loomed a narrow path between two sheer granite cliffs. Without hesitation, the rider hurled the black Forward, the animal stumbling once, the width between the rock walls barely enough to accommodate them. Once the rider felt a stabbing of pain as flesh was torn from his thigh, and the stallion screamed, grazed also. They exploded into the sunlight on the other side, once again in a headlong gallop, racing down toward the swollen river below. The troops appeared to be a quarter of a mile behind.
The river was still high from flooding. At any other time, the rider would have waited to decide where to ford. Now he rode his black mercilessly down the riverbank, sweat blurring his vision, his heart pounding almost painfully against the walls of his chest. His left hand was already pulling his gunbelt off and slinging it over his shoulder, then reaching for the rifle, holding it high. The black obeyed his summons and plunged unhesitantly into the raging river. The stallion swam hard against the current before finding solid ground on the other side and bursting forth.
A few minutes later, from a new vantage point on the far side of the riverbank, camouflaged by octillo and agave and saguaro, the rider slowed his mount and slipped off. He kept one hand on his mount’s muzzle, speaking softly. His own shoulder, slick with sweat, was pressed into the animal’s hot, wet neck. The horse was blowing heavily. He watched the soldiers cantering down to the riverbank. Their horses were scrawny and fatigued, thickly lathered from the chase, and he knew without a doubt that many would die if they tried to ford the river. He listened to the men’s indecision, catching bits and pieces of their conversation until they all turned and rode away.
The rider threw back his head and laughed.
The troops, with the aid of a Papago scout, had been tracking Chiricahua Apaches led by Geronimo. They would never catch them now. The rider, although not a part of Geronimo’s band, had succeeded in leading the soldiers astray. Even though he hadn’t been back to the Territory in three long years, when he had seen the soldiers pursuing the Apaches he hadn’t been able to resist interfering. Satisfaction gleamed in his silver eyes.
He led the stallion down to the river where they both drank thirstily. Then he mounted again and rode downstream, looking for a good place to cross. He didn’t trust the Papago, who were sworn enemies of the Apache. He would not take the chance that the Indian scout leading the troops back across the river might try to circle around on him. And just thinking about how he had sabotaged their efforts to track down Geronimo’s band brought a smile to his sensuous lips.
The stallion shied. Moving with the horse as if he were a part of it, soothing him with a single touch, he searched the saguaro-studded landscape. The rider saw a piece of blue. As the horse took another stride he made out the crumpled form of a youth lying facedown in the dust.…
He slipped off the stallion and lifted the youth’s head gently. The Stetson fell off, revealing the most incredible cascade of blond hair he had ever seen. She was in bad shape, but he’d seen worse. Ants had just started to get to her, and he brushed a small marching band of the insects from her cheek, then raised the canteen to her parched, split lips.
Her mouth opened, her throat pulsed. “Easy, ish’ tia’ nay,” he murmured. “Not too much.” He pulled the canteen away.
Her eyes flew open, and she made a choking protest.
He stared. Navy-blue eyes, tilted up at the corners, big and almond-shaped and thickly lashed in black. Then they drifted closed. He eased her back down, disturbed. He imagined, if she were cleaned up, that the girl would be a beauty. With eyes like that, a man was in jeopardy of having his entire soul drained away. What was she doing out here alone in the desert, on foot, without supplies, and in a man’s clothes?
He picked her up and carried her to his stallion, looking at her more thoroughly now. She was full-breasted, with long legs and slim hips. The kind of body that set up an instant hunger in a man, made his loins tight and full just by looking. He placed her carefully on his mount, then leapt up behind her.