Carol Finch (12 page)

When they reached the rocky point overlooking the gentle slopes that led to the river basin below, Savanna inhaled a fortifying breath. Nevertheless, tears still filled her eyes, no matter how hard she tried to blink them away.

When Fletch looped his arms around her waist, she sagged gratefully against the solid wall of his chest. She muffled a sniff as he rested his chin on the crown of her head. They stood together for several minutes in silence, absorbing the panoramic view, allowing her to regather her composure.

Amazing how Fletch had so quickly become her lover and friend. He understood the emotions she was trying to work through. He had dealt with heartache, grief and regret. His strength of character had carried him through the torment so he could get on with his life.

Savanna hoped she was made of the same sturdy stuff. Yet, she viewed this scenic lookout point that towered over the river channel as the symbolic emotional cliff she was teetering on. It would be easy to take a step forward and tumble into oblivion, to end the anguish of being accused of taking her best friend’s life. Her reputation was in tatters and her father’s credibility was in question. She was a high-profile fugitive and she was damaging Fletch’s reputation by associating with him now.

“How long does it take to get past all the pain and rage that makes it difficult to breathe?” she murmured.

“A while,” he murmured next to her ear. “You never forget, but the memories become easier to bear. You’re here in this secluded, sacred place to cope with what happened. If it helps to curse or to scream or to cry then do it. Let it all out. Then you can focus your energy on righting the wrongs. I’ll be here to see that your friend is at peace and justice prevails.”

When he stepped back, Savanna honestly wondered how she managed to remain upright. Her legs felt as unsteady as cooked noodles and her heartbeat felt erratic. But she understood this was Fletch’s unique way of assuring her that she was stronger than she thought. He was reminding her that she was a survivor with a crusade awaiting her and that he would be there to help and support her.

“Thank you,” she murmured. “For everything.”

“I’ll be down at Waynoka Falls when you’re ready to rejoin me,” he said as he pivoted. “Take all the time you need.”

An hour later, her eyes red and puffy from giving way to a barrage of tears, Savanna halted beside the wild tumble of rapids to note that Fletch had fashioned a spear from a tree branch. He had been swimming and fishing—and lunch was grilling on the small campfire.

“You have to love an inventive man…”

The instant the words were out Savanna wished she could call them back. It was a carelessly phrased remark and she knew Fletcher Hawk didn’t need her affection, only temporary passion. She didn’t resent him for it, but she was realistic enough not to expect more than he was able to give.

When Fletch glanced up, studying her closely, she manufactured a smile and pretended she meant nothing by the comment. To distract him before he figured out that she was falling for him—when he couldn’t love her in return—

Savanna peeled off her squaw dress. She walked to the top-tier pool and watched his eyes turn molten-blue as he followed her progress to wade into the water.

This is only about passion,
she silently chanted as she swam underwater.
Don’t make the anguish of losing Willow worse by placing impossible expectations on Fletch. He offered you a shoulder to cry on. He became your experiment with intimate pleasure. He provided comfort and support while you were miserable. He has given you more than enough. Be satisfied with it, Savanna.

And so, she promised herself, she was going to make the most of this peaceful interlude. She was going to enjoy this fascinating man who had touched her life on so many levels. From antagonist to friend, and then to amazing lover. Fletch had become all things to her in their private world—that would eventually come to an end.

She had no right to ask for anything more.

“Come and eat, mermaid,” he called a few minutes later.

Savor this day,
she mused as she swam toward him.
Your hours are numbered. Reality waits at the foot of the mountains. You have things you must do before you can make peace completely with Willow’s death.

During the dark hour before dawn, Savanna inched closer to Fletch’s reassuring presence, savoring his strength, his warmth, his sensual lure. She wanted to touch him as intimately as he had touched her each time they made love. She wanted to know every inch of his masculine flesh better than she knew her own body.

To that dedicated end, she skimmed her hands across the muscular wall of his chest, then flicked her tongue over his male nipples. He moaned and stirred in drowsy response.
Feeling empowered, and yearning to be one with him again before dawn spread across the horizon, her seeking hands descended his body. Her lips followed the tantalizing path over his rippling muscles.

