Liability Page 2

  First a large paw, then a wide black nose appeared beside her on the stone mantle that served as her bed. “Shane,” she murmured, caressing the red-gold head nudging her hand. The dog's burnt-sienna eyes gazed steadily at her with a confidence Maggie wished she could feel.

  Eight hundred miles from home just wasn't far enough. Three weeks ago she had left California determined to patch her life back together and get far away from Ken.

  But, while having a flat tire repaired in Vail, Arizona, Maggie had overheard a sheriff inquiring to the garage attendant about her car. He'd stared right at Maggie when he described her as a missing person, seemed to know she was the one he was looking for, but he'd tipped his hat and walked away. The moment the garage attendant finished with the repairs, Maggie drove straight for the mountains, looking for a secluded place to relax for a while, and believing that if no one found her in a day or two, Ken would suspend his search for her. It had to be him; no one else would have the police looking for her.

  Her friends Jacob and Sue might hunt for her, however Jacob Tyler Campbell didn't need any police department when he wanted to locate someone.

  Ignoring her weak limbs, Maggie pushed her legs over the side of her rock bed and scooted to the edge. After straightening her over-sized shirt, and rolling up the bulky sleeves, she shoved her feet into cowhide riding boots.

  Though she hadn't been hungry for several days, she was hungry now.

  "Glory.” Maggie smoothed her hair away from her face while her stomach murmured its resentment. “We'll eat, then we're out of here,” she mumbled to the dogs, weaving her way to the cave's entrance, and to the food safely stored in a large cooler.

  "The baby—” She didn't have a spare moment to feel like an overcooked noodle. Not when she desperately needed a place to live and a job to survive. Seven, maybe eight weeks—there wasn't much time left.

  Shane suddenly growled low and deep in her throat. The powerful Akita's sienna eyes flashed; her red-gold coat rose slightly on the entire length of her spine.

  "Oh Heavens,” Maggie whispered, touching the dog's back as she reached the cave entrance. “Now what?"

  Maggie lifted her head and listened to distinctly male voices in boisterous, aggressive shouting that mixed with bellowing cattle and the rumbling vibrations of a truck. She turned and grabbed the shotgun propped against the cooler behind her. Hoisting its solid weight against her, Maggie remembered the first time she fired it; its kick had nearly jarred her off her feet. Josh had warned her how a twelve-gage could push over a five-foot-two lightweight.

  She hurried outside, leaned the gun against the fort-like mass of boulders guarding her shelter and blocking the view of the valley below. She began climbing. Her foot slipped and she latched on to the scraggly brush growing outward from the deep crevasses in the stone. Hampered by rubbery legs, she inched high enough to get her chin past the lowest rock formation. Her heart thundered in her ears, nearly drowning out the noises coming from below the jutting ledge.

  The lovely valley, which had been serene since Maggie arrived, now teemed with activity. She counted four men, one driving a pickup truck and three riding horseback. The men on horses were across the open area below, much closer to her than the one in the truck headed away from the river.

  Two of the mounted men rode back and forth, keeping a herd of cattle together, while the third man rode more slowly and watched from a distance. Precariously leaning over the boulder, she watched as another rider joined the seemingly idle one. That changed her count to five, and the one who had seemed to be resting, now acted like their leader. He rode a black horse in the direction of the other men, waved his arms and appeared to give them orders. Then he disappeared behind immense rocks and thick clumps of brush.

  Because of her altitude, Maggie could hear the rich, deep resonance of his voice but couldn't make out his words. She was alone in the wilderness, and those were the toughest looking men she had ever seen off the TV screen. All she had between them and her were her trusty canines and the damn shotgun that felt as if it weighed as much as she did.

  Maggie slid down from the top of her lookout and peered around the side of the boulder. At least I can still see them, she thought, marveling how the excitement promptly dissolved any frailty she'd been feeling.

  What breed of men would these be? Upright citizens or ruthless thieves? Maybe they were stealing those cattle.

