had unhitched the
horses, mounted one, and ridden back toward the road. What he found made his
blood run cold.
The horses had taken off to the north. It was obvious from their
tracks that they were still harnessed together. Wherever the girl was, she was
on foot.
He surveyed the horizon in all directions, desperate to find
her. What if he was too late?
Too late.
The thought sent his mind catapulting backward through the
years, back to Mexico and another woman. He'd been too late then, too late and
too careless. He'd allowed himself to fall into a carefully laid trap. Since
that hideous day, he'd learned much about the wilderness, about survival, but
he hadn't learned to cope with the kind of gut-wrenching fear he felt right
now.
He forced his mind back to the present. It couldn't happen
again. He wouldn't let it. He'd find her if it was the last thing he did.
A set of small booted footprints that led away from the wagon
drew his attention. She'd been running, the idiotic woman. Damn. What was she
doing out here alone? She didn't even know enough not to expend that kind of
energy in this heat, where just standing still sapped a man of all his
strength.
He had gone to the hotel looking for her around noon, intent
on reasoning with her. She couldn't handle a job like this—taking a million
dollars in gold from Lucifer himself. He'd hoped to convince her with logic.
But when he'd described her to the hotel clerk, he'd been told she'd checked
out that morning.
She had no transportation, so the next logical stop in his
search had been the blacksmith’s shop where he’d met with grudging cooperation.
Seems the blacksmith was more concerned about her being out on the road alone
than he was with her being in the company of the likes of him.
“She’s heading for Eagle Pass,” the smithy had told him.
“That’s all I know.”
Rafe suspected he knew more than that, but he didn’t have
time to wrangle the information from the stubborn old man. He had what he
needed for the time being-enough information to track her down.
Even with all the delays he'd encountered, Rafe had been able
to set out a little past noon. If she'd started out mid-morning, as he
suspected, she would have reached this point about three hours ago. And three
hours was a long time to be in this heat without water.
He mounted again and followed the footprints. At least she'd
had the sense to head south toward the road. Maybe she'd been picked up by a
cotton caravan on its way to Eagle Pass. Maybe she'd crossed paths with outlaws
or comancheros .
Stop it!He'd go mad if he didn't stop thinking about
the past. It was the heat, the emptiness, the buzzard circling slowly overhead
in the distance....
His heart froze in sudden realization. Driven by fear, he
spurred his horse into a gallop, heading straight toward the buzzard, dreading
what he might find when he reached whatever the carrion bird had in its sights.
He almost prayed, something he hadn't done since that other day so long ago.
She lay there beside a mesquite tree, so still, so quiet. He
leaped from his galloping horse and ran to her. She didn't react when he lifted
her head. Her face was beet red from a vicious sunburn.
A soft moan escaped her parched lips. He ran back to his
horse, and returned with a canteen.
"Ma'am, ma'am!" he called, lifting her head again.
"Do you hear me?"
She winced and groaned but didn't open her eyes. He held the
canteen to her lips and tilted it slightly.
"Drink," he commanded, gently but firmly.
She swallowed the liquid and wanted more, but her stomach
couldn't take it. Her eyes opened. When she looked up at him, he recognized the
signs of dehydration in her dull, cloudy pupils. She wouldn't have lasted much
longer.
"Papa," she murmured. "Papa, why didn't you
come?"
Picking her up, he carried her to his horse. He managed to
mount with her in his arms and turned his horse to the west, hoping the water
hole he had seen on his last trip through this way was
horses, mounted one, and ridden back toward the road. What he found made his
blood run cold.
The horses had taken off to the north. It was obvious from their
tracks that they were still harnessed together. Wherever the girl was, she was
on foot.
He surveyed the horizon in all directions, desperate to find
her. What if he was too late?
Too late.
The thought sent his mind catapulting backward through the
years, back to Mexico and another woman. He'd been too late then, too late and
too careless. He'd allowed himself to fall into a carefully laid trap. Since
that hideous day, he'd learned much about the wilderness, about survival, but
he hadn't learned to cope with the kind of gut-wrenching fear he felt right
now.
He forced his mind back to the present. It couldn't happen
again. He wouldn't let it. He'd find her if it was the last thing he did.
A set of small booted footprints that led away from the wagon
drew his attention. She'd been running, the idiotic woman. Damn. What was she
doing out here alone? She didn't even know enough not to expend that kind of
energy in this heat, where just standing still sapped a man of all his
strength.
He had gone to the hotel looking for her around noon, intent
on reasoning with her. She couldn't handle a job like this—taking a million
dollars in gold from Lucifer himself. He'd hoped to convince her with logic.
But when he'd described her to the hotel clerk, he'd been told she'd checked
out that morning.
She had no transportation, so the next logical stop in his
search had been the blacksmith’s shop where he’d met with grudging cooperation.
Seems the blacksmith was more concerned about her being out on the road alone
than he was with her being in the company of the likes of him.
“She’s heading for Eagle Pass,” the smithy had told him.
“That’s all I know.”
Rafe suspected he knew more than that, but he didn’t have
time to wrangle the information from the stubborn old man. He had what he
needed for the time being-enough information to track her down.
Even with all the delays he'd encountered, Rafe had been able
to set out a little past noon. If she'd started out mid-morning, as he
suspected, she would have reached this point about three hours ago. And three
hours was a long time to be in this heat without water.
He mounted again and followed the footprints. At least she'd
had the sense to head south toward the road. Maybe she'd been picked up by a
cotton caravan on its way to Eagle Pass. Maybe she'd crossed paths with outlaws
or comancheros .
Stop it!He'd go mad if he didn't stop thinking about
the past. It was the heat, the emptiness, the buzzard circling slowly overhead
in the distance....
His heart froze in sudden realization. Driven by fear, he
spurred his horse into a gallop, heading straight toward the buzzard, dreading
what he might find when he reached whatever the carrion bird had in its sights.
He almost prayed, something he hadn't done since that other day so long ago.
She lay there beside a mesquite tree, so still, so quiet. He
leaped from his galloping horse and ran to her. She didn't react when he lifted
her head. Her face was beet red from a vicious sunburn.
A soft moan escaped her parched lips. He ran back to his
horse, and returned with a canteen.
"Ma'am, ma'am!" he called, lifting her head again.
"Do you hear me?"
She winced and groaned but didn't open her eyes. He held the
canteen to her lips and tilted it slightly.
"Drink," he commanded, gently but firmly.
She swallowed the liquid and wanted more, but her stomach
couldn't take it. Her eyes opened. When she looked up at him, he recognized the
signs of dehydration in her dull, cloudy pupils. She wouldn't have lasted much
longer.
"Papa," she murmured. "Papa, why didn't you
come?"
Picking her up, he carried her to his horse. He managed to
mount with her in his arms and turned his horse to the west, hoping the water
hole he had seen on his last trip through this way was
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