Bride of the Shining Mountains (The St. Claire Men) by S. K. McClafferty Page B

strands of dark hair stuck through with bits of dried
grass and twigs straggled near her face, eliciting an anguished groan dragged
from the depths of her feminine soul.
    Oh, that he had seen her thus rendered his taunts all the more cruel!
    Liquid hurt welling up in her eyes, Reagan glanced back along the
trail that led to the campsite... a trail that was blessedly deserted. Perhaps
he’d gone back to sleep, or had decided to leave her to her morning toilet, or
better yet, maybe he’d gone in search of Luther to demand his money back.
    It didn’t really matter which applied. All that mattered in that
moment was that she was alone and there was adequate water handy. If she were
exceedingly lucky, and did not waste a minute, she might just have time for a
bath.
     
    Abe paused in the deep shade of a cottonwood tree on the north
shore of the Popo Agie and, resting the butt of his rifle on the ground,
watched with a kindling interest as the girl disrobed. All night long he had
lain awake, ruminating on the manner in which she’d been stolen from him,
scheming about just how he’d get her away from the man they called Jack Seek-Um.
    Seek-Um was a deadly hand with the pistols he wore in his belt,
and Abe knew for a fact that he could wield a knife with equal precision.
Broussard wasn’t a man you could tangle with and come up a winner... leastwise,
not if a body fought fairly. It was a truth that Abe had pondered at great
length. When his thinking was done, he’d arrived at the conclusion that he
could have the girl, but only after he’d sent Jackson Broussard to meet his
maker. He possessed the strength, the unscrupulousness, the cunning.
    All he required was an opportunity, and he was quite surprised
that the opportunity he had been hoping for had presented itself so soon. Abe
took that as a sign, an outright omen.
    He and the girl were fated to be together.
    Inhaling deeply, Abe turned to retrace his steps. If he circled
back around and forded the river a few hundred yards downstream, he could come
upon her unawares and clamp his hand across her mouth before she could utter a
scream.
     
    The minutes ticked away, and Jackson fought down the urge to
follow in Reagan Dawes’s footsteps, choosing instead to prepare a breakfast
consisting of bacon, month-old biscuits, and a pot of strong black coffee.
    After setting aside a portion for the girl, he ate his fill.
Attempting to woo a rasher of bacon for herself, Josephine set up a sputtering
purr loud enough to rival that of a steam engine and wove around his legs so
enthusiastically that she nearly knocked him into the fire.
    Tossing the scraps to the cat, Jackson frowned at his timepiece.
“She should have been back by now, don’t you think?” Josephine showed a decided
lack of concern as she nibbled the delicacy, but Jackson was beginning to have
doubts about Miss Reagan Dawes’s delay and the reasons for it. Had she taken to
her heels, deciding to take her chances in the wilderness rather than remain in
his doubtful company? Or had she gotten lost?
    He found his thoughts unnerving. “Come, Josephine, ma petite chat. Let’s go
for a stroll, shall we?”
    Josephine, busy licking her paws, paused in her toilet to blink at
him, then, returned to her washing. Sending a frown the feline’s way, Jackson
turned and started down the path the girl had so recently taken, his mind
conjuring up dreadful scenarios with his every step. A rabid wolf had rampaged
through the encampment two nights ago, causing a commotion, leaving Jackson to
wonder if he’d find her torn limb from limb... and there were other predators
who walked upright on two legs and who were far more dangerous....
    The men attracted to mountain life were misfits, for the most
part, slothful louts, and well-heeled ne’er-do-wells. Deemed unacceptable by
the standards of polite society, they fled to the high country, far beyond the
grasp of the law, where the wilderness and its warlike copper-skinned sons