ll chase me the rest of his life. He’s that kind of man.” With that comment he turned away from her, closing her out, and Lori’s heart cracked into pieces. Her heart was divided against itself, and she wondered whether it could ever be whole again.

She hesitated, then left his side. There was nothing she could say to ease the burden he’d taken upon himself. She knew he felt he had not been up to the task of killing Morgan Davis—not only for himself but for her.

Lori wished there was something she could do. Anything to keep busy. But the meat was almost done on the spit. She’d already washed every piece of clothing she could find. Beth was still soothing Maggie, and her brother didn’t want anything to do with her.

And she couldn’t go to Morgan. Not now, and do even more injury to Nick. She’d done enough already.

She went over to Clementine and rubbed the mare’s neck, taking a tiny satisfaction in the way the horse shivered in delight. She rested her head against the animal’s neck. She needed to give affection to someone, something. Holy Mary, but she was burgeoning with the need, and no one wanted any.

The horse wasn’t saddled, but it was bridled. In sudden impulse she unbuckled the hobbles and bolted to the horse’s back. She had to get away from the unrelieved tension, from the blame and guilt and uncertainty.

Without looking back, she turned toward the mountain to the west and tightened her knees against Clementine’s sides. She was a child again, riding in front of an approving crowd, looking down and seeing Nick’s proud face. She closed her eyes for a moment, bringing back those days, letting Clementine have her head, trusting her as she had always trusted her.

Lori was still thinking of those days when the side of her head hit the low branch of a tree.

Morgan returned from burying the ambusher. He’d also checked cautiously for other tracks but found none. He finally concluded that the man had acted alone. He didn’t understand how he had missed the man’s approach this morning. He didn’t like the carelessness that error indicated.

But he’d never had a distraction like Lorilee Braden before, either. The thought did not soothe him. He realized how closely he’d come to a bullet today, both from the bounty hunter and then from Nick Braden. He’d been damn lucky the latter had not pulled the trigger, especially considering the circumstances.

Why hadn’t he? The question haunted him. Braden had killed Wardlaw in defense of his brother. Why hadn’t he been able to kill the man he had every reason to hate?

And then Morgan had turned the question around on himself. Morgan had had two rifles in his hands today when Braden had pointed the gun at him. Morgan was probably fast enough to beat Braden even then. He knew the moves, but he’d never even considered the possibility.

Killing Braden would be like killing himself. No matter how different they were, how much anger was between them, Morgan accepted the fact there was something else too, an odd connection of some kind that always heightened the tension between them, rather than lessened it.

He rode slowly back to camp, his gaze searching for all who should be there.

“Lori?” he asked Beth.

“She took her horse,” Beth said.

“Which direction?” Morgan snapped out the words. Dammit, she shouldn’t be out by herself. He felt the ambusher had been alone, but he couldn’t be sure. He’d made too many mistakes lately. Panic gnawed at his usually calm and deliberate assessment of situations. He mounted his bay and turned in the direction Beth had indicated. The trail was easy to follow. She had not tried to be careful. He knew she wasn’t trying to escape—not now, not with Nick as badly wounded as he was.

Apprehension pricked at him. A feeling. He knew she felt torn between him and her brother. He didn’t know what Braden had told her about the occurrences of the last hour. And she was reckless. She didn’t think about consequences. It was one of the qualities that so attracted him. He always thought of consequences—at least he had until recently. And now … well, he supposed he did think of them—he just hadn’t heeded them.

He heard the neigh of a horse, and he kicked his own bay into a gallop, finding Clementine nudging her fallen rider. Lori lay still on the ground. Morgan jumped to the ground and knelt beside her, his hands ranging over her body, trying to find injuries. His heart was arching against his ribs, his fingers unsteady. There was no blood, but he found a large lump on her head.

He held her close to him for a moment, feeling the lightness of her body, the softness of her skin. “Little fool,” he whispered, his voice breaking slightly. His fingers skimmed her face, the area around her closed eyes. She was so pretty, and so much more vulnerable than she wanted anyone to believe. She loved so fiercely.

