Wyoming Cowboy Marine

by Nicole Helm

Maybe she should think of this all as a dream. If she crawled into this pretty, sinfully comfortable bed and fell asleep, she’d wake back up in her lumpy mattress in a non–burned down cabin.

  Tears stung her eyes but she blinked them away. She couldn’t think about home and all she’d lost. So she ruthlessly pulled back the covers and slid her body in between them.

  It was like heaven. Soft. Clean. She could barely smell the smoke that clung to her hair despite the multiple washings she’d given it in the shower with some fruity-smelling shampoo.

  She didn’t allow herself to lie down. Instead she moved the pillows behind her back and sat there, leaning against the headboard.

  She heard Free coming and then, in a blur, the dog happily jumped right onto the bed. Hilly winced.

  “Don’t worry about it,” Cam said, opening the computer he’d brought in. He pulled a small chair from the desk in the corner next to the bed. It was too small and dainty for him, but it didn’t collapse when he sat on it like she’d expected it to.

  So he was sitting next to her. While she was in a bed.

  She was a very sheltered woman. Had never had anyone but her father in the room when she’d been in bed. No other relatives, especially with relationships like the ones the Delaneys seemed to have.

  Heat prickled along her skin. It wasn’t embarrassment exactly. She knew that feeling. This was something more complicated, and something to do with the fact that Cam was a man.

  And she was a woman.

  She’d read books. Dad had some old Westerns he’d occasionally let her read for fun. Men and women did interesting things in beds. Things she’d always wanted to know more about, and never had the opportunity to explore—fictionally or in reality.

  Funny, Cam could fit into the pages of one of those books. He didn’t dress like a cowboy, but there was a kind of swagger about him. A certainty. A confidence.

  She shifted in the bed, trying to figure out how to get comfortable. Comfortable was probably a pipe dream with Cam this close to her.

  He angled his computer screen toward her. “Laurel has a theory about something your father may have been involved in.”

  “My father’s a good man,” Hilly said. All Cam’s talk about Delaneys and their goodness had given her a certain kind of defensiveness. Her father was good. She was upset he’d left her because she knew the most likely reason was he was hurt somewhere. Or worse.

  She wished the perfect white linens would swallow her whole, or at least let her sleep until this mess was sorted.

  “I’m not saying he isn’t,” Cam said gently. “Based on your name, your birthday and the cabin on public land, it adds up to certain kinds of groups that are antigovernment.”

  “Why would July the Fourth and Adams mean he’s antigovernment? Wouldn’t that be the opposite?”

  “They’re anti current government. Bureaucracy. A lot of these groups want to go back to some fictionalized version of the past where things were good and men were men.”

  Hilly frowned because that did sound like something Dad would say. He idolized the past. Frontiersmen and the Wild West.

  “I just want to look through information about a few of the local groups like that, and see if anything rings any bells for you.”

  His dark eyes were focused on the screen. He was a man on a mission. She didn’t understand why he’d taken up the mantle of her mission, but maybe like the bed she just needed to accept it.

  Her life was in literal ashes. Why not take whatever non-destroyed things came her way?

  Cam scrolled through pages, reading things aloud, asking her questions. It mainly just gave her a headache.

  Until he opened a website to a group called the Protectors. Their symbol was one she was very, very familiar with.

  She felt that same cold, sharp tingle in her spine as when Laurel had said the name Hillary. Hillary.

  “Dad has this tattoo,” she whispered.

  Cam’s eyes sharpened on her. “What?”

  “The eagle. With the gun in its talons. He has it tattooed on his back.” Hilly reached back and touched the spot on her own. “Right beneath the shoulder blade. I haven’t seen it often, but enough to know that’s it.”

  Cam’s gaze returned to the screen. “All right. Then that’s the plan.”

  “What’s the plan?”

  “We need to know what they know. We need to know how your father connects to them, since he clearly does. So, we go to them.”

