hadn't he forced her to talk to him about it?
Pushing back to his feet, Rafe began to bird-dog her tracks again, certain now that she couldn't press on much longer.
Please, God.
He remembered how resolutely she had endured whatever came her way when he first met her, suffering the cold without a coat, nursing Jaimie even when it brought tears to her eyes.
Maggie was delicate-looking, but that fragile spine of hers was laced with steel. His luck, she'd keep walking until she froze to death standing up.
A few minutes later, Rafe came to a clearing where a half dozen cows and heifers had bedded down for the night. They lay bunched together to keep warm, their breath sending up ribbons of steam that looked like smoke in the moonlight. Maggie's tracks circled to the left. He followed her footprints. About halfway around the opening, she hung a sharp right. Straight toward the cows.
Rafe turned to peer at the dark bovine lumps that lay in a cluster. The cows' white faces shone eerily in the moonlight. Two of the creatures had their heads up, their eyes dark pits as they stared stupidly at him, chewing their cuds.
Almost afraid to hope, Rafe moved slowly toward them. "Easy, ladies, " he said soothingly. "I just wanna check to see if you've got company. "
Maggie lay huddled between two heifers. Tears of relief turning to ice trails on his cheeks, Rafe made his way carefully toward her. He placed a boot on each side of her torso, the sides of his legs pressing against the hot bovine bodies that he felt certain had kept her from freezing to death.
"Hee-yah!" he yelled, slapping the back of the cow to his right.
The huge beasts scrambled to their feet, bawling in protest at the disturbance. Rafe shoved away the two heifers that flanked his wife, protecting her from being
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stepped on with the brace of his legs. As the animals trotted away, he sank to one knee.
"Maggie?" He grasped her shoulder, fear lancing through him when he felt the frozen nylon of her parka.
Oh, God.
Just as he had feared, she was wet to the skin. "Maggie? Wake up, " he ordered, shaking her.
She didn't respond. His fear became terror. "Maggie, damn it! Wake up!" He grabbed her hands and began chafing them. Then he lightly tapped her cheeks. Please, God... He couldn't bear it if he lost her.
"Maggie?"
"Rafe?" Her lashes fluttered and she opened her eyes. His relief was so great, he felt boneless. She rolled onto her back. "I
knew
you'd come. "
It terrified him to think how close he'd been to turning back. "Of course I came, sweetheart. "
How in hell could she have so much faith in him on that score and so little in other ways? He yearned to ask, but now wasn't the time or place to hash out their problems. Maggie seemed to have put their troubles on a back burner as well. No big surprise. Their first order of business had to be getting out of here. All else took a second seat.
"I've been bird-dogging your tracks the whole time, " he told her. "Why the hell didn't you stop and stay put so I could catch up?"
Stiffly she rose to her knees. Her voice still gruff with sleep, she replied, "It was so cold. Until I found the cows, I was afraid to stop for fear I'd freeze to death. "
It was a miracle that the cows hadn't spooked, leaving her to lie there and die. Just the thought made his guts tighten like a fist. He loved her so much.
He laughed shakily and cupped his hands over her hair. The unruly curls had become wet, probably from snow falling from tree boughs. Now the strands were stiff with ice.
Rafe wanted to hug the very breath out of her and make long avowals of love. But that would have to wait.
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He had to get her out of here. Strip those damned wet clothes off her. Get her warm.
"I owe those cows, " he settled for saying. 'Tomorrow I'll bring out a sack of grain to show my appreciation. " He bent to press a quick kiss to her forehead, his heart squeezing when her skin felt warm against his cold lips. 'Two sacks of grain, " he amended. "Thank God you had the good sense to cuddle up. "
"With me, necessity is the mother of courage. It was my only option. " She wrinkled her nose. "I'm so sorry about this, Rafe. It was stupid of me to take off like that. I meant to follow the road, only then I couldn't find it. "
"That happens out here. The trees are so thick, even experienced woodsmen have gotten lost. If you don't know some of the landmarks to give you your bearings, you're shit out of luck. "
She laughed weakly. "That pretty much describes how it went. No matter which way I walked, it wasn't the right way. Take away sidewalks and I'm inept. "
Rafe did hug her then. Weak though it was, that spunky little laugh melted his heart, and he couldn't resist. His arms trembled with the intensity of his feelings as he squeezed her close. "Inept? You used your head. " He pressed his lips to her hair. "I'll make a great rancher's wife out of you yet. All you need is some mountain know-how, and you'll do fine. "
She stiffened slightly. "A rancher's wife?"