When Fletch whispered her name huskily and reached for her, Savanna urged him to resettle beside her. “I want to know the same things about you that you know about me,” she murmured as her bold caresses ventured lower, causing his breath to hitch. “Every intimate detail.”

“If you want to know that I have no more self-control left where you’re concerned, you’re about to find that out again. You’re already driving me crazy.”

She smiled against his hair-roughened flesh and her fingertips glided lower. She aroused him one caress at a time, teased and enticed him until he arched helplessly toward her and groaned her name.

Savanna marveled at the pleasure she derived from touching him, from hearing him call out to her. She knew she wasn’t going to be satisfied until she had glided her hands and lips over every well-sculptured column of his body. She remembered how he’d made her sizzle and burn when he caressed her. She recalled how she had ached with such profound need that no sacrifice seemed too great to appease it. She wanted Fletch to know that same mindless vulnerability, feel that same intense hunger that had consumed her.

Savanna knew she couldn’t say the words locked deep in her heart because Fletch wouldn’t want to hear them, wouldn’t want the strings he’d expect her to attach to the intimacy they had shared. But she would weave her love around him without voicing the words. She would make Fletch her possession this time—for all time.

When she had unraveled his emotions to the same disturbing degree—as he had when he set his hands and lips upon her—then perhaps he would look back upon their secretive tryst in the mountains and understand that she had given her heart, body and soul to him.

“Come here,” he ordered hoarsely. “I need you.”

“Not enough. Not yet,” she whispered as her fingertips closed around his throbbing shaft.

“I—” His voice fizzled when she stroked him from base to tip then glided her tongue over his aching flesh.

She felt his muscled body clench and knew that he was struggling for control while she caressed him intimately. She heard his breath catch, heard him moan in pleasure when she took him into her mouth and suckled him gently.

Suddenly, Savanna found herself on her back. Fletch hovered above her, his body hard, his breathing erratic.

“I never wanted to be completely out of control with you,” he panted as he guided her legs apart with his knees.

“But that’s what I want most.” She locked her legs around his hips and looped her arms around his shoulders. “I want you to be so desperate for me that nothing else matters for this space of time. Make love to me, Fletch, and hold nothing back. Please, not this time.”

When his sensuous lips swooped down to devour her mouth—at the same moment that he surged deeply inside her, a kaleidoscope of sensations burst through her. Savanna held on for dear life as he rocked against her, setting an urgent rhythm. His tightly drawn body communicated the fact that she’d brought him to the same desperate state that claimed her. He drove into her and she welcomed him, offering all she was, demanding all he had to give in return.

Explosive pleasure buffeted Savanna and sensations
swirled, crested then consumed. She and Fletch had been through each other with all guards down for the very first time. They were flesh to flesh and heart to heart with no barriers in between. As long as there was memory, she could close her eyes in the weeks and years to come and she would remember—vividly—what it felt like to let go with all her heart and to love with wild abandon.

“You amaze me,” Fletch murmured as his body shuddered helplessly over hers.

“I l—” Savanna clamped her mouth shut before she made a crucial mistake. “You amaze me, too, Fletch.”

In the aftermath of their incredible lovemaking, Savanna stared into the darkness, listening to Fletch’s methodic breathing as he slept peacefully beside her. Then she placed her right hand over her heart and laid her left hand over his heart. She silently whispered her love for him before she quietly eased away from his side and left him undisturbed as the golden hues of dawn glowed on the horizon.

T
hat morning Fletch came slowly awake—with a smile on his face. He was sprawled naked on the pallet in the cave where he and Savanna had made love until he lost the will and the ability to move. He shifted to his side, expecting to find Savanna lying nearby. He pried open one eye to note that he was alone in the cavern.

He presumed that she’d awakened and crept off to the springs. That’s exactly what he planned to do for the next hour—soak in the mineral springs that soothed body and soul. Levering himself up on his elbow, he glanced around to locate his discarded breeches. They were lying beside the entrance. He donned them leisurely, then ambled outside to join Savanna in the steamy pool.

