Free To Find You Again by Maureen McKade

around and resorted to covering her tracks once more in case he was pigheaded enough to follow her. She suspected he wasn't a man to give up easily, which would've been an admirable quality under different circumstances.
    Clementine snorted and stamped her front hooves. It was time to quit woolgathering and continue her search. She urged her mare northeast and prayed she was moving closer to her son.
     
    A cold drizzle started at dusk, forcing Ridge to push Paint harder. Rain would wash away the faint signs of Emma's trail. She'd returned to covering her tracks, which told him she meant for him to find Paint. He didn't know whether to be grateful for her thoughtfulness, or annoyed for giving him cause to feel guilty for taking her back home.
    After hours of following the almost-nonexistent trail, he caught sight of a small flickering fire. He was too far away to tell if the body moving around it was Emma's, but he suspected it was.
    He dismounted and tied Paint in some sparse shelter. Stepping carefully onto the wet ground, he drew closer to the flames until he recognized the figure. He'd found his prey. Again.
    His attention on Emma, he accidentally kicked a stone and it skittered across the hard ground. As quiet as the sound was, the woman must've heard it. She froze and lifted her head to peer into the darkness.
    His heart pounding, Ridge remained still, ignoring the light rain that continued to fall. Her wary gaze skipped across him and she finally gave her attention back to whatever she was preparing over the tiny fire. He'd do well to remember her keen senses in the future, as well as her uncanny vigilance.
    Letting out his pent-up breath, he sidled closer until he stood only ten feet away, hidden by a tree trunk. With no intention of taking a chance this time, he withdrew his revolver, but didn't cock it. As furious as he was, he recoiled at the thought of even shooting a warning shot if she tried to escape. He only hoped she didn't know that.
    He stepped into the slight clearing.
    Emma froze.
    "Miss Hartwell," Ridge said, his voice a cool parody of politeness.
    Emma stared at him, her expression revealing nothing. Then she leaned over and deliberately stirred the contents of a small kettle hanging over the fire. "Mr. Madoc. Would you like some stew?"
    Ridge caught his smile before it could grow. The woman definitely had spunk. "What'd you put in it?"
    She glanced up at him and her eyes held the hint of a twinkle. "I didn't know I'd be having company."
    "Then I reckon you'd best step away from the food until I'm done eating." He motioned with the barrel of his gun. "Move back."
    "What're you going to do?"
    "Something I should've done last night. It would've saved me a mess of trouble." He motioned with his chin. "Back."
    Her eyes flickered to his revolver. "Are you going to shoot me if I don't?"
    This time he did smile, but it was without warmth or amusement. "Don't worry. I'd just graze you, ma'am."
    Her lips thinned, her humor fleeing. "I doubt my father would appreciate you bringing me back with a bullet wound."
    Ridge snorted. "Your father could barely choose between his precious land and you."
    Emma flinched and her gaze fell, but not before Ridge spotted her humiliation at the plainspoken truth. It was as if she'd suspected all along, and his words confirmed her father's opinion of her. Suddenly he felt like the lowest vermin for hurting her with his rash words.
    "Step back, ma'am," he said, gentling his voice slightly.
    She left her improvised spoon, a stripped twig as thick as her thumb, in the kettle and did as he ordered.
    "That's good enough," Ridge said when she was some feet from the fire. "Now put your hands on your head and leave 'em there."
    She glared at him, her eyes sparking with fury and helplessness, and Ridge was relieved to see the bleak anguish had vanished. He could handle an angry woman, but a teary-eyed one scared the hell out of him.
    With her damp hair straggling in clumps about her face