  And, good God, if they were, what would they do to her if they found her? Chills made a round trip on Maggie's spine while her imagination flashed images through her mind. Images she didn't relish—not one damn bit.

  Too much television, she decided, bolstering her courage. She'd been watching too darned much television. But the thought didn't stop her suspicious foreboding. She would simply stay hidden until they went away.

  Shane snarled, then leaped forward. Maggie made a grab for her collar and missed. The Akita propelled herself down the steep, rocky grade toward the men. Maggie pressed her hand firmly against her lips to keep from yelling at Shane. The dog would have returned immediately on command, but brought with her the handful of men Maggie had no desire to deal with at the moment.

  She sucked in a deep breath and held it. All four riders spotted the dog and headed their horses in her direction. The truck looped into a circle with its tires spinning, then it, as well, raced toward the foothill.

  Shane's bark sounded vicious, but Maggie knew differently.

  Turmoil drove her as she grabbed for the gun. They might think Shane was a wild dog and shoot her.

  "I have to do something and quick,” Maggie exclaimed, her voice cracking through her tense vocal cords.

  The confusion and panic made it difficult for her to think straight—but Shane had rescued her several times—she had to save Shane.

  There was nothing for it, and it was probably a futile hope, yet she had to try something—anything—to stop the men's advance and keep them from hurting Shane. Maggie's stomach muscles gathered into a tight knot as she pulled the heavy shotgun up, then squeezed her eyes tightly shut and fired at the sky overhead.

  The roar of the gun slammed into her eardrums while its thrust drove her forcefully against the wall of the cave. As the vibrating noise in her head subsided, she realized the men's shouting was louder and closer than before.

  Maggie scrambled to her lookout position and climbed upward a couple of feet beside the big boulder.

  After barely registering the roar of another gun, Maggie heard a loud shattering noise, and something smashed into her left shoulder. She squeezed her eyes closed, feeling her body lift from the perch. Just as suddenly her back slapped against the stonewall behind her and air whooshed from her lungs. Opening her eyes and sucking in deep breaths, Maggie struggled to think.

  Her legs stretched out in front of her and she was sitting on the ground. In her attempt to inhale again she discovered it hurt to breathe. Maggie glanced down at the blood oozing through her torn shirt. “This can't be happening.” She strained to move, finding her arms and legs useless, lethargically ignoring her commands.

  A man hurried around the dense bushes at the side of the cave and dropped to one knee beside her. His sweat-stained Stetson hat concealed his eyes, but she watched his lips move as he spoke in a soft, deep voice.

  "My, God,” he groaned, yanking his hat from his head and tossing it on the ground.

  He must be feeling pain too, she thought dazedly. It seemed as if his remarkable black eyes slowly drew her into their depths.

  Glory. The man, the rocks and trees, everything, spun madly—Maggie blinked. Everything looked shadowy, getting dark....

  Chapter 3

  Ben Karr knelt beside the injured woman. Not for the first time in his life, he craved to spin the hands of a clock backwards, permitting time an instant replay. The last five minutes had culminated in a full-blown nightmare that shouldn't have happened.

  Her confused hazel eyes searched his face for a moment, her hand lifting, reaching out t
o him. Ben clasped her hand in his, and when her eyes closed, he slipped his fingers down to locate the pulse in her wrist.

  He shook his head. It was difficult to believe Kyle had caused this much damage in only a matter of seconds; all because he allowed physical reaction to seize command instead of his brain. The young man had leaped from the truck with the rifle, sprinted up the hill, stopped, raised the rifle to his shoulder and fired. Ben had shouted, but he'd been too far away to stop him.

  The horrible result of these grizzly few seconds, was lying half-sprawled on the ground, half leaning against a cold stone wall, and bleeding—thankfully, not profusely.

  Her pain-filled hazel eyes opened again and studied him as he gently grasped her hand. “Please,” she said, her words a gravelly whisper. “Leave me alone—let me be."

  The terror, which mingled with the suffering in her eyes, was unnerving. “I'm not going to harm you,” he said, moving closer to her. I can't do much more damage to you than what's been done already he added to himself, fervently. If he'd been able to move faster, maybe he could have stopped this senselessness.