"Damned straight, a rancher's wife.
My
wife. I'll chain you to the bedpost before I'll let you leave me, Maggie. Understand that and get used to it. "
Tears filled her eyes, and her mouth trembled as she gazed up at him. "You mean it?" she asked faintly.
Rafe realized he was kneeling there in the snow like a damned fool, wasting precious minutes. Beginning tomorrow, he was going to make it his mission in life to teach her some survival skills. He'd also drive it into her brain with chisel and hammer that he loved her and
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nothing was going to change that. But, for now, he had far more pressing concerns.
"I mean it, " he assured her gruffly. "You about ready to go home?"
"Oh, yes... I hope Becca kept dinner hot. I'm cold and I'm starving. "
Starving? Rafe had an unreasoning urge to laugh again.
Starving.
He'd pictured her lying out here, half-dead. He'd bring those cows three sacks of grain. Scratch that. He'd bring a whole damned truckload.
He pushed himself erect, prepared to lend her assistance in standing, but to his surprise, she managed on her own. That figured. This girl had been doing just the opposite of what he expected ever since he first clapped eyes on her. She shivered at a gust of icy wind. He found reason to rejoice even in that. It was when a person stopped shivering that there was cause for true alarm.
"Can you walk?" he asked.
She lifted one sneaker and gave her foot a shake. "Yeah. I was on my last legs earlier, but the breather and getting warmer really helped. "
He encircled her shoulders with an arm, pulling her snugly against him. It felt so good to have her with him, safe and sound. So damned good. Once he got her back to the truck, they'd be home free.
Rafe took only one step, then came to a stop, his gaze fixed in the direction of the road. He wasn't sure exactly how far away it was. By quick estimate, it would take them over an hour, and that was if nothing went wrong—like falling through the ice, which was a probability. By the time he got Maggie to the rig, she'd be chilled to the bone again, not to mention so worn out she probably wouldn't be able to put one foot in front of the other one.
Could he carry her through this snow? On the one hand, Rafe vowed that he would crawl out with her on his back if he had to, but on the other hand, he had to face facts. With her weight tacked onto his, he'd break
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through the ice far more often. Managing to scramble free from each wallow would take precious time and stores of energy, both of which would slow him down. What if it took two hours or even three to get her to the vehicle?
Concern tightened his throat. He cast his gaze westward. Just over that steep ridge was a line shack, which would be stocked with canned food and plenty of firewood. It would be equipped with other emergency necessities as well, including lanterns, warm bedding, and a radio or cellular phone to call out, powered by a thousand-volt generator with a DC outlet. The Rocking K was peppered with line shacks like that. They were a necessary feature on a huge spread, often meaning the difference between life and death for ranch hands who got stranded miles from anywhere. The rough dwellings also served as overnight accommodations for the men during roundups.
If he remembered correctly, it would take less than half an hour to reach the line shack, but it would be one hell of a rough climb to scale that ridge. On the plus side, though, the snow wouldn't be packed as deeply on a steep slope like that. He glanced at Maggie, who wobbled slightly. She probably didn't have the strength left to make it. He could throw her over his shoulder in a fireman's carry if she gave out. He would call Ryan from the line shack and make arrangements for men on snowmobiles to pick them up in the morning.
Drawing her along with him, Rafe veered west, heading for the ridge that loomed like a black specter against the moonlit sky. With every step they took, he sent up a silent prayer that they could make it.
