Cowboy PI (19 page)

“Yes.”

Dipping his head, he kissed her. Slowly this time, very tenderly. Then, rolling to her side, he reached for the other blanket and drew it over them. Snuggled against her protectively, he drifted off.

Are you all right?
She had lied. She wasn’t all right. She would never be the same again. Because as wonderful as it had been, as secure in his embrace though she had felt, she had done the unthinkable. What she had promised herself she wouldn’t do. She had been intimate with a man cut out of the same material as her grandfather. Roark Hawke, a man as dedicated to ranching as Joe Walker had been.

There was something more serious than that. She was falling in love with Roark. And
that,
she knew, could result in a heartache far worse than anything she had experienced with Hank Barrie.

R
OARK CAME AWAKE
and was instantly alert.

Trouble?

Realizing it must have been some sudden noise that had awakened him, he lifted his head from the blanket and listened. Except for the snorting of the horses nearby and the sound of Irma munching peacefully on a bit of vegetation, the night was silent.

Seconds later, the sound came again. Recognizing it as the sharp bark of a fox farther down the canyon, Roark relaxed. There was no enemy on the scene. Even so, he was reluctant to go back to sleep, and he made sure his gun was within easy reach.

What time was it? He tried to check his watch, but it wasn’t the digital kind and he couldn’t manage to read its face in the darkness. It had to be late, though. The moon had set, and the fire had died to a few glowing embers.

Undisturbed, Samantha slept soundly beside him. Her naked body pressed warmly against his side roused memories of their lovemaking. The recollections had his own body stirring painfully. But he didn’t try to act on his fresh arousal.

Bad enough, he thought, that he had taken advantage of her last night when he had known how vulnerable she was. When her tale of her young cowboy had been a warning he had failed to obey.

Hank Barrie.
Hearing the name like that had startled Roark, leaving him unprepared. Was that why he had missed an opportunity to tell her then and there all about her cherished Hank Barrie? Or was it because he’d been unwilling to hurt her with the truth, destroy her illusion of the man she’d loved?

Or, he wondered, guilt gnawing at him, had there been a more selfish motive for his omission? Samantha already had a strong dislike for everything connected with ranching, and if she were to learn how her young cowboy had betrayed her, that dislike could easily escalate. And Roark
didn’t want to risk that. Didn’t want her unable to forgive him. Not now when she was beginning to trust him.

So, instead, unable to withstand her allure, he had gone and made love to her. Which probably made him as much of a bastard as Hank Barrie. So, what now? Should he remain silent on the subject of Barrie? Would that be kinder in the end? He didn’t know. All he knew for certain was that his feelings for Samantha were intensifying and that, given all the issues, this whole thing was a real mess.

Roark didn’t expect to go back to sleep, but that’s just what he did. When he awakened again, the first gray light of morning was stealing into the canyon. And Samantha was gone!

Alarmed, he jerked up to a sitting position on the blanket. That’s when he heard it. A sudden splashing followed by a sharp cry. His head twisted around in the direction of the stream. Finding the source of the noise, he stopped breathing. It was a sight he expected never to forget.

She stood knee-deep in one of the pools, looking exactly as nature had made her. And nature had done one hell of a job. Her naked body gleamed with the beads of water she had splashed over herself, a lushness in the flesh of her rose-tipped breasts, rounded hips and tantalizing thighs.

When he could breathe again, Roark found himself immediately hard and unable to resist what he regarded as an invitation. Samantha had her back to him by the time he rose and waded into the pool. The water was damn cold, which explained her cry. But he sure wasn’t going to let that stop him.

Hearing his approach, she swung around, almost losing her balance in the swiftness of her action. Her eyes widened at the sight of his arousal, but she offered no objection as he joined her.

“It’s not smart bathing in this frigid stuff, but I just had to get clean.” He could hear the effort she was making to sound casual.

“Yeah, me, too,” he said, his voice husky.

They both knew he was lying, that he was interested in only one thing. His throbbing arousal was clear evidence of that. And yet they hesitated, watching each other in a long silence. Roark could sense her uncertainty. Was she regretting last night? Wondering if it had been a mistake?