He swallowed. She had loved him fiercely for that hour last night, when she had been able to forget who and what he was to Nick.

“Lori,” he whispered. Her breathing was regular, not labored, but he wouldn’t know whether there was any damage other than the head wound until she regained consciousness.

“Lori,” he said again, insistently this time. One arm was around her, the other still exploring for injury.

She moaned.

“Lori!”

She opened her eyes slowly, obviously trying to focus. Christ, they were beautiful. The amber appeared even more golden now as her lashes partially shielded them from the dimming light. Her gaze slowly focused on his face, and then she smiled, a smile so beautiful his heart rocked against his rib cage. That smile made her face glow, and he knew, for just this instant, it was for him. Spontaneous and unreserved.

He couldn’t help himself. He leaned down and kissed her. Lightly, but with his heart in that kiss, and he saw that she knew it. Her eyes widened.

“Don’t ever do that again,” he scolded. And then he made his voice matter-of-fact. “Do you hurt anyplace? Other than your head?”

“Only my pride,” she said, wincing as one of her hands probed her head. “I haven’t fallen from a horse since I was ten years old. And my head hurts enough for the rest of me.” She tried to smile, and a tightness squeezed Morgan’s chest. “I suppose I felt left out. You and Nick have been taking all the blows. Getting all the attention.”

His hand brushed a strand of hair from her forehead, resting there for a moment. “I’m sorry, Lori. So damn sorry for everything.”

Her hand took his, and she brought it to her mouth, holding it there for a moment. “I was so worried about you, about you both. If either of you …” Her voice trembled.

“Nothing is going to happen to either of us,” he promised. He leaned down and picked her up. He wanted to continue holding her. Hell, he wanted to hold her forever, to remove that worry from eyes that could sparkle so. But they weren’t sparkling now, and it was because of him. His arms tightened around her for a moment. “Do you feel up to riding back? I think you need something cold for that bump.”

She nodded. He carried her over to Clementine, helping her on, then holding her hand a moment longer than necessary. His mouth tightened, a muscle in his cheek flexing under the black stubble of his beard. She could have so easily been killed. The thought was excruciating.

He released her hand and turned back to his horse, wishing with all his soul that he could make things right for all of them. He just wasn’t sure he could. And he knew that if anything happened to Nick Braden, Lori would never forgive him.

Nick watched suspiciously as Morgan returned with Lori. She was covered with dirt and pine needles. Morgan helped her down gingerly, and she took a moment in his arms to regain her balance, just standing there. Then Nick saw the bruises beginning to show on her face. He tried to stand, barely making it to his feet as his hand used the tree for support. Lori apparently saw the suspicion and anger suffusing his face, and she walked over to him, followed by Davis.

“I fell,” she said before he could make any accusation.

“You never fall,” Nick observed acidly.

“I did this time,” she said, her lip trembling slightly. She reached out and put her hand on his arm. “I wasn’t paying attention. I was upset about you, and I closed my eyes for a moment, I must have hit a branch and fell. Morgan found me.”

Nick’s mouth tightened at the familiar use of Davis’s name, but he didn’t say anything. Lori didn’t lie to him. But he still didn’t like the way the Ranger had held her. He didn’t like the fact that Morgan Davis had been the one to find her.

His voice softened, but his mouth was grim. “Are you hurt?”

She shook her head.

“She hit her head,” Davis interrupted. “She needs to rest.”

Nick hated agreeing with him but saw he was right. “I think that’s a good idea, Lori.” She hesitated, then nodded. Nick watched as she went to her bedroll several feet away and sat down. His face white with effort to remain standing, he turned back to Davis.

“Any one else out there?” He had concluded that Davis had searched the area, made sure the shooter didn’t have any friends with him.

“Not with him, but probably around someplace. I saw three men ride into Georgetown when we were there, including Whitey Stark. I knew him from that white hair, but the other two wore hats, and I couldn’t see their faces. I think our friend on the hill was one of them. Probably they split up, and Nesbitt decided to act on his own, thought he could take me alone, what with a wounded prisoner. He might have been right if you hadn’t helped.”

His gaze met Nick’s. “That was good shooting.”