Her feet braced on protrusions of granite, Maggie clung to the snowy branch of a pine whose roots had taken hold on the steep, icy slope. Her legs quivered with exhaustion, and she was so cold, her fingers barely felt the bite of frost that encased the tree's rough bark. Her lungs grabbed for breath, each inhalation making a soft, wheezing noise that knifed down her windpipe.
Halted in his ascent, Rafe stood about three feet above her, one long leg straightened behind him, his other bent to take another step. He looked over his shoulder, his face bathed in black shadows. She couldn't see his eyes, but Maggie had never been more intensely aware of his ability to strip away a person's veneer with that piercing gaze of his.
"You're done for, aren't you?" he called softly.
As far as Maggie could see, being "done for" wasn't exactly an option. It had turned out to be a lot farther to the base of the slope than Rafe had estimated. High-elevation air, he'd explained, often made things look closer than they actually were, especially at night. "A magnifying effect, " he'd called it. In the time since, he had apologized to her several times and berated himself under his breath for misjudging the distance. It had been two years since he'd been up here, he explained, and he never should have trusted in his memory.
Maggie knew little about high elevations except that
291
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the thin air made it hard to breathe. Now the crest of the ridge looked no closer to her than it had when they'd started the climb. She couldn't just lie down and say she was finished. To reach shelter, she had to make it to the top, and Rafe said it was still some distance after that to the line shack.
"I'm fine, " she said between panting breaths. "I just need to rest a sec. "
He nodded and braced his hands on his hips, throwing back his head to pull in a huge draught of icy air.
"Hell of a climb, isn't it? I'm sorry. In summer, when there's no ice, it's not such rough going. I'm about done for myself. "
Maggie could see he was tired, but he looked far from the point of collapse. He was breathing heavily.
Anyone making a climb like this would. But he wasn't frantically struggling for breath, and those long, powerful legs of his looked rock-steady. Her own were trembling and jerking.
"Yeah, " she agreed. "Steep. "
She couldn't manage a lengthier response. Right now, what little oxygen she could filch from the air was needed to fuel her body.
Seconds passed. She could feel him staring at her, an unvoiced
You ready to go on yet?
hanging between them. She gulped and drew on the last reserves of her strength. "Let's go, " she squeezed out.
Standing above her, Rafe watched Maggie push off, his heart catching when one of her feet slipped on the ice. She scrambled for footing, caught her balance, and then stood there, shaking. Whether she would admit it or not, she was finished. He admired her pluck. As exhausted as she obviously was, most people would have been whining and saying they couldn't make it.
Not Maggie. She would keep going until her legs gave out, and then she would try to claw her way up, bless her heart.
Jesus.
He couldn't believe he'd underestimated the distance here. Some rescuer he was turning
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out to be. If he couldn't get her to the line shack, they'd die of exposure, and it'd be his fault.
To make himself feel better, Rafe kept reminding himself that he'd been away from the ranch for a long while. Naturally he had forgotten some things. It was just a hell of a note when his memory failed him in a life-or-death situation. He was a frigging moron, and Maggie was paying the price.
He extended his left hand to her. "Grab hold. "
She stared at his outstretched palm. "I can make it, " she huffed. "You just worry about yourself. I'll be right behind you. "
Rafe had ceased worrying only about himself the instant he'd clapped eyes on her in that boxcar a month ago. She was an irresistible combination of spunk and fragility, his Maggie, the kind of woman who made a man applaud her gutsiness even as he burned to protect her.
Tensing, he watched her struggle to gain more ground. When she got within reach of him, he grabbed her arm. The look she gave him was a mixture of stung pride and gratitude. Through the soggy sleeve of her parka, he could feel how badly her muscles were quivering. Before she could anticipate what he meant to do, he bent to catch her behind the right knee.
When he slung her across his shoulders in a fireman's carry, she wailed, "Oh, my God! Rafe, p-put me d-down!"
