скачать книгу бесплатно
The hermit drew a big hunting knife from its sheath around his waist. Miranda cringed away from him.
“I’m going to cut your ropes,” he told her in a soothing voice. One easy slash and the rope fell away from her ankles. Then he sliced through the rope on her wrists, behind her back. She wearily moved her aching shoulders and rubbed her sore wrists, her eyes still on the hermit.
He brought the knife to her face, and she jerked backward.
“I’m only cutting the bandanna tied around your mouth. Do you understand?”
Miranda nodded and he quickly slit the cloth. She swallowed several times and licked dry lips.
He got to his feet, sliding the knife back into its sheath. “I don’t know who you are or why someone put you in that room, but if I were you, I’d get out of here as fast as I could. Whoever went to all that trouble will be back.” He pointed over his shoulder. “The closest place is the Maddox ranch. Just keep walking due south and you’ll reach it in about a day and a half, maybe two days. Depends on how fast you walk.”
Two days! Due south! What was he talking about? She didn’t know south from north. Two days!
The hermit tipped his hat, picked up his rifle and walked off, the dog at his heels.
Paralyzed, Miranda stared at his broad back. He was leaving her here! She glanced around at the dense thicket, heard the wind whistle eerily through the trees and felt the cold as it stung her cheeks. She shook so badly her teeth rattled. Oh, God, he couldn’t leave her in this wilderness. She tried to stand and fell flat on her stomach, her legs too numb to support her.
He heard a faraway sound and stopped. Riders. Two. They were coming for the woman.
He looked back. She was trying to crawl on her hands and knees. “Please, help me,” she begged, one hand stretched toward him as her weak body failed.
The soft melodious voice touched something buried inside him. God, he hadn’t heard a voice like that in years, and he didn’t want to hear it now. He didn’t want anything to do with her or her problems.
The pounding of hooves against the earth grew stronger. At that moment, the woman heard the sound. “Oh, no, they’re coming back! Please help me. They’ll kill me.” She struggled to get to her feet.
He watched her futile efforts. Bandit whined in his throat. “Be quiet,” he told the dog to no avail. The whining increased, angering him. Dammit, he didn’t need this. But much as he wanted to walk away, even Bandit knew he wouldn’t leave her here to die.
He hurried toward her and knelt down. “I’ll hide you until they’re gone. That’s all. After that, you’re on your own. Understand?”
“Yes, yes. Thank you, but I can’t get up. My legs are too weak.”
He laid his rifle down, scooped her into his arms, ran into the thicket and up a hill. He stood her on her feet beside a large oak. “Hold on to the tree. I’ll be right back.”
Running down to the shack, he used a branch to cover their tracks, then picked up his rifle. He gave the place a last once-over and made a dash for the woman.
“Don’t make a sound, not one word,” he told her, frowning at Bandit. “Quiet, boy.”
As he finished speaking, two riders came into view. Aware that something was wrong, they jumped off their horses and ran into the shack. They came out cursing and waving their arms in anger. The words were muted, but the curses carried on the wind.
His spine stiffened as he recognized the men. He glanced at the young woman and wondered at her connection to the men below.
“Do you recognize them?” he asked.
She squinted. “I can’t make out their faces from here,” she whispered.
That didn’t tell him a whole lot and didn’t make him feel any better.
“Damn.”
“What?” she asked, gripping the tree.
“They’re not giving up. They’re scouring the bushes, searching. I have a feeling they’re not leaving until they find you.”
“Please don’t let them find me.” Miranda stared into his dark eyes—eyes that held a fire and a warmth she felt all the way to her soul. This man would not hurt her. She only prayed he would help her.
He looked away from the pleading in her eyes. “I don’t get involved in other people’s lives. That’s why I live in these hills alone.”
She touched his arm in a silent appeal, and he flinched.
He hadn’t been touched in so long that it caught him off guard, but he almost immediately regained his composure. He knew he had a decision to make.
Bandit rubbed against his leg. He shoved him away. Between that stupid dog and her, he was becoming the crazy person everyone thought he was.