Nick glared at him. “Up until the end.”

“For God’s sake, man,” Morgan said, unexpectedly angry. “Killing sure as hell isn’t anything to be proud of. It takes more courage not to pull that trigger.”

Then Morgan walked away. Nick knew he’d said more than he intended, but he wasn’t soothed nor did he feel vindicated. He was angry—no, furious—that he hadn’t been able to do what needed to be done. Angry at himself, at the Ranger, even at Lori, who looked at the Ranger with stark yearning in her eyes.

He understood wanting. He knew wanting often had nothing to do with right or wrong, was oblivious to timing or suitability. After all, he wanted Beth now, and that was just as disastrous as Lori falling in love with the Ranger.

Nick closed his eyes. He was weak and hurting and so goddamn tense. He wondered how long the five of them could travel without something blowing up in their faces, something a hell of a lot worse than what had happened today.

Even Maggie was subdued during a silent supper, and then she had curled up next to Caroline, hugging the animal as if her young life depended on holding her tight.

With increasing awareness of the feelings of those around him, Morgan realized how frightening her life must be: her father’s death, the Utes, then this shooting. She had sat next to Nick during supper, at one time holding his hand tightly, and Morgan realized he had not helped ease the child’s fear by keeping her friend, Nick, prisoner.

But Morgan didn’t know how to make music, or charm, or even smile in a nonthreatening way. He cared, but he didn’t know how to show he cared, and so he stayed away, watching from a distance, as he’d learned always to watch. He’d thought he’d also learned not to get involved in others’ lives, but now he knew the lesson hadn’t taken as well as he’d imagined. He felt so very alone, so very inadequate, so damnably empty.

Nick was sleeping on and off, Beth sitting next to him, her hand on his arm. Morgan had not chained him, nor had he asked for his word. They all realized Nick had no more strength in him. But Morgan knew he had to ask for Lori’s. He understood her well enough to know she would still try any desperate scheme to help Nick. She wouldn’t kill Morgan, he knew that now, but she wasn’t beyond trying to steal his guns and horses.

He’d put his offer in a way she couldn’t refuse. “Your brother needs all the rest he can get. He can’t get much with you attached to him. I want your word you won’t try anything, anything at all. Your other alternative is to be attached to me.” He knew she wouldn’t accept the second choice. And he waited, even as he ached inside at her obvious distaste at being close to him. He could chain her to a tree, but he wasn’t going to give her that option. He couldn’t lock metal on her again, not any longer. He wanted her word, plain and simple, so he would never have to do that again. And to obtain it, he gave an unacceptable choice—purposely, almost cruelly, bending her to his will.

She had stared at him with disbelief, with eyes full of disappointment in him, and he felt as if she were ripping out his heart. But she finally gave him her word. Bitterly. Reluctantly. He knew she would keep it, even as she remained distant from him during the evening. Beth had already moved Maggie’s sleeping body closer to the fire, and her own blankets near Nick, so she could hear if there was any change.

Morgan nearly suffocated in the pall that had descended on their small divided party. Nick was still sullen, Beth anxious, Lori sad. Only Caroline seemed indifferent to the stifling atmosphere. After suffering Maggie’s embrace, the pig had nonchalantly scouted around for any remaining scraps, gobbling up every piece of food in sight and some that wasn’t. She rooted constantly, often butting those individuals who paid her little mind. She even butted Morgan, whom everyone else was avoiding. He found himself grateful for that small notice. It was, he thought, a pretty demeaning state to find oneself in.

Morgan added more wood to the fire and rolled up in his blankets, his six-shooter still strapped to his body, the rifle immediately at his side. He heard Beth whisper something to Nick, and he envied his prisoner. He wanted to whisper to Lori, to draw her close, to share his blankets and the night, to wipe away the taste of killing.

But he felt stained with blood and wryly realized his whole life had been that way. For the first time in years he wondered how it would feel not to be a Ranger, not to be the hunter.

He couldn’t picture it. God help him, he just couldn’t imagine it.

They left the clearing two days later. It had taken that long for Nick to regain enough strength to ride any distance at all, and even now the going would be slow.

