Whip wasn’t even aware of moving until he felt the worn, hard butt of the bullwhip nestled in his left hand and heard the restless seething of the lash at his feet. His right hand was closed around the rifle, his finger was on the trigger, and his eyes were looking for a target. If he found one, he wouldn’t have to switch hands. He had learned long ago the value of being able to shoot with either hand.
There. At the far end of the meadow. Movement.
Smoothly Whip pivoted to face whatever was coming toward him.
Feminine laughter rippled through the quiet summer meadow, laughter bubbling as clearly as the creek itself. Suddenly Shannon darted out of the aspens with Prettyface hard on her heels. The huge hound caught up in three bounds and put himself squarely across Shannon’s path, forcing her to stop. Quick as a deer she turned and raced toward the aspens again. Prettyface followed, blocked her before she reached the trees, and chased her when she spun aside once more.
The game continued until Shannon was too breathless with laughter to run any longer. She leaned on Prettyface and petted him and praised him and hugged him until her breath came back. Then she told him to stay and tiptoed off into the aspens. Panting, his tongue lolling out in silent canine laughter, Prettyface stayed put and watched with alert wolf’s eyes while Shannon vanished into the trees.
Whip watched too, motionless, aching with feelings he couldn’t name.
A rock arced out of the aspens to land with a soft thump at Prettyface’s side. It must have been the signal for the game to resume, because the hound leaped forward, nose to the ground, tracking his mistress at a lope. Soon Prettyface vanished into the aspens.
Whip waited, smiling, guessing what was going to happen next; the stalk and the laughter stifled into silence, and then the instant of discovery.
A few minutes later he heard laughter and saw flashes of movement in the aspen grove. Shannon burst into the meadow at a dead run, her long legs moving so quickly that they blurred.
No wonder she got to me so fast when that grizzly cornered me. She and that hellhound of hers keep each other sharp.
Despite Shannon’s speed, she was no match for Prettyface. The hound caught her in ten strides, barred her way into the meadow, and leaped after her when she took off in another direction.
Whip laughed softly as he uncocked the rifle, coiled the long lash so that it could ride once again on his shoulder, and walked toward the girl and the savage mongrel that played like a puppy with her.
I’ll bet Shannon and Willy would get along like a house afire. They both have grit and the gift of laughter no matter how bleak things really are. Shannon could help with the kids and the cooking, and Cal could keep everyone safe. Even the Culpeppers aren’t dumb enough to take on a man like Caleb Black.
And there’s always Reno or Wolfe or both of them together if the fight gets too hard for Cal to handle alone. Shannon would be safe with them. She would have Willy and Jessi and Eve for company. Shannon wouldn’t be at the mercy of strangers. She would be with…family.
I could go yondering again and not always be looking back, wondering if Shannon was hungry or tried or frightened or hurt, needing someone and no one was nearby.
Relief at the solution to his problem swept through Whip, loosening some of the tension that had ridden him without mercy since he had discovered just how innocent a window Shannon Conner Smith really was. Smiling, he walked even faster into the meadow.
Shannon took one look at the man striding toward her and felt her heart leap with a joy she knew would end in heartbreak. Yet she could no more stop the joy than she could stop the sun from rising at dawn.
She had seen very little of Whip in the two days since he had discovered she was a virgin. When she awoke at dawn, he was already gone to Rifle Sight. He didn’t come back until it was too dark to work any longer. By then he was too tired to do much more than bathe and eat and fall asleep.
«I’m glad you came back early,» Shannon said.
Whip smiled. «You sure?»
She nodded almost shyly.
«Even though I’ve been less company to you than that beast?» he asked ruefully.
She nodded again and whispered, «Yes.»
Whip looked at the heightened color of Shannon’s cheeks, the sweet curve of her mouth, and the endless blue of her eyes. He realized anew how pleased he was to have found a solution to the problem of Shannon’s future. A solution that didn’t involve marriage.
Toanyman.
«Whip?»
«Mm?»
«What is it? You look as smug as a rooster with twenty hens.»
Whip laughed and wished he could hug Shannon. Yet he knew he must not. Touching her would end up only one way-with her virginity gone and him so hard and deep inside her that it would be like tearing off their own skin when they finally separated.
But separate they would, for the undiscovered sunrise would call to him.
«I don’t want to hurt you,» Whip said, no longer smiling.
Shannon’s smile turned upside down. Are you leaving? Is that why you came back early? Has that damned distant sunrise called your name?
But Shannon didn’t give voice to the questions that were tearing her apart. There was no purpose in speaking. Whip would go when he wished to. Knowing when he was leaving wouldn’t make the remaining moments any better for her.
Knowing would make it worse. Knowing would cut out her heart and leave nothing but darkness in its place, an emptiness she couldn’t hide from Whip no matter how hard she tried.
«I know you don’t want to hurt me,» Shannon said, balancing her voice as carefully as she would a pan of scalding water. «Don’t worry about it, yondering man.»
«Horse —»
«I’m fully of age,» she interrupted, «and I’ve been warned more than once that you don’t want ties. If I get hurt, it’s on my head, not yours.»
«But —»
«Come back to camp and wash up,» Shannon interrupted again, determined not to talk about leaving. «That shirt must be about as comfortable as a handful of nettles. Do you want an early supper?»
«My shirt isn’t what’s nettling me,» Whip retorted. «It’s you. My conscience won’t let me leave you at the mercy of the likes of the Culpeppers.»
Then don’t go!
But Shannon knew better than to voice the cry of her soul. Whip would go no matter what his conscience and her heart wanted. Nor did she want him to stay at the cost of his own happiness, his own heart and soul.
He loved the unseen sunrise more than he would ever love any woman.
«Tell your conscience that I got along just fine before I met you,» Shannon said.
«But you didn’t!»
«How do you know?» she asked reasonably. «You weren’t here.»
«Damn it, Shannon —»
«Yes. Damn it.»
With that, she started walking to camp. Prettyface and Whip fell into step along either side.
«How did the digging go?» Shannon asked.
Whip grunted. «Worse than yesterday, better than tomorrow.»
She tried to think of something encouraging to say. She couldn’t. Fear for her own future was too strong. Yet if she talked about that, Whip would think she was building a cage for him, nailing him to the floor of her dreams while his own dreams called to him from the other side of the bars.
«I’m not going to find gold in Rifle Sight,» Whip said bluntly. «Not tomorrow. Not the day after. Not ever.»
Shannon stumbled, then righted her balance before Whip could touch her.
«There are other claims,» she said through pale lips.
«You said Rifle Sight was the best one.»