“Please help me,” she begged again. She didn’t make the mistake of touching him this time.
That desperate note in her voice weakened his resolve. Getting involved with her might jeopardize his freedom. But he couldn’t leave her here, at the mercy of the men below.
The two men continued their search. They obviously intended to find the woman. There was one place they wouldn’t look. His cabin. He had no choice. He had to hide her until they were gone. That was as far as he was willing to go.
He knelt in front of her. “Put your arms around my neck and climb onto my back.” She was too weak to walk and he could think of no other way.
Miranda didn’t even realize she was holding her breath until he’d spoken. “Thank you,” she whispered. She did as he instructed, locking her arms tightly around his neck. His dark beard brushed her hands with featherlike touches, and a fresh outdoor scent mixed with wool filled her nostrils.
This time he was prepared for the softness of her hands, and it didn’t bother him. Within minutes they were off through the woods.
Miranda clung to him as he darted through the thicket with a deftness and swiftness that surprised her. He seemed to be part of these woods—the trees, bushes and undergrowth. Her rescuer was different from anyone she’d ever known, and very strong. She could feel the muscles rippling in his back.
When they reached a rickety old fence, Miranda felt as if they’d walked for hours, but she knew it had been only minutes. She slid to the ground and stood on her own feet. Nonetheless, he picked her up and lifted her over the fence.
He pointed to some woods. “My cabin’s right through there. Can you walk?”
“Yes,” she replied, and took several tentative steps, then more as her legs grew stronger.
They emerged from the trees into a clearing where a small log cabin sat nestled among huge trees. Even in the dead of winter, the place had a homey appeal. Different shades of leaves covered the ground and smoke spiraled from the chimney. Bandit raced for the front porch; they followed more slowly.
As they climbed the wooden steps, he said, “Go. They’re not far behind us.”
He opened the door and without hesitation Miranda stepped inside. Her first feeling was warmth. It was divinely warm in here. She wrapped her arms around her cold body and let the heat soak into her bones. Then she took in the single sparse room, which was clean and neat. An old oak table and two chairs sat in the middle of the worn wooden floor. A cot was pushed against one wall, and a pile of newspapers and magazines were stacked beside it. A woodstove and a small cabinet occupied the other wall. The bare necessities were all he had. She thought of her father’s huge lavish house and her own beautifully decorated room. Did material things make one happy? She had a feeling the hermit had all he wanted right here.
The aroma of food caught her attention, and her stomach churned with hunger. When was the last time she’d eaten? She couldn’t remember.
He saw her eyeing the pot on the stove. “Are you hungry?”
She nodded. “Yes. Could I have something to eat, please?”
“Have a seat,” he said as he grabbed a bowl. “Leftover stew is all I have, but you’re welcome to it.”
“Thank you,” she replied, and sat in one of the chairs.
He placed the steaming hot bowl of stew in front of her with a piece of homemade bread and a glass of water. She snatched up the glass and drank thirstily.
“Slow down,” he warned her. “You’ll make yourself sick.”
She set the glass back on the table and picked up a spoon, slowly eating the stew. “What is this?” she asked. “It’s delicious.”
“Rabbit.”
She stopped eating. “What?”
“Rabbit,” he repeated.
She frowned. “You mean like…Easter-bunny rabbit.”
The corner of his bearded mouth twitched a fraction. “Yeah, like Easter-bunny rabbit.”
She looked down at the meaty concoction, and her stomach stirred with hunger. What the hell? she thought. She was too hungry to think about it.
As she gobbled up the last spoonful, Bandit barked.
“We’ve got company,” he said, reaching for his rifle.
“They found us?” she asked, and felt the nightmare coming back full force.
The hermit peered out the window. “Yep, they’re outside the fence debating whether or not to ride in. These two are relentless. You must be very important to them.”
Important to them? Who were they? What did they want with her?
