There'd been an awkwardness between them this morning. He'd caught her glance when they'd been first riding out. Thought he read something that gave him great hope.
But she'd been quiet and distant. He was looking forward to the break they'd give the horses.
Maybe it was time to cash in on the boons he'd won.
Adam saw the man—so much taller and more muscular than Breanna—start down the hill. From here, he couldn't see the man's features. Was it the one who'd threatened her before?
Then the man draw his horse right up to her.
Adam shouted a warning. But it was utterly useless.
She tumbled off her horse.
The path was lined with huge boulders and smaller rocks. If she landed wrong... They were miles from any kind of help. Who even knew if that town he'd seen on the horizon had a doctor?
He started up the hill without thinking that it might've been faster to get back on his horse. Breanna’s horse had galloped several paces away and then stopped.
"Breanna!"
She didn't answer, and his past entwined with the present for too many breaths as he struggled up the hill.Please, don't let her neck be broken. Or her back. Don't let her be bleeding out.
The rough cowboy galloped past him, sending a scornful glance and rocks skittering. Adam had to fight for his footing but got a glance at the man's scarred cheek and dead eyes.
For a blinding second, Adam thought of jumping toward the man. He could grab his leg, rip him bodily off the horse. Pummel him. Kill him.
But Breanna needed him.
He couldn't bear it if he lost someone else on his watch.
He continued up the slope, gasping for breath. When he finally reached her, he slid to his knees beside her on the rocky ground, barely noticing that he’d ripped the knee of his pants. She was prone, face-down, her hat obscuring her face.
He pulled it away. "Breanna!"
There was no blood. And her lashes were dark against the pale, unblemished cheeks.
She breathed in a quivering breath and then again, more deeply.
She struggled for words, and he bent his head close to hers. "My horse?" came her broken whisper.
Relief rushed through him with a roar. If she were asking about her horse, she couldn't be on death's doorstep. Or maybe she could. This was Breanna, after all.
But beautiful color filled her face, and she was already starting to push off the ground.
"Easy," he said. He put a hand beneath her arm to help her sit upright.
He glanced around. He hadn't even considered the horse in his single-mindedness to get to his woman.
"There." He jerked his chin, not wanting to let go of her now that he'd gotten both hands on her shoulders.
The horse was standing nearby, waiting. A well-trained animal. And it looked fine, not that he was in a rush to check it.
She was still working to steady her breaths.
"What hurts?" He ran both hands down her arms. She flinched slightly when he touched her left wrist. He studied it, but it seemed fine from the outside. No cuts or scrapes.
"Anywhere else?"
She shook her head, but he cupped her jaw with both hands. "You've a scrape, here." He gently rubbed his thumb beneath a raw spot at her jaw.
