“Well, yes, I think you did. Up until the end.” She laughed and crossed the stream, handing him a bottle of water.
She waited as he took a long drink from her bottle. There. She’d gotten him to laugh. And he sure was handsome when he did. Well, even when he didn’t.
This was the Wyatt she remembered—the one she’d told Jaclyn she thought she’d never see again. As he handed her the bottle, laughing as his eyes sparkled, it was clear as a bell to her that it was the Wyatt that she wanted to see much more of. If she could figure out how.
Chapter 10
Thunder cracked in the distance. She looked over to Wyatt, who’d taken off his hat and shielded his eyes as he looked to the east. Dark clouds billowed over the mountains and had covered half of the lake. She'd been so focused on what they were doing, making plaster imprints of horse hooves and placing them in plastic boxes to take back for the lab, thinking of how they might find the poachers, that she hadn't even noticed.
Wyatt shoved his hat back on, pulling it down over his forehead. He grabbed his jacket from the boulder and tugged it on, pulling the reins of his horse from the tree they’d been wrapped around. He looked over to Belinda.
"Looks like we’d better get a move on," he said as he gathered the water bottles and the bowls he'd used for the horses and shoved them back in the saddle bags. "If we don't, we won't make it back before dark or before the storm comes."
"I didn't even check the weather," Belinda said as she rubbed the back of her neck. She’d been so concerned about Wyatt that she neglected to do something that was standard protocol. She reached for her phone in her back pocket and pulled it out. Her thumb tapped the weather icon, but all she saw was a circling wheel. They were way out of cell phone range.
"Wyatt, I'm sorry. My cell phone’s not working up here. Let me grab my agency radio."
"No game warden’s within range," Wyatt said. “You’d need your satellite radio up here. You have it with you?" he asked as he mounted his horse.
"I do," she said. She flipped open her saddlebags and reached inside. She pulled out the satellite radio and turned it on. Nothing.
"I think it's dead," she said as she stared at it in disbelief, but she always carried a second set of batteries. She fumbled inside her saddlebags, feeling around for the cylinders that she knew would go into the radio. She didn't find them, and after she'd emptied just about everything on the ground, she closed her eyes. Looking toward Wyatt, she said, "I don't have any batteries. Do you?"
"Some warden," he said as he rolled his shoulders. "No, I don't have that kind. Only the ones I need for Dani’s radio."
Belinda mentally kicked herself. How could she have forgotten something so important? She bent down to gather all of the things that she’d thrown out of her saddlebags looking for batteries. She shoved all of them back inside and as she put the last things in, lightning flashed in the distance. They hustled from the glen, Wyatt keeping a pretty good clip on his horse and Belinda following right behind.
They were only a quarter of the way down the mountain when she heard the whirr of a helicopter coming across the ridge. She took off her hat and clipped it to her belt. A black helicopter with Search and Rescue emblazoned on the side appeared over the side of the ridge. It hovered over them slowly, and she thought it was pretty low. It circled once or twice, and Wyatt took off his hat and waved it in the air. Belinda had seen this helicopter once or twice when she'd been out on the trail, and she knew Dani was probably inside. Wyatt pulled the reins of his horse, bringing her to an abrupt stop. He dismounted, rummaged through his saddlebags and pulled out a radio.
"Hey, Dani,” he said into the radio. "Is that you?"
Belinda hooked her thumbs in her tool belt, lacking as it was, and waited for a response.
"Hey, Wyatt. Yeah, it's me. Storm’s coming in fast. See how far you can get down the mountain, and I'll let you know when it's time to hunker down."
Wyatt shook his head slowly. "It figures, right?" He looked over toward Belinda, cinching his horse’s saddle and grabbing the reins. "We’d better get a move on."
They rode as quickly as they could, given the steep terrain and the wind that had picked up. Ranger did a fine job, and as Belinda pulled her hat down over her eyes, she yielded her trust to the animal who had navigated this terrain probably as much as she had. Even so, she was thankful that Wyatt was ahead of her.
