But there seemed to be no place else to take refuge against the rising tempest, and at this point the bluffs were too steep to climb, so they trekked on, despairing ever to ride out of the storm. Assessing the sky once more, Elizabeth glanced anxiously at Cutter. He seemed deep in thought, surveying the swirling heavens. His long hair snapped behind him in the breeze.
“Looks like we’re in for one helluva squall!” Cutter bellowed suddenly, glancing at her.
As though in response, the wind picked up, plastering Elizabeth’s wet blouse to her bosom. Her skirt billowed out around her. It fluttered wildly, snapping near as loud as the thunder overhead. Instinctively she lowered the brim of Cutter’s hat to shield her face from the buffeting wind. Cocking her head into the bluster, she looked pleadingly at Cutter. “Shouldn’t we find shelter or something?” she asked him.
The wind plastered his wet, dark hair to his head. Rainwater dripped from his bangs into his mouth as he spoke. “What do you think I’ve been doing?” he retorted. “You happen to see someplace I don’t?” One brow rose in challenge, channeling rainwater onto his aquiline nose. As he watched her, his hand darted up to swipe at his face, and then tore into his wet hair, removing the offending strands from his forehead. It lingered in his glistening black mane as he stared at her.
His eyes took in the shape of her wet blouse, the way it molded about her breasts. He lifted his gaze to her face. Slitting suddenly, his eyes glittered like the blackest onyx.
As she watched him, a shiver darted down Elizabeth’s spine that had little to do with the cold swiftly settling into her bones. Answering his challenge, her own eyes quickly scanned the horizon as she turned the mustang mare in a full circle. And then she whirled Cocoa suddenly, glimpsing something over her shoulder. It was barely visible with her sorry vision and the swirling rain, yet there—a darker shading of rock against the bluff—and she whirled the mare about to examine it more closely, reining in. No matter how hard she squinted, she couldn’t see it clearly enough.
“What about that?” she appealed, her tone rising with the wind. Cocoa pranced restlessly beneath her as she indicated the black shadow in the light stone. She couldn’t really see much at this distance, but she wasn’t about to admit as much to Cutter. She had to trust that his vision was at least slightly better than her own.
Cutter wheeled his mount about, his eyes squinting against the gusts, but to her surprise, he showed no reaction at all.
He shook his head, and then seeing another possibility near it, conceded, “Maybe.” His shadowed eyes met hers, then glanced upward as a bolt of electric white lit up the sky. “Might be as good as it gets,” he warned her. With a brisk nod, he urged Elizabeth on ahead.
Thunder exploded around them, the sound too loud and too violent for peace of mind.
Elizabeth cringed, her eyes widening fearfully.
Seeing her bloodless expression, Cutter booted the tail end of her mount. “Ride!” he shouted, and then spurred his own mount.
Elizabeth cried out and gripped the saddle horn for dear life.
Chapter Twelve
Reaching the craggy bluff first, Cutter motioned for Elizabeth to stay put.
“Why’d you hafta kick my horse?” she demanded at once, seeking courage in her wrath, but he ignored her, leaving her to wait in the downpour while he inspected the grotto.
“You could have killed me!” she shouted as he returned to seize her reins. Raindrops sparkled in her lashes, making it difficult to see his face through the haze. Furiously Elizabeth swiped at her wet face, running her fingers upward into her sopping hair, lifting it out of her face.
Without a word, Cutter led her around to where a small opening was discernible. Dismounting, he fell to his knees and crawled into the narrow crevice, backing out almost immediately. Still without speaking, he stood, whisking Elizabeth off her mount and setting her on her unsteady feet. He urged her down onto her knees. The rain pattered Elizabeth’s back without mercy as she obeyed.
But as she began to crawl within, a thought occurred to her, chilling her to the bone, and she hesitated. “What about the river? Won’t it rise with the rain?” Drowning was the very last thing she wished to do!
“The river’s low!” Cutter shouted over the downpour. “It’ll rise, but not nearly enough—now, get in, and get cozy!” He coaxed her under the narrow overhang and into the wider cavity beyond. Thunder erupted, and though Cutter’s lips were moving, she couldn’t hear his next words
“... Stay... hold the fort,” he finished, backing out almost at once.
As she realized that he was leaving her, Elizabeth’s eyes went wide, and she started to follow him out, terrified of being left alone.
Cutter shoved her back with a fierce glare. “Chrissakes, woman! I said t’ stay, and I mean stay!” As though an afterthought, he seized his hat from her head and began to back out once again.
Again thunder cracked, reverberating clear into the solid rock. Even the ground seemed to tremble beneath them. Panicking, Elizabeth grasped Cutter’s fingers, the last reachable part of him, her eyes pleading. “Cutter! P-Please wait!”
He shook off her trembling hands, his black eyes spearing her. “Trust me,” was all he said, his tone unyielding, and then he was sliding out again.
Frantic, Elizabeth followed as far as the entrance to watch him go, her heart in her throat. Rain and wind buffeted her face, but fear held her immobile as, before her eyes, his form blurred and was swallowed by the gray mist and rain.
Trust.
There was that word again.
But she did trust him... s-she did!
She did trust him.
