of man.
Nick knew he was no killer. He had killed once to save his brother. He wondered whether he could kill to save himself. He wasnât sure.
Either way, he didnât want Lori involved.
His eyes met Morgan Davisâs, and a curious understanding passed between them. Davis frowned, his face grim. And then the lawman turned away and started to saddle the horse again.
Hampered by the leg irons, Nick shuffled toward the stream. His momentary relief at the prospect of fresh water and privacy was gone. Soon there would be just the two of them, this Ranger and himself. Life for one meant death for the other, and they both had just silently acknowledged that fact.
Nick swore he wouldnât be the one to go down, but the notion gave him damn little peace of mind. That old, peculiar sense of being incomplete flooded over him now. He stumbled, the chain between his legs tripping him, and fell to the ground. He lay there for a moment, filled with despair so strong, he couldnât move.
If anything happened to him â¦
Jonathon and Fleur needed him. Andy. And, dear God, Lori! He understood that now more than ever. She was so competent in so many ways that he often forgot she was a woman who had yet to discover what being a woman meant. She had looked up to him and imitated him for so long, he had come to think of her almost as a younger brother rather than sister. But he was not oblivious to the electricity that passed between her and the Ranger, and that scared the devil out of him. She had no idea what kind of man Morgan Davis was. He would be disaster for a free soul like Lori.
Nickâs life or the Rangerâs?
For his familyâs sake, Nick knew which it had to be.
CHAPTER FOUR
They stopped at a stream in early afternoon, though they were close to Laramie.
Lori had changed clothes before they had left the campsite that morning, switching to a modest blouse and a split skirt that, except when she sat astride a horse, seemed to be the real thing. Women, she knew, had more freedom in Wyoming than in other places. They sat on juries and had obtained the right to vote. Wearing pants, however, was certainly not acceptableâand she didnât know when or how she might have to use her womanly wiles.
The Ranger had viewed her attire with something like bemusement. She had tied her hair behind with a ribbon, and she knew her brown blouse brought out the amber in her eyes. Sheâd tipped her hat back rakishly on her head. Though she knew she was no beauty, she was attractive enough, particularly in a part of the country with few women.
Nickâs wrists had again been cuffed to the saddle horn, and he had moved restlessly in the saddle throughout the morning. His eyes had been dark and guarded, his shirt soiled, when heâd returned from the stream this morning, and Lori had had to restrain herself to keep from going to him. She knew that look, that warning, which kept everyone, even those close to him, at armâs length. The moody silence was rare, and Lori bit back words of concern. He wouldnât appreciate them, especially in front of the Ranger.
But for a moment his glower reminded her of the Rangerâsâand then she dismissed the thought. Nick was nothing like the humorless, laconic lawman. The only thing they had in common outside of looks, she thought bitterly, was that they both wanted to get rid of her. But she wasnât that easily discarded.
Nick had said she would only get in the way. That he couldnât concentrate if he worried about her. The Ranger just wanted her out of the way, period. But Lori knew Nick couldnât so easily escape the man intent on taking him back. She had noted the Rangerâs caution. How could Nick ever escape as long as he was shackled so thoroughly?
At the stream Morgan allowed Nick off his horseâonly, the Ranger made it clear, because he felt the horses needed a short rest. Nick had stretched his arms, rubbed his sore wrists,
Nick knew he was no killer. He had killed once to save his brother. He wondered whether he could kill to save himself. He wasnât sure.
Either way, he didnât want Lori involved.
His eyes met Morgan Davisâs, and a curious understanding passed between them. Davis frowned, his face grim. And then the lawman turned away and started to saddle the horse again.
Hampered by the leg irons, Nick shuffled toward the stream. His momentary relief at the prospect of fresh water and privacy was gone. Soon there would be just the two of them, this Ranger and himself. Life for one meant death for the other, and they both had just silently acknowledged that fact.
Nick swore he wouldnât be the one to go down, but the notion gave him damn little peace of mind. That old, peculiar sense of being incomplete flooded over him now. He stumbled, the chain between his legs tripping him, and fell to the ground. He lay there for a moment, filled with despair so strong, he couldnât move.
If anything happened to him â¦
Jonathon and Fleur needed him. Andy. And, dear God, Lori! He understood that now more than ever. She was so competent in so many ways that he often forgot she was a woman who had yet to discover what being a woman meant. She had looked up to him and imitated him for so long, he had come to think of her almost as a younger brother rather than sister. But he was not oblivious to the electricity that passed between her and the Ranger, and that scared the devil out of him. She had no idea what kind of man Morgan Davis was. He would be disaster for a free soul like Lori.
Nickâs life or the Rangerâs?
For his familyâs sake, Nick knew which it had to be.
CHAPTER FOUR
They stopped at a stream in early afternoon, though they were close to Laramie.
Lori had changed clothes before they had left the campsite that morning, switching to a modest blouse and a split skirt that, except when she sat astride a horse, seemed to be the real thing. Women, she knew, had more freedom in Wyoming than in other places. They sat on juries and had obtained the right to vote. Wearing pants, however, was certainly not acceptableâand she didnât know when or how she might have to use her womanly wiles.
The Ranger had viewed her attire with something like bemusement. She had tied her hair behind with a ribbon, and she knew her brown blouse brought out the amber in her eyes. Sheâd tipped her hat back rakishly on her head. Though she knew she was no beauty, she was attractive enough, particularly in a part of the country with few women.
Nickâs wrists had again been cuffed to the saddle horn, and he had moved restlessly in the saddle throughout the morning. His eyes had been dark and guarded, his shirt soiled, when heâd returned from the stream this morning, and Lori had had to restrain herself to keep from going to him. She knew that look, that warning, which kept everyone, even those close to him, at armâs length. The moody silence was rare, and Lori bit back words of concern. He wouldnât appreciate them, especially in front of the Ranger.
But for a moment his glower reminded her of the Rangerâsâand then she dismissed the thought. Nick was nothing like the humorless, laconic lawman. The only thing they had in common outside of looks, she thought bitterly, was that they both wanted to get rid of her. But she wasnât that easily discarded.
Nick had said she would only get in the way. That he couldnât concentrate if he worried about her. The Ranger just wanted her out of the way, period. But Lori knew Nick couldnât so easily escape the man intent on taking him back. She had noted the Rangerâs caution. How could Nick ever escape as long as he was shackled so thoroughly?
At the stream Morgan allowed Nick off his horseâonly, the Ranger made it clear, because he felt the horses needed a short rest. Nick had stretched his arms, rubbed his sore wrists,
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