He strode along the winding path, noting that Savanna wasn’t basking in the limestone basin of Mineral Springs. He supposed she must have decided to hike up to Waynoka Falls to take an invigorating dip, as they had done the previous afternoon.

Fletch stumbled to a halt when he saw his horse tethered to a tree. The strawberry roan was nowhere to be seen.

Neither was Savanna nor the satchels she carried with her.

“Damn it to hell!” Fletch roared when he saw the note tucked in Appy’s bridle.

He stamped over to snatch up the paper that read, “Thank you for the most incredible days and nights of my life. I will never forget you. But the time has come for you to capture the man who killed the love of your life and I am determined to find out who killed my dearest friend. Fondly, Savanna.”

Fondly? They had passed a monumental milestone together, damn it. Clearly, it had been a first for her and all she had to say was
fondly?
He wasn’t sure he wanted to be just a fond memory.

Swearing mightily, Fletch wadded up the note and hurled it through the air. Then he realized it wouldn’t bode well for someone to find the note and discover their connection. Still cursing at the unexpected turn of events, he went in search of the paper he’d sent airborne. He snatched it up, ripped it to shreds then cast the pieces into the breeze.

He’d like to strangle Savanna for her vanishing act. She was too damn good at it. Honestly, he ought to leave that independent-minded woman to her own fate—becoming the guest of honor at a necktie party. But damn it, he’d been watching out for her long enough that it didn’t feel natural to let her strike off alone.

Wheeling around, Fletch grabbed his horse and returned to the cave to gather his belongings. He wasn’t sure how much head start Savanna had, but the area between here and Tishomingo was probably jumping with bounty hunters and vigilantes. The thought caused his gut to clench with dread. He had a really bad feeling about Savanna’s ability to continue dodging the posses while searching for Willow’s killer.

Tormented by the conflicting need to find Grady before he raced off to parts unknown again and to ensure Savanna hadn’t gotten herself into serious trouble, Fletch tied his saddlebags in place. Savanna constantly reminded him that she could take care of herself. He believed it, had watched her prove it several times. But still…

Fletch swung into the saddle. He stared south then glanced west. If he were smart, he’d take Savanna’s advice and find Grady before he pulled up stakes and moved on. She hadn’t asked anything else from him. Obviously she didn’t want anything more than a temporary diversion. He’d served her purpose. He had been there to make sure she got her emotional feet beneath her before she raced off on her crusade.

She was letting him off the hook. He should be relieved. So why wasn’t he?

Fletch glanced south then looked west a second time. He reminded himself that he’d made a long-standing vow to Elaina. He owed her his life. As for Savanna… Fletch set aside the forbidden memories of the past two days and nudged Appy west. He sent a prayer to white and Indian deities alike to keep Savanna safe until he returned with Grady Mills in chains.

Just before sundown, Savanna stared over the outcropping of rock to see the two silhouettes in the mountain meadow below. Her father and Morningstar stood with their heads bowed over the gravesite on the sacred Indian burial ground northwest of Waynoka Falls. Savanna had known her father would follow Chickasaw ceremonial rites in hopes of consoling Morningstar. He’d brought his adopted daughter to her clan’s final resting place.

Savanna’s heart went out to her father and her substitute mother. She watched them stand hand-in-hand, chanting to the spirits to accept this gentle maiden into their fold. She knew her father and Morningstar would help each other through this tragedy. They loved each other deeply and devotedly. They were grieving their child as Savanna grieved the loss of a sister.

Rage and sorrow rose inside her again. She wanted Willow’s killer to suffer for his sins. She’d see that he did, she vowed resolutely. But first, she wanted to pay her respects, even if her father chastised her for taking a risk by coming out of hiding when she had an astronomical price on her head.

Sure enough, Robert Cantrell frowned in disapproval when Savanna approached, wearing a Chickasaw squaw dress, beaded headband, necklace, leggings and moccasins that she’d used as a disguise.

