Carol Finch Page 10

  Piper smiled when the pup looked up at the sound of her voice and wagged his tail. It was encouraging to know that someone around here appreciated her company.

  When Piper doffed her clothes and sank into the pool Lucky took a flying leap and joined her. Chuckling, she watched the dog paddle in circles before he scrabbled up the rock ledge to shake himself off.

  A few minutes later Piper emerged from the spring to dress in her breeches and blouse. While she was rolling up the pallet and gathering her belongings to secure to the back of her horse she heard the tumble of pebbles, then tensed at the sound of Lucky’s warning growl.

  She glanced over her shoulder, expecting to see Quinn rounding the outcropping of rock. She gasped in alarm when two renegade Indians stopped short and stared at her in surprise. Panic-stricken, Piper dashed over to retrieve the pistol she had left near the spring. Her breath came out in a pained whoosh when one of the men launched himself at her and sent her skidding across the pebbled path. Stones gouged her knees, hips, chin and elbows as the man scrambled over her in an attempt to grab the gun before she got her hands on it.

  Lucky bounded atop the warrior and clamped onto his shirt, but he was knocked away. While the renegade was distracted Piper rammed her elbow into his nose, then surged forward in an attempt to take possession of the pistol. But to her frustration the second warrior darted over to stamp down on her wrist, then snatched the weapon out of her reach.

  Although she bit, clawed and squirmed to escape, the warrior that loomed over her jerked her upright. He clamped his arm diagonally across her chest and laid a vicious-looking dagger against her throat.

  Piper was forced to admit defeat.

  Well, so much for the first day of her self-reliance and independence, she thought in exasperation. But no matter what her fate—or the lack thereof—she was not going to burst into tears, whimper and beg for mercy. As Quinn had told her, he couldn’t name a single incident in his life where crying had solved a damn thing.

  Her captor rattled off a comment to his companion in Indian dialect. The next thing Piper knew her arms were tied behind her with a leather strap and she was hoisted onto the back of her horse.

  When the renegades stared speculatively at Lucky, Piper stiffened in outrage. “If you are wondering if that pup might look good roasting over a campfire, the answer is no,” she said curtly. “I didn’t save him to become your lunch!”

  The warriors gaped at her, apparently surprised by her flare of temper and brisk tone of voice.

  Obviously one good thing had come from standing up to her domineering father, Piper thought. She had learned not to subject herself to someone else’s will without spouting protests.

  Piper spewed her frustration at both warriors as they led her up the steep incline to fetch their horses. Now would be the perfect time for Quinn to show up, she mused. Then, on second thought, maybe not. She didn’t want to see him hurt or killed because of her inability to defend herself. She was not his responsibility and these were the consequences she had to face because of her choice to strike off on her own.

  Without Piper around to slow Quinn down, he could complete his mission and follow the gang of outlaws to their stronghold. She was on her own now. Whatever happened to her might become a traumatic ordeal, similar perhaps to what Quinn had endured as a Kiowa and Comanche captive.

  The prospect of being mauled and abused made her cringe, but she refused to give up hope just yet. If the warriors let their guards down for a moment, she vowed to take advantage and attempt escape.

  While the warriors led her due west, through the deep ravines dotted with junipers and boulders, Piper renewed her vow to take command of her own life. Or die trying. She had the unshakable feeling the pact she had made with herself was about to be put to another difficult test.

  A sense of unease overcame Quinn as he made his way back to Sunset Springs. Over the past decade he had acquired the ability to sense trouble before it pounced. Now his instincts were on full alert and the hair on the back of his neck prickled in warning. He dismounted and left his horse tethered to a scrub bush. Cautiously, he made his way over the slabs of rock so he could peer down at the secluded spring in the V-shaped ravine.

  Sure enough, Piper, Lucky and the horse were nowhere to be seen. All that had been left behind was the withered rose Quinn had impulsively placed beside Piper on their pallet because its wild yet delicate beauty reminded him so much of her.