  The red and blue plaid shirt she wore seemed to engulf her. It had to be a man's; she had large lumps of sleeve rolled to her wrists. He undid three buttons of the shirt and eased it from her wounds while assessing her condition. Quickly stripping off his shirt, he folded it into a thick square, settled it against the woman's shoulder, and applied pressure. Ben cursed himself for not bringing better equipment when he knew he would be several miles from the homestead.

  A deep menacing growl broke the silence. Ben twisted sideways and watched the big dog race toward him with its lip curled back, exposing sharp fangs.

  "That's one ticked-off dog. Should I shoot her?” a voice clipped out from somewhere behind him.

  "No, just wait.” Ben talked to the dog, keeping his speech steady, his hands firmly on the woman's shoulder. Closing fast, the dog's obvious intent was to force him to withdraw from the woman. Nevertheless, if he didn't stand or shift suddenly in defense, she might quit, and it was a gamble Ben intended to take.

  A small, gray poodle crawled from the interior of the shadowy cave and onto the woman's out-flung legs, whining mournfully. All of this was getting beyond Ben, and he wondered what else might emerge from the deep recess of the cave.

  The mahogany-colored dog, now only five feet from her target, expelled another loud growl.

  "Shane,” the woman said huskily. “No!"

  When Shane slowed her pace instantly, Ben clipped out orders. “Get clean bandages and the medical kit from the truck, Joe. Hurry!"

  "Right, Doc,” Joe said, as he vaulted onto his horse, sending it sprinting down the steep, rock-strewn foothill toward the truck.

  The dog stopped three feet from them and dropped to the ground in the tall weeds. She obeyed her mistress, but her muscles remained taunt for attack. Ben released a pent-up breath, relaxing his shoulders as Shane began crawling slowly forward on her belly.

  "Anything you need, boss, just rasp it out,” Tim said, as he stopped near Ben and glanced at the injured woman.

  Her expression held a strange peacefulness, while a gentle breeze stirred the strands of auburn hair that curled against her forehead. Ben suspected that at this moment she most likely felt suspended between consciousness and oblivion.

  He looked over his shoulder at Kyle Lockwood, who stood thirty-feet away with his hat smashed against his chest as he stared downward, transfixed. His body stood rigidly, and a rifle drooped toward the ground from his left hand. Ben fought the impulse to seize the rifle and shatter it against a boulder, then start on the man.

  Time spiraled away; time that meant the difference between life and death. Impatience gnawed at Ben by the time he heard Joe's horse come to a sliding stop behind him.

  Joe dismounted quickly, knelt beside Ben and placed two bags of medical supplies on the ground within reach.

  "Got everything here, Doc. What's your plan?” Joe asked, panting.

  "Stop this bleeding and transfer her to the truck,” Ben answered softly, letting Joe know it would be a while. With his free hand, Ben rummaged through the kit for thick, sterile-wrapped bandages. He withdrew a package, then yanked a stethoscope from the side pocket and snapped it around his neck.

  "What an incredible mess,” Ben mumbled, ripping the package open with his teeth. He replaced his shirt with a sterile bandage.

  He speculated that a large fragment of bullet or rock ricocheted from a stone near her then entered her shoulder, breaking her clavicle, and knocking her backwards. Several shattered particles of rock had pierced her shoulder and breast with force. Some of the fragments had hit her face. Miraculously, he observed, neither eye had an injury.

  Ben nudged the remains of her shirt aside while he moved his hand over her other shoulder, intending to make certain he hadn't missed any injuries.

  "Oh right!” he hissed, running his hand gently across her swollen abdomen. “She's pregnant—grand, that is just what I needed. Joe,” he ordered, keeping his voice low so as not to frighten the woman. “Get Kyle to bring the truck as close as he can. We have to transport her out of here now."

  Ben moved the stethoscope slowly over her abdomen until he found the tiny heartbeat. He breathed easier when he heard it, vigorous, flawless.

