The mutt had a sixth sense about danger. There had been so many times when Tyler hadn’t heard or sensed anything amiss with the herd but the mutt had. He’d often taken off under cover of dense shrubs, guarding the sheep as if they were his own pups. “Probably.”
“You don’t talk much, do you?”
He nodded her way. “Don’t mean to be rude. Guess I’m not used to having company.”
“You shot the cat?”
“In the neck or head.”
“Did the dog find him?”
“Found him and picked a fight. It was a young cat but it outweighed the hound.” He squinted out toward the sheep. He would need to set some fires around the perimeter of the herd to help keep predators at bay. He’d shoot a rabbit for Teddy while he was out. “Keep an eye on the meat. Beans are soaking over in that pan. Add them and put a lid on it. Should be back by the time they’re done cooking.”
fourteen
The sheep seemed calm despite the extra movement brought about by the presence of the cat. Tyler winced at the memory. How could he have missed the cat that first time? His hands must have been trembling more than he realized. He’d nailed it with the next shot, though, even as the reality of what his first shot had cost him sunk deep into his mind.
It had taken him awhile to climb the incline where the mountain lion lay dead within a few feet of the mutt. Mercifully he’d shot the dog in the chest, its howl probably the last sound its starved lungs could gasp. He’d dug a shallow hole with a sharp-edged rock and buried the animal, agonizing over the loss. Rich Morgan wouldn’t be too happy with him, but the man would read the situation for what it was and hold no blame.
At least the mutt had sired a litter of pups the past winter. They’d be old enough to train by summertime. The loss of the dog cut deep for numerous reasons. Tyler put complete trust in the animal’s instincts to track and keep predators away from the herd. It meant he would have to be more on guard. Ever watchful in his hearing as well as his vision, and even then his instincts would never be as refined as the hound’s.
He scrambled together some twigs and leaves and used them as kindling for the small fires. He crossed between the four that he set, working them until they were hot enough for the greener wood that would produce smoke.
When he returned to the camp, he gave the rabbit to Teddy. Renee sat cross-legged, peeling the bark off a twig one strip at a time. He passed her without comment, understanding all too well the boredom she must be feeling. Getting involved working the sheep would be good for her. Time would fly faster if she had chores and responsibilities.
He bent over the pot, satisfied to see the beans had been placed inside as he had requested.
“Were you afraid I would forget?”
Her voice held an edge. He ignored the question. “I’ll get the plates.” When he handed her a plate, she took it, her eyes searching his. He met her gaze head on, unwilling to let whatever attitude that brewed go unchecked. “Work will be good for you, you know. It will pass the time, and with the loss of the dog. . .”
❧
Renee lifted her eyes from the plate of beans and the strip of meat. Tyler’s words sank in slowly, and there was no missing the catch in his voice. “The dog? You mean the mangy one?”
Tyler ran a hand over his mouth, the material of his sleeve catching on the coarseness of his stubbled chin. “Shot him by mistake.”
As far as she could see, the loss of the dog wasn’t anything that terrible.
“He was a fine animal. Brave. Smart. Could track a coyote and kill a rattler in an instant. And his loss means more work. I don’t have him to drive away predators, which leaves the sheep more vulnerable.”
It was the longest stream of words she’d heard from him. “Why do you do this? Get stuck out here? For them? Doesn’t it make you crazy?”
Tyler’s eyes glittered in the firelight, and she thought she saw a slight smile curve his lips. “I felt the same way the first month. Rich kept telling me to pay attention to nature and I wouldn’t be bored. Then he gave me a Bible.”
Renee’s laugh was harsh. “Did you get religion or something?”
He seemed to mull her question, taking a bite of beans. “I don’t know what happened. Things change so much. The sky, for example—have you ever paid attention to it? The colors?”
A laugh rose in her throat, but the sincerity with which he spoke made mirth seem folly. He was serious.
“The sheep are gentle creatures. I hated them at first. Thought they were dumb animals.” He paused and stared out at the flock.
