Mountain Wild (Harlequin Historical Series) Page 14

  “I’ll walk you out,” he said, heading her off in the doorway.

  “No need.” She tried to slip past him.

  “A gentleman always walks a lady out.”

  Wedged beside him in the doorway, she stiffened. Her chin jetted up as she glared at him. “I’m not a lady.”

  “Yes, you are. You’re as much a lady as any I’ve ever known.”

  “You’d be the first to think so.”

  Garret smiled, damn pleased by that discovery. “I like being first.”

  Her expression softened, and he didn’t hesitate to seize the opportunity. He kissed her, a gentle brush of lips, followed by another. And another.

  She leaned in, her lips parting beneath his. The first touch of her tongue and Garret dropped his supper to the floor and closed his arms around her. Maggie’s fervent kiss filled him with something he needed more than food—passion…hope. Her tongue returned every touch, every stroke. He tightened his hold, lifting her against him.

  She whimpered against his mouth and folded her arms around his neck, pulling him to her. Desire roared as she clung to him, kissing him with reckless abandon. Her touch, her taste, the demand of her tight embrace burned away the emptiness inside him, filling him with a deep sense of satisfaction.

  Maggie pulled back, ending the kiss as quickly as it had escalated. She bumped against the door frame, gasping for breath.

  “You shouldn’t…have done that.”

  Garret would have laughed if she’d left any breath in his lungs. She hadn’t hidden the fact that she’d wanted that kiss just as badly as he had.

  Boots moved between them, nibbling up the last of the bacon Garret had tossed aside.

  “Can’t see why not,” he admitted. “I think I’ve made it fairly clear that I fancy you.”

  Her eyes widened before she tugged her hat low, hiding her pretty, blushing face. “I’m leaving.”

  She dashed across the porch.

  “I promised you my horse,” he said, catching up with her.

  “I don’t need it.”

  “It’s ten miles to my sister’s ranch. Twice that if you follow the river.”

  “Which is why I need to get moving.” She reached for the pack still hanging from his saddle.

  Not about to let her walk, Garret plucked her backpack from her grasp.

  Her expression fierce, she slammed her hands onto her hips, drawing his gaze to the long blade she wore there. The barrel of her rifle was visible just behind her shoulder and he knew too well she could be a lethal force when reckoned with. A man who didn’t know the tender woman beneath her scowl would likely be quaking in his boots. Garret felt a kind of admiration for her that made his heart ache.

  “Anyone ever tell you that you have a stubborn streak a mile wide?”

  “No.”

  “Another first,” he said, giving her a wink.

  “Garret—”

  “You’re taking my horse, sweetheart. Feel free to stand there and fume while I tie down your gear and raise the stirrups.”

  “You don’t understand. I’d really rather walk.”

  The distress in her voice made him look up from securing the rancid bundle to the back of his saddle. “You can leave her with Chance.”

  “Which means I’d have to talk to him. Aside from bringing home an occasional frozen cowboy, I strive to avoid such situations.”

  “Am I part of a vast collection?”

  “No! I can assure you I don’t go around the mountain looking for cowboys to take home.”

  “Good to know,” he said, smiling at her expression of sheer agitation. Even with her temper flared, he’d never been more attracted to a woman. Every moment in her company reaffirmed a notion he’d been trying to deny for two months.

  He was crazy about her. And just like Amanda, she took to his ranch the way a cat takes to water. Unlike his ex-wife, Maggie appreciated the land—it was the people she feared.

  “About time you started to recognize friend from foe. There’s not a man on the Morgan Ranch who’d be a threat to you, least of all Chance.” He recalled Chance’s mention of her moving into the northern ranges. “Did you move because of Chance and Cora Mae?”

  She gave a slight nod.

  “You had to know the Morgans weren’t a threat to you.”