Well, hadn’t he been wondering the same thing himself only a few hours ago? And wasn’t he thinking at this very moment that, considering how much she disliked and feared everything he stood for and wanted, they were about to commit another mistake?

But it was already too late. He knew that when, unable to help himself, he reached for her. And Samantha must have known it herself when she came willingly into his arms.

They were both lost as he kissed her deeply, his hardness already probing for an entry in his eagerness to be joined with her. She moaned, clutching at him for support. He steadied her, his hands cupping her soft bottom.

They made love standing there in the pool, her legs wound around him as he lifted her and held her against him. It was a frenzied, urgent business, surging to a powerful conclusion.

There was no question of either of them being cold now. Their heated bodies accepted, even welcomed, a full immersion in the pool. But afterward, back on shore where the morning air chilled them, they hurried into their clothes after drying themselves as best they could.

He caught Samantha glancing back at the pool, an anxious expression on her face that tugged at his gut. “Are you sorry about what just happened? Tell me you’re not sorry.”

“What I’m sorry about is not having any breakfast. I’m famished. I don’t suppose you’d like to try spearing another trout out there?”

Roark chuckled. “Sorry, love. I imagine our, uh, activity had the fish flying in all directions to get out of the way.
No time, anyway. We’ve got to try to find our way back to the outfit.”

“Not until we investigate the ruins up there, remember?”

“No, we’re not going to cheat ourselves out of that. We’ll grab a few minutes for that much.”

His few minutes stretched into something closer to twenty as they climbed from level to level on crude ladders. Roark was fascinated by the site. He examined curious T-shaped doorways, peered through yawning window openings, admired the faint traces of decorations that remained on patches of pinkish plaster. And all the while he wondered about the people who had built and abandoned these structures ages ago.

“What are these?” Samantha asked, examining a row of round pits that had been sunk into the floor of the lowest terrace.

“Storage for things like grain, I imagine. But not this larger one over here. It’s a kiva.”

“Of course it is,” she said, looking at him blankly.

He explained it to her. “I saw one like it at Mesa Verde. Kivas were underground ceremonial chambers. Only the males were allowed to enter them to participate in the rituals.”

“I can think of a few men I’d like to drop down there.” She laughed, then lifted her head, sharing the wonder of the site with him as she surveyed the alcove from one end to the other. “It is all pretty marvelous, even if there isn’t any buried treasure to be found here.”

“No. Even though the place is too isolated for tourists, it would have been excavated long ago and any valuable artifacts removed.”

She nodded. “Just like at the Walking W.”

Roark stared at her. “Are you telling me…”

“It’s not so unusual. There are pueblo remains all over the Southwest. You must know that.”

“But at the Walking W?”

“Well, nothing like this. Not cliff dwellings.”

“What?” he demanded. “And where exactly?”

“Just caves. Up in the sides of the ravine.”

“The ravine where your grandfather had his accident that probably was not an accident?”

“Not in that spot. Farther along the ravine, so if you’re thinking there’s any connection—”

“Samantha, why didn’t you tell me when I was asking you about the ravine?”

Damn! He couldn’t believe it! How could she be so matter-of-fact about a possibility that had him burning with excitement?

Chapter Nine

Samantha fortified herself with a deep breath before patiently repeating what she had been trying to make him understand for the past several minutes.

“Roark, I’m telling you there is nothing important about those caves. Don’t you think I would have mentioned them before this if there had been? Yes, there is, or was, evidence in them of some ancient occupation. But there are no relics now. And if there ever were, they were picked clean long ago. So no secrets, no buried treasure.”

Roark wasn’t satisfied. “How can you be certain of that? Have you ever personally visited them?”

“Once, as a little girl in the company of my grandfather and Cappy, who were out looking for a stray cow.”

“And since then?”

