Oregon Outback (18 page)

Her back to the rock, she edged her way around, expecting to find Carver. He’d probably tell her to go back to sleep, and she’d give him a look that, even in the dim light, he was sure to understand. After all, it was her turn to stand guard.

But Carver wasn’t there, and he’d left his pack.

Where was he? He was supposed to keep watch. Sheridan didn’t believe he would leave without a good reason. If only she could shine the flashlight into the gully, or call his name. She crept farther away from their hidden camp, straining her eyes to see. Watching for signs of danger—the first one being that Carver was gone.

Missing, was more like it. Her thrumming pulse climbed a few notches. She forced her breathing to slow, tugged her weapon free, and prepared herself for the worst.

Lord, please, let him be safe
.

Here she was, the sheriff, and this whole time she felt like Carver had been the one taking care of her, protecting her. She never should have allowed him to bulldoze his way into coming.

As the gray light of dawn began illuminating the gorge, Sheridan made her way to where they’d left the horses near a patch of grass. She spotted her mare grazing, but Carver’s horse was gone.

What was going on?

On his stomach, Carver crawled toward the ledge that gave him a good view of Driggs and another man saddling their horses. There were four horses, and a third man slipped behind a rock out of view. Where was the other man? Or was that horse for packing?

In the early hours of the morning, Carver had heard voices up farther from where he and Sheridan had settled in for the night. Finding her dead to the world, he thought better of waking her until he’d investigated—she was safer there.

He could be quick and stealthy, and back before she knew he’d left.

The men’s easy banter told him they believed they were alone in the ravine. They thought they’d left Sheridan cowering under the cattle trailer, and nobody had seen them leave on the horses.

He was glad he and Sheridan had kept quiet in their hunt. They worked well as a team, but they hadn’t counted on more men. He surmised the other men had come from ahead to meet the rustlers. For what reason, Carver didn’t know. But he needed to inform the sheriff. There could be someone else waiting up ahead as well, for all he knew.

He slid back out of sight. The sheriff would be relieved to apprehend them, and cattle country would be avenged a wrongdoing. This time.

But before the two men disappeared from his view, they slowly lifted their hands. Carver froze. A few feet away, the sheriff aimed her weapon.

He’d made a mistake leaving her.

She was the law, after all, as she constantly reminded him. Why couldn’t he get that through his thick skull? Even though she had a gun, Carver didn’t believe they would relinquish their freedom so easily. Did she realize there was a third man, possibly a fourth? She had to see the extra horses.

He couldn’t hear what she said, but she fired her weapon into the ground. The two men stiffened at first, then dropped to their knees. Sheridan was about to cuff them. Somehow, Carver had to warn her they were not alone—but calling out would only distract her and make her vulnerable.

Scrambling down from the ledge he found his horse, hoping he’d be more intimidating on his mount.

Her knee in the rustler’s back as his face pressed into the dirt, she finished cuffing the third rustler, her senses on alert for the fourth man.

And Carver. She forced them to sit back-to-back in a circle, believing her deputies would be along this morning to assist in bringing the men to jail. By now, they had to be.

But she fought the trembling in her knees. Where was Carver? There was no way she’d believe he’d left her behind and fled the ravine—the cattle rancher was trustworthy. Her answer came when the man himself stepped from behind a boulder, the fourth man holding a gun at his temple.

“Drop the weapon,” the rustler said.

Oh Carver …

Sheridan aimed her firearm at the criminal. She was an expert marksman. Could she take him out without injuring Carver? Was it worth the risk?

He pressed the gun into Carver’s temple. “Now.”

Carver gave a slight shake of his head, his eyes bearing none of the fear she’d expect to see there. If she released her weapon, he was dead anyway. They both were.

In the millisecond it took to finger the trigger, someone rammed into her, slamming her to the ground. Her firearm discharged. She’d taken aim at the assailant, Carver mere inches from him.

Had she hit Carver instead?
Oh Lord, please no
.

The breath knocked from her, she gasped for air while scrambling for her weapon, but one of the handcuffed men kicked it away and pressed her to the ground with his knee. He sneered at her.

From her peripheral vision, she could see Carver wrestling with the fourth man. More gunfire echoed through the ravine. While the idiot on top of her searched for the keys to the cuffs, Sheridan searched in the dirt for a rock. When she found it, she wasted no time cracking it into the man’s head. He fell off, and she rolled to her knees.

A horse galloped toward her, and she dodged out of the way.

Carver!

He reached down and grabbed her arm. Before she comprehended what was happening, she was in the saddle behind him. He carried them both away on horseback.

She pounded his back. “What are you doing? Rescuing me? We have to go back? We can’t leave those men. Let me do my job!”

At last, he slowed, guiding his horse behind a boulder. Sheridan hopped from the saddle, and Carver climbed off as well.

“Great. That’s just great. You should have waited on me, then this whole thing would have turned out differently.”

“Yeah, we would have been ambushed by the two extra men. Your deputies should be here soon. I hear horses down the other way. Either that or more rustlers.”

