Unrepentant Cowboy by Joanna Wayne

Author:Joanna Wayne
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2013-09-21T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

“Wait, I just want to talk to you,” Leif called as the man made a run for it.

The man ignored his call and ran straight for the thickest wooded area, disappearing among the maze of evergreens, oaks, sycamores, ashes and honey mesquites. Proof enough for Leif that he was up to no good.

Leif darted around tree trunks and through thick underbrush, straining for glimpses of the escaping prowler and trying desperately to gain ground on him. He finally spotted him again, off to his left, but still too far away and moving too fast to get a good look at him.

Leif kept up the chase, maintaining his speed until he hit a low area, where his feet sank into the mush of dead leaves and mud. Even then, he pushed himself to keep up the pace.

Finally, he spotted the man again, this time near a towering pine that had been split by lightning. If he had a weapon, there was no sign of it. Definitely not a hunter. A shotgun or rifle would be easy to spot from this distance.

A few minutes and a little luck and he’d be able to tackle the man to the ground. Leif hurdled a downed limb. His breath burned in his lungs. But he was close enough now to hear the man’s labored breathing as well, so he wasn’t about to turn back.

He powered through an area of thick undergrowth, leaping over a low thorny shrub, clearing it without trouble. But then his right foot tangled with a clump of vines. Struggling to remain upright, Leif groped for a low-hanging branch.

He steadied himself without hitting the ground, but those few seconds of delay gave the intruder time to disappear again. Leif paused, hoping to hear footfalls or the scraping of limbs being pushed aside so he’d have a sense of the direction the man had taken.

But it was the sputter and knocking of an engine coming to life that split the silence. Damn. The man was getting away.

A second later, Leif spotted a four-wheeler topping a ravine and vanishing into the thick woods a good hundred and fifty yards from Joni’s back door.

A hundred-and-fifty-yard trek to position himself so that he could spy on Joni. The man was a determined stalker.

A stream of unguarded curses flew from Leif’s mouth, drawing a squawking protest from a murder of crows perched somewhere over his head. He started back to the house, angry at himself for letting the man get away without at least getting close enough to get a good look at him.

He spotted Joni as he reached the clearing near her house. She dashed toward him with a rifle that was almost as big as she was slung over her shoulder. She looked like an adolescent playing Annie Oakley in a school play. He smiled in spite of himself.

“Where are you going with that gun, Annie?”

“To rescue you.”

“I appreciate the concern, but I’m not so much of a city slicker that I can’t take care of myself.

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