Wild Is My Heart Read Free Page A

lady.” Colt shook his head disgustedly. “Or why your boyfriend left you and took off with the money. But if you live, you’ve got a hell of a lot of explainin’ to do. And somehow I don’t think the townspeople of Karlsburg will understand your need to rob stagecoaches or terrorize pregnant women.”
    The ranch looked deserted when Colt rode into the yard. Only a few scraggly chickens greeted their arrival. No cowboys were about performing their duties, and from the looks of things, none had been employed in some time. He wondered what or who he’d find in the house. Did the girl have parents? Or a guardian? If so, they were certainly lax in exercising their authority.
    The house was the usual log structure one expected to see in this section of Texas but much larger than most. Colt reckoned that at one time this spread must have been quite prosperous. But now everything looked badly neglected and in need of repair. The outside of the house was peeling, and large chunks of mud caulking had disintegrated into fine dust.
    Colt dismounted awkwardly, still supporting Sam’s unconscious form, and carefully negotiated the three steps to the wide front porch. Kicking the door open, he entered the house and found himself facing the business end of an old-fashioned muzzle-loading shotgun held in the trembling hands of an aging Mexican.
    “What have you done to Senorita Samantha?” the old man demanded.
    Samantha. So that was her name. “Your Senorita Samantha has been wounded. Did you know she held up the stagecoach along with an accomplice? A large amount of gold intended for the bank in Karlsburg is missin’.”
    “Madre mia! I never thought she would go so far.”
    “Who are you?” Colt asked.
    “Sanchez. I am the only one left on the Circle H.”
    “Well, Sanchez, if you have fond feelin’s for this young bandit, put down that gun and show me where to take her and I’ll attempt to save her life. She’s already lost more blood than she can spare.”
    The weapon in Sanchez’s hands wavered, then shifted to point to a hallway, leading, Colt assumed, to the bedrooms. “First door on the right, Senor. What can I do to help?”
    “Have you ever taken out a bullet, Sanchez?” Colt threw over his shoulder as he carried Sam inside the obviously feminine room and placed her in the center of the bed.
    “Many times, Senor,” Sanchez allowed, “but not since I have grown too old and crippled to hold a knife.” He followed Colt into the bedroom and held his hands out for inspection. Besides being misshapen by arthritis, they were shaking so badly it was obvious he would be of little help.
    “Then bring boilin’ water. Plenty of it. And a basin, and towels, whiskey and soap. I shot her, so I reckon it’s up to me to save her.”
    “You shot Senorita Sam?” Sanchez gasped, swinging the gun around to point it at Colt.
    “Put that damn thing down and follow orders. If you kill me, who will remove the bullet? There’s no time to go to Karlsburg for a doctor. The water, Sanchez, hurry. And don’t forget a needle and thread.”
    Coming to a decision, Sanchez leaned the gun against the door, nodded to Colt, and scurried out the door in the shuffling gait of a man in pain. Immediately Colt turned his attention to the mud-splattered girl lying pale and motionless on the bed.
    First Colt removed her oversize jacket which had no doubt been meant to disguise her feminine curves. Moving his hands to the buttons on her checkered shirt, he carefully peeled the blood-soaked garment from her shoulders, earning a groan from her bloodless lips as he raised her to slide her arms out. The sight that met his tawny eyes turned them to glittering golden slits.
    He had thought her a half-formed schoolgirl, but her generously proportioned breasts crowned by dusty rose nipples were hardly childlike. Samantha, or Sam as she was called, obviously was a woman full grown. One fully responsible for the crime she had just committed. Despite