Carol Finch by Fletcher's Woman Read Free Book Online Page A

replaced the rope with metal shackles.
    Muttering, she grabbed modestly at the quilt to cover herself while he glanced around, trying to spot the cave she claimed was in the vicinity.
    “I want my clothes,” she demanded.
    “No. Where the hell is the cave?”
    She glared flaming arrows at him.
    He ignored her.
    When she refused to reply, he said, “We can stand hereall day. Doesn’t make a damn bit of difference to me, Paleface. But then, I’m not the one who’s stark-bone naked and has an astronomical price on my head. If you want to risk being seen and getting shot by vigilantes, that’s your business.” He stared her down. “The warrant reads ‘dead or alive,’ you know.”
    Their gazes locked and they engaged in visual battle. He refused to be the one to back down first.
    Eventually she said, “You don’t have a heart, do you, Fletch? Just a chunk of rock rattling around in your chest.”
    He shrugged nonchalantly. “It’s not a requirement for this job.” His voice was laced with cool detachment. He glanced downhill at the group of men milling around camp. “It’s them or me. Decide who you want to spend the evening with.”
    Her dark eyes flashed fire and brimstone. “The devil or one of his brothers? That’s some choice you’ve given me.”
    She lurched around, gathered the quilt tightly around her and led the way through the trees. Fletch held on to the trailing hem of the blanket—just in case. He almost wished she’d make another run for it so he could feast his eyes on—
    No, you don’t! the sensible voice in his head shouted. Don’t go looking for more trouble. Savanna Cantrell is a barrel load, so don’t push your luck.
    The moment Savanna ducked inside the cavern concealed by a cedar tree, a low warning growl erupted. She instinctively grabbed for a weapon. The only one within reach was the dagger strapped to Fletch’s thigh. She lunged for his knife, but, hampered by the darkness, was slightly off the mark.
    Her fingers inadvertently clenched in his crotch. Fletch sucked in his breath then shoved her hand away to retrieve the knife himself.
    Another growl echoed around the stone walls. Thankfully, her eyes had adjusted to the darkness. She noticed movement off to her left. “There,” she whispered.
    “Probably a badger,” he whispered back. “Vicious little beasts.” He held his pistol—backward—in his left hand like a makeshift club. He clamped the knife in his right fist.
    When the varmint snarled and charged, Fletch struck out with his boot, sending it rolling across the floor. Savanna ducked behind him and curled her bound hands against his hip, giving the impression that she was cowardly seeking his protection.
    Let him think what he wants, she mused.
    Fletch growled as ferociously as the badger, then gave it another kick when it attacked. The beast came back for more and Savanna decided this was the prime opportunity to escape. She wheeled around and took off barefooted, making a beeline toward the Appaloosa. And freedom. She hoped.
    Savanna made it twenty feet before Fletch knocked her off balance and left her sprawled facedown in the grass. He landed on top of her. She gasped for breath—after he’d knocked the wind clean out of her.
    “Damn it, stop trying to escape,” he muttered at the back of her head, after he’d tired of cursing her. “You’re really starting to tick me off. And thank you so much for the help back there.”
    “You were managing fine without me,” she panted. “I thought I’d grab a breath of fresh air while you finished the fight.”
    “Right.” He bounded agilely to his feet, then hauled her up beside him. “So much for your respect for the honor system. Here’s yet another example of why I don’t trust you.”
    To her dismay, Fletch marched her back into the caveand forcefully sat her in the corner. He attached the shackles to a rope that he secured to an oversize boulder that blocked a narrow tunnel leading into the bowels of