  “Anyone knowing where I live is a threat. Word spreads and these hills aren’t what they used to be. When we worked the rivers we’d travel for weeks on end without seeing another soul. Ira told me these hills would fill with settlers once they ran off the Indians, that I should go north. I didn’t want to believe him. But he was right, like always.”

  Ira may not have abused her, but the man’s reclusive nature had definitely fueled her fear of people.

  “Maggie, there’s no reason you couldn’t settle somewhere around here.”

  She averted her gaze, the pain he saw there ripping at his heart. “My trouble in Bitterroot suggests otherwise.”

  “You don’t want to go. You love these hills and ranges as much as I do.”

  She drew a ragged breath, her features firming. “I want to be left alone.”

  “You won’t have to see Chance,” he said as he finished the second stirrup. “Leave her in any pasture. They’ll recognize her and get her back to me.”

  She didn’t look any more convinced as he stepped back so she could mount up.

  “All ready for you, darlin’.”

  “And you think I’m stubborn?”

  He only smiled.

  She crouched down and Boots rushed into her open arms. “See ya, Boots.”

  “He’s liable to start missing you. You’re welcome to come by and visit him anytime. You’re always welcome here, Maggie.”

  Her gaze moved over his ranch as she straightened, and came to rest on Duce’s grave site. “I’ve never understood why folks take the risk. Living in the open.”

  “Honey, most would say you’re the one taking the risk by living up in that wild country alone.”

  “Up there I know the harmless critters from the ones that would kill me. Down here, you can’t tell.”

  “No matter where you go, you won’t find a place that doesn’t have danger lurking somewhere. It wasn’t a man that killed Ira.”

  “I know that better than you!”

  “You think he would have lived differently to avoid that bear?”

  “No. If you knew Ira, you’d know he didn’t belong out of those mountains. Folks were likely grateful he chose to stay in them.”

  “I feel the same way about these hills. When you love where you live, what you do, the people in your life…it’s worth the risk. Something worth fighting for.”

  “To you, maybe. Ira didn’t believe in any such thing. He thought a man standing still was nothing but a target. He didn’t understand my need for a cabin, to stay in one place. The two years we wintered apart he seemed surprised to find me well when he came back.”

  “You stayed anyway? Alone?”

  “I don’t mind solitude. Winters aren’t too bad so long as you prepare. The rest of the year I’m surrounded by all I need. But not anymore. It’s not safe.”

  Garret hated seeing the fear that drove her to push him away. “Is that really what you think? Or is that Ira’s influence?”

  Maggie didn’t know anymore. Standing here with him was making her head spin and her heart ache. “I gotta go,” she said.

  He took a step back and waved a hand toward the mountains. “Then, go.”

  She mounted his horse and noticed he’d tucked her old shotgun into the side scabbard. “Thanks,” she said, refusing to look at him as she tugged on the reins, guiding his spotted mare toward the western rise of mountains.

  Garret watched her go, wondering what he could have said differently to ease her fear.

  “See you around,” he called after her.

  “I doubt it. You ranchers are mostly blind.”

  She glanced back, her bowed lips all he could see beneath that wide brim
—which was enough to stir his pulse.

  Once she rode past the house, the mare broke into a run. His dog charged after them as though he intended to go with her.

  “Boots!”

  He stopped at the edge of the yard, his two-toned eyes glancing back at him.

  “Get over here.”

  He ran back to his side and barked at their departing magpie. As she descended over a rise his bark turned to a howl.

  “I know the feeling, boy. I’d like to chase after her, too.”

  Nothing but misery came from holding a woman who didn’t want to stay. And yet, he’d felt the yearning in her kiss, her reluctance to let go of him.

  He’d have to convince her he was worth the risk.

  Her horse wasn’t where she should be.

  Maggie sat at the mouth of the high canyon pass, her telescope moving over the green valley below. Star should be waiting for her in that northeast pasture, as she had been for the past six years.

  The only horse within a mile was a saddled roan. A man worked on wire fencing a few yards away from his mount. She could just make out the tufts of golden hair beneath the brim of his dark hat.

