The Ranger. Carol Finch
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a shortened version of her alias. “It’s my job to ask the hard, and sometimes offensive questions. Since we’re stuck here together, at least until nightfall, I thought this might be our chance to get to know a little more about each other.”
“We already know each other better than I prefer,” she muttered resentfully.
Shiloh well remembered the feel of their bodies meshed together, while rolling across the ground to avoid gunfire. Also, they had been pressed tightly together while galloping off on her horse, while she’d been garbed in nothing but her wet chemise. Yet, despite her vulnerability he hadn’t made even one attempt to…
The thought caused Shiloh to halt in her tracks. “Well, no wonder.”
Hawk glanced sideways and frowned. “No wonder what?”
She dismissed him with a flick of her wrist then went back to pacing. Maybe it was her fault that she had been jilted. Maybe there was something unlovable and undesirable about her. Obviously she didn’t inspire many lusty or romantic ideas in men.
Which was why this supposed Texas Ranger—who’d had ample opportunity to take advantage of her during their isolation—hadn’t touched her in a sexual way. He hadn’t made even one improper advance, despite the situation that had left her nearly naked in his arms several times. Why was that?
Because he was completely honorable and trustworthy? Doubtful, thought she. It was because she lacked feminine appeal, personality and charm. Which was why Antoine had disregarded her feelings for him and broken her heart by turning his attention and affection to someone else.
It was demoralizing to have to accept the fact that she possessed very little sex appeal and no alluring charm. The deflating realization caused her shoulders to slump. If she couldn’t attract or intrigue this rough-edged frontiersman, she couldn’t beguile a man she’d fallen in love with, either.
“Well, hell,” Hawk muttered, his deep voice echoing through the dimly lit chamber.
When she noticed his profound concentration on the goings-on outside the cave Shiloh went to join him. She scowled sourly, too, when she noted that two men had dismounted near the mouth of the box canyon and looked to be setting up camp to outwait them. Three men rode back in the direction they had come.
“Morton DeVol and Everett Stiles are guarding the escape route while the other outlaws gather the provisions from their hideout,” Hawk speculated. “I was hoping they’d give up so we don’t have to rely on the treacherous trail that leads over Ghost Ridge to the canyon beyond.”
Shiloh stared anxiously at the towering summit of jagged rock. “We have to climb over that?” She had the unmistakable feeling that her aversion to height was going to make the trek an unnerving challenge.
“That’s right, Bernie,” he confirmed. “In the rain…in the dark. Lucky for you that I’ve used that winding path several times before.”
“Well, that makes me feel so much better. Can’t wait to get started,” she said unenthusiastically.
At twilight, in the drizzling rain, Hawk grasped Shiloh’s hand and led her outside. Waddling like ducks, they made their way beneath and around the protruding rock barriers. They were careful not to expose their whereabouts to the relentless outlaws who had pitched a tent in the valley below.
Shiloh made the mistake of looking over the ledge—and felt her stomach drop a quick twenty feet. She must have squeezed Hawk’s hand apprehensively because he halted on the narrow path to glance curiously at her.
“What’s the problem?” he whispered.
Shiloh gulped down her apprehension and struggled for hard-won composure. “This might be a good time to let you know that heights make me a little dizzy and uneasy.”
“How dizzy? How uneasy?” His dark-eyed gaze sharpened and he stared grimly at her. “You aren’t going to go hysterical on me while we’re scrabbling up the peak with our horses, which are going to have their own problems with footing, are you?”
Shiloh glanced over the cliff, drew a shaky breath and smiled with bravado. “I’ll try to remain calm….”
Her voice dried up when he cupped her chin in his hand, demanding her undivided attention. “There will be no trying to pull yourself together when the time comes,” he insisted harshly. “You’ll do what you have to do, understand?”
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