Hazel of Heber Valley (Rocky Mountain Romances Book 5)

by Annette Lyon

  “Oh my, are you all right?” Hazel hurried over to him, her worry and nerves forgotten.

  Wyatt touched his eyebrow, winced slightly, and shrugged. “I’ve been better,” he said and chuckled. “But nothing was going to keep me away from the dance when I had a chance to see you here. I’m a man of my word, after all.” He held out his arms and looked her up and down. “You are a sight to behold — you almost look like a sapphire in that dress. Truly a gem.”

  Hazel surprised herself by lowering her face and blushing the compliment. This was not the man who’d fought with her best friend. This man was the sweet one she’d met earlier. This was the handsome, charming man she’d met that morning.

  He held out his hand. “Care to dance?” It was almost as if he’d timed the question to coincide with the end of the previous song. Couples on the floor bowed and curtsied, and the men escorted the ladies off as new couples replaced them. Grateful Wyatt was his old self again, and equally grateful for the opportunity to dance and mother would want, Hazel put her hand in his.

  He led her to the center of the dancing area. He held his arms out, and Hazel stepped close into dance position. He wrapped his hand around her waist, and it settled on her lower back. Excitement coursing through her. Soon her right hand was engulfed in his left one, and they waited for the band to begin.

  “It’s a little tricky dancing out here,” Hazel said, looking up at him and realizing that she likely had a starry look in her eyes.

  “Tricky in what way?” Wyatt squeezed her hand, which sent delicious tingles up her arm.

  “Because of the cobble stones. The gaps between them make it easy to lose your balance, especially for a lady. The heels of our shoes tend to catch in the holes. I’ve seen many women fall to the ground because their partners weren’t being careful enough.”

  “I will never let you fall.” Wyatt’s words sounded humorous, but his tone was deadly serious. The hand about her waist held her even closer, as if he were protecting her from some outside danger.

  “I’ll hold you to that promise,” Hazel said.

  “Do.”

  A ballad began, slow and smooth. Wyatt gently encouraged her to rest her head against his shoulder. In the back of her mind, she knew that this was something she wouldn’t typically do with a man she’d barely met. Not just dancing, but resting her head on his shoulder and dancing slowly, so close that their bodies touched. It felt remarkably intimate, as if she’d known him for a long time. As if she couldn’t bear to live one day without him. When the song ended, a disappointment went through her. But Wyatt did not release her.

  “How about another?” he asked.

  Hazel settled back into position. “I would be delighted.”

  The next song was a much more upbeat, with a quicker tempo. They moved about more easily, this time not so close. This song allowed them to speak, and it allowed her to look up at him and admire the lines of his masculine face.

  “I must apologize once more for what happened earlier,” Wyatt said. “I assure you, what you saw is not who I am.”

  Now that she could look up and see his face, she watched in dismay as the corners of his eye drooped. “It wasn’t your fault,” she assured him. “You had no idea about Nathan or our history. You couldn’t have known —”

  “You are partly right,” Wyatt said. “I knew nothing about him or you when I first rode into town. But after I booked a room at Abby’s, I did overhear a few things.”

  “Oh? What?”

  “Mostly that Nathan has long been pining for you,” Wyatt said. “Although I guessed that much when I first met him. He didn’t exactly make that a mystery.”

  Hazel laughed lightly. It felt good. “You mean that his pretending to be my fiancé wasn’t convincing?”

  Wyatt smiled, but it was hardly there, and his brow furrowed. “I apologize if what I’m about to say is uncomfortable for you. I know that his life and yours are your own, and that I am new to Midway. None of this is my business. And yet, I find myself caring for you, and after seeing how he behaves toward...”

  He shook his head, and his feet slowed until they stopped altogether. They two of them were no longer dancing, but standing at the far side of the floor, almost alone in a shadowy corner. The band was on the other side. If they whispered, no one would hear them, and few people would notice them. Not that she would have cared. After all, during the picnic, she would’ve been happy to kiss Wyatt in public. He’d gotten carried away, but he had apologized—twice—and had assured her that such a thing would never happen again.