  Hilly looked at the screen. There was a picture of five men with guns, one exactly like Dad had. They all wore bandannas over the bottom half of their faces and sunglasses over their eyes.

  “Somehow I don’t think they’ll be very forthcoming.”

  “No. Which is why we won’t be going as ourselves. We’re going to pretend we want to join.”

  Hilly blinked at him. “We are?”

  Cam kept talking, though most of his concentration was clearly on the website he was scanning. “And we have to act fast. I can’t risk Laurel finding out what we’re going to do. She wouldn’t approve. Or worse, she’d want police involvement.”

  “That’d be worse?”

  “For now. What we need is information. The best way to get information from people is to act like you want to be one of them. So, we’ll want to be one of them.”

  “We?” she asked again, because he was...including her.

  She’d never been included.

  He looked up at her, studying her face in that way that made her blush. “Well, you have a choice. You can come with me and try to help me figure it out, or you can stay here. Jen would take good care of you, and you’d be safe. I’d certainly feel better if you were safe, and coming with me is dangerous, but you have to make that decision for yourself, because you’re the one who has to live with it.”

  “You’re giving me a choice.”

  “It is your life on the line, Hilly.”

  Her life. Her life. It had never been her life before, on the line or otherwise. Which made her decision for her. “When do we leave?”

  Chapter Eight

  He’d told Hilly to sleep while he got ready. He packed clothes, including some of Jen’s for Hilly, supplies and food. Free had followed him around as he gathered everything and stowed it into two backpacks.

  He’d decided to bring the dog. It would add to his story of a young couple searching for the kind of freedom a group like the Protectors offered.

  He’d feel a little better if he could leave Hilly behind and do this kind of recon mission himself, but he didn’t trust Laurel not to press her too hard. Hilly would be more protected at his side, anyway, and a woman and a dog would add to his credibility. And since she was the only one who knew anything about her father, he had to use her.

  There was always the possibility Hilly’s dad was in the group and would recognize her and blow their cover, but so far Hilly hadn’t said anything that led him to believe her father wished her harm.

  Cam also wasn’t sure he could believe the man Hilly described would full-on abandon her like he had. If Hilly’s father was hurt, or worse, they needed to find that out as soon as possible. Hopefully, so they could help him.

  As much as he respected Laurel as a cop and a detective, her loyalty was to the law and the sheriff’s department, like his had once been to the Marines. It was limiting, and it often left you unable to help people in an immediate way. So much so that you got to a point that you forgot that you could help people. And you failed your friends.

  He shook that thought away and focused on the task at hand. Based on the information he’d gleaned from the Protectors website, Facebook group page and some message boards he’d had to deep-dive to find, he had a little bit of an idea where the compound was.

  So, Jen was going to drop them off up at the state park. There’d be a trail for a while, but then he�
��d have to use his old Eagle Scout skills to orienteer his way to the potential compound.

  By his calculations, it’d be a day or two hike to the location—three, tops, if the information was a little off. He could handle that no problem, and considering Hilly had lived off-grid for most of her life, he imagined she could, too. Still, he’d made sure her pack was lighter than his.

  Jen drove them through pre-dawn dark to the state park. When they arrived and got out of the car, he quickly shrugged on his pack, then helped Hilly with hers. He made sure the straps fit around her at the right spots.

  The coat Jen had found Hilly was a pinch too big, so Cam didn’t feel too self-conscious about adjusting her straps. She was so buried under the fabric there was no chance of accidentally...

  His fingers fumbled on the strap, but he hurried up tightening it for her and moved to his sister.

  “Be careful,” Jen said, clearly fretting. “And don’t tell me Marines are always careful.”

  He grinned at her. “We’ll be fine. As long as you don’t tip Laurel off.”

  Jen wrinkled her nose. “I don’t know why I’m always the go-to when it comes to lying to Laurel.”

