Free Carol Finch by The Ranger Page A

for her as he entered, laden down like a pack mule. “She’s afraid I’ll ferret out her last name and hold her for ransom.”
    “Smart woman.” Fletch tossed her an approvingsmile. “It’s nice to finally meet a female who has enough sense to keep her mouth shut occasionally.”
    “She’s skeptical and cautious because she thinks I’m part of the outlaw gang I infiltrated three months ago,” Hawk elaborated. “Even when I flashed my badge she didn’t believe me. She thought I had stolen it, along with this….”
    He fished into the saddlebags to retrieve the stacks of bank notes. Fletch’s eyes widened in astonishment.
    “When I made off with the bandits’ loot, Shiloh presumed I took it for personal gain.”
    “Considering our mixed heritage, what else would you think?” Fletch focused his resentful gaze on Shiloh.
    “Now wait just a blasted minute!” Shiloh snapped as she lurched toward Fletcher. Pain and weariness made her irritable and sensitive. “As I told your brother, it isn’t his heritage that makes me wary. It’s being male. But after he saved my life a couple of times I have revised my low opinion of him. Somewhat, at least. But just because you’re brothers doesn’t mean I’ll take your word. I’d expect you to vouch for him.”
    “Well, at least I’ve been forgiven for the nearly unpardonable sin of being born a man.” Hawk snapped out the padded bedroll, then gestured for Shiloh to make use of it.
    She shook her head. “Fletcher needs the added comfort of soft bedding more than I do.”
    Offended, Fletch glared at her. “And let a woman sleep on the rock floor? Hawk and I might not have been taught the polished manners of white aristocrats, but we sure as hell—heck know better than that!”
    Although the thought of sleeping on bedrock made her cringe, Shiloh knew Fletch was in worse condition.Grabbing the unlit torch to serve as her cane, Shiloh snatched up the bedroll then hobbled over to Fletcher. She shook out the padded pallet then stabbed her finger at it.
    “Don’t argue with me,” she said in a no-nonsense tone. “Hawk can attest that I’m a grouchy shrew. You don’t want me to harp at you the whole livelong night, I assure you.”
    Hawk chuckled when she skewered her face into a witchlike scowl. “Meanest damn female I ever met,” he said, giving his brother a wink and a grin. “Almost as mean as me, in fact. Better not tick her off if you know what’s good for you.”
    “Well, if you insist.” Fletch’s breath sighed out appreciatively as he settled on the soft pallet and propped his head on the saddle.
    “I’d give a month’s wages for some whiskey,” Fletch murmured. “Damn outlaws stole my bottle, my rifle and my horse. The bottle and rifle can be replaced, but my horse is like a personal friend and I take serious offense to that.”
    Hawk’s smile faded and he stared grimly at his ailing brother. “Did you remove the bullet?”
    Fletch shook his head. “I tried, but the pain kept making me pass out before I could dig deep enough.”
    Shiloh watched Hawk grab his dagger, then hold it over the campfire. He set it aside to fish out the whiskey then handed it to Fletch. Although she had been reluctantly impressed with Hawk’s skills and abilities in the wilderness, her admiration doubled while she watched him prepare to perform primitive surgery. By all indication, this wasn’t the first time he’d dug out a bullet.
    Wanting to help, Shiloh limped over to sink down gingerly beside Hawk.
    “Go away, woman,” Fletch demanded tersely. “You don’t need to see a grown man cry or hear him scream.”
    “Nonsense, I live to see men in agony.” She handed him a twig to bite down on. “Get on with it, Hawk. This should be the most fun I’ve had all day.”
    Fletch grabbed the whiskey and took another guzzling swallow, then he thrust the bottle at Shiloh. “Pour this over the wound and I’ll scream bloody murder. Guaran-damn-teed.”
    Shiloh