The delay was agonizing for Morgan. He had left Nick free, knowing he couldn’t get far in his condition. He scouted, this time more thoroughly, and set several rabbit snares, but decided not to do any more shooting. He suspected that was what had led the gunman to them. He cursed himself more than once for that lapse in judgment, even though he knew the meat had been essential to Nick’s slow but steady recovery.

It was Lori that made the wait so terrible. She avoided him as if he might have the plague, and he suspected she considered him just that to her family. Nick was taciturn, speaking very little to him, keeping what words he had for Beth and Maggie.

Morgan had never thought he would miss the sound of that damned harmonica, but he did. Lori still sang a little, but mostly to Maggie, none of the plaintive melodies that she and Nick seemed to like so much, the melodies that had taunted at first and then had struck at his heart. He had wanted to talk to Nick, to try to convince him again that returning to Texas was the best way to handle this, but he met with a stone face whenever he neared the man. It was as if Braden had closed himself completely off. Morgan understood that. God knew he had done it enough times himself.

And what could Morgan say? I’ll try to prove your innocence, but I won’t let you go. He’d already said that, and he knew they were meaningless words to Nick Braden. Braden didn’t trust him, would probably never trust him. Morgan found it odd that, on the other hand, he did trust Braden—had done exactly that, in fact.

Morgan couldn’t say the other words pounding unmercifully inside, that he had fallen in love with Lori. He had been alone too long, had been too cautious all his life with feelings and words. He didn’t know how to express feelings without making a fool of himself. He could only hold them inside, knowing he was distrusted by the woman from whom he so wanted trust, by a man he was growing to respect by leaps and bounds. So he clung to the stoicism by which he’d lived for so long, expecting little, asking nothing, drawing deeper into himself to keep the new pain at bay.

On the third morning Nick seemed well enough to ride, and it was more than time to get going. Morgan had decided to make one last try with Nick. Lord knew he didn’t want to use the irons any longer, he didn’t want Nick to make it necessary—but Morgan was afraid he would.

They had both shaved that morning after eating, and Morgan found himself once more comparing their faces. Nick’s seemed even more like his own now, the lines in his prisoner’s face deepened by the last few days. Nick looked wary as Morgan collected his shaving gear and hesitated next to him. “Have you thought any more about what I said about returning voluntarily to Texas?”

“No,” Nick said flatly.

Morgan felt his mouth tighten. Their eyes clashed.

“I don’t suppose you’d give me your word not to try to run?”

“No,” Nick said again.

“Damn you, Braden, why do you have to make this so difficult? Particularly on yourself?”

Nick shrugged. “I have no intention of making it easy for you, not with me, not with Lori.”

Morgan felt his gut clench. “Hold out your hands, then,” he said curtly, taking a pair of handcuffs he had placed in his belt. Nick looked at him with loathing but did as he was ordered.

Morgan fastened the handcuffs on him. He motioned toward the horses, which he’d already saddled. “Take mine,” he said. “Mrs. Andrews can have yours. I’ll take her stallion. And this time let me know if you feel you have to stop. I don’t want you bleeding again.”

“Because it will slow us up?”

“Right,” Morgan said icily. “I don’t want any more delays.”

Nick smiled at him, but it wasn’t friendly, and Morgan was strangely relieved to see the anger back in his eyes, that fractious spirit returning.

Lori rode alongside Beth during the early part of the day. Morgan had not used the second pair of handcuffs to lock Nick to the saddle horn this time, but he had tied his horse’s reins to the lead again. Nick had rebuffed any attempt at conversation by anyone, including Beth and Lori. But when they had stopped for a brief break at midday, Maggie had charmed Nick and begged to ride with him, and Nick had taken Maggie on the saddle in front of him, holding her firmly with hands that were still cuffed.

Although Lori had hoped for delay, Nick’s wound had not been exactly what she’d had in mind. But these few days were exactly what Nick had needed. Surely, the family had received the message she’d sent from Georgetown. Now it was essential she reach Pueblo before Morgan and make sure any plan precluded harm to either man. She couldn’t bear to think of Morgan dead. Andy would have no such scruples. Neither, she feared, would her father or even Daniel if they thought Nick was in danger.

