Dara caught up with his long strides a second later. They walked in silence up the slope, their boots thudding on the hard dirt. So how do you know about the bridge? she asked.
He reined in the suspicion building inside, slid her a glance. If she was lying, hed find out soon enough. I use the old trails when Im hauling silver or gold.
Youre a miner?
No. Im not that desperate. Not anymore.
What do you mean?
He paused, whistled for the gelding, then caught up to her again. Youve never seen a mining town? Theyre slums, he told her when she shook her head. Worse than slums. Theres no running water, no sanitation, no laws. Just violence and disease. Mercury poisons the water, the air. Human waste runs in open pits down the roads.
His mind flashed to the squalor and suffering,
the dull hopelessness in the childrens eyes. The same blank look he would have had in his eyes if hed stayed.
He thinned his lips. The mines are worse. Theyre not fit for animals. The operations up here arent modern, and there arent safety regulations or lawsat least none they enforce. Tunnels collapse. Men die. The miners chew coca leaves all day so theyll be numb enough to dig.
Butthats awful, she said, and stopped. And he saw the horror in her eyes, the shock. Why would anyone live like that?
Desperation. A feeling he knew well. They either dig or die. Theres nothing else they can do.
Her gaze stayed on his for a beat, and something moved in her eyes, a glimmer of understanding, empathy. She looked away.
They started walking again, and for a long moment neither spoke. Their footsteps crunched on the hard dirt path. A hawk glided past, then banked on a current of air. Is that why you have the dynamite? she finally asked. For the miners?
Yeah. I haul the finished metal down to the nearest town and bring back supplies. I was supposed to meet a miner in that village, but he didnt show.
Her gaze slid to the pistol tucked into the waistband of his jeans, and a small crease furrowed her brow. Your job sounds dangerous.
He shrugged. Most men leave me alone.
Instead, theyd attacked his wife.
The thought barreled out of nowhere, catching him off guard, and he scowled. He never dwelled on the past, never discussed his wife. He didnt have to. He would carry the burden of her death until he died.
Logan. Dara touched his sleeve, and he stopped, looked into her sultry eyes. Im sorry. I really am. I didnt mean to cause problems for the miners or keep you from your job.
The concern in her eyes drew him in, pulling him deeper, sparking a flicker of warmth in his chest, the flame of a long-buried need. Tempting him to move closer, to surround himself with her gentleness, her sympathy, her ease.
He shook himself, jerked his gaze away.
But he had to admit she seemed to care, more than his wife ever had. María had hated the mountains, resented the time hed spent away from her, blamed him for taking her from the city she loved.
In the end, shed been right to despise him. Hed failed to protect her. Hed let her die. Hell, hed even failed to find the men whod killed her. Her murderers still walked free.
And now he had another womans life in his hands.
The earth vibrated under his feet then, and the drumming of hooves interrupted his thoughts. Tension whipped through him, and he grabbed her arm. Back here. Moving quickly, he jerked her behind a boulder beside the trail.
Isnt that your horse? she whispered as he pushed her down.
Maybe. But he wouldnt take any chances until he was sure. He blocked her from view, tugged the pistol from his jeans, took position behind the rock. But she pulled out her own gun, and he shot her a warning glance. Shed better not do anything rash. That had been damned reckless behavior back at the bridge.
Behavior hed better nip fast.
The gelding trotted into view, and she started to rise. Wait. He clamped his hand on her shoulder and held her down.
The gelding scented them, came to a halt, but Logan didnt move. He kept his eyes on the trail, listened hard. The cool wind brushed his face. Sparrows chirped from a nearby bush. When a chinchilla crept into the path, he finally let Dara go.
Its clear. Hey, Rupe. He tucked his pistol away, strode to the horse.
Is he all right? Dara asked from behind him.
He circled the gelding and checked his hooves, eyed the lather dried on his coat. Nothing a brush wont fix.
Im glad. She reached out and stroked the geldings nose. Hes a gorgeous horse.
Hes smart, loyal. Thats more important than looks. In horses or people.
Another lesson hed learned the hard way.
He checked the cinch, the packs, then glanced at Dara again. Her cheeks were flushed. Shadows smudged the skin around her eyes. Loose strands of hair had escaped her braid, and gleamed like black silk against her neck.
She looked weary, disheveled. His sympathy rose, but he quickly crushed it down. He couldnt afford to indulge her. He couldnt even fully trust her. They had a long, dangerous trek through the mountains before he could get her to a decent town.