Only 04 - Only Love

meadow at a fast canter.
    “Whip!” Shannon called. “I didn’t—I really didn’t mean to ask for your love!”
    Nothing came back to her but the fading drumroll of Sugarfoot’s hooves.
    Only when Whip was out of sight did Shannon notice that he had left his pack animal and all the supplies with her. She stared at Crowbait’s patient brown eyes and fought not to cry out against the sadness that was sweeping over her like a cold wind.
    Even though Whip was furious, he had thought of her welfare rather than his own.
    “Whip!” Shannon called. “Come back! I can’t help loving you any more than you can help not loving me!”
    Only silence answered Shannon, a silence that echoed with Whip’s good-bye.
    I want you like hell on fire, but I won’t give up my soul to have you. That’s what love is, honey girl. Giving up your soul.

12
    P RETTYFACE nudged Shannon and whined deep in his throat. The movement and the sound reminded her that she was standing in front of her cabin with tears cold on her face. Taking a deep breath, she concentrated on the long list of things that must be done if she was to get through the summer, much less the coming winter.
    Crying definitely wasn’t on the list.
    She put one hand under Prettyface’s big jaws and rubbed his head with her other hand. His shrewd wolf’s eyes glazed with pleasure. She smiled slightly, smoothed thick fur back into place, and put her cheek against his broad head.
    “I’ll be all right, Prettyface,” she said. She straightened and released him. “Go rustle up your dinner while I unpack Crowbait and Razorback and picket them in the meadow.”
    Prettyface stood, head cocked, watching Shannon.
    “Go on, boy. I know you’re hungry. The pickings were pretty slim for you up in Grizzly Meadow. Go.”
    Waving her arm in the direction of the meadowand forest beyond the cabin, Shannon repeated her soft command.
    After a moment Prettyface turned and trotted off to the edge of the meadow. He put his nose to the ground and began quartering the area for scent of game.
    Shannon turned to Crowbait and Razorback. She unsaddled the mule, switched bridle for halter, and turned to the packhorse. As she worked over the neat diamond hitches securing the supplies, she felt tears crowding her eyes again. It had been Whip’s hands that had tied the knots, Whip’s hands that had loaded the pack saddle, Whip’s hands that had smoothed the blanket pad in place and adjusted the halter.
    “Don’t think about it,” Shannon whispered. “There’s too much to be done. Crying over a stubborn yondering man won’t butter any biscuits.”
    Shannon tried not to, but her hands still lingered over the pack saddle and supplies, touching everything that Whip had touched, until finally everything was put away in its place. Numbly she led the animals into the meadow to picket them so that they could graze their fill of the sweet grasses.
    Just as Shannon was driving in the second picket pin, she heard Prettyface break into savage barking. Her heart hesitated, then beat frantically.
    Prettyface made that sound only when strangers came too close.
    Motionless, cursing herself for being so addled by Whip’s leaving that she had forgotten to carry the shotgun, Shannon scanned the meadow’s edge for any sign of men.
    Abruptly two long-legged mules appeared at the edge of the concealing forest and came swiftly toward Shannon. She leaped to her feet and spuntoward the cabin, only to find two more Culpeppers between her and the shotgun she had stupidly left behind.
    Shannon didn’t waste any breath calling for help. There was no one around but Prettyface, and he had already warned her. She whirled away from the two-pronged attack and raced for the forest, praying that she had enough speed to make the cover of the trees ahead of the racing mules.
    Before Shannon was halfway to the forest, the beating of hooves sounded louder and louder in her ears. Even as she strained to run faster, she knew she was losing the race. She simply wasn’t quick enough to reach the trees before the Culpeppers caught her.
    A long, wiry arm reached out and grabbed Shannon just beneath the rib cage. Darcy wasn’t strong enough to lift his struggling prize into the saddle, but he hung on no matter how hard she clawed and bit and screamed.
    “Clim was right,” Darcy crowed, slowing his mule. “She’s plumb full of piss and vinegar!”
    Beau grunted. It had been the extent of his conversation ever since he