She didn’t want to care, dammit. She’d wanted to hate him for forcing her word, for putting handcuffs on Nick again this morning. But she couldn’t. Not after that night. She knew now he really did want to help, but she felt his intentions were misguided. He simply believed in things she didn’t, in justice, in the law, in his capacity to go up against a wealthy, powerful man like Wardlaw. It was a case, she feared, of “I’m going to help you if it kills you.”

And now she had given him her word, though she considered it temporary. She would have to rescind it before Pueblo, give him fair warning so he could try to stop her, if he had the heart for it. Sometimes she wondered if he had one, and then he would do something so unexpected, like bringing Caroline along with them, or getting the hotel room in Georgetown.

Her heart cracked a little more each time he gave her that tentative, wry half smile, every time she thought of his tenderness, the very sweetness of his touch. Sweeter because she knew he’d shared a bit of the same wonder she’d experienced. And now she looked at that straight, uncompromising back, and she hurt for both of them. The last two days had been pure purgatory, watching his eyes, which had so warmed several days ago, turn icy and watchful again as she so obviously rejected his offer, rejected his help in any way.

Lori leaned over and ran her hand down Clementine’s neck, fighting against the lump in her throat, the one that had been there for two days, the one she feared would be there for a very long time.

Nick readjusted his arms around Maggie to shift her away from the still painful wound. Her head, nodding ever so slightly, had fallen against his chest. Lord, but he hated the damn cuffs. Still, he wasn’t locked to the saddle horn, and that was something, and his arms went neatly around the child. The irons, though, were a constant reminder of his situation.

He had tried to rebuff Beth during the past few days, feigning a sullenness and hostility that he hoped would frighten her off. Oh, he had enough hostility, all right—all directed toward Morgan Davis, but none toward her.

He knew something was happening to him, something that had never happened before. He was falling in love, and he was desperately afraid Beth Andrews might be doing the same. He sensed as much in the stolen glances, the gentle but almost possessive touch, the way their eyes met and held, exchanging knowledge as old as man.

He relished it, and yet he knew he could only hurt her, and so he’d tried everything he could to turn her away. God knew she’d had enough misery to last a lifetime. He couldn’t bring her anymore. Every movement was a reminder that he was headed to the hangman, every jingle of the chain that bound his wrists. The Ranger wasn’t going to let go, and Nick’s only release was the Ranger’s death, and that would only increase the price on his head, the danger he would bring to every one around him.

He’d had an opportunity and hadn’t taken it. He tried to tell himself that it was because the Ranger had no chance at that moment. His weapons were pointed to the ground, and it would have been like killing an unarmed man. But the truth, he knew, was more complicated, and even he didn’t understand it. He hated Morgan Davis, yet there was some kind of odd feeling that had kept him from pulling the trigger, even from trying to wound him again.

But now, handcuffed again, he realized how very short his life expectancy was, how he had nothing but heartache to offer Beth, with the gentle eyes and warm heart. And Maggie, with the solemn eyes, whom he had already taken to his heart. Another death, Morgan Davis’s death, would do nothing to help that. His hands tightened around Maggie. He’d always liked children, had always thought he would have some of his own once he got the ranch started and had something other than a wandering life to offer. Holding Maggie now was probably as close as he was ever going to get to it, whether he reached Texas or not. He sure as hell wouldn’t drag a family around as a wanted man.

Morgan Davis turned around, and their gazes caught. Nick thought he saw pain in the Ranger’s eyes too. Maybe he really did love Lori. If he did, that too seemed destined to fail. For a moment understanding flickered between the two men, understanding and even a kind of mutual compassion. Nick’s lips thinned. He couldn’t afford understanding or compassion. It still came down to him or the Ranger if he was to survive, much less have any kind of life.

Maggie wriggled restlessly in his arms, and his gaze went down to her. “It’s all right, Button,” he said softly, and he felt her settle down against him once more, felt her childish trust, and a bittersweet longing that he knew would never be fulfilled.