Rawhide Ranger

He nodded matter-of-factly. “See that tzensa on the ridge.”

“That what?” “Coyote.”

“Yes.” Intrigued that a man of the law believed in folk legends, she followed him as he walked over to a cluster of rocks, then peered up toward the ridge at the coyote as if he was silently communicating with it.

“The tzensa is an omen that something unpleasant is going to happen,” he said in a deep, almost hypnotic tone. “He may even be a skin walker.”

In spite of the warm spring sunshine, a chill skated up Jessie’s arms. He’d followed the coyote’s prints to the leather pouch. “What exactly is a skin walker?”

He gave her a questioning look as if he suspected her to make fun of him, then must have decided that either she wasn’t, or that he didn’t care and continued. “According to the Comanches, when an evil spirit is angered, it wants revenge and can sometimes possess the body of an animal.”

Jessie shook her head. “That’s a little far-fetched, isn’t it?”

He gave a sardonic chuckle. “Some would say the same about religion.”

Jessie mentally conceded the point. “You’re a Ranger. I thought you believed in forensics and cold, hard evidence, not in superstitions.”

He lifted his head as if he smelled something in the air, something unpleasant. Maybe dangerous. “A good cop uses both the physical evidence and his instincts.”

She sighed, hands on her hips. “This is unreal. First you accuse my family of stealing land, then murder. And now you expect me to believe that evil spirits are here, wanting revenge.”

His dark eyes fastened on her, unnerving and deadly serious. “Your father disturbed them when he bought the sacred land, and then that road crew stirred them up even more.”

“If the land is indeed sacred, we had no idea when we closed the deal,” Jessie argued. “And I sure as heck didn’t expect anyone to be killed over it.”

“But your father set the chain of events into motion,” the Ranger said. “And now, if I’m right, you and your father may be in danger from the spirits.”

“I’m not worried about spirits.” Jessie waved her hand in a dismissive gesture. “But go ahead and do your job, Ranger. The sooner you arrest the real killer, the sooner you can leave us alone, and our lives can return to normal.”

His gaze met hers, determination flashing in his steely gaze, but a warning also darkened the depths. She barely resisted another shiver. He really believed those legends.

But she was a by-the-book kind of girl. The danger lay in the Native American activists threatening her family, and the killer whom the Rangers obviously hadn’t yet arrested.

Not some angered spirits.

Still, as if to defy her, the coyote suddenly howled from the top of the ridge and a gust of wind rustled the trees, the scent of the death on her land surrounding her.

CABE SILENTLY CURSED.

Hell, he knew how people in the town looked down upon the Native legends. But for a moment, something crazy had possessed him, and he’d spilled his guts to Jessie.

A mistake he wouldn’t do again. She was the enemy. He was supposed to extract information from her, not the other way around.

But as much as he’d left the old ways and superstitions behind, he couldn’t ignore his instincts. He felt the evil spirit lingering as he stared into the tzensa’s eyes. The coyote was a great predator, a trickster.

And he was here for a reason. Cabe had felt the connection.

The animal angled its mangy head toward the ridge below as if silently passing on a message, and Cabe headed toward the spot where the tzensa had looked. Sun glinted off rocks and what looked like a bat cave below, and he skidded down the hill, climbing over shrubs and sagebrush, dirt and crumbled stones skidding beneath his rawhide boots.

Behind him, Jessie followed, her soft breaths puffing out as she descended the hill. He spotted the dark entrance to the bat cave nearby. Weeds and brush shadowed the opening, and he frowned, grateful that bats were nocturnal and he didn’t have to face them now. At night they’d be swarming.

He rounded a big boulder, and came to an abrupt halt. Owl feathers.

An owl was a sign of death.

The ground had been disturbed, clawed away, the earth upturned. He gritted his teeth, then dropped to his haunches and studied the claw marks. The tzensa’s.

Bones poked through the soil, and a dirt-crusted silver headdress with emeralds embedded in the Native etchings shimmered in the sunlight.

“What did you find now?” Jessie asked behind him.

He shifted slightly as she approached so she could see for herself.

“Oh, my God,” Jessie gasped as she spotted the skeleton.

A rustling sound followed, and Cabe jerked his head toward the woods, his heart pounding as he spotted a shadow floating between the oaks. Someone was there, watching them.

Someone who posed a danger.

A second later, a gunshot pinged off the boulder beside them. Jessie screamed.

He shoved her down to the ground, grabbed his gun and tried to shield her as another bullet flew toward them.

Chapter Two

Jessie’s knees slammed into the ground as the Ranger threw her down and covered her with his body. Hard muscle pressed against her, his breath heaving into her ear, his shoulder pressing hers into the ground, his legs trapping her.

The scent of man and sweat assaulted her, then she tasted dirt. Pinned down by his big body, a panicky feeling seized her, and she pushed against him to escape. But another bullet zoomed within inches of them, bouncing off the boulder, and he rolled her sideways until they were near the bat cave, and hidden by the thorny brush.

“Stay down!” he growled in her ear.

Jessie heaved a breath, wishing she had the gun in her saddlebag. “Do you see the shooter?”

The Ranger lifted his head, bracing his Sig Sauer to fire as he scanned the horizon. She raised her head as well, searching and struggling to crawl out from under him. The big damn man was smothering her.

He jerked his head toward his SUV. “Get in my Land Rover, lock the doors and stay down. I’m going after him.”

Without waiting on her reply, he jumped up, ducking behind brush and trees as he ran toward her horse, vaulted onto it and sent the palomino into a gallop toward the woods where the shots had come from.

“No!” She launched after him. No one rode Firebird but her. The nerve of the arrogant bastard. This was her land—she had to protect it.

But she wasn’t a fool either. He had just ridden off with her weapon and she couldn’t chase the shooter on foot.

Another shot skidded by her ear, nearly clipping her, and she realized she had no choice. It was the bat cave or his Land Rover, and she didn’t intend to tangle with the bats.

She crouched low and sprinted toward his Land Rover, furious, and hoping he caught the man.

Firebird’s hooves pounded the ground, and the shots faded as she climbed in the Land Rover, locked the doors and crouched on the seat. Tension thrummed through her body as she waited and listened. She felt like a sitting duck and lifted her head just enough to peer out the window to watch in case the shooter snuck up on her.