  And now he’d expressed a deep concern her personal well-being in regards to how another man treated her. He did so fully admitting that he truly had no right to say such a thing.

  He cares. For me.

  “There’s more,” Wyatt said.

  “Please tell me. I need to hear it.” What awful thing was she about to learn about Nathan?

  Wyatt let out a deep breath, stepped out of position, and said, “Let’s go talk somewhere more private.”

  Others were starting to watch them, and other couples had danced closer. She needed to hear what he had to say, and she definitely didn’t want any of her peers hearing it. She was still furious with Nathan, but she didn’t want his reputation hurt, either.

  “Yes, let’s go somewhere else.” She followed Wyatt’s lead, going west, away from the tree they’d eaten under, for which she was grateful. Wyatt clearly knew that she would feel uncomfortable going back there so soon. They turned a corner and found a stand of trees off on Mr. Johnson’s property. Below one of the trees, he had set a bench where he and his wife would sit and watch the sunset.

  “How about there?” Hazel, pointing at the bench.

  “Perfect.” Wyatt led her there, ducking under a low-hanging branch. She bent down to avoid the limb as well, then sat beside him. Their hands were clasped together, their knees touching, the moon above them shined down its light, which felt translucent and almost magical as it filtered through the leaves.

  “What did you want to say to me?” Hazel asked. “About Nathan,” she clarified.

  Nodding in silence, Wyatt did not answer at first. His lips pressed into a thin line, and those forehead wrinkles were back. “I hesitate to even bring this up,” he said, “and I do so only because I’ve started to care for you, and I admire you so greatly.”

  If Hazel had any concerns before, those words put them to rest. She squeezed his hand. “Tell me.”

  “I understand that Nathan still has feelings for you.”

  Hazel nodded slowly a few times. Her throat was thick, and she didn’t want to speak, nor could she have, had she wanted to. Nathan would always be a sensitive topic for her.

  “From what I’ve seen in one day,” Wyatt continued, “he’ll do anything to prevent you from ever finding a husband. Twice now, he has tried to intervene between the two of us. The first was when we’d barely met, and he had no reason other than insecurity and childish envy to claim that you were engaged to him.”

  As much as Hazel hated to admit it, he was right.

  Wyatt eyed her as if gauging whether she was open to his words. “He did far worse this afternoon, of course. Granted, I crossed a line, one that I will forever try to atone for, to earn your trust. But nothing I did justifies his actions in trying to keep you away from another man.” As if to emphasize this point, he released her hand and gingerly brushed his wounded eyebrow.

  Hazel sat there, confused and frustrated, not knowing what to do. Wyatt made a very good point. Nathan likely would try to come between her and any man she tried to become better acquainted with. Who would ever try to win her hand if it meant fighting off Nathan Siddoway? Not even the boys they’d grown up with had the courage.

  On the other hand, Nathan had told her some highly improbable things tonight. She was quite sure that he believed them, but in her heart, she knew that Nathan would never intentionally mislead her or lie to her. She needed to ask Wyatt about the sketch.

/>   “Nathan said some awful things after you left.” Hazel purposely didn’t say that Wyatt had be taken away.

  “That doesn’t surprise me,” Wyatt said.

  “He went on and on about something he had found in the newspaper, a sketch of a man wanted across several states, or some such.” She shook her head side to side and tilted it back to look at the stars. “He was convinced that the sketch was of you.”

  “Ridiculous, of course,” Wyatt said.

  “That’s what I thought. The man in the picture could have been you, certainly, but it was vague enough that it could have been a thousand other men as well. But he was so sure. I pointed out that the man had a different name, but he said it was similar, so yours is probably an alias.”

  Wyatt sat back against the bench, his attention piqued. “And what was this wanted man’s name?”

  Hazel the next his posture, leaning against the bench, and folding her arms before saying the name. “Willie Cochran. Apparently, having the same initials as an outlaw is a crime.” She shook her head again ruefully.

  “You see what you are up against,” Wyatt said.

  “I do now, thanks to you,” Hazel said.

