Far above, an old dirt road led to a worthless mine. The gouged out chunks of earth and scraped soil marked the wagon's path to the point of impact, as it careened down the sloop. But what was someone doing with a buckboard on the old Wheeler road?
"Better look for the driver," he said, sighed and swung out of the saddle. After ground-tying Queenie, he gave the wreck another quick perusal. No one in that mess.
"Heh! Wait a minute." There was no sign of a horse. No leather straps, no harness, nothing. Grabbing at his hat, Luke slapped it against his pants then ran stiff fingers through damp hair. "Strange."
"Hell! Nobody could have lived through that." As he climbed over another pile of stones, he scanned the area, then worked around more stones.
What was someone doing on that road, anyway? Never has been any gold or silver in these parts and everybody around here knows it. This makes no sense, none at all.
Then, he heard a groan and froze.
Someone had been on that wagon. His stomach knotted.
"Hey, Buddy, can you hear me? Give a shout." He stopped in his rush over another patch of rocks.
"Stupid," he mumbled. The guy could be mortally wounded and Luke wanted him to shout? The noise had come from behind that boulder. He moved closer.
Nothing.
Wait. Next to a stone, something moved. Below a dark swatch of cloth, the edge of a small boot twitched. He climbed toward the object. Dark drops of what looked like blood splattered the ground. Whoever was on that wagon had been injured.
Vaulting over more rocks, he slammed to a stop like a body running into a brick wall. His stomach flipped, his heart dropped and he swallowed hard. Never expected to see this! A dark skirt bunched around a pair of legs, long legs with shapely calves. Full hips flared below a slender waist. A bodice, once white, was nicely filled with full feminine curves.
"Oh, he--" Biting off the end of the word, his gaze jerked to her face. Thick brown hair covered a good portion of it, but blood stained the other half, and soaked into the ground. One hand was smeared with red, as if she'd touched the wound.
She groaned again.
Thank the lord. At least she was alive. He hunched down at her side.
"Ma'am," he said, hesitated then touched her shoulder. "I'll get help. You rest easy. I'll just signal my foreman then send for Doc. Okay?"
Ridiculous! She probably couldn't hear him. She moved and for an instant opened her eyes and blinked. Bright blue eyes, filled with intense pain, stared back at him. And fear. Fear so stark he could almost smell it.
Deep inside, an emotion long denied, twisted and turned, like a wind-up toy soldier he'd seen in a Denver store. Luke gritted his teeth. Where was his resolve? He'd finished with women. What he felt now for this lady, was pity. She was hurt, in pain. Pity, that was all! After all, she had been thrown from a wagon.
Another surge of emotion hit. Forget it. He needed help, to get Bud back here.
He pulled the pistol from his waistband and glanced around. No cattle to worry about. He only needed to fire a single shot. The men were working nearby. They could take her back to the ranch while one of the boys rode to town for Doc.
A minute after he fired, the thunder of hooves broke the sudden silence. By the time Bud halted his horse at the bottom of the hill, Luke had risen and stood waving at him.
"Trouble, Boss?"
"Yeah. Get the men and empty the buckboard. We're gonna need Doc. Some fool drove a wagon over that cliff." He glanced down at the woman. She didn't look like a fool. She was a looker, that was for sure, with her arched brows, short, straight nose and lips shaped like a hunter's bow. He gritted his teeth. What she looked like shouldn't matter. Did he have to remind himself he was finished with women?
Another thought intruded. Had she been alone? He hadn't even looked for anybody else.
"Get Carl," he ordered. "I want him up here to see if he can find anyone else."
With the noise, she opened her eyes again. Slowly, she lifted her injured hand toward him.
"Ma'am were you alone?' he asked kneeling beside her. "Was someone else on the wagon with you?"
She attempted to shake her head. It must have hurt for all she did was groan. Then she said "Help me." She grabbed at his shirt. "I don't want to die."
Luke patted her arm. He couldn't remember when he'd heard that kind of desperation in someone's voice. "You're not going to die," he growled. "I didn't climb up here to have you..." No need to finish talking. She'd lost consciousness. Just as well. They'd have to carry her down the mountain, and the ride to the ranch would mean more pain.
Damn, could they move her? How bad was she injured? I'll have to check for broken bones. Sweat broke out on his brow. This was something he didn't want to do, but there was no one else. He felt as nervous as he had the first time he tried to break a horse.
Wiping damp hands on jeans, he murmured a silent prayer. Let her stay unconscious. He swallowed hard and lifted both hands. I gotta do this. He groaned, then straightened. But this was a woman. What the hell was wrong with him? He'd helped with enough ranch accidents to know he had to find out if she'd broken any bones. There was no choice, he was it. And
he had to finish before the men arrived with the wagon so he'd know if they could move her.
First, he ran his fingers down one arm, then the other. Then he skimmed her shoulders. Sweat poured off, under his hat, down his shirt, both front and back. The softness of her skin, the delicate bones, curves he couldn't ignore, were pure punishment. Damn. Now his hands were shaking.
"Don't see nobody else, boss," Carl announced as he approached.
"Who else rode out with you?" Luke asked. He glanced at the woman, wondering if she could hear them talking but there was no reaction.
"Just me and Bud. The others headed west with them cows. Got all ten of 'em."
"You head to town for the Doc," Luke instructed. "But first thing, stop at the house. Tell Agnes what's happened, that we're bringing in an injured woman. She'd best get the spare room ready." He watched Carl bound down the mountain before returning to the task.
For a second he closed his eyes. Get done with it. Once more he ran his hands over her shoulders, then traced her sides, slid over her ribs. Oh, lord. She was wearing one of those corset things. He couldn't feel a thing through the whalebone structure. Why'd women need something like that when they were already slim and shapely? This woman sure didn't need it.
