inside the huge open doors to listen for movement or talking, then ran back outside and around the building. “You lying jerk!” she shouted, scanning the edge of the woods for any sign of him or Shep, or even Reggie’s ATV tracks.
“Are ye intending to roost there all day?”
Birch twirled to see Niall leading a giant horse out of the pasture. “I brought you water,” she shouted, running to him.
“I drank from the hose in the barn,” he said as he clipped a second rope onto the halter. He then vaulted onto the horse’s back and held a hand down to her. “Swing up behind me and hold on.”
She took a step back and glanced around, then used the water to gesture at the pickup beside the barn. “Maybe the keys are in the truck.”
Niall plucked the glass out of her hand and tossed it away, then reached down to her again. “Do ye not think Vaughn would have taken it himself if he could reach the headwaters by truck?”
“There’s no saddle.”
“Scots learn to ride before we can walk.” He wiggled his fingers. “Don’t chicken out on me now, lass. I can deal with Vaughn and Reggie, but the women need you.”
“Merde,”
Birch muttered, reaching for his hand.
“Jump,” he said on a chuckle, pulling her up behind him. “Hold on,” he added just as the horse broke into a plodding gallop or lope or whatever it was called before she’d even gotten her balance.
Holding on to Niall as if her life depended on it—which she was pretty sure it did—Birch pressed her face into his jacket to keep from bursting into hysterical laughter as she tried to decide which one of them was crazier. Because honestly, who in their right mind chased after runaway teenagers on a
plow horse
?
Forget not having a saddle; even she knew Niall needed a bridle to steer. And what was up with all that “I’m Scots” business, anyway? Had the man been reading her mom’s historical romance novels or something and gotten the idea that just because he was descended from Scottish highlanders that he could crumble castle walls, steal a kiss from the liberated damsel, and charge off on a mighty steed to rescue a family from a villainous ogre?
Well, okay; maybe he was two for three this morning. No, two and a half, as they definitely were charging somewhere.
Still, if Chief MacKeage were the crazy one, what did that make her for galloping to the rescue right along with him?
Chapter Seven
Niall guided the surprisingly cooperative horse up the path in the direction Shep had disappeared, not at all surprised Birch was riding with him, considering the woman didn’t seem to know the meaning of caution. Granted, he’d all but dared her to swing up behind him, but only because he didn’t doubt she would strike out on her own if he left without her. And to his thinking, it was better to know exactly where Birch was rather than have her popping up in the middle of a potentially deadly situation.
He may not recall having met Ike Vaughn in town, but he’d certainly dealt with his kind—in a couple different centuries now, actually. Self-important bastards like Vaughn would willingly fight to the death defending their property or beliefs, and they didn’t care who they took down with them.
When the narrow tote road he was following forked, Niall veered left without letting the horse break stride, as Reggie’s ATV tires were leaving a trail a blind man could follow. He did have to reach back and catch Birch, however, when she veered right with a startled yelp.
“A warning would be nice,” she muttered as he slid her upright. “Unlike you, I didn’t learn to ride before I could walk. Ow!” she yelped, nearly falling off again as she jerked away. “Your stupid gun keeps poking me.”
Niall gave a heavy sigh and reined the horse to a stop, then twisted to grab her. “Let go,” he said, giving a tug when she clung to him like a cat on a screen.
“No, don’t make me get off!” she cried, batting him away, then wrapping
“Are ye intending to roost there all day?”
Birch twirled to see Niall leading a giant horse out of the pasture. “I brought you water,” she shouted, running to him.
“I drank from the hose in the barn,” he said as he clipped a second rope onto the halter. He then vaulted onto the horse’s back and held a hand down to her. “Swing up behind me and hold on.”
She took a step back and glanced around, then used the water to gesture at the pickup beside the barn. “Maybe the keys are in the truck.”
Niall plucked the glass out of her hand and tossed it away, then reached down to her again. “Do ye not think Vaughn would have taken it himself if he could reach the headwaters by truck?”
“There’s no saddle.”
“Scots learn to ride before we can walk.” He wiggled his fingers. “Don’t chicken out on me now, lass. I can deal with Vaughn and Reggie, but the women need you.”
“Merde,”
Birch muttered, reaching for his hand.
“Jump,” he said on a chuckle, pulling her up behind him. “Hold on,” he added just as the horse broke into a plodding gallop or lope or whatever it was called before she’d even gotten her balance.
Holding on to Niall as if her life depended on it—which she was pretty sure it did—Birch pressed her face into his jacket to keep from bursting into hysterical laughter as she tried to decide which one of them was crazier. Because honestly, who in their right mind chased after runaway teenagers on a
plow horse
?
Forget not having a saddle; even she knew Niall needed a bridle to steer. And what was up with all that “I’m Scots” business, anyway? Had the man been reading her mom’s historical romance novels or something and gotten the idea that just because he was descended from Scottish highlanders that he could crumble castle walls, steal a kiss from the liberated damsel, and charge off on a mighty steed to rescue a family from a villainous ogre?
Well, okay; maybe he was two for three this morning. No, two and a half, as they definitely were charging somewhere.
Still, if Chief MacKeage were the crazy one, what did that make her for galloping to the rescue right along with him?
Chapter Seven
Niall guided the surprisingly cooperative horse up the path in the direction Shep had disappeared, not at all surprised Birch was riding with him, considering the woman didn’t seem to know the meaning of caution. Granted, he’d all but dared her to swing up behind him, but only because he didn’t doubt she would strike out on her own if he left without her. And to his thinking, it was better to know exactly where Birch was rather than have her popping up in the middle of a potentially deadly situation.
He may not recall having met Ike Vaughn in town, but he’d certainly dealt with his kind—in a couple different centuries now, actually. Self-important bastards like Vaughn would willingly fight to the death defending their property or beliefs, and they didn’t care who they took down with them.
When the narrow tote road he was following forked, Niall veered left without letting the horse break stride, as Reggie’s ATV tires were leaving a trail a blind man could follow. He did have to reach back and catch Birch, however, when she veered right with a startled yelp.
“A warning would be nice,” she muttered as he slid her upright. “Unlike you, I didn’t learn to ride before I could walk. Ow!” she yelped, nearly falling off again as she jerked away. “Your stupid gun keeps poking me.”
Niall gave a heavy sigh and reined the horse to a stop, then twisted to grab her. “Let go,” he said, giving a tug when she clung to him like a cat on a screen.
“No, don’t make me get off!” she cried, batting him away, then wrapping
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