  “Come with me,” Wyatt said suddenly, his voice filled with energy.

  “Where?” she looked around, thinking he meant somewhere nearby.

  “Away from Midway. Away from Utah. Maybe away from the Rockies altogether.”

  “But I thought you were making your home here and starting a new business.”

  “Not anymore. I can’t have a successful business when I know that Nathan will do everything in his power to see me fail. I have to go somewhere else, find another town where I start over. I have done it before, and I can do it again.” He leaned in and took her by the shoulders. He brushed her cheek with a kiss, pulled back and looked at her. “But I’d rather not do go alone. I’ve been a bachelor far too long. I’d prefer — no, I need — you to come with me.”

  The shock of his suggestion overwhelmed her like a winter avalanche on Mount Timpanogos. Should she go? Could she?

  “As tempting as that’s sounds — and it is very tempting — I can’t. My mother is old and frail. She relies on me to care for her. I can’t leave her.”

  “Hmm.” A mischievous smile developed in one corner of his mouth, visible by the light of the moon. “I have an idea. What if you don’t have to leave her? Let’s elope!”

  Hazel pulled back with a laugh, sure he was joking. “You mean take my mother along on an elopement? I’m sure that would be lovely.” She laughed again.

  “I’ll hire a nurse to care for your mother while we’re gone. Then after we get set up in a new town, in a new house — together — we’ll send for her. She can live with us. And I can hire a nurse to care for her in our home, someone who could come during the days, or even live with us. I’m sure a nurse would help you with your other duties, and ease your mind on your mother’s account.” His hands tightened on her shoulders. “Come with me, Hazel. Haven’t you always wanted adventure? Leave with me tonight.”

  How could so much happen in one day? That morning, she woke up thinking it was basically another Pioneer Day. Tonight, Nathan had a broken nose from the man who’d ridden into town that morning, and now she was getting proposed to buy that same man. More than proposed to — he was suggesting that they elope. Madness, that’s what it was. Except that he’d make sure her mother was cared for. Cared for better than she could her own, because Hazel wasn’t a nurse.

  Yet, Midway was her home. Could she leave all of a sudden to be with a man she’d just met?

  Home used in mean where Nathan was. Now it meant where her mother was. If Hazel could take her mother with her, establishing new home, one away Nathan’s paranoia, and with a man who adored her, shouldn’t she?

  Temptation and its accompanying thrill pulled at her with as much force as the desire to stay in Midway did. Her mother, the house and neighborhood she’d grown up in, her lifelong friends, all pulled at her to stay. Thoughts of Nathan pulled the hardest.

  She could not imagine her life without him as a part it. He’d always been there. He’d always watched out for her, always cared.

  “Let’s leave first thing in the morning.” Wyatt pulled her close and wrapped both arms about her in a tight hug. “What are you thinking?” he murmured into her ear. “Tell me.”

  “I’m thinking...” she said hesitantly.

  “About how happy we’ll be?” He kissed her hairline, once, twice, three times, and soon the beginning of one kiss was indistinguishable from the beginning of the next. She felt a bit heady, as if she’d had some alcohol to drink and couldn’t think clearly. His mouth kept traveling greedily. He moved to her ear, her neck, and then along her jawline, heading for her lips.

  “I need more time,” Hazel said suddenly.

  “But what is time, really?” Wyatt stopped his kisses long enough to flash a smile at her and hold her face between his hands. “A lifetime here hasn’t gotten you anywhere, has it? Come with me in the morning. I can have a nurse and transportation for the two of us — everything — arranged by ten. You have nothing to keep you here. No reason to stay.”

  In spite of his alluring tone — and his equally alluring touch — his last words sent a single image into her head like an arrow into a target: Nathan’s face. She did have a reason to stay. Hazel needed Nathan in her life, and more than as a friend. She’d pushed him away, but only now, in the face of losing him entirely, did she realize how much she wanted and needed him. How much Nathan had become a part of her life, her soul, her very identity.

  The magic of the moment collapsed on itself. She shook her head and gently pushed Wyatt away to make some distance between them. “I can’t. I just — I can’t.”