  Morgan.

  Was he waiting for her? Had something happened to Star?

  Apprehension nettled beneath her skin. Garret’s mustang shifted beneath her, the spry mare ready to descend into the narrow valley.

  “Easy,” she soothed, tugging at the reins, scanning open hills and deep folds of countryside for other riders. She’d had all the surprise confrontations she could handle for one day. She didn’t know what Garret had been trying to prove, kissing her the way he had.

  For all her worry that he’d shun her once he knew the truth, she now wished he had. Every mile she’d put between them only increased the ache in her chest and hadn’t done anything to dim the feel of his arms closed tightly around her, the scent of sawdust on his skin.

  She needed to get her horse and move on.

  Satisfied all was clear, she started down. By the time she reached the rise of grass marking a northern paddock, Morgan had long since spotted her and had been watching her approach as he worked on the fencing. Setting his equipment aside, he pulled off his heavy gloves and straightened.

  “Hey, Mag,” he greeted as she reined in a few yards away.

  She dismounted on the opposite side of the fence. “Where’s Star?”

  “I wondered when you’d show up,” he said, striding toward her as though he hadn’t heard her question. “You’re later than usual.”

  “Only by a week or two. Where’s my horse?”

  “I figured Star could use a few extra days to fatten up on oats in the barn. I wanted to thank you for helping Garret like you did.”

  “By withholding my horse?” she demanded.

  “I’ll get you your horse,” he assured her. “We had quite a scare when he didn’t come off that mountain. We’re all indebted to you, Maggie.”

  “Is that so? Then how about you stop wasting my time and go fetch my mare?”

  Morgan didn’t rush off, as he should have. His stance wide, he shifted his hat over his golden-blond hair, his green eyes raking over her with nerve-racking interest.

  “You’re looking unusually fresh this afternoon, for being so far from home.”

  She tensed, annoyed by his bold observation. Wasn’t any business of his if she chose to keep the grime off her.

  “That’s Garret’s mare. You must have returned Boots.”

  Maggie didn’t answer. Conversation had never been part of their bargain.

  “And here I thought the kid might have improved your social skills.”

  “What kid?” she said, rattled by a second mention of children and the thought of Garret revealing all that happened in her cabin.

  “Garret.”

  “He’s hardly a kid. Last I checked Garret was a full-grown cattle rancher with man-size troubles.”

  “That he is,” Chance agreed with a nod. “The rest of us were wondering how such an experienced rancher could end up knocked out in the snow and his partner left dead.”

  “I don’t know. Garret had been unconscious for nearly a day when I found him.”

  Morgan’s eyes widened with surprise. “He didn’t tell us that.”

  “He couldn’t remember the attack when he woke. I never saw his partner.”

  “Strange that he hasn’t had any trouble since. Why wouldn’t they have gone after his cattle while he was subdued on the mountain?”

  Did he expect her to have answers? “You’d have to ask Garret.”

  “He didn’t say anything to you about—”

  “Morgan, I make it a point to not get involved in other people’s business. If you have questions for Garret, you know where to find him. Now are you going to fetch my horse or not?”

  “Sure, Mag.” He started toward his mount grazing a few yards off. He reached for his saddle, then paused. “You’re welcome to come with me. Skylar has been anxious to thank the woman who saved her brother.”

  Go with him? To his house?

  What had Garret told them to have Morgan behaving so cordial toward her? Whatever he’d said, he’d obviously ruined her reputation.

  “Just because I didn’t let a man freeze to death doesn’t mean I’m willing to cozy up and break bread on every damn ranch I come across! If our bargain is done, you just say so! There isn’t a place I can’t get to by walking!”

  Chance held up his hands. “No call to get riled. One saddled mare coming right up.” He mounted his horse and started toward the cluster of buildings a few miles to the south.

  “Be quick about it!” she shouted after him. “I ain’t got all day to be sitting in these open hills like a duck on a pond!”