Now his hands shook as he lifted the skirt a bit to see if she'd broken any leg bones. Nothing broken so far. He jammed his hands into his back pants pockets to stop the shaking. After a minute, he continued the examination.
When he ran his hands over her head, a goose egg had formed behind her right ear, then he rolled her over. A dozen small cuts covered her arms and legs and she had twice that many bruises. The deep gash on her head was doing all the bleeding. And what looked suspiciously like rope burns circled her wrists.
He sat back on his haunches. Strange, those burns? If she'd wrapped the reins around her wrists as well as her hands to help control the horse pulling the wagon she might have some marks, but like this? Probably not, but what else could have made that kind of injury. Standing, he walked around the area, looking for tracks. Where was the critter that pulled the
buckboard over that road? And, that bump behind her ear, could she have hit her head on something on the trip down the mountain? He'd leave the speculation to Doc.
The year of Our Lord 1282
Rhianna ap Brynn Ffrydd swallowed her apprehension. She leaned against the cold stone wall of their cave and watched the English warriors gathering below in the valley. How she hated them.
This place offered little protection for her and her youngest brother, Arthur. Somehow, she had to get them away from here and back to their keep. She considered what few alternatives they had.
"I want them gone from here," she muttered, thinking aloud.
"But, they will not go," Arthur mumbled. "They wait for the rest of their army."
Rhianna ignored him and slid to the floor of their hiding place. The English devils had torn her world asunder for a second time. On this day, the body of her sire lay on the mountain behind their keep, his life's blood soaking into his beloved land, cut down by one of English knights below their cave. No one guarded her home and her older brothers waited in vain for an army who had somehow escaped their careful trap.
"Garrett deShay and Edward of England are responsible for this day," she whispered her thoughts aloud, her husky tones coloring her melodious voice.
Was it only a fortnight ago she'd heard that name for the first time? Aye! The man had sent his messenger and with a harsh, ringing voice, he'd read from a coil of parchment.
"Garrett de Shay, the Lord of Knockin, as agent of Edward, King of England, demands surrender, surrender of Castle Bryn Ffrydd and all within and without."
The Englishman had demanded nothing less than their souls.
She had to find a way to escape, get back to the keep and her charge as well as save the lad beside her. They could not be taken captive-for although Arthur was eight summers younger than she, he was still the son of a prince of Wales. Who knew what de Shay would do to him? And she had her own responsibilities.
"We must wait until darkness descends, slip from this cave and climb over the top of this mountain," she murmured. It was their only chance.
Arthur nodded, "Aye, escape." His pale face reflected his fear.
"Aye," she murmured, trying to sound enthusiastic, to wipe some of the fear from his young face. He looked even younger than his fourteen summers.
Pounding hoofs announced the arrival of more horses. Chills shook her. Could Arthur have the right of it? Had more English arrived? She tried to swallow past the lump of panic in her throat. She had to see who had come to this valley, but when she stood, her brother grabbed her arm staying her.
Once again she glanced at the growing crowd and looked for her father. He wasn't there.
"Time to go. Haven't got all day," the giant said.
Go with him? Oh, good heavens! He couldn't be serious.
"No. Not in a million years," she hissed, struggling against his hold. Her attempt to break free had about the same effect as an ant trying to move one of these huge fur trees she'd seen marching up the mountain slopes.
People always said her father was tall, but this man would tower over Patrick McGuiness by several inches. Not only was this the tallest man she had ever seen, but this Mr. Bear resembled a barbarian. His curly, dark hair was pulled back and tied with a leather strip so that it hung down his back. A wicked-looking knife hung from a loop on his belt and he grasped a rifle in the hand not detaining her. Before she could free herself, he started to move.
And he took her with him.
"No! What are you doing?" She jerked against him. He wasn't going to drag her away from her father and her dreams.
"You must stop!"
He stopped. She yanked her arm out of his hold and to her side, raised her chin and straightened her shoulders, standing as tall as she could. She didn't even come to his shoulders.
"Sir, I don't know you. I know nothing about you. And I am certainly not going anywhere with you."
"You're Sara, right? Sara McGuiness?" His deep, husky voice coiled around her and created all kinds of strange sensations. Another tingle, followed by another chill. Fear, she decided.
"I don't know how you know my name, but yes, I'm Sara McGuiness."
"Your pa's at my place."
"At your place? Why isn't he here?"
"He'll tell you," the giant said. "Oh! Best get a few of your things." He pointed to the boxes and trunks unloaded onto the boardwalk.
"One minute. I have no intention of gathering some of my things! Besides, how do I know my father is at your house? Why, I don't even know your name." She glared at him and placed her clenched fists on her hips. There was no way she would go with this man.
"Just tell me where you live and I'll find my own way," she said, trying to put more confidence into her voice.
He threw his head back and laughed. Obviously, he was nothing but a…a savage. Like one of the villains in the penny novels she loved.
She opened her mouth to tell him what she thought of his attitude when he sobered.
"Best get some of your things."
"I'm not taking a step until you tell me why my father didn't come himself."
"I said, he's at my place."
"Why? I don't understand. What happened to his house? Why is he with you?"
"Cabin burned down."
"Cabin? A cabin? I don't believe you." Sara squared her shoulders, stiffened her spine and tried to stare him down. It didn't work.
She wilted. What could she do now? She'd endured Aunt Anna's censure and her promise of doom, to travel miles to be with her father. Now, he wasn't here. The temptation to scream raced through her and she bit her lip, hard. She had to think.