After another hour of riding, Wyatt stopped and surveyed the terrain. River’s End Ranch was still far below them, and as the gathering clouds blocked the sun, it was much darker than it would normally have been at this time of the afternoon. Dusk was upon them.
“Any cell service yet for you? I’m not getting anything,” he said as he shoved his phone back in his shirt pocket with a grimace.
She reached for her phone and punched Weather. Nothing.
“Nope. Darn those satellite batteries,” she said, once again chagrined that she hadn’t checked before she left.
Wyatt dismounted and walked quickly around the small opening in the trees he’d stopped in. “I’ll try to reach Dani again and see what’s what, but there’s a small rock overhang near here where we could shelter if we need to.” He pulled the radio from his saddlebags and hailed Dani. He was met with silence, and he paced a moment before he walked closer to the edge of the mountain, taking several steps out toward the cliff. She held her breath as his toes met the very edge and he tried to hail Dani again.
“Wyatt, storm’s coming fast. Where are you?” she heard finally and let out her breath. At least they were in contact.
“Right about at grandpa’s favorite viewpoint. Not far from that rock outcropping he liked,” Wyatt answered as he pulled down his hat, his shoulders hunched against the wind.
Belinda dismounted and led Ranger over toward the cover of trees nearby as she waited, the wind whistling through the pines above.
“Good. Stay there. It’s coming fast and we’re already grounded at base camp. You good for the night?”
Wyatt turned and spotted Belinda by the trees. He held his hands out beside him and shrugged his shoulders. “Guess we have no choice. My resident warden here has her agency issue so I’m sure we’ll be fine.”
“All right,” Dani said curtly. “Just get in that outcropping and stay. I’ll check in on you. This one’s going to be a doozy.”
“Roger that, sister. You be careful.”
“You, too, Wyatt. I’m sure Belinda’s got your back,” she said with a laugh. “Over.”
Belinda smirked as Wyatt crossed back through the glade, his head down.
“You heard all that?” he asked as he untied his horse’s reins from the branch.
“I did,” she shouted over the wind. “Lead the way.”
Wyatt hopped on his horse and turned his mare in, toward the mountain. He weaved through a stand of tall trees, and if he was following a trail, Belinda couldn’t see it. He knew these mountains even better than she did, though, so she just put her head down and followed.
Not much later, they came upon a small clearing, edged by a large stone outcropping that leaned over a small swath of grass, interspersed with patches of dirt. As they entered the clearing, the wind quieted a bit, whistling now rather than roaring.
“Grandpa used to shelter here when it got rough,” Wyatt said as he dismounted and led his horse over to shelter and tied her reins loosely around the trunk of a small tree.
Belinda did the same, stroking Ranger’s mane as he stomped his feet at each crack of lightning.
“Think they’ll be okay?” she asked, concerned at Wyatt’s horse’s soft whinnies.
Wyatt stroked his horse’s rump, mumbling softly to her as he pulled a canvas tarp from his saddlebags. “Belle is the best horse I’ve ever had, and she knows how to handle herself. She’ll calm Ranger, too,” he said as he deftly hung the tarp between three trees, providing additional cover for the horses.
The wind took up and howled again, and Belinda hadn’t been sure she’d heard him corr
ectly. Had he said Belle?
No, he couldn’t have. That wouldn’t make any sense if he’d wished her ill, or despised her as much as she’d feared.
But she thought she had heard him, even over the raging wind, and her heart swelled. Belle was what he’d always called her when they were alone. And what he’d named his beautiful mare after she’d left. It gave her hope—but for now, they had bigger things to worry about.
Chapter 11
Lightning flashed and the horses neighed as Wyatt gathered rocks to light a small fire. He wasn’t even sure he could get one going, but he was bound and determined to try. This was turning out to be a nightmare—exactly what he’d hoped wouldn’t happen. Now they were stuck for the night.
As much as he tried, he had a hard time focusing on the task at hand. Belinda had set out to find firewood after she’d pulled out what she had from her agency pack. At least she had a small dome tent, and with the overhang of the rocks, he was pretty sure they’d come out unscathed. Physically, anyway.