As she made to get up, the hermit said, “Stay put. Don’t move. Don’t make a sound. Don’t even breathe unless you have to. If they know you’re here, we don’t stand a chance.”
Miranda swallowed hard, the urgency in his voice stilling her every movement.
“Damn,” he said. “They’re coming in.” He drew a small pistol from inside his boot and laid it on the table in front of her. “All you have to do is pull the trigger. It’s loaded.”
She shrank away from the gun. “What?”
“If they shoot me, you’ll need to defend yourself.”
“But I hate guns. I don’t know how to—”
“Those men are after you for a reason, and it’s not a good one.”
She stared at the gun, thinking this had to be a bad dream. It was too terrifying to be true—guns, men chasing her, this mysterious stranger. She pushed up the sleeve of her sweatshirt and held out her arm. “Pinch me.”
“Excuse me?”
“Pinch me,” she said again. “I know I’m dreaming, and when you pinch me, I’ll wake up and this will be over.”
He sighed in exasperation. “Where were you raised? In a fairy tale?”
His sarcasm didn’t faze her. She continued to hold out her arm.
Sighing loudly, he moved closer and pinched her. Hard. “Ouch! That hurt,” she said, rubbing the tender spot.
“Satisfied you’re not dreaming?” he asked with a touch of cynicism.
She shut her eyes tightly, trying to accept what was happening. Then opened them again as he caught her chin in his hand and lifted her head. “You’re not dreaming. This is real. Understand?”
They stared at each other, and facing the directness of that dark gaze, Miranda slowly nodded. She’d been kidnapped. Oh, God, she’d been kidnapped! Tears spilled down her cheeks.
He gazed into her watery eyes and moved away, shaking his head as if in disgust. Bandit barked suddenly, alerting them to the impending danger. “Pull yourself together,” he ordered. “Trouble is riding our way.”
At the door he glanced back. “Remember what I said. Don’t make a sound, and use the gun if you have to. It’s you or them.”
Dazed and confused, she looked at the gun. She couldn’t touch it. She couldn’t.
“Pick it up.” The words jarred her.
It’s you or them.
The words bounced in her head, forcing reality to the surface. Her eyes met the hermit’s. In those dark depths there was no relenting. This man did not suffer fools gladly. He expected her to defend herself. God, yesterday all she had to defend herself from were unwanted suitors. Now she had to fight for her life. This was so absurd, so unreal. She’d been drugged and hidden in that awful room. The horror of it filled her—the dark, the gag in her mouth, and the tight ropes on her ankles and wrists.
Her hand closed around the cold steel. Yes, she could do this. She had to.
Those men would not take her again.
CHAPTER TWO
THE HERMIT STOOD on the porch, watching, waiting. He held the rifle in one hand, the barrel toward the Texas sky, the butt resting on his hip, his finger on the trigger.
The two men rode up to a gap that led to a primitive road, the only way out, the route he used when he went for supplies. They talked for several minutes, obviously still debating whether to ride in and face him. Everyone in the county had heard the rumors about him. He’d heard them himself. He was reputed to be mean, vicious and trigger-happy.
He hoped the men remembered those wild tales. To his disappointment they opened the gap and rode through. The woman inside must be very important to them. They wouldn’t risk their lives by riding onto his property otherwise.
As they rode nearer, he focused on the first man. Del Spikes, Clyde Maddox’s ranch foreman. A thin man with a long face and a sour expression, Spikes was a man he had encountered many times over the years. Mainly Spikes harassed him or warned him to stay off Maddox land.
He didn’t recognize the other man, but felt sure he had to be one of Maddox’s employees. A portly man with a round face and dirty blond hair, he held back, letting Spikes take the lead.
About fifty yards from the cabin, the hermit slowly lowered the rifle and fired at the ground in front of the horses. The horses nervously jumped away, and the men had a hard time handling them.
“Get off my land,” he yelled.
Bandit stood by him, growling.
“Quiet, boy,” he whispered.
Spikes reined in his horse. “I want to talk to you, Hermit.”
“Got nothing to say to you, Spikes.”