"I won't drop you, honey. "
"I'm too heavy. You can't make a climb like this, carrying me. "
"I've carried calves heavier than you are, and for a hell of a lot farther. " He failed to mention it had been a while since he'd done so or that he'd been in much better shape at the time. "I won't even notice I'm packing you. "
Ha-ha. Just in pushing erect, he felt the strain in his legs. He had no intention of wasting his breath to argue
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the point with Maggie, however, so he gave no further response to her many objections as he resumed the climb.
"I'm not helpless!"
No, not helpless,
he thought. But she did have physical limitations that had been intensified recently by pregnancy and serious illness.
"I can make it on my own. "
Yeah, even if she had to crawl.
"Oh, God, Rafe, please... don't do this to yourself. You'll never make it. "
I'll make it,
he vowed grimly to himself. He had to.
When you were being carried on a man's back, Maggie decided, the thoughts that went through your head were as rough and jarring as the ride. That he was wonderfull... and infuriatingly stubborn. That if he had a brain, he'd put her down and make her walk. That she loved him... and wanted to slug him. Or maybe just hug him, instead.
He fought his way to the top of the ridge, killing her a little with every labored breath he drew and every straining step he took. The way was steep and treacherously slick. There was no path to follow. It was a brutal climb over boulders and loose rock that rolled out from under his feet. More than once she felt sure they would go down, but somehow he managed to keep his footing. He was exhausted. She knew he couldn't possibly go on like this. Yet he did. And the stress of worrying about what a burden she must be to him made the idea of walking on her own seem much easier.
She relaxed somewhat after he reached the top of the ridge where the ground evened out, but even then, she felt him stumble under her weight at times. Her heart twisted. She willed herself to be as light as a feather. Fat chance of that. She considered pulling his hair to shock some sense into him.
And, meanwhile, he just kept going, placing one foot
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doggedly in front of the other in an excruciating endurance test of his tendon-roped body. She could hear his chest whistling as he drew each tortured breath. Sometimes when he shifted her weight, she could feel the violent pounding of his heart between his shoulder blades. At one point, he crashed through the ice and fell to his knees. Maggie pleaded with him to put her down as he struggled to stand back up.
He never spoke, not even to tell her to shut up. Maggie suspected he didn't have the breath, and knowing that broke her heart. Oh, God. She was afraid he'd keep pushing himself until he dropped, and then what would she do? As dearly as she loved him, she'd never be able to carry him as he was her.
Hot tears squeezed from her eyes. She could
feel
his exhaustion. Almost taste it. Never—not once in her entire life—had she felt so small and ashamed. He was killing himself for her. She could feel the quivering weariness in his body, every movement an effort that vibrated into her. Yet he kept going, taking just one more step, and then one more.
How much farther was it to the line shack, anyway?
Please, God, don't let it be far.
This was her doing.
She'd gone haring off into the woods. Poor little Maggie, running away to hide. It had been such a stupid and childish thing for her to do. And why? Because she hadn't believed he could love her after hearing the ugly truth.
Well... if this wasn't love, what was it? A serious case of like?
He fell again. This time, he hit the snow chest-first. Maggie's right knee dug through the ice. Her frozen flesh felt as if it shattered, pain lancing from her toes to her hip. She blocked out the pain, her concern all for Rafe. He just lay there for a moment with her hipbone riding the back of his neck, his face shoved against the ice. She struggled to get off of him, but his hold on her was unbreakable.
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"Oh, God, Rafe, let me go!" she cried with a sob. "You can't do this. "
With strength she couldn't believe he had, he straightened his back with all her weight still riding his shoulders. Maggie realized he meant to keep her there, no matter what, so she stopped struggling.
"Rafe, please. I'm rested now. " It was a lie. She wasn't sure she could walk. But, oh, God, she had to try.
"I can make it on my own. Honest. "
"Snow—too deep, " he rasped out. "Not much farther. "
He struggled back to his feet. She had a horrible suspicion he'd used the last reserves of his strength a half mile back, and that now he was operating on sheer force of will. What if his heart gave out? Her mom had seemed perfectly healthy before her illness began to manifest itself. Oh, God, she would never forgive herself for this.
