With the rope slung over his shoulder, he set off at a ground-eating stride. The lady wasn’t going anywhere fast, but his danger instincts were prickling. There was only one reason a woman would get herself stranded in the middle of a muskeg. Something—or more likely, someone—was after her.
Whoever that someone might be, it wouldn’t hurt to let them know he was on his way, and that he was armed. He paused long enough to draw the. 44 and fire two shots in the air. As the echo died away, he broke into a run.
* * *
Emma heard the shots. But with her head down, there was no way to tell which direction they were coming from or who was firing. All she could do was stay low and keep moving.
She was nearing the edge of the muskeg. The going was easier here, the ground firmer beneath her weight. But she was wet and shivering with exhaustion. Beyond the ring of scraggly brush and devil’s club, the evergreen forest lay deep in twilight shadows. She might be able to hide among the trees, but with the dogs on her trail, how far could she run without shoes?
There was no sign of Boone, but that didn’t mean he’d given up and left. Emma knew he’d be just out of sight, waiting for the best chance to rush her. As for the pilot—
She gasped as a man stepped out from among the trees. He was tall and dark, dressed in khakis and a heavy shirt. A rope was coiled over one shoulder. The opposite hand gripped a heavy revolver.
“You’re the pilot?” Her teeth were chattering.
“Let’s get you out of here.”
He slid the gun into its holster, then paused as if deciding on a course of action. He’d brought a rope, but by now she was only a few feet from firm ground. Stepping past the edge of the bog, he planted his work boots for balance,
reached down, and caught her bleeding hands. There was no gentleness in his clasp. If anything, his manner suggested that having to rescue her was nothing but an inconvenience.
Emma bit back a whimper as he dragged her off the muskeg. He had just pulled her to her feet when a shot rang out from the forest on the far side of the bog. Missing by inches, the bullet slammed into a tree behind them.
“Get down!” He shoved her to the ground as another bullet whined past. “Sounds like a damned bear rifle,” he muttered. “And the bastard’s a good shot. I’m guessing it’s somebody you know.”
“Yes.” Emma forced the words through chattering teeth. “My husband.”
His stony expression didn’t even flicker. “So why would your husband want you dead?”
“It’s a long story.”
“Come on. And keep low.” Crouching, he yanked her along with him into the safety of the trees. Dry pine needles jabbed her feet. She willed herself not to cry out.
“He’s got dogs,” she said.
“Stay here.” Leaving Emma huddled at the base of a stump, he drew his pistol and moved like a shadow to the edge of the clearing. The sound of the pistol, as he fired across the distance, made her ears ring.
Seconds later he was back, offering an impersonal hand to pull her to her feet.
“Why did you shoot?” she asked him. “You couldn’t have hit anything in the dark.”
“You said he had dogs. Now that he knows I could shoot them, he’ll be less likely to send them after us.” He gripped her arm above the elbow. “Let’s go. The plane isn’t far.”
She took a step. A sharp pine cone jabbed her foot. Emma yelped.
“What now?” He scowled down at her.
“My shoes. I lost them.”
“Hang on.” He adjusted the coil of rope. Scooping her up, he slung her over his shoulder like a fireman carrying an unconscious victim out of a burning house. Her hair dangled down his back. Her hips rode his shoulder. The hand that balanced her rested on the backs of her thighs, just below her rump.
“Comfortable?”
“Don’t even ask.”
“It won’t be for long,” he said, striding out. “Let me know if you hear anybody behind us.”
“What if it’s a bear? Will you drop me and run?”