Deep as the Rivers (Santa Fe Trilogy) Read Online Free PDF

with the beauteous Mademoiselle St. Etienne.
        “Have you some aversion to my countrymen, Monsieur Colonel?”
        “Certainly not to the lovely young lady who has just saved my life,” he replied gallantly.
        Olivia recognized evasion when she heard it, having been raised by Julian St. Etienne, a luckless gambler who had been more expert in his choice of words than his choice of cards. She chose a frontal assault to test how much Samuel would reveal—or conceal. “Why was someone trying to kill you back there? Do you know who it was?”
        Samuel shrugged. “I have no idea. Probably a simple robbery. My horse was quite valuable.”
        “But of course! Precisely why the assassin shot it out from under you, so he could lug it off to the meat market,” she responded scornfully, meeting his eyes with a dare.
        “Maybe it was an unlucky shot,” he said smoothly. “His first shot nearly took off my head. I was turning the horse suddenly, trying to reach cover when it went down. Lucky for me the brigand was something amiss as a marksman.”
        “He was not all that bad a marksman or you would not be dripping blood like that,” she replied with asperity. The woolen scarf was soaked dark red now in vivid contrast to the colonel’s face which was growing decidedly pale beneath his sun bronzed tan.
        “Don’t worry. I won’t pitch over the side and spook your horses,” he said in grim amusement. “I’ve suffered far worse. It’s just a scratch.”
        “That scratch is bleeding profusely,” she countered. “How can you remain so calm while your lifeblood just seeps away?”
        “Practice.” He swore beneath his breath. Between the burning nuisance of his arm and the throbbing misery of his skull all he wanted was to lie down, preferably on some surface not bouncing wildly up and down.
        Olivia reined in the team as they neared a farmhouse situated on the outskirts of the capital. There was a well by the roadside with a bucket beside it. “Maybe you’d better clean up your wounds. We must stop the bleeding before you ruin the upholstery. We could see if the people here have some fresh bandages. If not,” she fluffed her voluminous skirts and added boldly, “I can always use one of my petticoats.”
        He grinned at her cheerful voice, noting that she turned a bit green around the gills when she looked at his blood-soaked arm. “Now you must promise not to faint and fall beneath the horses’ hooves,” he teased.
        Olivia gave an indelicate snort as she jumped from the phaeton, scanning the farmhouse for signs of occupancy. A mangy old yellow dog eyed them suspiciously from the rickety porch and bared his gums in a toothless growl. “No one seems to be about,” she said with a sigh, turning back to Samuel who by now had climbed out of the carriage.
        He walked determinedly to the well and lowered the bucket, then cranked it back up with his uninjured arm. Lifting the moldy oak container, he leaned forward and poured it over his head, then let it drop by its rope once more into the depths below with a splash.
        Olivia watched as he shook his head to clear it and combed his finger through his glossy black hair. Brilliant droplets of water sprayed around him in a rainbow arc of color. She felt her heartbeat accelerate when she observed a fine sheen of droplets forming on his face and rolling slowly over his boldly masculine jaw and down his throat to vanish beneath the collar of his uniform. This was not wise, not wise at all.
        Other than the fact he was devastatingly handsome and charming, what did she really know about Colonel Shelby? He seemed to be involved in some mysterious intrigue and people most certainly were trying to kill him. She was altogether too attracted to this stranger.
        “Damn. I lost my hat when I fell. It was brand-new. This whole uniform is ruined,” he grumbled, inspecting his bloody, torn and dirt smeared