Chapter 13
Shea headed the horse into the woods, but she had no idea which direction to take.
The valley seemed ringed by ridges and walls, but there had to be an opening.
She remembered climbing the day that she was brought to the cabin, and then descending, so she headed toward the highest ground.
The horse remained reluctant, continuing to try to turn its head toward the direction of the cabin, and it took all her determination to keep him going in the direction she wanted.
She heard the sound of water, and she knew they were near the waterfall. She didn’t remember hearing it when Ben had taken her here, and started to turn in another direction until she thought of the horse. She wondered when the last time was that the horse had had something to drink.
She decided to head for the waterfall. There, she dismounted, and holding the reins rightly, led the horse to the pool. It drank slowly, and she stretched out on the bank to splash cool water on her face. She needed all her wits about her.
The horse suddenly acted skittish, almost jerking the reins from her hand. She rose and tried to mount, but the horse was shying away, trying to get loose.
And then she heard an agonizing cry from somewhere in the woods, followed by a roar of rage. The first cry was almost that of a child. Pain was evident in the sound, and she felt herself tremble. Something was very wrong. She wished she’d taken the gun Rafe Tyler had been wearing.
She made another desperate attempt to mount, and this time she succeeded, but only by holding on for dear life with her blistered hand. Pain sliced through her. She could feel the horse’s agitation, its fear. There was another long-drawn-out moan, and several more roars.
Shea suddenly thought of the bears that had been so carefree a few days ago at the waterfall. The roars must be coming from a full-grown bear, the cries from a cub. She closed her eyes as if that would also shut out the sounds, but it didn’t. And then the moan became whimpers.
There’s nothing you can do. Go while you can, her mind kept repeating. Go. Go. Go.
Run!
The horse neighed plaintively, still fighting the reins, and Shea knew she couldn’t leave, not without the cries haunting her the rest of her life. There were traps throughout the woods, Rafe Tyler had said. What if …?
Rafe Tyler would know what to do. But he was back in the cabin. Did she dare go back? What would he do?
She swallowed hard and heard the piteous, heartrending whimper again. She had heard horses hated and feared bears. Even if she could somehow get near the animals, how could she help the cub with an enraged mother nearby?
Rafe Tyler will know what to do.
This time you won’t get another chance to escape.
She ignored the last caution and gave the horse its head, knowing it would return to its master.
Rafe felt as if the world had fallen in on him. His head pounded. His hand went to a particularly painful spot, and he winced as it encountered a sizable bump and a trickle of blood.
He sat up slowly, after discovering that any abrupt move only made the pain worse. As he leaned on one arm, he saw the frying pan next to him and realized immediately what had happened.
He looked around, knowing Shea Randall was gone. At least, his gun was still in the holster and the knife in its sheath at his belt. He felt in his pocket. The key to the stable was there, the stable where he’d stored all the weapons and hidden Jack Randall’s money.
How long had he been unconscious? And why in hell had he been so careless?
He thought of that damn kiss and swore to himself. If he found her again, he’d stay well away from her. And, if necessary, keep her hog-tied. If he failed to find her, he’d have to reach one of the others who could then alert Ben and Clint.
He stood, his head ringing, his bones feeling like jelly. He leaned against a wall, trying to will strength back into his body. Finally, he walked over to the door and looked out. The horse was gone, but then he expected that.
Ben had told him that Shea wasn’t an experienced rider.
Rafe thought of her alone in the woods, with a horse that was tired and could be hard to handle.
Even if the bay didn’t throw her, it could very well stumble in the mountains at night.
It was still afternoon. How long had she been gone?
It couldn’t have been more than a few minutes.
Gritting his teeth against the pain in his head, he made his way to the stable.
There, he chose a rifle, checking quickly to make sure it was loaded.
He locked the stable again and turned toward the woods.
A flock of birds rose from the trees, and then he heard the sound of hooves against hard ground.
He quickly moved to the side of the stable, out of sight.
He watched as Shea Randall rode into the clearing. Had the bay turned back? But she appeared in control of the horse. Hellfire, she was returning on her own.
He started to move forward, then stepped back. Were there others behind her?
She slid down from the horse and hurried toward the cabin. She had no weapons in her hands, nor did there seem to be anyone with her. She stood in the doorway, apparently puzzled.