  He reined in. “No one’s going to bother you on my ranch.”

  “I bet Virgil Thompson thought the same thing. A rope still found its way around his thick neck last fall and left him dangling from one of his own trees.”

  Morgan touched a hand to the red bandana tied at his throat, likely recalling the noose she’d dug from his skin some years back after the old foreman of the Lazy J had taken a mind to hang him.

  “I heard about that,” he said. “Thompson and two of his men.”

  Maggie hadn’t been near Thompson’s homestead the night of his death, but she knew who’d been stealing his cattle. Ol’ Thompson had likely made the same discovery.

  “Just so you know, I won’t be bringing Star back in the fall. These mountains are getting too crowded.”

  “Heard about your trouble in Bitterroot Springs.”

  “You and everyone else.”

  “Where will you go?”

  “Wherever I please. Once you fetch my horse, that is.”

  One side of his mouth kicked up in a grin. “I’ll be right back.”

  “You got fifteen minutes, Morgan.”

  “How the hell did Garret survive a week with you?”

  “Carefully.”

  Morgan’s deep laugh echoed back as he rode toward his ranch.

  She hadn’t been careful enough.

  Her heart aching fit to burst, Maggie led Garret’s mare to an outcrop of trees and settled in the shade. This morning she’d nearly convinced herself that she’d gotten over the loss.

  She leaned back, sinking into the tall green blades. Above her a blue sky shined though the branches. Chirping black birds fluttered around in the canopy of leaves.

  A bit of buckskin don’t hide the fact that you’re pretty as a magpie.

  She shut her eyes—which only served to sharpen his image in her mind, the sound of his voice, the surge of thrilling warmth she felt at just being near him.

  Once she got Star back, she wouldn’t miss him so badly.

  Garret laid down the last shingle in his row and reached around only to discover Everett had hauled the nails up to the next level. In the past couple of hours they’d worked in steady silence and had finally reached the last section. A few more rows and they’d be d
one.

  “Toss down a tack. You snuck off with that bucket again.”

  “No sneakier than you.” Everett’s grin slid clear across his face.

  “What are you smiling about?”

  “Why didn’t you tell us she was the trapper that helped you?”

  “What difference does it make?”

  His bony shoulders shifted. “I’d imagine a whole lot. I saw you.”

  “You saw me where?” he asked, tacking down the shingle.

  “In the doorway.” His wide grin returned. “With Mrs. Danvers.”

  Garret stood, confirming the straight shot view to the porch of the bunkhouse. “You breathe a word to anyone,” he said, glaring at Everett, “and I will beat the living tar out of you.”

  “I won’t say nothin’,” he said, losing his smile. “Can’t say I blame you for not wanting folks to know.”

  The boy’s attempt at understanding snapped at Garret’s temper.

  “Don’t go making assumptions, Everett. I won’t have her talked about with disrespect on my ranch. You hear me?”

  “Yes, sir,” he said, and quickly turned back to his task.

  Boots barked from down below. Garret glanced back to see his dog take off like a shot across the yard. Movement farther out caught his eye. Approaching riders fanned out over a distant hillside. Their faces obscured, Garret stood and looked closer.

  Masked riders. Canvas draped beneath their brims with holes cut for the eyes. There was no doubt as to where they were headed. He counted eight riders as they descended the hillside, the outside riders banking hard to the north and south.

  This can’t be good.

  “Garret?” Everett froze midswing, the hammer still in the air, his wide gaze on one of the masked men trying to sneak over the rise.

  “We gotta move.” He slipped the hammer through his belt loop and followed Everett to the ladder.

  “They’ll burn you out,” Everett said, his voice trembling. He stepped back, his eyes wide with panic.

  Garret grabbed the rifle propped against the barn and took Everett by the arm, hauling him toward his saddled horse. He wasn’t about to chance the boy living through such a hell a second time.

  “Ride to the Morgans. Tell the first man you see we’ve got trouble.”

  “But the others—”