Redwing's Lady

As the horses climbed, the ground grew rougher. Several times her mare slipped, but managed to gather herself before she went to her knees. Thankfully Maggie was an experienced rider. Otherwise she might have fallen into the gorge far below to their left.

“The timberline is just ahead.” Daniel tossed the announcement over his shoulder. “We’ll stop there and let the horses blow. Once we get in the open, we might be able to catch a glimpse of Aaron or, at least, his horse.”

Nodding, she followed Daniel to a spot on the mountain where the fir trees ended and huge, magnificent boulders protruded from the bald, grassy slopes.

Pulling the mare to a stop next to Daniel’s mount, Maggie scoured the mountainside for any sign of her son. “I don’t see anything. Not even any goats.”

“His horse has been here. And not long ago.”

Her heart leaping with hope, her gaze darted to Daniel’s face to see his attention was focused on horse tracks surrounding one of the nearby boulders.

“What about Aaron?” she rushed the question at him. “Do you see his tracks?”

Frowning faintly, he said, “I’m not sure. Let’s get down for a few minutes. The horses need to rest. They’ve had a hard, fast climb.”

Maggie didn’t protest. Even though she knew the waning daylight was precious, she was exhausted. Once she slid from the saddle and stood on the ground, her legs would barely hold her upright. Along with her misbehaving legs, her head was whirling at a nauseating speed.

Gripping the stirrup, she prayed for the rushing sound in her ears to stop and for the power to stand upright.

“Maggie?” Daniel asked softly. “Are you ill?”

She was drawing in slow, deep breaths in an effort to clear her head when his hand came against her back. His touch jolted her like an electrical current and the fire zapped her with a spurt of strength.

“No,” she murmured. Then glancing up at him, she added, “I…I’m just really, really tired, that’s all.”

As he studied her weary face, his dark features remained stoic. Maggie wondered if he wanted to say, I told you to stay behind. But he didn’t say anything of the sort. Instead he slid his arm around the back of her waist and clamped a steadying hand around her upper arm.

“Come over here and sit down,” he instructed.

He helped her over to one of the boulders, and after she was sitting comfortably, he went over to his horse and slipped a canteen of water from the saddle horn.

Back at her side, he took off the lid and silently handed the insulated container to her. After she’d taken several long sips, he took the canteen and poured some of the cool water onto his handkerchief.

With one hand he reached up and pushed the straw hat from her head. With the other, he used the moist handkerchief to wipe her heated face.

“You’re hot and dehydrated,” he said grimly. “Why didn’t you tell me you were feeling weak?”

His hands were big, yet extremely gentle as they touched her cheeks and chin, her neck and then her forehead. Maggie tried not to breathe in the scent of him. Tried not to think about the way his lips had felt against hers or the way he had tasted. Yet she couldn’t stop her senses from registering everything about him.

“Because I knew we couldn’t stop,” she said in a hoarse whisper. ‘We shouldn’t be stopping now.”

Her copper-colored hair was shoulder length and naturally curly. He pushed the wayward strands away from her cheeks and off her forehead as though she were his lover and the sweat on her face had come from their passion.

The notion caused her to shiver inwardly, and she closed her eyes and waited for him to pull back and put a few inches of space between them.

“Do you want Aaron to be raised an orphan?” he asked crossly.

Her eyes drifted open to see he’d taken a seat next to her and, though he was close, his gaze was not on her. His squinted eyes were scanning the bald, jagged crags of the mountain peaks.

“I’m not that weak,” she protested.

Turning his gaze back to her, he silently studied her face until she felt the urge to squirm.

“What? What are you thinking?” she dared to ask him.

The corners of his mouth tilted up ever so slightly, and Maggie realized it was the first time he’d shown any sort of humor in her presence.

“That you are not exactly the woman I thought you were.”

Maggie wasn’t sure she should ask, but she did anyway. “What does that mean?”

One of his shoulders moved with a faint shrug. “The Ketchums are a tough crew. But you’re not a Ketchum by blood.”

She stared at him for a moment as she digested his words. “Oh. You thought—you think I’m just a rich, pampered woman.”

“Not exactly pampered. But maybe a little soft.”

His admission disappointed her, and that was frightening. Not since Hugh had Maggie cared whether a man regarded her highly. And it shouldn’t matter how Deputy Daniel Redwing viewed her, either.

She swallowed as a knot of unsettled feelings gathered in her throat. “And what are you thinking now?”

“That you have grit.”

Her eyes met his and she felt her heart thump with unexpected gladness. “Thank you, Daniel.”

“You’re welcome.”

They were still staring at each other when Aaron’s voice echoed through the mountaintops.

“Mom! Mom!”

Both Maggie and Daniel jumped to their feet and scanned the edge of the timberline where Aaron’s voice seemed to have originated.

“That was him, Daniel! That was Aaron!” she exclaimed with excited joy.

“Yes. Here he comes now,” Daniel said with a quiet smile. “To your right. See?”

A tiny whimper of relief passed her lips as she spotted her young son walking slowly out of the woods. He was leading Rusty, and from the looks of the flopping latigo he was fortunate to still have the saddle on the horse’s back.

“Oh, thank God! Thank God!” she whispered hoarsely.

She started to run in her son’s direction, but the ground was too rough and her legs too spongy to carry her safely. She stumbled several times before she finally managed to reach him, then, going down on her knees, she gathered the boy up in her arms.

For long moments she held her son in a crushing embrace as tears of relief streamed down her face. In turn, Aaron clung tightly to his mother until the excitement of being found eventually caused him to stir and talk in rapid, broken phases.

“Mom, I didn’t mean to come this far! Something happened to the girth—I fell off Rusty. And he ran away. I’ve been chasing him…for a long time. I didn’t think he’d ever stop!”

Taking him firmly by the shoulders, Maggie held her son out in front of her. He’d managed to hang on to his straw cowboy hat, but sweat and dirt streaked his freckled face and there was a long rip down the sleeve of his shirt exposing an equally long scratch on his arm.