The rope had cut deep into her wrists, raw and bloodied by the time Dax Calder rode into the canyon. But it wasn't the sound of her struggling that made him pull his horse up short. It was her height. Even bound to that old cottonwood, she stood taller than any soul he'd ever laid eyes on. Her head nearly brushing branches no man could reach.
Her traditional dress was torn, stained with dust and dried blood. Yet her dark eyes burned with a fierce, unbroken pride that hit him square in the chest in a way he didn't understand. Three horses stood tied nearby, their riders nowhere in sight, though Dax could hear voices echoing faintly off the canyon walls ahead. Whoever had done this wasn't far. And they'd be back soon.
He'd ridden alone long enough that other people's suffering should have meant nothing. That's how a man survived out here. But something about the way she stood, unbent, unbroken, made him swing down from the saddle, knife already in hand. "Easy now," he said quietly, crouching by the rope. "I'm not here to hurt you."
Up close, she was even more striking, easily 7 ft tall with a kind of beauty that didn't belong in a forgotten canyon, but in stories men told around fires. Their eyes met. And something shifted. Something real. Something that made his heart kick hard against his ribs.
"Who did this to you?" he asked, slicing through the thick rope binding her wrists. She flexed her hands, bringing life back into them, watching him with sharp, measured eyes. "Men who will be back soon," she said, her voice steady, her English touched with a faint accent. "You should leave before they find you here." "I'm not leaving without you."
The words surprised him as much as they did her. Dax Calder didn't make promises, especially not to strangers, and sure as hell not to a woman who could look him dead in the eye without lifting her chin, but something about her made every instinct he'd built as a drifter feel suddenly useless. "My name is Sihaya," she said, rolling her shoulders, testing her strength. "Then you're either real brave or real reckless," Dax replied. "Maybe both."
The voices were getting closer now, louder, sharper. This wasn't going to stay simple. "Can you use this?" he asked, handing her his spare revolver. Sihaya took it like it belonged in her hand, checking the cylinder with practiced ease. "My father taught me to shoot before I learned to read."
The laughter echoing through the canyon told him all he needed to know. At least three men, maybe more, and they weren't trying to stay quiet. "We need to move," Dax muttered, scanning for a way out. "You ride?" She gave him a look, almost offended.
"Better than most men." Dax let out a low whistle, and his horse came trotting over, a powerful Missouri mustang, 16 hands high and built like iron. But as Sihaya stepped toward it, he realized something he hadn't thought through. She was too tall, even for a horse like Gravewind. Didn't matter.
She solved it in one smooth motion, vaulting up behind the saddle with effortless grace that stole the breath right out of him. "Damn," he muttered, swinging up in front of her. "My people were riding horses long before yours crossed the ocean," she shot back, wrapping her arms around his waist as she urged Gravewind forward into the canyon. The contact hit him harder than it should have. Not just the warmth of her, but how natural it felt.
Like she belonged there. Like she always had. Behind them, angry shouts erupted as the men found the empty tree. Dax risked a glance back, three riders bursting from between the rocks, hard-faced men with the kind of eyes that enjoyed hurting others. "They're part of Varick Holt's crew," Sihaya said, her voice tight.
"They've been hunting me for 3 days." "Why?" Dax asked, steering Gravewind toward higher ground for an advantage. He didn't get an answer. A gunshot cracked through the canyon. The bullet slammed into rock just feet from them.
Their pursuers were mounted now, closing fast. "Hold on," Dax said, feeling her grip tighten around him. What he did next would either get them out alive or get them both killed. But when he looked back at her, those dark, unyielding eyes, something long buried inside him stirred awake. And there was no way in hell he was letting Varick Holt's men drag her back into whatever hell they'd pulled her from.
The chase drove us into country that would have tested a mountain goat. Gravewind proved exactly why I'd paid three times his worth 3 years back. He climbed every slope and narrow ledge like he'd been born to it. Behind us, the men chasing us struggled on weaker mounts, their recklessness fueled more by arrogance than skill. "There," Sihaya said, pointing ahead toward a jagged cluster of rock about half a mile out.
"There are caves. We can lose them there." I didn't question her. Out here, her knowledge of the land was the only thing keeping us breathing. As we reached the rocks, she slipped down from Gravewind in one smooth, silent motion, despite her towering frame.
"This way," she whispered, guiding us into a maze of stone where even sound seemed to vanish. The cave she chose barely let Gravewind squeeze through the entrance, but deeper inside it opened into a wide chamber, dark enough to hide us from any quick search. Once my eyes adjusted to the dim light filtering through cracks in the ceiling, I finally saw what those men had done to her. Her dress, traditional, once proud, was torn in several places, exposing bruises along her arms and a cut across her cheek that made my blood run hot. But more than the wounds, it was the way she still carried herself, upright, unbroken, that struck harder than any injury.
"How long were you tied to that tree?" I asked. "Since dawn," she said, leaning back against the cave wall with a grace that didn't match her size. They said they were waiting for someone. Maybe a buyer." That word hit me like ice in my veins.
A buyer. I'd heard whispers about Varick Holt, not just robbery or killing, but something worse. Trafficking people. The kind of business that made even hardened outlaws sick to their stomach. "What did you see?" I asked.