“What changed your mind?”
“It was all about me. I hated being up here. I hated being alone. I hated them because they were the reason for my isolation.”
Renee let his words sink in, unsure what it all meant. “Then why come at all?”
“Because I had no choice.”
fifteen
At first, she couldn’t think of anything to say. Ideas that explained his reason for becoming a sheepherder rolled around in her mind. Maybe he’d been jilted by a girl. He’d said he blamed the sheep for his isolation, but how could that be?
He shifted his weight, and the flames of the fire caught the strong cut of his jaw. His eyes seemed paler in the brightness. His expression always appeared on the brink of becoming surly and hard. She shivered at the idea of feeling the heat of his anger. She set aside her plate, hunger dulled by the hardness of the beans. She would have to add them sooner next time.
Tyler had never been anything but a gentleman. Terse, perhaps, but what man wasn’t when working hard at a job? Her pa never had much to say when there was work to be done, which was why the evenings seemed such a special time for her as a child. At least, before her mother had died.
When he spooned the last of the beans into his mouth, he pushed to his feet. “If you’ll wash the plates, I’ll check the herd one more time.”
“What do you mean that you had no choice?” She blurted out the words, curiosity overwhelming her. She’d had a choice to drag Thomas into her little schemes, never considering the consequences of those actions. Surely Tyler had more options open to him than being a shepherd.
He stopped in his tracks and turned. His hand scratched along his jaw then fell to his side. “Some make bad choices. Others make good. It’s all about what we learn from our experience. You’re not the only one to make a bad choice, Renee. And if that group that caught you does find us, we’ll have to make some more choices. Real fast.”
Tyler turned and walked off. She bit her lip and picked up the dirty plates, never having considered the danger she put him in if the Loust Gang found them. Kneeling by the bucket of water, she used an old rag to rinse the plates, eyes lifting along the herd of sheep, content and peaceful.
❧
Renee Dover was a troubled girl. The desire to draw her out both surprised and annoyed him. Getting involved in the girl’s problems wasn’t his business. Teddy waded with him into the midst of the sheep. Tyler stilled and listened hard for sounds of predators. As if in answer to his unspoken question, a coyote howled, and a series of yips answered. Tyler gave a grim smile. Most of the sheepherders in the region would have taken note of those sounds. These were far off. About a mile by his guess. It was the silent stalkers, bears and cats, that raised the hair on the back of his neck.
He checked his smoke screens and relit one that had gone out. The smoke was feeble at best, but it was all he could do tonight. Weary from the day, Tyler left Teddy at the edge of the pool and stripped down. The cold water shattered his weariness and sharpened his mind. He worked the soap over his back and down his arms. He scrubbed the bar over his head and down his face. If he’d given it more thought he would have brought his razor and shaved off the scrubby bush. He’d do it in the morning. Lingering in the pool of water in the dark was risky with it being a perfect watering hole for the very predators he hoped to avoid. Tyler left the cold water reluctantly, invigorated, but anxious to get back to the warm
th of the fire.
Teddy growled low in his throat, and Tyler hurried into his trousers and poked at the sleeves of his shirt. He knew better than to leave camp without his rifle, and his detour to bathe was more than foolhardy when unarmed.
Whatever had alerted Teddy moments ago didn’t seem to bother him now. Tension ebbed from Tyler’s shoulders and he hastened back to camp, not bothering to tuck his shirt.
The sheep were quiet, and Teddy curled up in his spot overlooking the herd, ready in an instant to splash into the midst and get them moving.
“Good boy, Teddy.”
He patted the dog and scrubbed his fingers down through the thick fur to scratch at his rump, an attention Teddy particularly loved. From his vantage point beside the dog, he looked into camp, expecting to see Renee. When he couldn’t make out her form anywhere within the ring of light, his breath caught.
“Renee?” he whispered.