  Quinn swore inventively as he bounded from one boulder to another like a mountain goat. He searched the campsite for telltale footprints and then let loose with a string of epithets when he spotted two sets of moccasin prints in the dirt.

  Unless he missed his guess Piper had been captured by renegades. He felt guilty as hell because he knew her abduction was his fault. He had left her to her own devices again this morning. He hadn’t deviated from his course of action by taking her to Fort Davis after the stage holdup, as he should have. He had been hell-bent on tracking the desperadoes to their isolated hideout.

  At the very least he should have jostled Piper awake this morning and insisted that she ride with him. Instead, he had given her the chance to rest when time permitted.

  He had compromised his plans to accommodate Piper this morning and look where it got both of them. Damn it to hell! Now the desperadoes were on the move northward and he had to trek west to rescue Piper before she was sold off to Comancheros or became some warrior’s lusty amusement.

  The prospect of Piper becoming a sexual conquest incensed him and filled him with a sense of urgency that bordered on panic. He took off at a dead run to vault onto his horse. Gouging the animal in the flanks, he clattered down the trail at a reckless pace, hoping to make up for lost time.

  Two hours later, Quinn scrabbled up a rocky ridge to pan the winding valley below. He spotted the threesome that had halted five hundred yards ahead of him. One of the warriors—a Comanche, he guessed by the long length of the fringe that adorned his buckskin breeches and shirtsleeves—had stopped to relieve himself. Since Quinn usually had rapport with the renegades he encountered from time to time, he decided to use the direct approach with Piper’s abductors.

  Using the familiar coyote howl to draw attention to himself, Quinn held his coiled whip over his head and waited for the renegades to whirl toward him.

  He nudged his steed down the narrow path, bold as you please. He had learned long ago that Indians respected and valued courage, even in their enemies. They only relied on stealth and cunning when they were greatly outnumbered—which they had been when white invaders encroached on their hunting ground and offered worthless treaties designed to swindle Indian tribes out of their property.

  Halting just out of rifle range, he called out in the Comanche dialect, “That is my woman you are making off with and I want her back.”

  The renegades made no move to blow him out of the saddle so he walked his horse forward. He inwardly grimaced when he noticed Piper’s scraped chin and knees and saw the grime that covered the front of her blouse. Her silver-blond hair was in disarray, indicating that she had put up a fight before her capture.

  Admiration swept through him when he remembered her declaration that she was going to become self-reliant. Of course, she had flunked her first test, but from all indication she had put up a fuss before she was abducted.

  Quinn was so relieved to know that Piper was in one piece that he wanted to hug her close and reassure himself that she really was safe from harm. However, he had been trained not to display emotion or expose the slightest weakness. But, that didn’t mean a jumble of feelings weren’t bubbling just beneath the surface.

  “I thought that was you, Gray Owl,” one of the warriors called out as Quinn approached. “Still fighting Mexicans and white outlaws with the Rangers?”

  “You know these renegades?” Piper asked, glancing back and forth between him and her captors.

  “We’re acquainted, although we have never been formally introduced,” Quinn
said in English before he slid his right leg over his mount and hopped to the ground. He reached down to pet the mutt that had bounded up to greet him. His gaze swung back to Red Hawk, the warrior who was on horseback. “You’re a long way from the reservation. You know the army frowns on hunting expeditions this deep in Texas.”

  The Comanche snorted derisively. “I never met a white man whose opinion mattered much to me. Except for yours, maybe.” He smiled faintly at Quinn. “But you are Kiowa and Comanche at heart. That is where it counts, my brother.” He slid agilely from his paint pony, then ambled over to untie Piper’s hands. “I have seen you in action against Mexican banditos. You still have the good sense to fight like one of us.”

  That was a fact. When it came to warfare no culture could compete with the hand-to-hand combat and guerilla skills of Indians. From childhood, Indian children were taught games that simulated the techniques necessary in battle. Quinn had mastered those skills and applied them constantly in his profession.