Carver stepped to the side and glanced behind Sheridan, she turned to see where he was looking. In the distance, several horses carrying her deputies galloped their way.

Relief swept through her.

She turned back to Carver. A man approached from behind him, aiming a gun.

Carver reacted to the look in her eyes and whirled around to face the gunman.

“No!” Carver stretched himself in front of Sheridan.

The gun went off, and Carver slumped.

Sheridan caught him and lowered him to the ground. Through blurred vision, she saw the man climb back on his horse, his eyes studying the landscape beyond—he’d seen the rush of deputies in pursuit. He fled, leaving Sheridan to hold Carver.

Blood poured from a wound in his side. Sheridan pressed her hand against it, to staunch the flow. He peered at her through half-closed eyes.

“Why’d you take that bullet for me? You shouldn’t have done that.” She tried to keep her voice strong and matter-of-fact, the way any sheriff should sound, but it was no use.

“Because I love you, Sheriff … always have. Can I call you Sheridan now?”

Tears exploded in her eyes, and she chuckled a sob. He loved her? “Yes, you can call me Sheridan, but save your strength for now.”

He offered a weak smile. “Can we skip the dinner and get married instead?”

Carver opened his eyes to a beam of bright light streaking through a crack in the miniblinds. He felt groggy and stiff. He needed a drink of water. Taking in his surroundings—he was in a hospital room, no doubt—his gaze landed on the beautiful brunette slumped in the chair, sleeping.

The last thing he remembered, he’d taken a bullet for her. His memory fuzzy on the details, his gut told him that things would have gone much better if he’d let her do her job without his interference.

She stirred in the chair and opened her emerald eyes. As soon as she realized he was awake, she moved to his side. “How do you feel?”

“Like I was trampled in a stampede, but other than that, I’m good.” His voice was a croak. “Can I get some water?”

She poured some into a cup from a pitcher and handed it to him.

He drank then laid his head on the pillow. “What happened? Did they get the rustlers? Has Ray found all my cattle?”

“Slow down, cowboy. One question at a time. Yes, we got the rustlers. Yes, Ray found most of your cattle. They were kept in different places.”

“And what about dinner? You never answered me. Can we skip dinner?”

Sheridan’s eyes grew wide. “I didn’t think you’d remember saying that. I thought you’d said it because you figured you were dying.”

“I did. But those words came from my heart. Every one of them.”

Grabbing his hand, she wove her fingers with his. They were long, slender, and strong. “Carver, you don’t really know me.”

“Sure I do. I’ve known you for years. Learning all the little things about each other is what spending a lifetime together is about. But if you don’t feel the same way, just say it.”

The sheriff blinked back tears. She wasn’t that tough after all. But she was a woman, too—the woman he loved. Still, Carver prepared himself to be wounded yet again—regardless how she felt, he’d take a bullet for her again.

“I’ve never witnessed a braver soul than you, Carver Love. I’m pretty sure I’m smitten with you.”

Though her words caressed his heart, something in her eyes made him look away. “But?”

“I can’t marry you unless you’ll agree to let me do the job I was trained to do.”

His smile felt like it split his face, despite her somber words. “I won’t lie to you. That’s asking a lot. It would be hard to let my wife stand in the line of fire every day. But the way I see it, I love you, and I’ll be concerned whether you marry me or not.”

He pushed himself up. Sheridan assisted with the pillows. He took the opportunity to pull her to him, wrap his arms around her. “This is where I need you to be when you’re not sheriffin’ and maybe sometimes when you are.”

She nestled against him, filling his heart with pure joy. After a while, she eased from his embrace but kept her face near his. “And this is where I want to be when I’m not sheriffin’ and maybe when I am.”

“So, is that a yes? Will you be my wife?”

“What do you think?” She pressed her soft lips against his.

Until that moment, Carver hadn’t realized he was parched and cracked like a forsaken desert. Sheridan’s sweet lips poured her love into him, water spilling into the cracks and hard places of his heart. He’d longed to kiss her properly for far too long, and now, he wrapped his arms around her slender form and kissed her thoroughly. Drenched in her love, the pain from his wound was all but forgotten.

Sheridan was everything he needed.

L
egs burning, he pedaled hard and fast, willing his single-speed mountain bike up the rugged trail, his riding buddy, Rally Hayes, not far behind. As he veered from the track, junipers and sagebrush lashed out at Lucas Love on the right.

The rocky formations, twists and turns of the Dago Gulch in the Sheepshead Mountains tested the skills and endurance of hard-core mountain bikers. An experience with God’s glorious creation, the trails didn’t disappoint.

Lucas never got enough. He loved rising to the challenge, defying gravity when possible. He had two days off from his ATV and recreational vehicle business, Oregon Adventures, and intended to enjoy it to the fullest. He was an extreme sports junkie. Mountain biking, backpacking, hang gliding, mountain climbing. The riskier the better. Forget about that giant mess that he called an office—at least for today. Forget that owning your own business didn’t return the freedom you thought.