“You shouldn’t have come here, Savvy,” her father muttered. “It’s not safe.”

Savanna reined in the bay gelding she’d traded for the roan she’d been riding. Her friends, Gordon and Minna Hill, owned a small farm between here and Mineral Springs. They had been kind enough to let her switch horses so she could avoid recognition.

“I came to honor my sister and dearest friend.” Savanna slid from the horse to place a handful of wildflowers beside the marker bearing Willow’s name. Her gaze lifted to Morningstar’s tormented features. “I will make this right, I swear.”

“No.” Morningstar clutched Savanna’s hand in a fierce grasp. “You will survive where Willow did not. I have lost too many loved ones already. I want you to find refuge far away from here. Ask the Apache Ranger to take you to
Texas so you can make a new start. I want you to live, to be happy. Willow would have wanted that, too.”

“She’s right,” her father chimed in. “You should take a new identity and make a fresh start in a new place.”

“Turning tail and running is the coward’s way out,” Savanna insisted. “I may be many things, Papa, but I’m not a coward.”

“Sometimes running is the better part of valor. Do it for yourself and for us.” Her father scanned the tree-covered slopes. “Even now there could be vigilantes lurking about. Although I left town during the night to bring Willow to her final resting place, I can’t be absolutely certain that I wasn’t followed.”

As darkness settled over the Indian burial ground, Savanna turned away from the marker. She knew her father and Morningstar meant well. She also knew they needed to be alone to console each other, as Fletch had comforted her when grief overwhelmed her. Better to let them think she’d heeded their advice to make herself scarce in Indian Territory.

“I suppose there are Indian academies with available teaching jobs in Texas and New Mexico,” she said as she walked over to grab the reins to her mount.

“Count on it.” Her father’s voice was thick with relief. “When you’re settled in, contact me and I’ll come for a visit. By then I hope this case will be solved and your reputation will be restored.” He glanced around curiously. “Where’s Fletch?”

“He’s waiting at our rendezvous point,” she lied without batting an eye. “Where’s your friend Solomon?”

“He’s snooping around town, trying to turn up information without announcing that he’s a federal deputy marshal.”

Savanna couldn’t figure out why Solomon didn’t want
to identify himself. Maybe because of his ties to her father. Maybe he feared for his own safety and was hesitant to take on Oliver Draper and his hired guns. Still, it would have been nice to have Solomon proclaiming that she was innocent until proven guilty in a court of law.

“Do you have enough money to tide you over?” her father asked as he gestured for Savanna to follow him into the protection of the trees.

“I’ll be fine—” She nearly lost her composure when her father wrapped her in his arms and hugged her tightly.

“I love you, Savvy,” he murmured. “Take care of yourself. I’ll send you all the money you need when you’re settled.”

She nodded, too emotional to speak, especially after Morningstar gathered her close and chanted a prayer for the guardian spirits to watch over her and protect her from harm.

With tears spilling down her cheeks, Savanna stepped away, thankful that the deepening shadows of the trees concealed the full extent of her torment. She stayed where she was until her father and Morningstar rode off on their horses. Then she gave way to another infuriating round of tears. She tried to remain strong, but the urge to wail in grief and scream in frustration bombarded her at irregular intervals.

Savanna dragged in a cathartic breath, and then another. Her father and Morningstar wouldn’t worry so much if they thought she was bound for Texas or New Mexico. But the fact was that she was bound for Draper Ranch to snoop around. Hopefully, she could gather information that might lead her to Roark’s killer and to Willow’s. She wasn’t sure if Oliver was simply out to avenge his son or if there was a hidden agenda. Also, she intended to find out where Willow had been for so long.

Oliver… Something about the man kept niggling her,
as if there was an important fact she had carelessly overlooked. Unfortunately she had too much on her mind—like dodging lynch mobs—to sit down and puzzle it out.