Maggie nearly wept when she finally saw the dark outline of a structure ahead of them. She fixed her gaze on the bleary silhouette of the building, hoping Rafe wouldn't fall again before they reached it.
When he staggered to a stop a few feet from the line shack's door, he just stood there with his legs braced apart, staring at it. Maggie suspected that he was so exhausted, he could scarcely think, let alone determine what he needed to do next, She was about to suggest he put her down when his knees buckled. He dropped hard, somehow managing even then to keep her on his shoulders.
She heard his lungs whining and saw clouds of vapor rising in front of his face. Through tears, she stared at his sharply carved profile. Wet shocks of hair lay flat against his forehead, Droplets of sweat had frozen on his cheeks. His mouth hung open as he grabbed for oxygen.
"Rafe?"
He relaxed his hold on her, " and she slid down his
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back to plop on the frozen snow. As she rolled onto her hands and knees, he braced his palms on his thighs and hung his head. Even with the thick leather coat blanketing his torso, she could see that he was shaking violently.
"Made it. " He heaved out the words.
Maggie shoved herself erect. Her legs felt rubbery and numb. She staggered to keep her feet, accepting as she did that he'd been right; she couldn't have walked all the way here.
Done for. Those two words had aptly described her condition back on the slope, and they described his now. Maggie swung toward the shack. As she covered the distance to the door, she careened like a drunk.
The crudely fashioned portal was held closed with a piece of board nailed to the wood. Her half-frozen fingers screamed with pain as she fumbled to turn it.
She stepped back to draw the door open. It didn't budge. She glanced down and saw that a frozen drift held it closed. Sinking to her knees and blocking out the agony that exploded from her fingers to her shoulders, she clawed at the ice, her one thought to get the door open and Rafe inside.
He was still kneeling on the ice when she went back for him. She leaned over and grabbed his arm with both hands. "Rafe? Let's go in. "
He shook his head as if to come awake and then stared at the doorway as if it were a thousand miles away. Then he began struggling to his feet. Maggie tried to help, but her arms were so leaden, she couldn't lend much assistance.
When he threw an arm over her shoulders and his weight came down, her legs nearly buckled. She staggered, regained her balance, and somehow aimed their lurching footsteps toward the shack. Three steps, four. She strained with all her might to support him.
Suddenly—like a huge tree knocked flat in a gale— he started to go down. Maggie screamed, twisting to
298 CATHERINE ANDERSON
shove her shoulder against his chest in an attempt to catch him. The next thing she knew, she was lying on her back like a kid making snow angels. She blinked and stared stupidly at the stars twinkling above her. As her senses cleared, she twisted onto her knees, got back up, and stared dizzily at her husband.
Husband.
Not a fairy-tale prince on temporary loan. Not some dream come true that she could blink away and pretend wasn't real when the going got rough. He was a flesh-and-blood man who'd laid his heart at her feet, and God forgive her, she'd walked all over it, throwing his love for her back in his face, denying him the right to touch her, and doubting him at every turn. Then, as the proverbial icing on the cake, she'd run away from him into the woods like a spoiled, not-very-bright child.
On legs that wobbled, Maggie made her way back to him. He had carried her on his shoulders for miles, half of that distance straight uphill and on ice that had made every step treacherous. She could surely get him into the cabin.
She leaned down and grabbed his hands, not allowing herself to think the word "can't. " She
would,
Straining with all she had, she dragged him an inch at a time to the doorway. Then, stripping off her parka and bundling it under his head to protect his face, she managed to pull him across the threshold into the black void of the shack. He muttered something unintelligible.
"It's all right, " she panted out. "It'll be all right now, Rafe. We made it. "
Her back connected with a sharp corner of wood as she struggled to get him far enough into the dark room to close the door. She ignored the pain, just as she did the quivering weariness in her limbs.
It'll be
all right.
She remembered how he'd held her so gently in his arms on their so-called wedding night, whispering that promise to her, over and over.