The Promise Read Online Free PDF Page B

freeze."
    "I'll be fine." She slipped out of the shirt. "I've
got a tee shirt on underneath." With a forced breath, she turned
back to the task at hand. After ripping the bottom of the shirt
into makeshift bandages, she tore a sleeve off to use for padding,
then, gingerly, bound the wound with the strips she had torn.
    Satisfied that she had at least staunched the
bleeding, she sat back on her heels. He was breathing rapidly and
even in the shadows she could see that he was deathly white.
Alarmed, she ran a hand across his cheek. His skin was on fire.
"You've got a fever. We've got to get you out of here. Now."
    "I know." The words were incredibly weak, and she
shivered at the thought of trying to get him out of the tunnel. He
wasn't a small man.
    She wrapped an arm around him, deliberately keeping
her voice light, "First thing to do is to get you on your feet
without reopening your injury."
    Together they struggled to their feet, then,
precariously balanced, tried a few steps forward. Sweat trickled
down between her breasts as she supported his weight. At this rate,
she'd need a miracle to get him home.
    What had been a few easy steps for her was like an
obstacle course with a man draped across her shoulders. There was
no question of using the rocks to cross the stream. The man
remained stoically silent, but she felt his muscles tense as they
plunged into the frigid creek.
    Icy water soaked through her tennis shoes. "Are you
okay?"
    The answer was more of a groan than a word, but she
was grateful that he was still conscious. They struggled up the
rocky embankment on the other side and she prayed that she had the
strength to get him home.
    They stopped for a moment at the top of the rise,
Cara shifting to more comfortably support his weight. The afternoon
sun caught him in its light, his haggard features illuminated. His
face clearly visible for the first time. Her breath stuttered to a
stop, her heart following suit.
    She knew this face. She'd memorized it in her
dreams.
    "Your name?" The words came out on a whisper as she
fought for air, for control.
    "Michael. Michael Macpherson." Blue eyes snapped
opened, his gaze colliding with hers. She could see the recognition
there. Feel it.
    She swallowed, a wave of dizziness washing through
her.
    Her heart rejoiced.
    Her mind rebelled.
    Michael Macpherson didn't exist.

CHAPTER 3
    Patrick stopped at the top of the rise,
reining in his black stallion. From this vantage point, a man could
see most of the valley below. The Rio Grande twisted and turned in
the distance, a wide silver band carved into the blues and greens
of the surrounding countryside. Nestled into a horseshoe shaped
curve, he could see Clune.
    The framing of the new barn shone white against a
backdrop of brownish green meadow grass, dwarfing the older
structures. The clouds hung low, almost hiding the mountains.
Later, the sun would burn them off, but for now the somber sky
mirrored his thoughts.
    He'd been riding since sunrise, impatiently exploring
the gulches and hollows of the mountains, but there was no sign of
his brother. Rationally, he knew it was hopeless. He could look in
a thousand places and there'd still be a couple thousand more. It
was too easy for a person to get lost up here. Between
unpredictable weather and predators, an injured man didn't stand
much of a chance.
    The sound of hooves against the rocks filtered into
his thoughts, pulling his attention away from the valley. With
narrowed eyes, he watched the approaching horse, trying to identify
the rider. It wasn't Pete. He'd be on the other side of the ridge,
searching the higher ground. They'd agreed to meet later at the
road.
    Patrick laid a hand on his rifle, just in case. The
horseman drew closer, raising an arm in greeting. Patrick nodded as
he recognized the man, wondering what in the hell Amos Striker was
doing this far out of town.
    "Mornin', Patrick." Amos reined in his horse,
stopping a few feet away.
    "Amos." Patrick studied the younger