McCrory's Lady by Shirl Henke Henke Page B

gunfire no longer echoing in his ears.
           Wolf reached Eden first as she was trying to roll away from the dead bandit's pooling blood. It had already stained her riding skirt and boots as she thrashed frantically.
           “Easy, easy. Let me untie you, Miss Eden,” he said, kneeling beside her. Wolf was stunned by her beautiful face. She stared up at him through her father's whiskey gold eyes, fringed by thick dark lashes. But her eyes were the only physical trait she had inherited from Colin McCrory. Eden was tiny and slender with ivory skin, delicate cameo features and masses of silky hair the color of moonbeams. She took his breath away.
           Everything a breed buck dreams of and can never touch, he thought grimly to himself, noting how pale her flesh was beneath his dark hands as he helped her sit up.
           She looked into burning black eyes framed by thick, arched eyebrows. The stranger had a dark bronzed face of harshly striking male beauty. His hair was shoulder length and perfectly straight, inky black. He had Indian blood; but worse, he was a gunman, hard and dangerous, just as Lazlo had been. Eden shied in revulsion. Then, her father was there, kneeling beside her, shoving the disturbing stranger away.
           “I'll take care of her. See if any of them are left alive. If they are, kill them,” Colin said curtly to Wolf, then turned his attention back to his daughter, cutting the ropes from her wrists and ankles, all the while soothing her. “It's going to be all right, Eden. Everything's going to be all right now, Babygirl.”
           She could not look at him, could not bear to have him touch her. She was defiled, filthy, ruined. And she had nearly caused his death as well! Tears, held in check for so long, silently streamed down her cheeks.
           “There, there, Eden, Babygirl...don't.” He dabbed at the tears that continued to flow from beneath her thick dark golden lashes. “It's over. They can't ever hurt you again.” Colin stroked her hair and held her. She felt so stiff in his arms, unmoving, silent. His eyes swept over her, looking for any traces of physical injuries. She seemed unhurt, but he could well imagine how they had abused her, how that bastard Lazlo had degraded an innocent like Eden.
           Eden's silence frightened him more than anything. Dear God, had they unhinged her mind? “Eden, talk to me. I'm your father. Please...”
           Maggie watched the desperate scene unfolding across the campfire. Darkness gathered now and the air was turning chill. Bodies littered the ground all around them. They needed to get Eden away from this place of desecration. Maggie walked over to Colin and knelt, placing her hand firmly on his shoulder.
           “Leave her to me, Colin. You and Wolf gather the horses and let's get out of here. She can't stay in this place.”
           Colin's eyes moved from Maggie's calm face back to his daughter, who still sat, rigid and frozen, unmoving and silent while the tears continued to seep from her eyes. She would not even look at him. Nodding in dumb misery, he relinquished his hold on Eden as Maggie sat down beside her.
           “Eden, this is Maggie Worthington...a friend of mine. She's here to help you.”
           Eden did not respond. Maggie shook her head at Colin, dismissing him. When he stood up and walked over to Wolf, she took Eden by one arm and gently but forcefully helped her to her feet.
           “Let's get away from these men who hurt you, Eden. They may be dead, but the memories still hang on in this place, don't they?”
           Eden heard the voice, soft and well modulated—a woman's voice with a crisp, unfamiliar accent. Her father was gone. God, she could not bear to look him in the face, to see love and concern in his eyes. She would never again be able to bear her guilt, her shame. As Maggie helped her to stand up, Eden opened her eyes