Westward Moon by Linda Bridey Page B

buttons of his shirt and pushed it off him.  His chest was hard and nicely contoured.  She kissed his warm skin and Jack shuddered. 
                  Jack’s voice was rough with passion as he said, “This isn’t like when we were younger, is it?  It’s so much stronger and I don’t trust myself, Sparrow.”
                  “I don’t trust myself, either.  You’re right; it is more powerful, Jack.”
                  “I keep asking myself what we’re waiting for,” Jack said.  “On one hand, it seems silly not to be with you like that and then my conscience gets to me.  Both are fighting to win and I don’t know which one is going to eventually come out on top.  For right now, it’s my conscience.”
                  So saying, Jack left her and went outside without dressing again.  She went to the door and watched as he jumped off the porch and flopped down face first in the snow.  The cold snow felt good on his heated body and he lay there for a little while.  Sparrow laughed and came over to try to get him up on his feet.
                  “Jack, you’re going to freeze!  You do not even have a shirt on,” she said.             
                  “I don’t care.  It feels good,” he replied.  The snow was helping to cool his ardor.
                  Both of them heard a twig crack somewhere in the woods ahead of them.  They were instantly on the alert.  Jack got up off the ground and acted as if he hadn’t heard the sound. 
    He took Sparrow’s hand and said, “Ok, you win.”
    She looked up at him and smiled.  Sparrow saw the guarded, fearful look on his face and began feeling afraid.  They jumped up on the porch and Jack pushed her inside as quickly as possible.  He slammed the door shut just as an arrow sailed through the air and sank into it.  Jack locked the door and ran for his coat.  He didn’t bother with his shirt. 
                  He hastily shrugged into his coat and ran into his bedroom.  When he came out, Jack held two pistols.  He pressed one into Sparrow’s hand.  “You know what to do with that,” he said.  When he’d first become a deputy, Jack had taught her how to shoot and she was a good shot.
                  Sparrow nodded.  Her dark eyes were wide with fear.  Jack checked out the windows looking out the back of the house but saw no movement.  He loaded his coat pockets with ammo.
                  “We’re gonna make a run for the trail.  Getting to the camp is going to be the best bet for us.  They’re waiting out by the road that goes up to the ranch, so we can’t go that way.  I don’t know if they know that Uncle Marcus had a trail from here.  I hope not.  We’ll go out the study door.  You see any of them, you shoot.  Don’t ask any questions.  Don’t think about it.  Just shoot, ok?”
                  “Yes.  I understand.  I hope I get to kill one,” she said with a smile even though she was frightened.
                  Jack smiled back.  “Me, too.  .Ok, let’s go.”
                  Silently Jack opened the door in the study that led outside.  He was thankful that the hinges didn’t make any noise.  Cautiously they crept out into the snow.  Jack was heartened by the fact that there were no tracks leading to the trail entrance or around the back of the house.  Both of them had their guns at the ready as they began running for the trail.  They made it into the woods, but suddenly found their way blocked by two braves.
                  Jack never hesitated as he raised his pistol and shot one in the head.  Sparrow’s gun went off and the other one spun around as the bullet slammed into his right shoulder.  As they ran by the downed Indians, Jack put another bullet in the one that had only been injured.  He was taking no chances of the