He finished his fire ring and quickly set up the tent, pulling it back as close to the rock wall as was possible. He stood, his hands on his hips, and looked out over the valley below. The Ranch would be in shelter mode, too, if this storm was as bad as Dani had said it would be. At least she’d said it would be short.
Belinda had been piling wood in his fire ring quickly, and he rummaged in his saddle bags for any more food Kelsi might have packed for them. He found a few apples, and watched the wood stack grow as he fed them to Belle and Ranger. While it was a challenge for him to be this near to Belinda, he couldn’t help but admire her skills, and he shook away the memory of the times they’d been up here before, when they could actually talk.
“Ouch,” Belinda cried as she grabbed her thumb and put it in her mouth, dropping the kindling she’d held.
He stiffened for a moment, then crossed over to where she stood. She shook her hand and winced.
“Splinter. A big one,” she said as she looked up at him, her green eyes dark.
“Can you pull it out?” he asked, concern clouding his eyes. “Let me see.”
She held out her hand, and he frowned at the sliver of pine wedged deeply at the base of her thumb.
“Ouch is right. That’s a big one,” he said as he cocked his head. It was pretty big, and would likely leave smaller splinters once it was removed.
“I think so,” she said as she surveyed the damage. “I’ll try.”
She sat on one of the flat rocks he’d placed by the fire ring and set to her task.
He piled kindling in the fire ring and threw a few handfuls of dried pine needles on top, wedging some under the smaller pieces so the fire would catch quicker. Crouched by the fire, he glanced at her from the corner of his eye as she sat on the rock, readying herself to pull out the hunk of wood in her hand.
She took a deep breath and pulled, but not before closing her eyes. He grinned at her courage. It wasn’t every girl who’d do that on her own—at least in his experience.
The fire took quickly, even in the wind, and he sat beside Belinda as she cradled her hand against her chest. Blood seeped from her wound, and tears filled her eyes as she watched the fire.
“You all right?” he said as he reached in his pocket and pulled out his grandfather’s handkerchief, the white linen one he’d had since he was a boy.
Belinda brushed back her tears and smiled weakly. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
He reached out for her hand and she held it out to him slowly, pulling it back quickly as her eyes widened.
“No, don’t use your grandpa’s hankie. It’ll get ruined.”
He reached out and grabbed her hand, gently wiping away the blood that now poured fairly quickly from the gash the wood had made alongside the splinters. “That’s what it’s for. Emergencies,” he said as he peered at where the wood had been wedged. “It’s handled worse than this, trust me.” He smiled at her over the light of the fire, and she lifted her eyes slowly toward him.
His heart tugged as their eyes met, and the orange of the fire danced in her emerald green eyes, filled with tears.
“Thank you, Wyatt,” she said softly.
He cleared his throat and wiped away the blood. She’d pulled the biggest piece of wood out, but there were several other small splinters lodged next to it, a few on the tip of her index finger—and of course the gash.
“Looks like there’s more work to do here,” he said as he held her hand toward the fire. It was dark now, and although it was quiet back where they were close to the overhang, the wind howled further out toward the cliff.
She reached in her pocket and pulled out her pocket knife, a smooth silver one with a mother of pearl inlay set in shiny, polished onyx. “I don’t think I can get it. It’s my right hand,” she said as she held out the knife to him.
He stared at the knife, and his heart warmed. “I can get it if you want, but I’ve got my own,” he said as he pulled out a matching pocket knife.
Belinda took in a sharp breath as the fire illuminated his knife—just like hers, the one he’d gotten for her for her twenty-first birthday. He still carried the one she’d gotten for him, so they could match.
“Oh, Wyatt,” she said, as her head fell to his shoulder, tears dropping on his knee. “It hurts.”
“I know,” he said softly as he took her hand and set about removing the splinters.
She kept her head on his shoulder, and he didn’t mind. In fact, even with the wind her scent was familiar, and her chestnut hair shone in the light of the fire.