Surely, Oliver hadn’t gone into a crazed rage and disposed of his own son…had he? Was he using Savanna for a scapegoat? Was it his idea to convince the local citizens and vigilantes that she’d killed Willow, too? Why would he do that? What was his ulterior motive? What was he looking to gain besides getting away with murder? Was this a way of getting back at her father because he and Oliver disliked each other? Or was it partially political?

Savanna pulled herself on to the bay. Fleetingly she wondered if Fletch was close to his destination. If he’d ridden hard during the day, he wouldn’t be far from the stage station. Grady Mills worked as a stable attendant who harnessed fresh teams to coaches and tended the trail-weary horses. He would be in for the shock of his life when Fletch showed up to arrest him.

Talk about the past coming back to haunt Grady Mills! To Savanna’s way of thinking, Fletch made a very intimidating angel of doom. Grady would rue the day Fletch became his bitter enemy.

Emptiness and longing stabbed Savanna’s heart when Fletch’s image filled her mind. She was going to miss him like nobody’s business. There had been a time not so long ago that she had gone to great lengths to avoid him. Now…

“Now nothing,” she said resolutely. She hadn’t counted on falling in love with Fletch, but she couldn’t allow her tender feelings to distract her from her self-appointed mission. She had a murderer and/or murderers to ferret out—while trying to prevent capture.

Nudging the bay gelding, Savanna trotted east—and
made it one hundred yards before she heard the rustle of underbrush then the deadly click of a trigger that spelled impending doom.

“Stop where you are. You’re under arrest.”

“Damn the luck.” She searched the shadows of the copse of trees to the west. Sure enough, a glimmer of light reflected off the speaking end of a Winchester rifle.

The weapon was aimed at her heart.

“I figured you would be here. Put on these bracelets. We have a long ride ahead of us tonight.”

She caught the handcuffs that arced through the air, but she defied the order. Instead she looped them around the pommel of her saddle. “If you want me to wear cuffs you’ll have to come over here and clamp them on me yourself.”

He clucked his tongue as he moved closer. “Defiant as usual. I expected no less from you.”

With the rifle still trained on her chest, he leaned over to manacle her wrists then secured her feet to the stirrups. Then he grabbed her reins.

As her captor led her away, she considered an escape attempt. But she was too weary from the long ride and too emotionally drained. Why fight the inevitable? she asked herself defeatedly. Sometimes you just had to accept a lost cause for what it was—a lost cause… And she was it…

Fletch had been three hours into his westward journey when he reined to a halt. He hadn’t been able to do it. He’d tried, but he couldn’t convince himself that Savanna would be safe without him. That instinctive feeling that she was in danger had grown worse with each passing minute.

Before he debated the issue with himself—as he’d done
so many times that he’d worked up a ferocious headache—he’d turned Appy around. He had felt better immediately. He had been worried as hell about Savanna all day because he didn’t know where to find her. But at least he had headed in the right direction—he hoped. Now he could do something about the apprehensive feelings that had been tormenting him.

The only problem was that Fletch refused to delve too deeply into the reasons he felt compelled to find Savanna.

“She’s just part of my job.” Or so he’d tried to tell himself. Unfortunately, the words rang hollow. “Admit it, Fletch, she got to you. Sort of. Temporarily anyway. Besides, everyone knows that nothing lasts forever. Everyone except my big brother,” he reminded himself.

Logan had fallen so hard for Shiloh Drummond that he’d turned into a sentimental sap. Fletch, however, had the tragedy of Elaina’s death and her selfless sacrifice weighing heavily on his conscience for the past five years.

“Things don’t always turn out for the best, do they, Elaina?” he murmured as he trotted Appy southeast, hoping Savanna hadn’t encountered disaster, as Elaina had.

Fletch wasn’t sure he could cope with losing her, too.

At dusk Fletch came upon a thriving ranch stocked with cattle and horses. He glanced speculatively at Appy then surveyed the corral of horses. “Looks like this is where we part company, old friend,” he said as he rode toward the Chickasaw rancher who was feeding pitchforks full of hay to his livestock. “No one needs to see me coming well in advance, Appy. You might cause Savanna harm unintentionally. She has enough
intended
harm coming at her from too many directions already.”