Free Savage Thunder by Johanna Lindsey

hers was real soft on the ears.
    He turned to stare at the dust cloud making its way toward them. Her people, he hoped, considering the size of that cloud indicated quite a few riders. He replaced the rounds in his gun just in case.
    He glanced at her again and saw that she had produced a small lacy square of cloth from somewhere and was dabbing it at her forehead. That sweet scent of hers drifted more strongly to him, stirring his bloodagain. Damn, but she was dangerous. Each time he looked at her, she somehow got prettier and definitely more desirable. And each time she looked at him with those beautiful green eyes, he had to fight down old instincts. If he had come across her six years ago, he would have simply ridden off with her and made her his. But he was “civilized” now and so couldn’t follow his natural inclinations anymore.
    But those instincts were strong, too strong, the reason that he didn’t dare stick around to help her out with her troubles. It’d be different if she didn’t already have help, more than enough help from the look of it. Then he would have no choice, because he damn well didn’t like the idea of someone wanting to hurt her. She might not belong out here, but she was here, and she had crossed his path. He was going to worry about her now until she was safe. Just what he needed.
    “Those your people riding in?”
    Jocelyn started at his question, barely heard through the ringing in her ears from the gunshots. She had been trying to think of some way to change his mind about working for her. She didn’t want him to just ride off to where she might never see him again. That was imperative, though she had yet to wonder why.
    She saw the riders now, and recognized Sir Parker Grahame out in front. “Yes, my escort, and quite a few of the servants, by the look of it.”
    “I’ll be taking off, then. Your men can find your team staked out at the river, less than a mile east of here—that is, if someone hasn’t come along and stolen them by now.”
    The unspoken words were implicit in his tone. If her horses were gone, so would be his gear.
    “Thank you. I’m sure they will be easily recovered. But are you certain you won’t change your mind and—”
    “Ma’am, that’s a small army you have bearing down on us. You don’t need me.”
    “We will need a guide, however.”
    “You can find one in Tombstone.”
    Jocelyn gritted her teeth as she followed him to his horse and watched him mount. He obviously wasn’t for hire, for any reason.
    “Where is this town you mentioned?”
    “About six miles or so directly across the San Pedro. It’s big enough that you can’t miss it.”
    “Do you live there, by any chance?”
    “No, ma’am.”
    “But will I see you there, do you think?”
    “I doubt it.”
    He hadn’t looked at her since he headed for his horse, but he did now, and had to grip his saddle horn. The disappointment was vivid in her expression, pulling at his gut with invisible cords. What the hell did she want from him? Didn’t she know she was courting trouble with that look?
    “I really wish you would reconsider,” she said in a soft, imploring voice that wrapped around him, making him groan.
    It was too much on top of everything else she made him feel. He had to get the hell out of there.
    “Forget it, lady. I don’t need that kind of trouble.”
    She didn’t know he was referring to her and nother problems. She stood there and watched him ride away, feeling guilty for trying to embroil him in what was a very dangerous situation. He was right to refuse her. He had helped her enough as it was. But blast it all, she didn’t want to see the last of him.

Chapter Six
    E d Schieffelin had been warned by the post commander at Fort Huachuca when he set out into the Apache-infested wilderness of southeastern Arizona that all he would find was his tombstone. The longtime prospector ignored the warning, and when he found the “strike” of his dreams, promptly named it