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This time when he looked at her he wasn’t lost in thought or some complicated process, he was there, vividly, behind those annoyingly pretty green eyes.

“That wouldn’t be a fair fight,” he said softly.

Even through the pain she knew what he meant. They had always fought fair, except for the one time they’d both brought others into it. And that one time had ended that idea forever, apparently for both of them, because neither of them had ever done it again.

He lifted the rifle and fired two rounds into the air in rapid succession. She frowned, which made her aware again of the scrape on her cheek, then belatedly realized it was a signal. And even more belatedly thought to ask, worried even through the pain, “Ghost?”

“She made it home safe. That’s how we knew.”

She relaxed slightly. He turned his head and let out a piercing whistle, the kind she’d never been able to replicate even though her father had tried to teach her. Then he turned back to her.

“Anything else hurt?”

“That’s not enough?” she muttered.

“You hit your head,” he said, indicating her stinging cheek.

“Minor,” she said. “Just scraped my cheek.”

“Can you move your other foot? And arm?”

She frowned. “Yes, I—” She broke off when she realized he was making sure she hadn’t damaged her spine. “I’m fine, otherwise. I caught myself with that hand—” she nodded toward her aching wrist “—so I was slowed down when I hit. The rock rolled down after. I think Ghost dislodged it when she took off.”

She waited for him to make some comment about the mare, because he always did.

He didn’t. In fact, he looked almost pained. But all he said was, “Truce, for now, Roth.”

She didn’t see that she had much choice. She was hurting, and however much it aggravated her, she needed his help. “Truce,” she agreed.

A moment later she saw a dark shape loom up through the rain. His horse, who was holding his head up high to keep the trailing reins free; he’d obviously been ground-tied.

And yet he’d come at the whistle.

“That’s some horse,” she said, appreciating the distraction. “Ground-tied, but he still came.”

Cody gave the big bay an affectionate glance. “He is. Keller taught him to ground-tie and come to the whistle, but it took Mom to teach him the latter superseded the former.”

She was a bit foggy so had to work it out, but it made her smile despite the pain. “I imagine Maggie could teach him to dance if she was of a mind to.”

“She taught me, and when it comes to dancing, I’ve got two left feet. And one of them’s on backward.”

If she’d been hurting a little less she might have laughed at that. Which startled her. Who was this charmer?

He got up and went to the horse. She noticed he patted the animal’s nose as he went by toward the saddlebags, and she thought she heard him say, “Thanks, buddy.” The horse nickered softly. She remembered the bath. It was obvious this pair had a tight relationship. She wondered what it must be like, to be such a perfect match, and not a daily battle such as she had with Ghost. But at least the darn horse was safely home. And she’d sounded the alert in the process.

She gave a tentative tug on her pinned foot, and instantly regretted it. She smothered the yelp that wanted to escape down into a gasp. Cody’s head snapped around just as he was pulling something out of the saddlebag.

She shook her head. Just me being stupid. But she didn’t say it.

He came back, and she saw it was a first aid kit. There was something different about him now, as there had been since that moment when she’d thought he was working something out in his head. His every action since then had been cool, decisive. As if he had indeed worked out a plan and now all that was left to do was follow it.

Again he knelt beside her, digging into the kit. “Wrist first. You may need to move, and it’ll be easier if it’s not hurting so much.”

“Not sure that’ll happen unless you’ve got a big bottle of horse-strength tramadol handy.” It came out through gritted teeth as another wave of pain rippled up from her wrist by the simple act of moving her arm.

“We’ll get it immobilized first, then go from there.”

How the heck was he going to do that? That would take a splint, and there wasn’t much around her that would serve. What plants there were were of the scrub variety, and probably so wet right now they wouldn’t be stiff enough anyway. They—