Catherine's Cowboy
by
Cait Braxton
Blurb
On the run from her vicious Kiowa husband,
Catherine seeks shelter from a raging dust storm when labor begins. Fate steps
in when retired tracker Elam also seeks refuge from the elements and stumbles
upon the same ramshackle dwelling.
Elam
helps Catherine deliver her child and a strong bond develops between them. But
outside, biding his time until the squall passes, someone evil longs to claim
both their lives and take what is rightfully his…the child.
* * *
I'm going north where the grey wolf country
is.
The wolves might eat or kill me.
I may not come back.
Brother, if I don't come back, you will cry for me.
The wolves might eat or kill me.
I may not come back.
Brother, if I don't come back, you will cry for me.
Excerpt:
Wolf-dog emitted a guttural growl
and Tapco’s spine curdled with fear. How had the heathens found her so soon?
Poor beast would be killed first...before they descended on her. In her
condition, she could do nothing to prevent the creature’s demise, much less
thank him for leading her through the dust storm to this temporary sanctuary.
While the phantom of death circled her head, she pulled the knife from her
knee-high moccasin and focused on the one thing that mattered, the cause of her
horrendous pain and the only reason to stay alive for now.
The dog rose to a squat, shoulders
down, rump high in the air and his long, white fangs bared for attack. He would take down one and she would the
steal the breath from another before....
The door flew open. Underneath the
frame stood a tall, dark form, his leather duster open and hugging a pair of
high, black boots. Saddlebags rode his left shoulder, and a shotgun that could
blow both her and Wolf-dog to smithereens rested against his right. A revolver
was cradled in a leather scabbard across his chest, and the haft of a Bowie
knife extended beyond the top of the black boot on his right leg. Her weak
limbs trembled with ironic relief. At least he wasn’t wearing leggings and a
breechclout. Gomda hadn’t found her, but
the vision of hell and damnation devouring the door frame had. A thatch of
burnished, chestnut hair framed a pair of brown eyes, eyes so dark, they were
almost black. With a wary look in his eyes, his body primed for danger, he
scanned the dim corners of the cabin.
Wolf-dog snarled, waiting for her
command.
“Haun-Nay,” she rasped. “No.”
She couldn’t take the chance the
man would kill the dog before she could kill him, not after the beast had saved
her. She’d wait until he hovered near,
near enough to slash his jugular before he sensed peril. She didn’t have to
wait long.
Danger rode the angles of his lean
face as he advanced. “Are you alone here?”
She brought the knife up and
stabbed at the vacant air.
His hands came out at his sides,
palms up. “I won’t harm you. Besides, that mangy hound would rip my guts out
before I could spit in your direction.” A faint smile curled one corner of his
lip. “Looks like you could use some help. Please, put the knife down before you
pass out and fall on it.”
Panting through another spasm, she
slithered down the post, grinding out the words, “Stay back.” Seconds ago, she
had fantasies of severing his neck; now she was too broken to try.
He dropped to his haunches before
her and set the rifle on the ground. “If you were to guess, how long before
that baby comes?”
No comments:
Post a Comment