He stalked the perimeter of the fire, keeping his face away from the bright light lest he ruin his night vision. Her bedroll lay on the ground where she’d left it that morning. The plates were gone, the skillet beside the fire where he’d left it. He told himself not to panic. He would embarrass her and himself if he traipsed after her only to discover she’d left to take care of personal needs.
He squatted beside the fire and held out his cold-stiffened fingers. Time weighed heavy on his mind. He kept expecting her to step into the camp, plates in hand. Duty done. He stood, buttoned his shirt, and stuffed it into his pants. He would not wait another minute. He grabbed his rifle and marched to the perimeter of the camp, not quite willing to leave just yet. Renee obviously needed schooling in camp life. She should never leave camp at night unless she took the rifle or Teddy. The irony that he’d violated his own rule made him clench his teeth hard. He moved into the stretching shadows. Something skittered out from beneath a shrubby patch to his right. Tyler tensed, but the small animal scurried away.
He gave a low, quiet whistle, and Teddy loped to his side. The collie was not a guard dog, but the sensitivity of his eyes and ears could mean the difference between life and death.
Night sounds seemed loud now, taunting him with his inability to find the girl. He’d never been fond of wandering the mountains at night. Too many risks. He tightened his hold on the rifle. He didn’t do vulnerable.
Teddy went still, his head cocked, ears pricked. Seconds passed. Tyler wished the moon would show its face, but the thick clouds seemed slow to scoot. He heard a new sound. Slow. A creeping whoosh that exploded his chest. The sheep were moving, panicked by an enemy. A scream rent the air.
Sweat broke out on Tyler’s forehead as he tried to remain steady and grip the direction of the sound, sure this time the sound was not the ladylike scream of a mountain cat, but Renee.
“Renee!”
Teddy lunged forward, a blur of white moving along the edge of the herd. The sheep were bunching away from the threat. Tyler raised the rifle to his shoulder as a panicked whimper rent the air.
“Renee!”
He could make out her outline now. Another dark blur moved behind her. Loping along. The sheep broke into a run. Tyler aimed the gun at the blur behind Renee, sucked air into his lungs, and then pulled the trigger. The animal growled and kept moving. He shot again, and then again. Rage-filled roars filled the air, and the dark mass fell and remained still.
Tyler stabbed through the dark to find Renee’s figure. He saw nothing. “Renee?”
“Here.” Her voice trembled. “I’m here.”
Teddy bounded out of the darkness. Tyler whistled and the dog took off. Tyler’s limbs shook with the shock of the ordeal. He found Renee on the ground, head in her hands. He heard the deep sobs that wrenched through her and knelt beside her. “Hey.” She shuddered a breath. “I forgot to tell you to take the rifle when you leave camp. Or Teddy.”
She didn’t answer, the sobs clawing out of her. He touched her shoulder, and she raised her head. He wasn’t sure who moved first, but she was in his arms then, her back shuddering beneath his hand.
As they sat there the sheep returned. Slow, spooked, more bunched than normal. But his presence seemed to soothe them and they began to spread out again. And still he held the fragile form in his arms, unable to let go though her tears were spent, her terror diminished.
sixteen
Renee clung to him. His presence something secure and stable. His solid strength pushed her fears back to manageable proportions, and still she couldn’t make herself let go. Didn’t want to move away from the safety of his arms or the beating of his heart that soothed with evidence she was not alone.
If it hadn’t been for him, the bear would have killed her. She’d wanted to die earlier, at the pond, even welcomed it, but instincts for survival had made her run from the bear. If she hadn’t looked up and seen it lumbering down off an outcropping, probably coming for water but having its eye on the sheep, she would never have made it. And if Tyler hadn’t been there with the rifle. . .
She shuddered and his arms tightened around her.
“Let’s get you closer to the fire,” he whispered into her ear.
She nodded against his shoulder and pulled from his embrace. As he helped her to her feet, she felt the muscles in her ankle protest.
“Lean on me if you need to.”
Renee shook her head. “I’ve been enough trouble already. I can walk.”
