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Temptation Ridge (Virgin River #6)(39)

Author:Robyn Carr

“I can give it a try,” he said. “Let me go first so this horse doesn’t bite Chico’s behind.”

“Go,” she said.

The trail was wide enough for an easy ride, made up of switchbacks that went right, then left, then right again in a zigzag that took the strain out of the climb. It took about twenty minutes to get to the top and once there, the valley opened up in front of them, the river behind them, and what looked like a vineyard was spread out below. He took a deep breath and admired the scenery. He could see a number of hiking trails and a couple of old, abandoned logging roads that had probably been used in years past for the harvesting of lumber.

Shelby came up alongside and inhaled in much the same way, experiencing the view. They could see for miles over the tops of the ponderosa and fir. She pulled off her hat and shook out that single braid, letting the fall breeze cool her.

They sat for a long time, saying nothing. Minutes passed and then Luke heard a sound. There was a rustling and not exactly a growl but something like a deep whine. A mewling. He looked to his right and saw that at the base of a tree a large bear cub rolled around playfully. Even though the cub was probably four months old and good-sized, he was still just a kid. “Shit,” he said. “Oh shit.” Where there was a cub, there was always a mother. And sure enough, coming at them from the left was Mama. They had somehow inadvertently gotten between the cub and the mother. And damn, Mama was big.

“Down, down, down,” he said to Shelby. “You go first,” he said, backing out of her way.

Shelby took off for the trail that led down the hill, Luke close on her heels, but moving at such a quick pace that Plenty didn’t have the opportunity to nip at Chico. Bears have front legs shorter than their back legs and it was a bad idea to run up a hill or on level ground or, God forbid, up a tree, but if you traveled downhill, they were at a disadvantage. Ten or twenty feet and they’d trip and roll. But bears could get up a hill with those short front legs faster than any man. Or any horse carrying a man.

Shelby whacked Chico with the end of her rein and Luke dug his heels into Plenty. He hoped he could stay astride—he wasn’t nearly the horseman Shelby was. And it wasn’t a straight shot down—there were all those switchbacks to traverse. Behind them, Mama let go with a huge and frightening growl. If she got close, he hoped he could level the rifle in time. While Shelby and Luke had to make use of the switchback trail, Mama Bear was making a straight line down, through the trees and shrubs.

Ahead of him, he saw Shelby managing Chico with one deft hand, her other reaching behind her for the repellent spray. It occurred to him to get back a little, in case she decided to use it and he caught the drift downwind. But getting away was the first priority—he didn’t want to have to shoot the mother of a cub.

About twenty feet into their descent, it happened. The bear stumbled over her short front legs, curled into a huge furry ball and began to roll out of control. Both Shelby and Luke pulled back on the reins and watched her roll right by them and down about twenty more feet. “Stay,” Luke said softly. He pulled the rifle off the saddle ties and had it at the ready.

“Don’t shoot her,” Shelby pleaded.

“Only if I have to,” he said. “Easy does it.”

Mama recovered, shook herself off, stood at full towering height, treated them to her meanest snarl and scrambled up the hill in the other direction, back to her cub at great speed, avoiding them.

“What’d’ya say we get the hell out of here?” he suggested.

Shelby whacked Chico on the butt and urged him forward, and to Luke’s amazement, he heard her laughter ring out as she descended. He was right on her heels, keeping up with her pretty well for someone who was reluctant to put down a rifle that was longer than his arm.

When they got to the bottom, she didn’t slow down. She put her heels to her mount and flew down the riverside, laughter echoing through the tall trees as she drove the horse. Even Plenty’s Arabian heritage wasn’t helping Luke keep up with that paint. There weren’t any people along the river, but he couldn’t help but wonder what an onlooker might think, him chasing her with a rifle in his hand. But she was laughing wildly. Shelby had hunkered down in the saddle and showed her stuff; she was amazing. Lightweight, skilled, unafraid and fleet. She raced all the way back to the cabins and once there, her cheeks flushed, eyes aglitter, she grinned victoriously as he came into the clearing.

Luke learned something that moment that he hadn’t expected. This was a young woman who liked an adventure. She liked speed. A little bear scare lit her up brighter than the sun, that was for sure. Now, he didn’t kid himself that he knew everything about women, but he knew when to pay attention. Shelby was suddenly more alive than she’d been all afternoon. It turned him on almost unbearably.

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