“No. Why would I, with them being so far away from the ranch house? Anyway, I was forbidden from ever trying to explore the caves. Both my mother and grandfather cautioned me about them being dangerous places. Inhabited by rattlers, I think is what they said.” Samantha shuddered over the memory of her last encounter with a diamondback. “Believe me, I would never have gone there on my own, even if I had been interested, which I wasn’t.”

“No recent visit to the caves then?” he persisted.

She shook her head. “Why do you keep asking? What are you thinking?”

“That maybe there is something of value in them. Something that could have been overlooked until recently. Do you know what Native American artifacts are worth, Samantha? There’s a hot market for them, buyers both eager and capable of paying huge sums to acquire them.”

He had her attention now. “Are you saying…”

“Yeah, that someone has learned there are things in those caves to be mined. Stuff so priceless he’s prepared to kill to protect his discovery.”

“And,” she said slowly, beginning at last to appreciate his theory, “willing to go to any lengths to prevent me from inheriting the property.”

“I’m not saying this is the explanation for Joe’s death and the threat to you, but it could be, Samantha. There are still a lot of unanswered questions, but this is the first lead we’ve had that makes any kind of sense.”

“So what do we do now?”

Roark lifted his head, squinting into the sun that was just beginning to rise over the rim of the canyon. “Find our way back to the outfit. The rest can wait.”

Considering they were lost, Samantha wondered just how they were going to achieve this as they left the ruins, saddled their horses and collected their gear. But Roark seemed confident of managing it, now that they had full daylight and the position of the sun could provide them with a clear direction.

With Irma in tow, they traveled upstream and within minutes found an easy trail that took them up through thickets of juniper and out onto the open mesa that stretched away on all sides.

“Which way now?” Samantha asked.

“Let’s stop here a minute.”

She figured he meant to get his bearings before they rode on. Instead, he removed his cell phone from his belt.

“Now that we’re out of the canyon,” he said, flipping open the phone and extending the antenna, “maybe—ah, got a signal.”

Watching him punch in the numbers, she prayed that the signal would be strong enough.

“Reception’s good,” he reported, “I can hear it ringing. Let’s hope that Shep—”

He broke off, the grin on his face telling Samantha the trail boss had answered. In fact, she could hear Shep’s yell of relief as Roark identified himself. She waited anxiously while the two men discussed the problem.

“What?” she demanded the instant Roark rang off.

“They were just about to spread out to start looking for us again. They spent the night camped near the spot where we went missing.”

“How do we find our way back to them?”

“Shep and I reckoned we need to ride due east into the sun. They’re going to build up their campfire. It’s a still morning. We should be able to spot their column of smoke a long way off.”

“Sounds good.”

Breakfast sounded even better to her as they headed across the mesa, scanning the horizon for the first sign of the smoke that would lead them back to the outfit. Roark was silent on their ride. She supposed he was busy examining his theory about the caves back at the Walking W. Since there was nothing more she could contribute, she left him to his thoughts and turned to her own reflections.

But dwelling on her empty stomach brought her no great pleasure; nor did the unavoidable necessity of resuming this hellish cattle drive. Memories of what she and Roark had shared in the canyon were far sweeter, potent images that she was convinced would have made a courtesan blush. Her skin continued to feel his touch, the flavor of him was still in her mouth, the masculine scent of him lingered in her nostrils. They were sensations that made her squirm in the saddle. And they worried her.

As wild and wonderful as their lovemaking had been, as strong as both the physical and emotional bond between them now was, she feared their relationship. Feared all the
unhappy things she associated with falling in love with a cattleman. The despair of loving Hank Barrie was still with her.

“It’s out there in front of us,” Roark said. “Can you see it?”

Startled from her reverie, Samantha searched the horizon. Looking straight into the sun made it difficult, but she could finally make out the plume of smoke signaling the location of the outfit.

They were all there waiting for them, eager for explanations when they rode into camp. Samantha, claiming responsibility for the whole thing, offered an apology. Roark cheerfully related their misadventure with the rockfall that had trapped them in the gorge. She knew by the way he looked at the face of each member of the company that he was testing them, hoping for some reaction that would betray the culprit. The concern came from all sides.