Westin Legacy

Her voice broke off as he grabbed her arm and hauled her to her feet. “Where?” he insisted. “When?”

“On the mountain, right before I heard you coming.”

“At the cave?”

“He was climbing…?.”

He dropped her arm. “And then you and I made a huge ruckus fighting our way down the slope. He couldn’t have missed hearing that.”

“I suppose—”

“Which means he’ll come investigate.”

The flare of her sudden anxiety charged the still air between them like a downed electrical wire. Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Maybe he’ll just leave.”

“Maybe not.”

“Let’s go find your rifle.”

“My idea exactly.” When their hands brushed, he grabbed her fingers. Best to keep her close so she didn’t go off on a tangent and get them both killed.

They climbed the slope as quietly as they could, stopping every few feet to feel for signs of broken bushes to confirm they were going the right direction. The light was slightly brighter headed uphill; a flashlight would have helped a lot but no way was Adam going to risk that.

“I need both hands,” she whispered, and broke away. After a few seconds during which he came across his jackknife which must have tumbled out his pocket unnoticed, she added, “I found the branch I used. Your rifle has to be somewhere nearby.”

The words had no sooner passed her lips when gunfire sounded from the valley and a piece of the bark—on a tree less than five feet away from Adam’s head—flew off and hit him on the cheek. The gunman had found them in the shifting moonlight. Even Adam could see Echo down on all fours patting the ground. Just as she found his rifle, another shot sounded.

“Stay down,” he hollered right before the impact of a bullet spun him to the ground. He grabbed his left shoulder. Blood seeped through his fingers. “Echo! Where are you? Find cover!”

He lay still, hoping she hadn’t been hit, as well. She’d been up the slope, behind him, but he couldn’t locate her exact whereabouts now without sitting up and he wasn’t going to do that.

And then he heard noise. Steps, breaking plants, broken twigs… Someone was coming up the hill toward them.

“Stop right there!” Echo hollered, her voice closer than Adam had figured. “Stop or I’ll shoot.” Without waiting, she let loose with the weapon.

The noise was deafening. Adam squeezed himself into the ground, willing himself to shrink and praying Echo kept the gun barrel high enough to miss him. He could imagine how terrified she was—damn, he was just as terrified but mostly of her…?.

He closed his eyes. If the unknown gunman kept advancing while being on the receiving end of Echo’s volley, he couldn’t be too big a chicken.

It seemed to go on and on in a distant fading way. Adam felt himself drifting. He was glad for the warm earth beneath him as hell raged overhead.

Chapter Five

She moved her hands over his prone body and felt blood and torn clothes.

Tears sprang to her eyes as she leaned over him and whispered his name, feeling his throat, searching for a pulse, cursing herself for becoming a television producer when she could have done something useful with her life like going to medical school. She felt no reassuring pulse, just the shaking of her own hands.

The moon bathed his face in silver light, glancing off the planes of his cheeks, stressing his bone structure. His hat was long gone and his hair now brushed his forehead above his eyebrows. He looked young and vulnerable, more like the child she’d known a lifetime before, the one she’d worked hard to impress or infuriate, anything but be ignored…?.

Smoothing a few dark locks away and leaning down, she carefully kissed his lips. “I’m so sorry—”

A hand clutched her wrist and she gasped.

“What are you sorry about now?” Adam mumbled.

She threw herself down on him, tasting the salt from her own tears as she kissed his face a half dozen times.

“Easy, easy,” he said, his voice soft. “I’m fine. Just a little bullet hole. Where’s the gunman?”

She sat back up, wiping tears away from her cheeks, gathering her aplomb. “I heard an engine start,” she said at last.

“And you’re not hurt?”

“No, I’m fine. Just scared. I thought you were dead and I thought it was my fault, that my bullets had hit you. Damn it, Adam, I thought I killed you!”

“I’m sure you tried your best,” he said, releasing his hold on one of her hands. “The other guy just got me first. Help me sit.”

She smiled at his snarky remark, feeling better at once. The world was whole again. “Do you think sitting is a good idea?”

“Yeah. Come on, help me.”

She gave him a hand to steady himself as he slowly sat up. She’d brought along a flashlight and she used it now to study his wound, poking with her finger a little. He shrank away from her.

“You’re kind of delicate for a cowboy, aren’t you?” she asked.

“Watch it!”

“I don’t think the bullet is still in there. I think it went right on through.”

“This is your expert opinion?”

“Yes. I gave my cat a distemper shot once. I know all about this stuff. I’ll stop the bleeding and you’ll feel better.”

Within a few minutes, she’d stripped off her jacket. She was about to tell him to close his eyes but that was silly. Without a flashlight pointing at an object—in this case her—it was darn near invisible. She pulled the sweatshirt over her head, then put the jacket back on over her bra.

The sweatshirt got cut into a dozen strips and patches with his pocketknife. “It’s not bleeding too much anymore,” she finally said as she tied the last soft strip of cotton around his shoulder. “Did you ride your horse?”

“Yeah. How about you?”

“I brought Bagels.”

“After what you went through today, you saddled Bagels and rode him all the way out here?”

“Yes. All by myself.” She didn’t mention getting lost once or twice. No need for details.

“I doubt he’s still around.”

“I don’t know. I tied him up pretty good.”