  Wyatt wouldn’t be dissuaded; he pulled her back in and kept kissing her, murmuring breathily, “Yes, you can. You can. You want to.”

  But she didn’t. She didn’t want to. Not anymore. She loved Nathan. She’d been a fool before, but she knew better now.

  She tried to push him away harder, tried to free herself from the grip he had on her face, but his fingers only tightened. Hazel cried out at the pain; his grip would leave bruises. “Let me go.”

  She watched Wyatt’s face change as if a mask dropped from that of a prince in a fairy tale to one of a villain. His upper lip lifted in a sneer. “You don’t have the right to say no.” Wyatt lowered his hands from her face to her neck. And squeezed.

  Chapter Twelve

  Sheer panic shot through Hazel. I’m going to die.

  Wyatt squeezed harder and harder. The world seemed to be closing in like a dark tunnel. The edges of her vision blurred, narrowing more by the second. She couldn’t get the tiniest bit of air in or out. Couldn’t scream. Couldn’t call for help or even hope someone heard a whimper and would come to investigate. If Coltrane didn’t let go, she’d faint. And that hatred in his eyes said he would have no qualms about leaving her there for dead.

  Nathan! Mother!

  Her thoughts weren’t complete or clear, but the image of the two people most dear to her gave her strength to keep fighting. She gripped his wrists and pulled with all her might, trying to pry his hands off her. He only squeezed harder, his face contorting into one of sadistic pleasure.

  “Women are all the same,” he growled, pushing his face close to hers. “Sirens, all of you. Good for nothing but luring men and trying to ruin our lives.” He stood and dragged her to her feet, his hands never leaving her neck. He jerked his head toward a spot of grass beside the bench. “But I know how to deal with sirens. I know how to give them what they deserve and get what I deserve.”

  She understood what he meant. With a startling amount of clarity, she knew that if he got her onto the ground, she’d be unable to stop him from having his way with her.

  No, she thought, now more angry than afraid. You will not take me, you fiend.

  Before he had a chance to drag her to the ground, Hazel channeled all of her e
nergy into her right leg. In one swift, powerful movement, she bent her knee and thrust it upward. It made contact, harder than she’d expected. He bent over, groaned with pain, and released his grip. Suddenly, she could breathe. She could also see, with Wyatt bent over, a purple birthmark on the back of his neck in the shape of a bean.

  Oh, no.

  She gasped, taking in lungfuls of night air and backing up so he couldn’t reach for her again. Surely he hadn’t released her on purpose, and as soon as he could, he’d chase her down. If he got hold of her a second time, he’d be even crueler. She had no doubt of that, especially after seeing his birthmark. This wasn’t Wyatt Coltrane at all, but Willie Cochran, an outlaw who had committed all manner of crimes.

  What had Nathan told her about Willie? She couldn’t remember. I should have listened to him. Believed him. Nathan had never been the paranoid type. She knew that. So why had she taken Wyatt’s — rather, Willie’s — alluring flattery into consideration for even a moment?

  Backing away and making sure she still faced him, Hazel frantically looked about. Should she run, or would he be able to catch her? How long would he be doubled over like that? Was anyone about who could see her or hear her if she called?

  She couldn’t rely on any of those things. Think, she ordered herself. Breathe and think.

  She glanced over her shoulder to be sure she wouldn’t trip on anything and noted the elaborate fence Mr. Johnson had made to line one side of his drive. He was a blacksmith, the best for miles around, known for being excellent in the forge but scatterbrained anywhere else. People joked that he’d forget his head if his wife didn’t remind him to bring it along. Could he have left a length of metal somewhere? That might work as something to defend herself with.

  Still bent over, Willie looked over at her with pure hatred and fury in his face. While he didn’t straighten, he did take a step toward her, and then another, closing the gap between them. Hazel took matching steps backward and nearly stumbled both times because her entire frame was shaking. She took a third step, and her foot touched something unexpected. Something hard and long and cold enough for her to feel it through the sole of her boot.