The Heart of a Hero

by Janet Chapman

  Nicholas led Phantom outside, then walked to the paddock and leaned his arms on the rail. Reggie glanced over, his eyes widening when he recognized him from their little meeting in the parking lot a week ago, and started to get down off the fence.

  “Don’t leave,” Nicholas said quietly, stifling a grin when the boy stilled halfway to the ground. “You like horses?”

  “I’ve never been around them much,” the kid said, slowly settling back on the rail. He glanced over again when Nicholas said nothing. “That one you got is really big.” He used his chin to nod at Phantom. “And all scarred up and sort of mean-looking.”

  “I’m a pretty big guy. And like his owner,” Nicholas said, scratching Phantom’s neck, “this old warrior looks a lot meaner than he is—sometimes.”

  The boy went back to watching the horses. “You hired Tom as a security guard.”

  “Yes.”

  “How come? He doesn’t much like confrontations.”

  “That’s why I hired him.”

  Reggie looked over in surprise. “But what happens when a guest gets drunk and . . . turns mean or something?” He used his chin again, this time to gesture at Nicholas. “Julia told me how you knocked the wind out of our father last Saturday and carried him outside.” He shook his head. “Tom won’t be able to do that.”

  “He won’t have to, because he’s going to learn how to read a situation and not let it reach that point.”

  Sally came out leading Jeb, and Nicholas motioned for her to give the reins to Reggie. “What?” the boy asked in surprise when Sally held the reins out to him. He jumped off the fence and shoved his hands in his pockets, even as he darted a nervous glance at Nicholas before looking at Sally again. “I don’t want . . . I can’t . . . I don’t know how to ride.”

  “That’s okay,” Sally said with a laugh, yanking one of his hands out of his pocket and slapping the reins in it. “Jeb knows what he’s doing.” She tilted her head. “You look about my son’s age. You go to school with a kid named Peyton Knox?”

  Reggie nodded. “I know him. I’m one year ahead of him.”

  “Then how come he’s in school today and you’re not?” Sally asked.

  Nicholas saw the boy’s face redden as he darted another glance his way before giving Sally a shrug. “I was feeling sick to—earlier this morning.”

  Sally turned and headed back to the barn. “Sick of school, most likely,” she said, giving Nicholas a wink on her way by.

  Nicholas walked over to him. “Mount up and I’ll adjust your stirrups.”

  “I’ve never ridden a horse before,” Reggie said, even as he moved to stand facing the saddle. He eyed Jeb’s big head, then squared his shoulders and grabbed the saddle, lifted a foot into the stirrup, and awkwardly pulled himself up—only to grab the horn with both hands when the old horse released a loud groan.

  Nicholas took the forgotten reins from Reggie and looped one on each side of Jeb’s neck before silently handing them back. He adjusted one of the stirrups, led his own horse around to the other side, and adjusted the other stirrup. “Squeeze with your legs to make him go,” he quietly instructed. “Pull back easy on the reins when you want him to stop, and gently pull on the left or right rein for whichever way you want to turn. And don’t fall off, because the last thing I want is your sister to come gunning for me.”

  Reggie’s eyes widened. “Are you saying you’re afraid of Julia?”

  Nicholas turned and mounted up. “For the record,” he drawled, holding Phantom in check so Reggie could follow as he headed toward the resort. “I wasn’t saving Trisha from your father last Saturday; I was saving your father from Julia.” He chuckled. “I have it on good authority that she’s quite lethal with a stick when she’s riled.”

  Reggie gave a snort, then fell silent as they passed the lower one of the hotel segments; Nicholas noticing the boy sitting taller in the saddle when several guests heading to or from their rooms stopped to watch them ride by. He also was pleased to discover that Reggie was a young man of few words, apparently content to simply be in the moment. Or else, just as Julia had the night Nicholas had hustled her into his truck and given her a ride home, the boy was silently waiting to see why the big man with the mean-looking horse had all but kidnapped him.

