The Cowboy’s Hidden Agenda

bargain.

“Come on, Red, get us out of here,” he murmured. Crouched low over the woman’s body, he gave the stallion his head.

To Lauren it didn’t seem real, that twilight gallop through a tranquil meadow while behind her the world was exploding in a nightmare of sound and fury, fire and destruction and death. There was something surreal about it- like an amusement park thrill ride gone berserk.

She’d been riding horses since she was a child, but as many times as she’d ridden, she’d never ridden like this, racing a quarter horse-the fastest horse alive at short distances-flat out at full gallop. Oh, and it was terrifying. Exhilarating. Like riding a lightning bolt.

The sheer brute power of the animal beneath her filled her with awe. With her face against the stallion’s neck, she could hear his labored breaths and grunts of effort, feel his surging muscles and thundering heartbeats. And there was another heartbeat hammering against her back, and her own intermingled with it until she could no longer separate one from the other. Another body, strong as steel and supple as wire, as formidable as the stallion’s but in a different way, pressed hard against her and holding her firmly in the saddle…and his embrace.

Sandwiched like that, between the awesome power of man and horse, Lauren had never felt safer, more secure. Or more frightened. Not that she would fall. Bronco would never let her fall, she knew that. Yet…she felt as though the earth had slipped out from under her feet. She felt off balance, scared.

What’s happened? she kept thinking. What’s happened to me?

And for the first time in days the kidnapping was far from her mind.

At the far end of the meadow where the ground rose sharply and the trees began, Bronco straightened, with one arm still holding Lauren securely in the saddle, and spoke to Cochise Red with a touch and a murmured, “Ho, boy…” Excited as he was, the stallion fought the bit, tossing his head and dancing sideways as Bronco eased him to a walk.

Though Lauren hadn’t spoken, he could feel her body shivering. Her hair felt damp against his cheek. He didn’t know whether she was in shock or just plain cold, but either way he knew he had to get her into shelter and wrapped up in something warm pretty quick. But they couldn’t stop yet. Not here. Although he knew Red was pretty well winded and he was asking a lot of him, especially now that it was getting dark, he didn’t see how he had much choice. He had to get through the perimeter fence, put a ridge or two between them and the SOL camp.

Calming the big bay horse-and the woman, too-with soothing wordless sounds, Bronco signaled with a slight pressure from his knees, and they slipped into the shadows between the trees.

The sounds of gunfire had faded to a distant grumbling before they finally halted in the cover of timber. Bronco’s feet had barely touched the ground before Lauren came tumbling out of the saddle behind him. He turned, and she fell into his arms.

It never occurred to him not to hold her. She was wet, cold, trembling…probably in shock. He muttered something-he didn’t know what-as he reached one-handed to untie the blanket roll behind the saddle, somehow got it shaken out and wrapped around her. It was when he folded her back against him that she began to cry. Not quietly, either, but with sobs and wails, like a little child.

Bronco hadn’t had much experience with weeping women, but for some reason he wasn’t surprised or even all that upset to find one in his arms. He thought he should have been-especially this woman. What did surprise him was how altogether natural it felt to hold her, to stroke her hair, weave his fingers through it and cradle her head against his shoulder. To exhale soothing wordless whispers into its silky dampness and inhale its sweet green-apple scent.

The storm was only a squall and it passed quickly. To Bronco it seemed all too short a time before she quieted, then began to stir in the restless way that let him know she was already sorry she’d let herself cut loose like that. Regret was a heaviness in his muscles as he eased her away from him.

She quickly bowed her head and he could see her brush at her eyes and nose with jerky embarrassed movements, then give up and begin to yank on her T-shirt, trying to haul it out of the waistband of her jeans.

“Here,” he scolded, “don’t do that.” He untied his bandanna, pulled it off his neck and passed it to her. She croaked something he took for a thank-you and turned away self-consciously to blow her nose, though as dark as it was he couldn’t have seen much, anyway. He stood and waited while she mopped up, uncomfortable himself now, and the damp place she’d left on the front of his shirt a cold reminder of her warmth.

“You okay?” he asked when it sounded as though she was about done.

She nodded, and he could see her shift about, looking for someplace to put the bandanna. Before he could take it from her, she shoved it in her pocket and cleared her throat. “Sorry. Reaction, I guess.”

“Natural.” His voice was diffident, remote. “Don’t worry about it.”

Suddenly bereft, Lauren fought an urge to reach out and touch him, to feel again the strong hard body and warm arms that had so recently sheltered her. Her eyes strained against the darkness, but she could make out only a faceless shape topped by the pale blur of a white Stetson.

His voice came quietly from the shadows. “Think you can go on a ways?”

“Sure,” said Lauren. It didn’t occur to her then what an odd thing it was for a terrorist to ask his hostage.

“I’d feel better if we could put more distance between us and those choppers.”

She didn’t know what to say to that when she knew that in all probability those helicopters had come to rescue her. Of course, they might just as easily have killed her, instead, and that made no sense. Surely her father would never have allowed such an all-out assault, knowing she was still being held hostage. He’d never risk her safety that way. He wouldn’t.

A chill shook her as Gil’s awful words played again in her mind: He’d throw your life away to save his political career.

No. He wouldn’t. Not the Rhett Brown she knew. Not in a million years.

She drew a breath and said firmly, “I’m fine. Let’s go.” But in the next instant fear stabbed through her like a spear of ice, pinning her to the spot. Something-and it sounded like a herd of buffalo-was tramping, crashing through the brush, coming straight for them!

Her lungs filled with air and her jaw went rigid, but before she could give in to the instinct to run or scream, she felt Bronco’s hand on her arm, heard him murmuring to Cochise Red without any trace of alarm. Next she heard a low excited whinny, and two large dark shapes bulldozed through the darkness, stamping and snorting and whickering in joyful reunion.

“The mares!” Lauren gasped in astonishment. “How-”

“I turned ’em out when I saddled up Red.” Bronco’s voice was matter-of-fact. “Figured they’d have a fighting chance that way.” His body brushed against hers and she heard a soft grunt as he half leaped, half pulled himself into the saddle. His hand touched her shoulder, reaching for her. “Better if you ride behind now. Moon won’t be out of the clouds for a while yet, and we’re gonna need to take it easy in the dark.”

She said nothing until she was seated behind Bronco astride the stallion’s back with the blanket wrapped around her shoulders and the ends clutched firmly together in the middle of her chest. Inexplicably, her teeth had begun to chatter.

“Y-you knew this was c-coming?” she said in a low voice, as Bronco clucked to Cochise Red and they began to move at an easy walk through the dark forest. “You were prepared?” She felt him shrug.

“I had a good idea. Enough I thought it might be a good idea to get ready for Plan B.”

“Plan B… And that’s?”

He gave a little huff of mirthless laughter. “To get you out in one piece.”

Lauren said nothing for a time, though there were all sorts of confusing things tumbling around in her mind. Then she drew a shaken breath and whispered, “Why? I mean, your friends are being attacked, and instead of helping them, you save my life. Why would you do that?”

This time his whole body jerked with his snort of laughter. “Like I told you down at the ranch, Laurie Brown- you’re worth way too much to take a chance on gettin’ you killed.”

“But,” she cried, “Gil was going to kill me-or have me killed. He was ready to do it. I know he was. I could see it in his eyes.”

“He’d just found out his wife had been shot-what did you expect?” He paused for a moment, then went on in a voice soft with disgust. “You met Katie McCullough-nice lady. A real nice lady. Sweet as they come. And they shot