  When Red Hawk released Piper, Quinn walked over to inspect her for injury. “You okay?” he asked softly.

  “Fine, except for a few more bruises and scrapes.” She stared disconcertedly at Red Hawk. “But I would dearly like to rub this man’s nose in the dirt to repay him in kind for scuffing me up.”

  Quinn chuckled. “Spiteful little witch, aren’t you?”

  “I am now. I have also learned that being a woman in this part of the country affords no special privileges.”

  “No, it doesn’t.” Quinn stared somberly at her. “The next lesson you need to learn is that everyone is a potential enemy, especially in this neck of the woods. If you treat them as such then you’re never surprised by an attack.”

  “I’ll be sure to remember that.” She extended her hand to Red Hawk, somewhat begrudgingly. “My name is Piper.”

  The tall, muscular-looking warrior cocked his raven-black head and stared at her hand, as if he wasn’t sure what to do with it. Eventually he accepted it, then tried to repeat her name in awkward English.

  “This is Red Hawk,” Quinn said. “His clan was herded to Indian Territory two years ago.” He clasped his hands around Piper’s waist and assisted her from her horse. A wry smile pursed his lips as he gestured toward the warrior. “I presume Red Hawk didn’t approve of the accommodations on the reservation, so he left. Not that I blame him.”

  He directed Piper’s attention to the other Comanche who approached. “This is Spotted Deer. His father was a powerful Comanche chief who died in combat against Mexican raiders that plundered their winter encampment.”

  Piper nodded curtly. “He and I are more familiarly acquainted than I prefer. He tackled me, then crawled all over me while we were scrambling to get possession of your pistol.”

  “Who won?” Quinn asked, surveying her stained clothing.

  “Red Hawk did. They ganged up on me. Otherwise, I might have gotten off a shot.”

  Quinn bit back an amused snicker. Damn if he didn’t admire Piper’s determination to hold her own against lopsided odds. The woman had plenty of fire and spirit. That almost made up for her lack of hand-to-hand combat skills.

  “Didn’t know you had a woman,” Spotted Deer commented as he appraised Piper. “When did this happen?”

  “A few days ago,” Quinn replied as he slid his arm possessively around Piper’s shoulder to verify his claim. “I don’t plan on sharing her with anyone, even if the Comanche custom is to offer his woman to his brothers as a show of friendship and respect.”

  “Not sure I would have wanted her anyway.” Red Hawk extended his hand to display the claw marks on his wrist. “She fights dirty. I do not think she will make you a dutiful wife.”

  “I don’t think so, either. Much too feisty,” Quinn agreed, grinning. “But she is pleasing to look at.”

  Red Hawk nodded in masculine approval. “She is that, Gray Owl. But if you tried to bed her when she is not agreeable to it I think she might claw out your eyes.”

  “Would you please speak English,” Piper insisted.

  “They don’t speak English. A little Spanish, yes,” Quinn reported before he turned his attention to Red Hawk. “The Rangers sent me to track down a gang of outlaws that have been holding up stages, banks and depredating ranches. Have you seen them in this area?”

  Red Hawk nodded grimly. “More than twenty well-armed riders have camped in El Muerto Cañon. They built corrals and adobe shacks. The fortress will make an attack very difficult.”

  “What is he saying?” Piper questioned curiously.

  “They have seen the banditos,” he translated. “They’re holed up in Dead Man’s Canyon. About five miles northwest, on the far side of Hell’s Ridge. The haunt was once a sacred burial ground for the Kiowa and Comanche.”

  Piper suspected the warriors were not pleased to have the desperadoes tramping around on that particular site. “Would these men be willing to help us scout the hideout?”

  “Us?” Quinn stared bemusedly at her. “I figured after this morning’s incident that you would prefer I take you to Fort Davis first.”

  “We had a deal. I agreed to go with you to track the bandits near here and you agreed to guide me to the garrison before you contacted your battalion.” She elevated her chin stubbornly. “A deal is a deal, Callahan, and we’re wasting daylight.”