  Nicholas turned once they’d passed the common green and started up the path that led to a high-mountain pond a couple of miles away, not even considering they’d be going past the conference pavilion until he spotted Julia getting in her cart with Rana and two women—her German bride and mother, he presumed.

  Julia spotted them, her eyes widening when she recognized her little brother, and scrambled back out of the cart to stand gaping at them riding by. Nicholas glanced over in time to see Reggie give his sister a shrug, silently communicating that he didn’t know what he was doing riding a horse through the resort, either.

  They continued on in companionable silence until Nicholas saw the other half of Nova Mare’s horse wrangler team returning from guiding a family of four on a trail ride. The tall, slim Canadian immediately cantered over, then sidled up closer and spoke softly. “We just passed three young men and a fairly young girl not half a mile down the fiord trail and . . .” He leaned closer. “I can’t say I saw anything particularly wrong, but I sensed the girl was . . .” He blew out a sigh and adjusted his hat on his head. “Hell, I got the feeling she was uncomfortable to be out there with them. She had a look in her eyes that said she knew she’d made a mistake but didn’t know how to get out of it.” The wrangler glanced over to see his family continuing toward the resort on their own, then turned back to Nicholas and shook his head. “I told the girl she was looking a mite tired and offered to give her a ride back, but one of the boys caught her hand with a laugh and started leading her off down the trail, the other two assuring me they were all fine. I think the boys are guests, seeing how they had pretty heavy accents I didn’t recognize, but the girl looked like a local.”

  “Where, again?” Nicholas asked.

  “They were about half a mile down just fifteen minutes ago.” Peyton dropped his gaze and shook his head again. “I got my phone wet the other day and haven’t taken the time to replace it, or I would have called you or Rowan. And I couldn’t start anything with those three boys while I had that family with me,” he muttered, waving toward his four riders—two of whom were children. He lifted his gaze back to Nicholas. “I’m sorry. I cut our ride short and have been trying to hustle back to tell you or Rowan.”

  “I’ll go find them now,” Nicholas said. “But you stop and have my secretary give you a new phone. Sally can take care of your riders. And Peyton,” he said quietly. “You don’t go even an hour without a working phone again. And when you or Sally or your son takes riders beyond the five-mile range, you make sure you have a satellite phone and one of the GPS emergency beacons with you.”

  The wrangler’s face reddened as he touched his hat with a nod. “I won’t be caught with my pants down again,” he said, cantering his horse after his guests.

  “You up for a faster ride?” Nicholas asked Reggie as he guided Phantom toward the lower fiord trail. “If you start bouncing,” he said, breaking into a slow trot, “just put more of your weight on your stirrups.”

  “Are we . . . going after . . . those guys and girl?” the boy asked as he bounced, grabbed the horn and righted himself, then bounced some more.

  “Yes.” Nicholas sighed when Reggie nearly fell off again. “Okay, look; you won’t be able to keep up with me, so follow this trail until you come to my horse. Then wait there with him, staying completely silent, until you see me or hear my signal. Pull Jeb to a stop so he doesn’t try to follow.”

  “What’s the signal—ohff!” Reggie ended in a grunt, barely catching himself again when Jeb suddenly halted.

  “You’ll know when you hear it,” Nicholas said, finally releasing Phantom when his intuitive old friend reared in response to its rider’s urgency and immediately broke into a ground-eating ga
llop. Nicholas rode low in the saddle as the powerful warhorse raced down the narrow hiking trail with the same agility and confidence that had carried them into more battles than either of them cared to count. He finally pulled to a halt when he caught the first wave of desperation pulsing through the air, dismounting and tying the reins around Phantom’s neck. “I’ll signal if I need you,” he growled to the horse, breaking into a run as he left the trail at a diagonal.

  He wove through the steeply descending forest as the breeze pushing up from the fiord thickened with the smell of fear; the girl’s pounding heartbeat growing louder as Nicholas raced toward what he realized had become a chase. Sensing frustration and anger coming from the men, he suddenly grinned past his own anger. The local women, it appeared, were damn good runners. He began slowing, now able to actually hear the chase he’d been sensing, and stopped beside a large tree and waited, then reached out and snagged the girl as she ran past.

