Only 05 - Autumn Lover

of the scabbard. Even as she tried to raise the gun, she knew it would be too late.
    The bull had already turned to hook her. Horns gleamed wickedly.
    Three rifle shots rang out, so closely spaced that they sounded like brief thunder.
    The brindle longhorn lurched, took one more stride, slammed against Leopard, and fell. The big horse staggered before he gathered himself and started to run again.
    Elyssa barely managed to hang on.
    Rifle trained on the longhorn, using his knees to guide Bugle Boy, Hunter closed in on the fallen bull. Trained for the surprise and noise and blood of battle, Bugle Boy obeyed despite the nervous flicker of his ears and his edgy, stiff-legged strides.
    The longhorn was quite dead. Two of the three bullets had gone through his heart.
    Hunter looked up and saw Leopard not thirty feet away, approaching with mincing strides and rolling eyes. Elyssa was pale, but the barrel of the shotgun she was holding never moved from the fallen longhorn.
    Hunter’s eyes went over her like quick hands, searching for injuries. He saw none. His breath came out in a rush of relief.
    I wouldn’t have given a wooden nickel for her chances when that damned bull came charging at her .
    Never had Hunter drawn and fired his rifle so quickly. He hoped he would never have to do it again.
    He might not be that lucky twice.
    “I told you to run,” Hunter said harshly.
    “I did.”
    “Not far enough. If I had missed—”
    “You didn’t,” Elyssa interrupted. “Thank you.”
    Hunter let out another rough breath and looked back at the big longhorn.
    “I was lucky,” he said flatly.
    “You’re an excellent shot. If you hadn’t been so quick, the bull would have hooked Leopard.”
    “Or you.”
    “Yes,” she whispered. “Or me.”
    Elyssa closed her eyes, then opened them quickly. When she closed her eyes she saw the bull charging all over again, felt again the certainty of her own injury or death.
    “Thank you,” Elyssa said through trembling lips.
    With a curt gesture, Hunter turned aside her thanks. He was angry with himself for feeling so protective of Elyssa and angry with her for making him notice how desirable she was with every breath she took.
    The longer Hunter looked at her, the harder it was to keep his hands off of her.
    Whatever happened to “once burned, twice shy ”? he asked himself bitterly.
    Why is it so damned hard to remember that Elyssa is a wide-eyed little flirt who is hell-bent on seducing every man in sight ?
    Remember Mickey. She’s supposed to be as good as engaged to him, and she walked by him like a dirty shirt to flirt with me .
    Why can’t I remember that when I look at her and want her until I can’t think for the wildfire in my blood ?
    There was no answer to Hunter’s silent, savage questions.
    Nor was there any relief from the fierce arousal that had come in the aftermath of his fear for Elyssa.
    “Is this one of those high-country longhorns you were talking about?” Hunter asked.
    The roughness of his voice was as much a warning to Elyssa as the bleak intensity of his eyes.
    Hunter was furious.
    She stared down at the dead longhorn. An old, blurred Ladder S brand was on the bull’s hip. An even older, unreadable brand was just below that of the Ladder S.
    “It is Bedamned,” she said, surprised. “I wonder what brought him out of the high country.”
    Hunter levered another round into the firing chamber of his rifle. He looked toward the willow- and brush-choked ravine that had concealed Bedamned until it was almost too late.
    “Follow me,” Hunter said. “Stay behind me and keep real quiet so we can hear if something is sneaking around in the brush.”
    Hunter turned and fixed Elyssa with a level stare.
    “I mean it,” he said. “ Stay behind me . Don’t go galloping off on your own no matter what happens.”
    Numbly Elyssa nodded.
    “Keep that shotgun handy,” Hunter added as heturned away. “It’s better than a rifle in close quarters.”
    Again Elyssa nodded. She was grateful that she had the shotgun to hang on to. Her hands had developed an annoying tendency to tremble.
    She gripped the gun even tighter so that Hunter wouldn’t see how badly her fingers were shaking.
    Elyssa needn’t have bothered. Hunter wasn’t looking at her. He was backtracking the bull at a trot, his rifle at the ready. The tracks weren’t difficult to follow. The bull’s hooves had dug deeply into the ground with the force of his charge.
    Ears pricked, eyes