Wide Open Spaces. Roz Fox Denny

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      “Sometimes it’s easier to unload on strangers. We all need outlets. Mine turned out to be any one of a hundred bartenders,” he said, allowing her another little peek into his soul.

      “Ah, so you’re a recovering alcoholic? Are you still running away? Is that why you ended up in an out-of-the-way place like Callanton?”

      “The answer to all three questions is no.” He shook his head. “Jeez, you don’t pull any punches. You sound like the shrink my buddies dragged me to. The guy who helped me dry out.”

      She glanced back and this time her face did crumple. “Oh, darn. I apologize. I’m sorry, but…uh, we don’t feel like strangers. You—now don’t take this wrong, but you feel…comfortable. Like…an old friend I haven’t seen in a while.” She ducked her head and pulled her hat brim lower. “Sounds stupid, huh?”

      Colt, who’d suddenly discovered that he found her comfortable, too, didn’t think they ought to be moving in that direction. He realized it’d be far too easy to set himself up as friend and protector to this woman and her son. Something inside him needed to be someone’s hero. That was why he’d let Marc, Gabe and Reggie Mossberger talk him into putting his marriage and his ranch on hold to go off and liberate one last group of kidnapped oil executives. Look where that had landed him.

      Shutting down as he’d learned to do in order to avoid getting close to anyone again, Colt ended the personal side of their conversation. “All I am is a man who has a soft spot for eagles. Nothing more. Nothing less. We’re not old friends, not even new friends. As for kids—I don’t know jackshit about kids.”

      Summer recoiled instinctively. A cold fist plunged into her stomach. “It’s not far now,” she said, returning to a coolness that matched his. “If all goes well, we’ll be back at the ranch before Rory’s bus drops him off. Rest assured, I’ll make sure he doesn’t impose on you—or assume you’re something you’re not.”

      Colt silently accepted the verbal blows she rained on his head. He stared out at the glorious panorama of the gorge without really seeing it. And called himself all kinds of names for acting like an idiot. She’d just needed a sounding board.

      Still, given what he knew—and she didn’t—about the part he’d be playing in seizing her land, a clean break now would be best for her, and certainly for Rory.

      CHAPTER FOUR

      THE TRAIL UPHILL GREW progressively more twisted and rocky. The concentration it required provided Colt and Summer with ample reason for silence.

      Half an hour later, Colt spoke. “How in the name of God did you locate a nest of eagles up here? This is mountain-goat country.”

      Summer reined in. “The Forked Lightning often has stray cattle in the gorge. I love it up here, so it’s no hardship for me to ride in regularly to round them up. I spotted the eagles’ nest a couple of years ago. Eagles return to the same nest year after year.”

      “But it wasn’t shot in the gorge?”

      “No. I was on the road to town. She hunts along the river. In another ten minutes or so, you’ll see her nest.”

      “I’m not complaining. I like wild places, particularly on horseback. I admit, I haven’t had the pleasure of meeting a woman who feels the same.” Colt leaned casually on his saddle horn, and took his time inspecting Summer from the top of her battered Stetson to the toes of her well-scuffed boots.

      Anger reddened her cheeks. “Are you suggesting I’d lie about something like this? Why would I? This land is my home,” she said fervently. She knew her passionate declaration stemmed from her animosity toward Frank, who was trying to take the Forked Lightning away. For the moment, Colt just happened to be a handy target. “Does the word home hold no meaning for men, other than what it represents in cold hard cash?”

      Colt touched his heels to the borrowed gelding’s flanks and moved closer. “I didn’t mean to upset you. Look, I’m not the only man who hates urban sprawl destroying a great way of life. You’ve shown me that all women don’t need mammoth shopping malls within arm’s reach. Shall we leave it at that? We came to rescue eagles, not fight the battle of the sexes.”

      She took a deep breath. “You provoke these arguments, then very neatly extricate yourself, leaving me looking petty. I’m sorry your ex treated you badly. I can sympathize because Frank did the same to me. I’ve been honest with you, yet I sense you think I’m making this all up. And you never answered me. Why would I lie?”

      “To impress me, perhaps?”

      “You egotistical jerk!” Summer choked up on her mare’s reins. Starlight reared, lost her footing and began slipping toward the trail’s edge.

      Colt vaulted from his saddle, but Summer had already kicked off her stirrups and thrown herself toward the mountain. She dug in her heels and hauled on the reins to keep the mare on the trail. And she did it all before Colt even reached her.

      “That was quick thinking,” he panted, visibly shaken by her near-tumble over the sheer drop.

      “All in a day’s work for a cattle rancher,” she responded, also having difficulty breathing.

      “Then you’re a better man than me.” Colt moved to the cliff side of the trail, and stood gripping Summer’s saddle cantle. He glanced up as she reclaimed her seat in the saddle. Their eyes met only briefly, but something passed between them.

      Respect from him.

      Comprehension from her. She understood what the compliment had cost him in the face of their recent heated words. She didn’t think he was a man who gave compliments lightly. Summer could hold it over his head or pursue their argument. She did neither. “The eaglets are waiting.” Bending away from him, she patted her mare’s neck.

      “Uh…right.” Colt gathered his shaken senses, released his death grip on her cantle and mounted his horse. They rode on as if the incident had never occurred.

      As Summer had pointed out, within a few minutes they reached a high chaparral overlooking a series of granite spires that spiked upward from the canyon floor. On the jagged tip of one spire, nestled in the fork of a squat, misshapen pine, sat the object of their trip. Three squawking eaglets huddled in a nest of mud and twigs, loudly announcing their displeasure at the turn their life had taken.

      Summer and Colt each hauled field glasses out of their saddlebags and trained them on the nest.

      “Hellfire and damnation.” Colt expelled his breath. “This is going to be even harder than I figured.”

      “I’d say we’re in the nick of time, though.” Summer stabbed a finger toward floaty clouds drifting across a cerulean sky.

      It took Colt a moment to refocus. When he did, he saw several buzzards circling high above the nest. Without the rescue, it wouldn’t be long before the vultures had themselves a succulent meal.

      “I’d better set up fast.” Looping his binoculars over his saddle horn, Colt dismounted. He shed his jacket, then untied the bundle of ropes he’d brought. He deftly sorted out three sets and shrugged into a climbing harness.

      Summer watched, shading her eyes with one hand. “Virgil and I would never have saved them. СКАЧАТЬ