blur of black-and-tan terrier nipping at its heels. The two animals circled round and round, their tussle taking them ever closer to the edge of the canyon. Did she fire another shot into the air to break up the fight? Or take aim and risk hitting her own dog?
“What do I do? What do I do?” How did she rescue an overzealous guard dog whose opponent was twice as big and could snap his neck in two? The coyote tried to run, but Shasta was too tenacious for his own good. She watched in horror as the dog gave chase. “Let him go.”
The flat, scrubby landscape dropped away into nothing about twenty yards ahead of them. Livesay Canyon. A big, empty ditch carved out by eons of erosion that Nate said had been running water the past couple of days.
The coyote might not be their greatest enemy.
“No—no, no.” A different sort of panic shot adrenaline into Jolene’s legs. She set down the gun and ran. “Shasta!” Without stopping, she tried to whistle. “Come here. Shasta, come!”
But there was no command she could give, no promise of treats that could stop the dog’s instinctive territorial drive. The drop-off loomed before her, growing wider and deeper with every step. “Don’t do it,” she whispered, gasping in air. “Don’t…”
She could see it coming. The tragedy she couldn’t prevent. Wild predator. Unforgiving landscape. The good-hearted dog who got himself into trouble because he wouldn’t listen.
The similarities to someone else she knew weren’t lost on her.
With the devilish imp nipping at his heels, the coyote turned and struck. Jolene gasped and stumbled to a halt, feeling the yelping cry shiver along her spine as if she’d uttered it herself. “Shasta!”
From out of nowhere, the third member of the party dove into the fray. Broody charged to the rescue of his little pal, his big paws beating on the mud-packed earth with the thunder of horse’s hooves. He lunged at the coyote.
The next few seconds passed by in a blur of images. Shasta on the ground. Livesay Canyon like the dark slash of a scar. Broody and the coyote, a mesh of teeth and claws.
The two combatants were poised now at the brink of the canyon’s lip. Both canines struggled for balance, teetered and spun as Jolene raced toward them.
“Broody!” she screamed.
Falling to her knees at the canyon’s edge, Jolene thrust out her hand and snatched at Broody’s black collar as the animals tumbled over the drop. “Gotcha!”
The coyote rolled down the incline, hit a ledge and popped over, out of sight. Jolene gripped the leather collar with both hands and tried to brace herself as Broody struggled to scramble up the muddy embankment.
But it was too late. She was too close to the edge. The dog was too big. Jolene felt herself falling forward. Broody went first, and with her fingers still gripping his collar, Jolene was jerked down the steep slope behind him.
She didn’t remember screaming. She didn’t remember crying out her baby’s name. She tumbled and rolled down the sharp incline onto a rocky ledge.
And then she stopped.
Her lungs burned, her body ached. She had one hand on her belly, one still clinging to Broody’s collar. The big dog was on the ledge beside her, scrambling on his haunches to find a secure place to sit. A splashing sound caught her attention and she saw the coyote crawl out of the creek on the opposite side from them. After shaking himself dry, he trotted away, free and unharmed.
Still fighting to catch a breath, Jolene lay flat on her back and gazed up at the beautiful stripes of orange, lavender, pink and gold that marked the sunset sky.
Amazingly she hadn’t hit her head in that tumble. But she was tired and afraid.
It just felt easier to close her eyes.
She wanted Nate.
CHAPTER TWELVE
GUNFIRE?
Nate’s blood ran cold.
“Oh, no. I didn’t want to hear that.”
He’d dawdled on the ride home, acting like a goofy young man on some kind of romantic mission, stopping to pick black-eyed Susans that had survived the storm.
“Son of a bitch.” He cursed himself for forgetting who he was and why he was here. “Jolene!”
Knowing he was too far away to be heard, he shouted her name anyway, hoping against hope. He dug his heels into Checker’s flanks and urged the big horse into a gallop. “Jolene!”
Had that damn bull gotten out and threatened her? Was there an intruder? Hell. He’d left her alone. She’d had the saddest look in her eyes when