  Clamping his hand over her mouth and gently subduing her struggles, he spoke softly into her ear. “You’re safe now. I’m resort security. I’m going to point you in the direction of the trail, and when you reach it, turn left. Understand?” he asked, removing his hand when she nodded and loosening his hold when she started breathing raggedly again. “There’s a young man waiting a short distance up the trail. Tell him Nicholas said to take you back to the resort, but have him leave my horse. Can you do that?”

  She nodded again.

  “Good girl. Reggie will take care of you,” he said, pointing her uphill. He then opened his arms, leaving them hovering nearby until he was sure she wasn’t too winded to run—only to grin when she took off like he’d pinched her. He watched until she disappeared into the trees, realizing the pretty little thing couldn’t be more than fifteen or sixteen years old. Hell, she was probably in Reggie’s or young Peyton’s class, and would likely think twice about missing school again or letting some rich tourist boys talk her into coming back with them to the fancy resort on top of the mountain.

  He turned when he heard the men getting closer, their taunting petitions to the girl telling him that two were still together and one had moved farther down the mountain to drive their prey toward them. Nicholas’s anger suddenly returned tenfold when he recognized that between their stilted cajoling English, the language they spoke to one another hadn’t been used anywhere in the world in centuries.

  And that was a game-changer.

  There would be no call placed to deputy sheriff Jason Biggs this day, as the authority these three young men were about to answer to was big and mean-looking and far more ancient than they were.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Julia stood in the center of the gazebo pretending she knew exactly what she was doing, while also pretending Rana’s eyes weren’t shining with barely restrained laughter as Mrs. Rauch explained to Miss Rauch—for the fifth time in ten minutes—that no daughter of hers was getting married wearing jeans and hiking boots.

  Well, that’s what Rana had told Julia they were discussing, as the majority of the conversation was in German—which, thankfully, her mentor spoke.

  “Frau Rauch,” Rana said, stepping up to the mother of the bride with an utterly serene smile. “Ms. Campbell apparently shares your sentiment, as she told me just before you arrived this morning that she plans to have a wardrobe tent set up right over there,” she said, pointing at the stunted pines on the western edge of the windswept ledge. Rana then turned all that regal serenity on the glowering bride. “She felt an experienced hiker such as you are, fräulein, wouldn’t have any problem negotiating the granite ledge in heels. Is that not what you said this morning, Ms. Campbell?” Rana asked, turning that serene smile on Julia.

  Was her mentor going to Hades for lying, Julia wondered, or was she going there for compelling the woman to lie on her behalf? “Yes,” Julia quickly agreed with a nod at her two clients, also trying to exude serenity as she boldly compounded the lie. “Actually, I plan to set up two tents, so the groom and his men can also change out of their formalwear after the ceremony. Because,” she further compounded, “I thought it quite . . . venturesome of you, Miss Rauch, to wear traditional wedding attire juxtaposed with such a rugged and powerful backdrop. In fact, I saw it as an even more defining statement than your reception,” she added, gesturing at the surrounding landscape, “as I pictured your wedding portrait hanging over your mantel, showing everyone how your marriage embraces both the civilized world and the wilderness that you and your soon-to-be husband obviously love so much.”

  “Oh, but that was exactly my intention,” the young woman said excitedly, even clapping her hands as she turned to her mother. “Is that not perfect, Mutti? Our portrait will say to everyone, ‘This is who we are—civilized and wild.’” She turned back to Julia. “You may set up the tents, but please make sure they can’t be seen from the gazebo and the bonfire, yes?”

  “Not a problem,” Julia assured her as she furiously wrote in her beautiful leather calendar book. She stopped and looked up. “And the horse?” she asked. “You still want to ride off into the sunset in the arms of your new husband?”

  “A gentle steed,” the girl said with a laugh. “As my dear Berdy is no horseman.”