  “Because you’re the only one brave enough to do it,” he said, giving Jen’s arm a squeeze. “Give us time.”

  “I hope you know what you’re doing.” When she turned to Hilly, the nerves and uncertainty had been wiped off her face. “Good luck, Hilly.”

  Hilly’s mouth curved. He couldn’t characterize it as a smile, though on the surface it looked like one. Still, she looked that way at Jen and Dylan with every interaction. A discomfort lingered on the edges, in the wary cast of her eyes.

  She looked at him like that, too, though not quite as much or as carefully. He wanted to find a way to eradicate it completely, to coax a real smile out of Hilly.

  Which was not his mission. His mission was finding her father and hopefully, as a result, the people who’d burned down her cabin. The Protectors was the best shot he had at getting an idea of where the man might go when he wasn’t with Hilly. He might even be with them.

  That was the only thing he could focus on. Not golden-brown eyes, with or without wariness. Jen got back in her car and drove away and Cam pulled out his map. He’d already shown Hilly his plan, but it didn’t hurt to go over it again.

  “We’ll start at this path. Once we reach this curve here, we’ll veer off. You’ve got water and snacks in your pack, but we’ll need to be careful of wildlife, especially bears. If you need a rest—”

  “I know I wasn’t a Marine or anything, but I can handle bear protocol and eating my own snack.”

  Cam smiled sheepishly. “Sorry. I’m used to giving all the orders or none at all. Middle Ground is not my middle name.”

  That got a bit of a chuckle out of her. “Let’s get started, then.”

  Cam nodded and led the way. The path was narrow, so Hilly followed behind, Free behind her.

  A pretty spring morning began to dawn. Cold, but sunny. It would be warm this afternoon. Hopefully snow or rain would hold off until they reached the compound.

  “Did you do a lot of hiking in the military?” Hilly asked.

  “Some.”

  “What about pretending to be someone you’re not and infiltrating small groups of potentially dangerous men?”

  He hadn’t been very comfortable discussing his Marine days with his family since he’d been back, but Hilly’s question didn’t set him on edge. Maybe because it was more about what they were doing here and now than what he’d done before. “Some of that, too.”

  “Is it worth it? Seeing the world? I never had much inclination to. I like...liked my cabin. Liked my life, but you know what I really liked?”

  “What?”

  “Sleeping in that very nice bed last night.”

  He chuckled, charmed by her simple enjoyment. Still, he took her question seriously. “I’m not sure I’ve seen the parts of the world most people desire to travel to. I think there’s something special in realizing the world is so vastly different. The geography, the customs, the challenges—and yet at the end of the day we’re all people. And we all have homes. I was happy to come home to mine.”

  “If you liked home so much, why did you join the military?”

  “I wanted to help people.”

  “Right.”

  “You don’t trust my help.” It bothered him. An itch he couldn’t find the location of. No matter how much he knew it didn’t matter. He could help her whether she trusted it or not. He also didn’t have to trust her.

  But here they were.

  “I am following you deep into the woods,” Hilly said, sounding resigned. “I’m not sure what I feel is a lack of trust.”

  “Then what is it?”

  “I know I’m not supposed to trust anyone. The fact that I do? It would be like...if you were a vegetarian your whole life and then ate a piece of meat and discovered it was delicious.”

  “I’m surprised you know what a vegetarian is.”

  “I might not have much interaction with people, but I’ve read anything Dad let me gets my hands on. Including cookbooks. I could make you a hearty vegetarian chili if you’re interested.”

  “Rain check,” Cam offered good-naturedly.

  Free barked and Cam looked back at the dog.

  “Probably just a—”

  But Free barked again and then took off, racing into the trees, Hilly immediately taking off after her.

  Which meant he had to, as well.

  * * *

  “FREE! STOP! HALT! FREE!” It was no use. Free was so fast, so determined, and she was nearly out of sight no matter how hard Hilly ran. Hilly panted with the exertion of it all, panic beating through her body.

