Deep In The Heart Of Texas. Linda Warren

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СКАЧАТЬ shook her head. “I’ve always been Clyde Maddox’s little princess and Alicia Adams’s baby girl. Somewhere along the way, I guess I lost the person inside me.”

      “No, you haven’t,” he assured her. “You just haven’t found her yet. Stop trying to please your parents and please yourself.”

      Her mouth curved in that soft way he was beginning to recognize. “With Spikes out there, do you think I’ll ever get the chance?”

      “We’re going to give it our best shot,” he said, and glanced toward the entrance as the light began to fade. He reached for his rifle. “Dusk has fallen. It’s time to go.”

      She buttoned her coat and stuffed the cap into a pocket. Her hand touched the small pistol in the other pocket. She was ready.

      It felt good to stretch her legs once they got outside. They’d spent all day in the cave. Of course, they’d slept much of that time, and they’d eaten again. She was as prepared as she could be, under the circumstances, for the trek ahead.

      The hermit nodded to the left, and she followed his gaze. Her breath caught in her throat. Several deer were eating acorns beneath an oak tree. Sensing that they were being watched, they raised their heads, then ran into the thicket with sure graceful movements. They were such beautiful creatures, and she’d never been this close to one before.

      She wanted to observe them, but there wasn’t time. The air no longer seemed as cold, but the ground was wet, which made walking even harder. They kept pushing on. Miranda felt stronger and managed to keep up. Her legs were tight, but no cramps.

      Suddenly the hermit stopped, pointing to a flickering glow in the distance.

      “What is it?” she whispered.

      “Campfire,” he whispered back. “We’ve caught up with Spikes.”

      “Oh, no!” she cried, chills running up her spine.

      “It’s okay,” he told her. “We’ll just go around them, but we have to be quiet and quick.”

      “Okay,” she answered without much enthusiasm. “But how did we catch up with them so fast?”

      “Spikes probably stopped to wait for Blackhawk.”

      “That’s the Indian who works on the ranch, isn’t it?”

      “Yeah, and he really does have eyes and ears like a hawk. So make sure you stay close to me.”

      “You can count on that.”

      “Let’s go,” he said, looking down at Bandit. “Hush, boy.”

      The fire became brighter as they moved closer. The orange flames crackled and hissed toward the sky. Three men sat around the blaze, drinking and talking. Two horses were tethered nearby. The saddles lay on the ground by the fire. As they crept past, giving the campsite a wide berth, they could hear voices, which carried clearly through the night.

      “What do you want with the hermit?” Blackhawk asked, sitting cross-legged, a bandanna tied around his forehead. He took another swig of whiskey.

      “None of your damn business,” Spikes said, taking the bottle from him. “If you want whiskey, you’ll forget all about this. Especially if you know what’s good for you.”

      “I am like a sigh on the wind.”

      “Whatever the hell that means,” Spikes answered, taking a swig of whiskey as he rested on his saddle.

      The other man seemed asleep or passed out on a blanket by the fire.

      They’d almost gone around the group when Miranda stepped on a stick. It popped, and the noise sounded like thunder in the darkness. In an instant, the hermit swung around and clamped a hand over her mouth. Her scream died against his palm.

      “Shh,” he whispered into her ear.

      Spikes jumped up. “What the hell was that?”

      “The night has its own music,” Blackhawk replied, reaching for the bottle.

      Spikes kicked the bottle away. “Check it out, you stupid Indian.”

      Blackhawk stretched and got to his feet.

      Miranda’s heart lodged in her throat. She couldn’t move or speak. She couldn’t do anything but rest against the security of the hermit’s chest. She felt his heart beat with a frantic rhythm. Or was that hers? She couldn’t tell. Their bodies were so close she couldn’t distinguish her heartbeat from his.

      He slowly removed his hand and shook his head. She knew what that meant—be quiet, keep still. She wanted to run, get away as fast as she could, and had to restrain the impulse.

      The woods seemed to become electrified as Blackhawk made his way directly toward them. Every footstep, every breath, every movement was charged with static energy.

      The hermit stepped in front of her, the rifle butt resting on his hip, his finger on the trigger. For a split second, the fear left her as she realized what he was doing. He was protecting her, using his body as a shield. He was a total stranger, and yet he’d put his life in jeopardy for her. She felt closer to him than anyone in her family. In what—twenty-four hours?—this man, whose name she didn’t know, was willing to risk his life to save hers.

      She shivered at his bravery and shoved her hand into her pocket, her fingers touching the cold steel. She wouldn’t let him down. If anything happened, she had the gun.

      Her heart raced, and her body began to tremble as Blackhawk slipped closer. About fifteen feet from them, he stopped. The only sound Miranda heard was the beating of her heart as the Indian gazed at them through the darkness. The moonlight was bright enough so they could see each other. Blackhawk’s hair was long, black and dirty, and his eyes were trained on the hermit. He didn’t carry a gun, only a big hunting knife around his waist.

      Spine-tingling silence followed.

      Miranda held her breath.

      “What’s out there?” Spikes called.

      The two men continued to stare at each other. Miranda waited for the hermit to lower his rifle or for Blackhawk to go for his knife, or something—anything—before her nerves burst through the top of her head.

      Then suddenly Blackhawk nodded once. The hermit reciprocated.

      “A hungry coyote,” Blackhawk answered as he turned and headed back to the fire.

      Relief flooded Miranda. She didn’t understand what had just happened, all she knew was that she could breathe again. The hermit took her hand and led her farther and farther away.

      They walked steadily without a word. Sometimes they went in circles; at others they went over areas they had already covered. She didn’t ask questions. She knew it had to be a trick to throw Spikes off their trail.

      Her legs grew heavier and heavier. When she thought she couldn’t stand the pain a moment longer, the hermit stopped, removed his backpack and slid to the ground, resting against a tree, Bandit by his side.

      She СКАЧАТЬ