  Joe jogged toward the young man who still appeared caught in a trance. “Kyle, haul your butt down there and get the truck,” Joe snapped in a low growl. Then he trotted back to Ben, scooped the miniature dog from the woman's legs, and stepped to the cave entrance.

  "I'll check the cave, Doc—see if I can find out who she is."

  Ben nodded his approval while ripping open another heavy-dressing package. Pregnant—very pregnant. He hated to even consider what else could happen today.

  Maggie stared groggily at the man, ripping a package open with his teeth. His lean, strong features looked strained.

  "I'm sorry,” she murmured, glancing down at Shane who was silently lying near her and almost against the thigh of the man leaning across her.

  "So am I,” he answered, as he placed a thick bandage against her shoulder.

  He was close enough she could see the laugh lines at the corners of his eyes and breathe in the subtle spicy scent of him. Maggie wanted to touch him, or say something that would remove the anxiety from his expression.

  "I'll be okay—you know,” she said shakily. “It hurts, but not very much—"

  "Sweetheart,” Ben interrupted, “I know better than that. I need to know if you're allergic to anything, then I can give you something to make you feel better.” He shifted closer and secured her bandage with tape.

  She attempted not to flinch, but failed. Maggie shook her head slightly. “No, I don't have any allergies."

  "Good,” he said. “I'll do my best not to hurt you, but I have to place another bandage across your shoulder to restrict its movement, and I'll have to shift you to do it.” His tone lower, deeper than a moment ago, seemed to bolster her courage, and she wished he would just keep talking. At least he was being honest, but she wasn't at all positive she wanted him saying what he planned to do to her.

  "Could you keep talking to me while you do it?” she asked, and watched his lips quirk to one side in a grim smile.

  "Maybe,” he said, “it would be better if you talked to me. Tell me about this dog that would give about anything to sink her lovely sharp teeth into me."

  He didn't appear quite as tough or dangerous anymore, instead his eyes emanated gentle compassion, and Maggie tried to return his smile. “Shane is my friend. I've—Oh glory,” she moaned feebly as he secured bandages around her shoulder, while alongside her, Shane growled impressively.

  "Easy, sweetheart—I'm sorry.” Ben touched her cheek. “When I get you all better, I'll allow you to get even with me—deal?"

  Maggie heard the heavy regret that filled his words, and felt his tenderness as he touched her, but she couldn't answer him; pain had taken her breath away so she nodded
slightly. If he wasn't careful, Shane would be the one retaliating, and she might not be capable of speaking loud enough to stop her.

  When he got her all better? Was he a doctor?

  "Why would a doctor be chasing cattle around?” Maggie groaned out weakly. Doctors didn't steal cattle—did they?

  "It's a good thing I was,” Ben muttered, securing another strip of tape.

  While she caught her breath, he reached into the duffel bag beside him, pulled out a bottle of something, and a syringe. It seemed that before she could blink twice, he'd given her a shot she didn't have time to feel.

  Get up. She had to get on her feet. “My baby,” she cried. “I can't let anything happen to my baby.” Maggie pushed at the man with her right arm, fighting him. He had to go away and leave her alone. If she could just manage to get to her car....

  Ben grasped her hand. “Your baby seems to be doing fine—right now. The best way for you to help keep it that way is to lie still and let me take care of you.” He swallowed down the emotional lump that clogged his throat and added, “You and I, together, can provide safety for the baby."

  His tone hadn't changed, but the look he gave her was uncompromising. The meaning of his words seeped through her frantic anxiety. Did she just imagine he didn't appear tough or dangerous? His dark eyes seemed to penetrate to her soul. Pain seemed to be everywhere. Her entire body hurt, and she didn't have the strength to fight him. She had to explain to him—"Please,” Maggie panted, “just take care of my baby."

  "Both of you,” Ben stressed, watching her eyes close. “I'll take care of both of you."

  She was unconscious, finally reacting to the medication he'd given her. Ben understood perfectly what her message was: at all cost, the baby should come first—but he meant what he told her. He would apply all the skills he had to fulfill his promise.