He didn’t argue but neither did he let go as he led the way back to camp, Teddy joining them at some point. He patted the dog’s head and scratched its rump. The campfire burned low for lack of fresh fuel. Renee lifted a log as big around as her leg and lugged it toward the fire. Sparks shot up into the air when she dropped it, and Tyler laughed.
Turning to him, she pressed her hands to her hips. “What?”
“You’ll have to get something a little smaller to build the fire up first.” With that he grabbed a few slender branches and broke them with his hands into short lengths. He used the long stick to roll the heavy log off the fire and placed the smaller branches on top. The flame caught the dry sticks immediately.
“I have a lot to learn.”
Tyler nodded. “We all do.”
“I guess my first lesson is not to wander at night.”
He shrugged, and a slight smile seemed to play at the corners of his mouth. “Wandering at night is sometimes necessary. The lesson is not to do it without a gun or dog.”
She stared down at her fingers, cramped from the cold, her palms bloody from her fall, and she realized when Tyler turned away that his shirt showed stains from her hands. She shuddered. Terror tightened her throat. The bear had moved more swiftly than she had anticipated.
“Lesson two.”
Tyler’s soft voice brought her attention back to him.
“Don’t run from a bear. Your best bet is to scream and flail your arms until the bear backs off. If that doesn’t work, drop down and pull yourself into a knot.”
“And wait to be eaten.”
This tugged a smile from him. It transformed his face and lit his eyes.
“You should smile more often.”
His smile wilted, and she wished she could take the words back.
He glanced away. “We need to be getting some sleep. I was going to shift the animals off, but the grass is holding so we’ll stay put tomorrow.”
She had no idea what all that meant, but he didn’t explain further and she didn’t want to ask more questions. Her body seemed to deflate all at once and it was all she could do to roll out the blankets and crawl into their warmth before drifting away into velvet slumber.
❧
Tyler lay awake long after she slept, troubled by his reaction to the woman. She tugged at emotions he hadn’t felt for a long time. Hadn’t wanted to feel. Renee wasn’t his type. Their embrace had been nothing more than a means to soothe her overwrought nerves. But her observation about his smile was different. It both pleased and embarrassed him. He’d not thought of himself as at
tractive since Anna.
He rolled away from the fire and onto his back. Anna had just begun to love him. The few times they’d been together had been magic. She would have been everything his mother would have loved in a daughter-in-law. For Anna he would have given up the wayward life and become someone she could respect. He had been ready to do just that, too.
Renee was none of the things Anna was. She was younger, for one thing, more. . . What? Selfish? Who was he to judge? But she’d suffered. Something haunted the girl, and he wanted to drag it from her. Talking about the deep down things had helped him. Rich Morgan had been a patient friend. He could do the same for Renee, but he had no inkling of how to do that. He was no healer, and his best attempts with talking to people proved clumsy.
It would be so easy to ignore her. He could use her help in camp. It would be good for her to be busy, just as he’d suggested to her, but he wouldn’t get involved.
He closed his eyes, settled on the matter, but sleep wouldn’t come. The feel of her in his arms. The frailty of her frame beneath his hand. The harshness of her sobbing gasps. A longing for a closeness he’d denied himself came alive despite his efforts to the contrary.
seventeen
Renee woke up shivering. The crackle of fresh wood on the fire beckoned her closer. She climbed out, gasped at the chill air, scooted her blankets closer to the heat, and dove back inside.
Rich, male laughter made her squeeze her eyes harder.
“Playing possum won’t work. Breakfast is almost ready anyway.”
She wiggled her toes and debated abandoning her blankets to help with breakfast.
“I could leave it for the bears.”
Renee lifted the covers over her head.
“I’m sure they’ll come running when they see you, their old friend.”
He wasn’t going to leave her alone, but she had to admit that the sparkle of humor in his words delighted her. Even his rare burst of laughter seemed a gift. She swept the covers back in a pretend huff, immediately wishing she hadn’t been so hasty when the cold air slammed against her.
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