  “Not a problem,” Julia repeated, again making a note to ask their lady wrangler—Sally, she thought her name was—for the horse that Reggie was right now riding with . . . For crying out loud, what was her brother doing with Nicholas? “We have just the steed for your Prince Charming to whisk you away to the excited cheers of your friends and family.” Julia looked up again, hoping she wasn’t pouring it on too thickly, and released a silent sigh to find both mother and bride smiling dreamily. “And one of our people will be hiding in the woods to lead you to the campsite we’ll have all set up waiting for you,” she added, making another note to find a good spot not too far away. “All your hiking gear will be there, ready to go in the morning.”

  Julia squeaked in surprise when young Adeline Rauch threw her arms around her clueless event planner in a book-crushing hug. “Oh, Ms. Campbell, I knew the moment we met that you already shared my vision better than your predecessor just by seeing how you—and now your staff as well,” she continued, waving one hand toward Rana before hugging Julia again, “are dressed in slacks and camp shirts instead of stuffy suits. Thank you for making my wedding day everything I’ve dreamed it to be.”

  Julia patted the bride’s back, then slowly extricated herself from her grip, stifling an urge to tell the girl not to thank her until after they rode off into a warm sunset instead of a wind-driven rain mixed with snowflakes. “Well, you’re only going to do this once,” she said brightly instead, attempting to make her arched eyebrow appear regal. “So it needs to be memorable so you’ll want to return to Nova Mare to renew your vows on your golden anniversary.”

  “One can only hope my dear Berdy will live to see that day,” Adeline said with a laugh as she laced her arm through her mother’s and headed off the gazebo. “Come, Mutti, let us hike back to our cabin on this beautiful afternoon, so I can try on the dress I suspect is in that large box I saw Papa sneak through baggage at the airport.” She stopped and looked back at the gazebo. “Thank you, Ms. Campbell. And Rana,” the young woman added with only a cursory nod at the real live queen before looking back at Julia. “I will see you tomorrow morning, then, for breakfast at Aeolus’s Whisper so you can meet my dear Berdy?”

  Julia nodded. “I’ll be there at . . . Is eight a good time?”

  “Oh, dear God, no,” the girl said with a laugh, heading off again with her smugly smiling mother in tow. “Let us make it ten.”

  Julia walked over to the bench that ran along the inside perimeter of the large gazebo and sat down with a sigh. She opened her calendar book, smoothed out the pages that had been crushed in the hug, and jotted down her breakfast date at ten o’clock on tomorrow’s page.

  “Might I suggest you set an alarm on your cell phone for nine thirty A.M.?” Rana said, sitting down beside h
er, then leaning over and turning the page back to see what Julia had written. Her mentor took the book away and settled it on her own lap, pulled the pen from Julia’s hand, and added three words ahead of several of the notes. “And you might also wish to delegate these tasks,” she said, sliding the pen into its leather sleeve and setting the book back on Julia’s lap. She smiled, leaning in to nudge Julia’s shoulder with her own. “As I believe that’s why you have three assistants and two young men sitting in your design room furiously whittling hot dog sticks as they await to make your every wish their command.”

  Julia looked down to see that Rana had written Ask Merriam or Anna or Ariel to in front of whatever note she’d made to herself. “Sorry, I forgot I had them,” she said, stopping short of nudging Rana back—figuring she probably shouldn’t shoulder-butt a real live queen. So she shrugged instead. “I guess I’m used to just rolling up my sleeves and doing things myself, although I didn’t mind delegating cutting and then whittling sixty hot dog sticks,” she said deadpan.

  But then Julia sighed again, staring off at the two women disappearing into the stunted pines. “Well, that was a big faux pas, mentioning their golden anniversary. Have you by any chance seen dear Berdy?” she asked, grinning at Rana’s now familiar snort. “He must really, really love her,” Julia drawled, “because the distinguished, definitely forty-something gentleman I saw Adeline passionately kissing when they got out of the limo has never set foot on a hiking trail in his life.”

  “Love has the power to make men do amazing things to impress a woman,” Rana said, leaning back against the rail with a dreamy smile of her own. “Sometimes even compelling them to slay dragons and move mountains.”