  He stared pointedly at her skinned chin and grimy clothes. “You have suffered enough already. I think I should take you to the fort first.”

  Piper shook her head, causing a few more recalcitrant tendrils to coil around her face. “If we are only five miles from the canyon, the sensible thing to do is check it out. I have cost you valuable time and inconvenience already. A day or two won’t make that much difference to me because I didn’t tell my sister exactly when to expect me.”

  Piper listened to Quinn make his request for assistance in the Comanche dialect. She sighed in relief when both warriors nodded agreeably. She regretted that she wasn’t much help to Quinn in his reconnaissance mission, but his acquaintances could provide the needed expertise. Now that she knew neither of the Comanches who had sneaked away from the reservation were a personal threat she certainly didn’t mind their company.

  A tingle of pleasure shot through her when Quinn scooped her up and set her on her horse. She smiled down at him when he murmured, “I was worried about you, wildcat. I’m glad to see that you’re all right.”

  “I was glad to see you, period,” she confided. “But I thought you might decide to look the other way and go on about your assignment without bothering to track me down.” Her gaze narrowed on him. “Be honest with me, Callahan. You did consider it, didn’t you?”

  “I didn’t consider it for even a second,” he replied, then smiled wryly. “Like you said, we made a deal and I had every intention of upholding my end of the bargain.”

  Piper was so pleased by his comment that she was tempted to lean down and hug the stuffing out of him. Perhaps he didn’t consider her such a nuisance, after all. Plus, if he was willing to take her with him it would provide her with the opportunity to watch, listen and learn to become as self-sufficient as Quinn and these two warriors. Piper was willing and eager to develop the self-confidence needed to make a new life on the outpost of civilization.

  She was going to become independent, she promised herself. With a few more lessons she wouldn’t have to rely on any man. That thought inspired her to pick up the pace as the procession headed east.

  Chapter Eight

  The procession ascended the steep grade, winding through rocky gorges and juniper-choked ravines to reach the lofty peak that Quinn referred to as Hell’s Ridge. Piper made an effort to emulate the way the men moved in synchronized rhythm with their horses to keep their balance. If nothing else, she was learning to adjust to unfamiliar surroundings and she was living the kind of adventure she had yearned for and had been deprived of in polite society.

  For once she wasn’t subjected to her father’s demanding expectations.
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  In addition, Piper had the chance to spend time with the first man she actually found herself physically attracted to, a man she had managed to get attached to in a short span of time. When she compared Quinn Callahan to John Foster, there was simply no contest.

  Quinn was a man’s man, a warrior’s warrior. He was the epitome of strength, courage and well-honed skills. Her would-be fiancé was none of those things and Piper had nothing but lukewarm reactions to him. Her would-be fiancé was simply the extension of his father’s will. John Foster was content to take over the business without spreading his wings and asking himself if there was another life that better suited his own wants, needs and desires.

  Piper’s gaze swung sideways to survey Quinn in profile. If she were forced to choose a man to spend her life with Quinn Callahan would be her pick. He excited her, challenged her and didn’t condemn her because she was teeming with spirit. For sure and certain, there would be nothing dull or mundane about a match with this rugged Texas Ranger.

  Piper blinked, wondering where that preposterous thought had come from. The very last thing a man like Quinn wanted was a wife. He never stayed in the same place long enough for grass to grow beneath his feet.

  “Why are you staring at me like that?”

  She was jolted back to the present by Quinn’s abrupt question. For a moment she considered telling a fib, but then she recalled her vow of honesty with Quinn. A wry smile quirked her lips, wondering how he would react when she voiced her private thoughts. Well, there was only one way to find out, wasn’t there?

  “I was contemplating what it would be like to be married to you instead of the dandy Papa selected for me.” She shrugged nonchalantly. “This is all hypothetical, of course. Just a way of passing the time.”

  He blinked, startled. “Yeah? And what did you decide? Hypothetically, of course.”

  Piper grinned when she noticed the sparkle of curiosity in his amber eyes. “You won hands down.”