She pulled her hand back as he dug in for the last splinter. He gripped it tightly and said, “I’m almost done.”
“It hurts,” she repeated as he pulled the last splinter from her hand, still trying to staunch the blood from the gash. It had slowed a bit, but had been a pretty good bleeder, and she looked a little pale by the light of the fire.
“I’m sure it does,” he said as he wiped away the blood, sorry he’d had to cause her pain.
“No, I mean what I did to you. To us. It hurts,” she said as she lifted her head and reached out for his chin, turning him toward her. “Wyatt, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know what else to do.”
Her eyes clouded, and he held a finger to her lips as he lowered his eyes and looked away. He reached for her hand once more and took a swipe at the blood. It hadn’t stopped, and he pulled her hand to his lips, applying pressure to the wound.
Belinda sighed, and he closed his eyes, pressing his lips to her palm, away from the gash but near. “Yes. It hurts,” he said slowly before he lifted his head and wrapped his grandfather’s handkerchief around her wound and tied it tightly.
He glanced at Belinda, and his heart ached at the questions he saw in her eyes. Yes, it hurts, Belinda. Yes, you crushed me. No, I can’t go through that again. He wanted to say all this and more, ask the million questions he had for her, and it was on the tip of his tongue when lightning lit the sky, and thunder rumbled. The mountain shook beneath his feet, and he shivered.
“Tents are all set up,” he said instead. He secured the horses’ reins for the night and set bowls of water within reach. Crossing back to the fire, he sat back down on his boulder, picked up a stick and stirred the embers.
She sat as if she’d been waiting for him to say more, but he couldn’t.
Her shoulders sagged and she cradled her hand as she lowered her eyes. She stood and stretched, disappointment clouding her eyes.
He looked up at her as she stared at the fire, lost in thought. He should say more. Should ease her mind. Should tell her he’d cared for her deeply. Heck, still did.
She blinked quickly a few times and yawned. “All right, then. I’m going to head in,” she said, raising her voice a little as the wind picked up again and rain began to fall.
He didn’t turn her way, but watched out of the corner of his eye as she gently opened the tent and crawled inside. She poked her head out once she was in and smiled at him—it was a smile, but a sa
d one, and it tugged at his heart.
“Night, Wyatt. Thanks for everything,” she said before she zipped her tent, and he could hear her pull off her boots and settle onto the bedroll.
“Night, Belinda,” he said quietly. He set his stick to the fire again as the rain fell harder outside the outcropping. It wasn’t exactly cold rain this time of year, but suddenly he felt cold and empty with her gone, even by the warm fire. He shivered, pulled his jacket more tightly around him and readied himself for a long night.
Chapter 12
Belinda’s hand throbbed, and she held it to her chest. It was the first thing she’d felt as she came to awareness after barely sleeping a wink. The storm had raged all night, and she must have fallen asleep at some point, because now, the clouds had parted. She poked her head out of the tent to see the clouds parting, sun spilling over the mountains to the east.
She hadn’t even bothered to take her clothes off, just her tool belt. Not that it had been cold, even with the wind, but she and Wyatt had gone their separate ways after he’d taken out her splinters and her hand hurt too badly to even unbutton her shirt.
She froze as she saw Wyatt sitting by the fire. She honestly couldn’t say if he’d even slept as she’d headed in before he’d put out the fire and maybe he’d just sat there all night. If she thought he’d have talked to her she might have stayed up with him, but she’d tried to and he hadn’t bitten. Nothing.
She pulled back into the tent and put on her tool belt. Well, it wasn’t exactly nothing. He had admitted that he hurt, too, and that was something. A beginning, maybe, and she had been able to apologize. Technically, that had been her goal. And she’d met it.
But when he’d kissed her palm—she had no doubt it had been a kiss, even if he was tending to her wound—the familiar thrill had coursed through her. His tenderness had always touched her deeply, and that clearly hadn’t changed. But now what? She wanted that feeling again—and again.
Honest Horseman (River's End Ranch Book 5) Page 5