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Authors: Elle James
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Miss Carmichael.” Jim pulled his weapon out and checked the chamber.
She smiled at the man she’d known for as long as she could remember. “Thanks, Jim. When I get to the bottom, I’ll cover for you.”
Domino, her black-and-white paint gelding, wasn’t too keen on the narrow trail. After a little gentle persuasion, Roxanne got him headed in the right direction.
He picked his way down the steep trail, his steps slow and nervous. At several particularly dangerous points, pebbles slipped over the side and tumbled to the bottom.
Domino tossed his black mane and nickered, his eyes rolling back.
Roxanne smoothed her hand across his long, sleek neck. “Easy, boy. Just a little farther.”
Ten feet from the bottom, she pulled the rifle from her scabbard and waved it up at Jim.
The foreman began his descent more easily. His horse was older, more docile and sure-footed.
Roxanne twisted in her saddle, careful to check all directions for a possible threat.
When Jim and his bay mare hit the halfway point, the hair on Roxanne’s arm stood on end and she glanced over her shoulder. Nothing. She turned in her saddle to get a better look behind her.
A movement along the canyon rim caught her attention, and Roxanne’s heart stopped. Someone was up there.
A jumble of rocks and boulders tumbled down the hill toward Jim and his horse, kicking up dust and more rocks in its path.
“Get out of the way!” Jim shouted, urging his horse to hurry in an attempt to beat the landslide.
Domino reared and backed away from the base of the trail, whinnying wildly.
With one hand holding the rifle, Roxanne struggled to keep her seat and maintain control of her gelding.
The rattle of rocks grew to a roar as a large boulder bumped down the steep slope.
Roxanne’s breath caught in her lungs and she froze.
Jim and his horse were directly in the boulder’s path.
“Move!” she shouted, waving the hand holding the rifle. “Move!”
Jim glanced behind him, his eyes rounding. He dug his heels into the horse’s flank, startling the horse.
The mare leaped forward and reared as the boulder passed by, narrowly missing them both. The mare recovered her footing, but Jim lost his seat and tumbled out of the saddle.
As if in slow motion, he landed on the downhill side of the trail, bouncing off the rocky slope and cartwheeling downward, picking up speed with the landslide of rocks and gravel.
The foreman somersaulted, slid and bounced the rest of the way down the five-hundred-foot drop, landing in a rush of stones and gravel with a sickening thud.
Roxanne dug her heels into Domino’s sides and raced to the base of the slope, her heart hammering against her ribs so hard it hurt.
“Jim. Oh, dear God, Jim,” she cried as she dropped to the ground and crouched over the older man’s still form.
Pebbles and small rocks continued to slide down, pelting her face and arms, some of them sharp, drawing blood.
Roxanne didn’t care. Jim was her only family, the man who’d been a father to her when her own had died.
“Jim.” She reached for the base of his throat and pressed two fingers to his skin, praying with all her heart for a pulse.
“Please be alive. Please.”
She held her breath, willing her shaking hands to steady. Finally a faint pulse bumped against her fingertips and she let out a long shaky sigh. “Thank God.”
But when she took stock of his form, her vision blurred and she sat back hard on her heels.
Jim lay at an awkward angle, his ankle twisted beneath a rock, his face pale, scratches bleeding across every exposed surface. And never once did he open his eyes.
Roxanne raised her face to the sky and cried, “Help! Please, oh please, help!”
* * *
“S ITTIN ’ LIGHT IN THE saddle today, brother?” Dante settled his cowboy hat on his head, pushing it down tight as he swung up on his black gelding.
Pierce eased himself into his own saddle on Cetan. “I got saddle sores from riding the past two days.”
“Need
She smiled at the man she’d known for as long as she could remember. “Thanks, Jim. When I get to the bottom, I’ll cover for you.”
Domino, her black-and-white paint gelding, wasn’t too keen on the narrow trail. After a little gentle persuasion, Roxanne got him headed in the right direction.
He picked his way down the steep trail, his steps slow and nervous. At several particularly dangerous points, pebbles slipped over the side and tumbled to the bottom.
Domino tossed his black mane and nickered, his eyes rolling back.
Roxanne smoothed her hand across his long, sleek neck. “Easy, boy. Just a little farther.”
Ten feet from the bottom, she pulled the rifle from her scabbard and waved it up at Jim.
The foreman began his descent more easily. His horse was older, more docile and sure-footed.
Roxanne twisted in her saddle, careful to check all directions for a possible threat.
When Jim and his bay mare hit the halfway point, the hair on Roxanne’s arm stood on end and she glanced over her shoulder. Nothing. She turned in her saddle to get a better look behind her.
A movement along the canyon rim caught her attention, and Roxanne’s heart stopped. Someone was up there.
A jumble of rocks and boulders tumbled down the hill toward Jim and his horse, kicking up dust and more rocks in its path.
“Get out of the way!” Jim shouted, urging his horse to hurry in an attempt to beat the landslide.
Domino reared and backed away from the base of the trail, whinnying wildly.
With one hand holding the rifle, Roxanne struggled to keep her seat and maintain control of her gelding.
The rattle of rocks grew to a roar as a large boulder bumped down the steep slope.
Roxanne’s breath caught in her lungs and she froze.
Jim and his horse were directly in the boulder’s path.
“Move!” she shouted, waving the hand holding the rifle. “Move!”
Jim glanced behind him, his eyes rounding. He dug his heels into the horse’s flank, startling the horse.
The mare leaped forward and reared as the boulder passed by, narrowly missing them both. The mare recovered her footing, but Jim lost his seat and tumbled out of the saddle.
As if in slow motion, he landed on the downhill side of the trail, bouncing off the rocky slope and cartwheeling downward, picking up speed with the landslide of rocks and gravel.
The foreman somersaulted, slid and bounced the rest of the way down the five-hundred-foot drop, landing in a rush of stones and gravel with a sickening thud.
Roxanne dug her heels into Domino’s sides and raced to the base of the slope, her heart hammering against her ribs so hard it hurt.
“Jim. Oh, dear God, Jim,” she cried as she dropped to the ground and crouched over the older man’s still form.
Pebbles and small rocks continued to slide down, pelting her face and arms, some of them sharp, drawing blood.
Roxanne didn’t care. Jim was her only family, the man who’d been a father to her when her own had died.
“Jim.” She reached for the base of his throat and pressed two fingers to his skin, praying with all her heart for a pulse.
“Please be alive. Please.”
She held her breath, willing her shaking hands to steady. Finally a faint pulse bumped against her fingertips and she let out a long shaky sigh. “Thank God.”
But when she took stock of his form, her vision blurred and she sat back hard on her heels.
Jim lay at an awkward angle, his ankle twisted beneath a rock, his face pale, scratches bleeding across every exposed surface. And never once did he open his eyes.
Roxanne raised her face to the sky and cried, “Help! Please, oh please, help!”
* * *
“S ITTIN ’ LIGHT IN THE saddle today, brother?” Dante settled his cowboy hat on his head, pushing it down tight as he swung up on his black gelding.
Pierce eased himself into his own saddle on Cetan. “I got saddle sores from riding the past two days.”
“Need
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