  She couldn’t lose Free, too. She couldn’t. Free was very good at following commands for the most part. She didn’t run off.

  “Free!”

  “We can track her.”

  Hilly nearly tripped over a log at Cam’s voice. She’d been running so hard she hadn’t realized he was so close to her. He put an arm on her shoulder, clearly wanting her to stop running.

  But Free was all she had left. She couldn’t lose her dog.

  “We’ll track her,” Cam said, his voice calm and clear. He’d had to run as well to catch up with her so quickly and yet he wasn’t even winded. “We’ll find her. Maybe she’s leading us to something.”

  Hilly nodded, trying to believe it. She felt moisture on her face, but she was sure it was just her eyes watering from running through the cold air, not tears. The crushing pain in her chest was from the run, not from this recurring feeling everything was being taken away from her.

  She sniffled as Cam knelt down. “See? It’s nice and muddy. We’ll be able to follow her path. Come on.”

  “What if we get lost?” Hilly managed, irritated with herself when her voice came out wobbly.

  Cam pulled out his map as he stood. He studied the paper, then his compass. He wasted precious time until Hilly was all but vibrating with nerves.

  “Right,” Cam said with such certainty some of those nerves eased. He shoved both items back into his coat pocket. “We’ll reroute. We can follow Free’s tracks and still make it where we want to go if we pay attention. Follow me. We’ll find her.”

  “Maybe...” She didn’t want to voice her hope, and even more she didn’t want to voice her fear. What if Free had found Dad and that was why she hadn’t listened to Hilly’s command?

  What if Dad was—

  She couldn’t let her mind finish the thought. It was too ugly and scary and if she ignored the thought it didn’t have to be real. That was what Dad always told her about her bad dreams.

  “Follow me. We’ll deal with what ifs once we find Free.”

  So, she did. She didn’t have a lot of choices, really, but ther
e was something about Cam’s strong surety that made her believe she’d follow him even if she did have choices. He walked through the trees, following Free’s tracks with an effortlessness that spoke of experience.

  She could track a little. Dad did most of the hunting, but she knew how. He’d taught her some of the skills to survive their clearing, if not the world.

  Still, Cam was infinitely more capable. His strides were certain, his footfalls soft. He was a contradiction that way, always. Strong, steel-like facade. Kind, soft heart.

  Every few yards he’d let out a sharp whistle, and instruct her to call out for Free. They wound farther and farther into the spindly, crowded pines. But the farther they climbed, the more the trees thinned out.

  “If it gets too rocky we’re going to lose her trail.”

  “We’ll see,” Cam replied, sounding wholly unworried. But the more they climbed, the more they were getting into the mountains. They’d be able to see farther, but they wouldn’t be able to—

  A sharp bark sounded through the trees.

  “Free!”

  More barking. Incessant. Cam took off in a jog toward the sound, so Hilly did, as well. Free met them on the trail, barking and turning in circles before she raced off again. This time, though, as they followed the agitated dog, she kept coming back, racing off, coming back. Barking the whole way.

  Hilly was panting, but when she saw what Free was leading them to, she forced herself to run even harder. She reached the horse tied to a tree and swallowed down the tears. “T.J.,” Hilly breathed.

  “Let me guess. Thomas Jefferson.”

  “I...” Hilly frowned as she rubbed her palm across the horse’s neck. “Maybe. I don’t know. I’ve only ever called him T.J.”

  “Your father’s?”

  Hilly nodded, scanning the area around the horse. There was no sign of her father or any of the gear he would have had with him. It looked like he’d stopped to give T.J. a rest but...

  She focused on the horse as Cam looked around the area. She ran her hands over his mane, his flank, his legs. The horse barely moved, and though she wasn’t a horse expert like Dad, his breathing seemed shallow. “He’s been here awhile,” Hilly noted, her stomach sinking as she found some feed in the saddle pack. “He’s not in good shape at all.”