He still thought of a trap. Dammit, why else would she return when she’d risked so much to escape?
But the forest was giving him no warning. The birds had settled back in the trees again; the squirrels, after a brief respite, were back chasing one another across the branches.
He stepped out, the rifle in his hand, and she turned, suddenly seeing him and going still.
Rafe was a master at keeping emotion from his face. But his stalking walk, he knew, expressed his anger. She stepped back, blocked now by the wall of the cabin.
He reached her, but she didn’t flinch. Her gaze held steady, and he couldn’t help admiring her. Before he could say anything, she spoke, the slightest tremor in her voice.
“There’s … an animal in trouble in the woods. I think it might be that bear cub.”
He saw her swallow, and he believed her. God help him, he believed her. “Where?”
“Near the waterfall.”
“Go inside,” he said harshly.
“No.”
“Don’t press your luck,” he said, his voice like a growl.
She ignored his warning. “Are you going …?”
“Dammit, get inside before I carry you there.”
“You won’t know how to find them.”
She was the most infuriating woman he’d ever met. Her face was so pleading, so earnest, those soft eyes so determined. Damn, but she got under his skin.
“Look, lady,” he finally said. “You can’t shoot, can you?”
She tipped her chin up defiantly. “Of course I can,” she said, but those unbelievably honest eyes gave her away.
“Christ, you’re a lousy liar,” he said, exasperated. “If you’re right and that little cub’s in trouble, the mother’s going to be damned dangerous. I can’t worry about you and help him.”
“What if something happens to you?”
He knew her concern wasn’t for him but for herself. After all, hadn’t she just tried to kill him? He looked at her coldly. “Clint said he would be back. He will be back.”
She gazed up to the side of his head where blood had congealed and dried. “Are you … are you all right?”
“No,” he said. “Now get inside.”
“If I promise not to leave …”
“Miss Randall, don’t even suggest it. Don’t ask me for a goddamn thing. You want someone to help that cub, then you get inside.” His usually indecipherable eyes were raging. She stepped back into the cabin.
“You might pray that Mama bear gets me before I return,” he said in a low, furious voice before he slammed the door closed and locked it.
He stood there for a moment. Christ, his head hurt.
He hadn’t had any sleep in more than thirty hours, and he didn’t know how to deal with a woman so unlike any other he had met.
She never did what he expected. To risk everything to escape and then return because of a bear cub?
He hated the thought that she knew he would go after that cub and had returned because of it.
At least she’d had enough sense to come after him rather than trying to do something on her own.
Rafe realized the contradictory nature of those thoughts and chalked it up to his exhaustion.
He swiftly unsaddled the horse and put him in the stable. He couldn’t take the horse. After getting a whiff of the bear, the bay would be nearly uncontrollable. And God knew what he would find. Rafe had seen what those steel-jaw traps could to do an animal.
Cradling the rifle in his arm, he started through the woods at a slow run. Halfway to the fall, he heard the poignant cries of the cub, the frantic grunts of the mother, and he increased his pace until he saw them directly ahead.
The black bear rose up on its hind legs, its teeth bared.
Rafe froze, keeping very still until the bear remembered his scent.
Then his gaze moved and found the small cub.
Its leg was caught in a trap all right, and it was crying in anguish, moving frantically to free itself, gnawing at its own wounded leg. Blood covered the ground.
Rafe very slowly pulled on his gloves. “It’s all right,” he said to the mother bear in a crooning low voice. “I’m here to help.”
The bear growled, pawing the air threateningly, and Rafe hoped he wouldn’t be faced with the choice of killing the mother to save the cub or killing the cub so it wouldn’t suffer. He moved a few feet closer, all the time crooning, “I’m a friend.”
The mother bear moved closer to the cub, then came down on her four paws. She still made snarling sounds, baring her teeth, but as Rafe continued his approach, the bear gave way, falling back, leaving the way open toward the cub.
“You understand, don’t you?” Rafe said in the same calm voice. “You know I just want to help.”
But when he was nearly at the cub’s side, the mother lunged at him, swatting him with a paw. A claw caught his left arm, and he felt ripping pain, blood running down his arm.