She sighed as she gathered her bedroll and pulled on her boots, wincing as pain shot through her hand. That was the sensation she’d more likely be feeling as Wyatt was never one to do anything suddenly or quickly. She just needed to give him time to think. Maybe when they got back down the mountain, she’d try again.
“Morning,” she said as she left the tent and crossed over to the fire. She sat down beside Wyatt, cradling her hand as he poked at the fire with a stick. He’d set a small pot to the side, and the aroma of coffee filled the small enclosure, warming the crisp morning air. She hadn’t thought it was cold, but she could see her breath, and Wyatt had cupped his hands and blew into them.
“Morning,” he said as he pulled the sleeve of his flannel jacket over his hand, picked up the coffee pot and poured her a cup.
She reached for it with her good hand and paused, watching intently as Wyatt poured himself a cup and set the pot back in the flames.
A laugh escaped as he leaned back on his rock and wrapped his hands around his tin cup.
“Mm. Best coffee ever,” she said. “How do people live without this?”
Wyatt chuckled and held his cup up toward her.
“You still have that coffee pot?” she asked as her eyes danced.
He glanced at it quickly and looked from it to her. “Yes, it’s special,” he said as he smiled at her.
Her heart lightened as he did, and she stood, circling the fire to see the other side of it. There, etched in the enamel, was B + W, even after all these years.
“Hm.” She strolled over to the horses and said, “They seem no worse for the storm.”
Wyatt threw the dregs of his coffee into the fire and stood. “Nope, they did just fine. I kept an ear out.”
“I bet,” she said as she looked at him appreciatively. “Thanks for your help, Wyatt. Couldn’t have done it without you.”
He rubbed the back of his neck as he stared at the fire. “Sure, you could have. You’re fine on your own.”
“You’d be surprised,” she said as she emptied her coffee into the fire as well and reached for Wyatt’s cup.
“Let me see your hand,” he said, reaching out toward her. He gently untied the handkerchief that was now mostly red. He poured water over her hand and brushed away the dried blood, and it immediately started bleeding once more.
“We’d better get this looked at. You all right?” he said as he tied the handkerchief back around her palm.
“Yeah, I think so,” she said.
“You look a little pale,” he said as he brushed his finger over her cheek. Their eyes met for a moment before he looked away. “I’ll gather up the gear. We should head out as soon as we can. It’ll be slow going with the wet ground.”
She helped as best she could, managing to roll up the bed rolls as he took down the tents and stashed them away. She gave the horses water and sat back down as he stowed the last of the gear.
“You hungry?” he asked as he held up a can of beans.
She smiled at his offer. Unless something drastic had changed, and it hadn’t on her account, Wyatt wasn’t any better at cooking than she was.
Canned beans had been their staple out on the trail when it was just the two of them. They’d open the can with a pocket knife and set it right in the fire. Hardly gourmet, but it did the trick.
“Thanks, but I can wait if you can. I’d like to get back and get some of this evidence tagged. Maybe take a shower,” she said as she cinched Ranger’s saddle and winced.
“Yeah, and brush my teeth,” Wyatt said as he did the same with Belle’s saddle.
She leaned against Ranger and crossed her arms. “I always liked your coffee breath,” she said and her heart lifted as Wyatt laughed.
“Hope that’s not your favorite memory of me,” he said as he crossed over and stood close, so close she could smell the coffee.
“One of many,” she said softly as she looked into his eyes. He didn’t break her gaze and she flushed at his nearness, his ice blue eyes piercing into her very soul.
He leaned forward ever so slightly and she closed her eyes, wishing for the warm touch of his lips on hers.
Her eyes popped open when it didn’t come, and she looked down to see him holding out his hands, his fingers laced ready for her boot to help her up on Ranger.
She sighed and gripped the saddle horn with her good hand, grateful that he was so thoughtful but sorry he hadn’t kissed her. What was she thinking, anyway?
She stepped into his hand and pulled herself up, throwing her leg over the saddle. He smiled up at her and tipped his hat.
“You going to be all right to ride down?” he said as she grimaced.
“It hurts. I think I can hold the reins with my left hand but I won’t be able to hold the saddle horn with my right. I’ll do my best, though.”
She did try her best, and it wasn’t until River’s End Ranch was in sight yet still far that Wyatt held up his hand and stopped Belle.
“You’re fading a bit there, Belinda,” he said.
She hadn’t realized that her head was hanging low and Ranger was pretty much just following Belle without any direction from her. Fortunately, he knew the way but Wyatt was right. She was fading.
“I’m fine,” she managed as she lifted her heavy eyelids to see him dismounting.
“Come on, Belle. You don’t need to be like that. Not around me,” he said as he raised his arms toward her.
She hesitated for a moment, then wrapped Ranger’s reins around the saddle horn and slipped down into Wyatt’s strong arms.
He crossed over to Belle and said, “You’ll have two this trip, girl,” before he set Belinda on the back of the saddle. He tied Ranger’s reins to his saddle bag and patted his rump before saying, “Just follow along like you’ve been doing, old boy.”
He hoisted himself back on Belle and said, “Just hang on. We’ll be home before you know it.”
Belinda felt a little dizzy. She rested her head on Wyatt’s broad back and wrapped her arms around his waist. Home. That sounded good, and that’s the last she remembered before she promptly fell asleep.
Chapter 13
Belinda carefully wrapped a fresh bandage around her hand after she got out of the shower. It still throbbed, but Wyatt had been kind enough to break down their trail gear on his own after dropping her off.
“Just sleep,” he’d said as he set her on her bed and took her boots off. He’d gently taken his grandfather’s handkerchief off her hand and cleaned and dressed it properly before settling a blanket over her. “Looks like your hand will be all right. No stitches necessary,” he’d said as he headed to the door. “I’ll check on you in a few hours. Maybe you’ll feel up to some food by then. We could head over to the restaurant if you’d like.”
And when he’d called later, as promised, she was famished. They’d agreed she’d head over after she showered, and now that she’d eased her way into her jeans and a light sweater, managed to get her boots on and her hair dried, a decent meal was about all she could think about.
She left the Copper Cottage and headed to his place, which was closer to the restaurant, and her stomach rumbled as the scent of barbecue tickled her nose. It was Wade’s specialty, if she remembered correctly, and the Ranch restaurant was famous for it.
She stopped in front of the door to Wyatt’s cabin and turned slowly. He’d lived here since he’d turned twenty-one, and she ran her hand along the cool, steel chain of the porch swing they’d hung together years ago. It was a little rusty now, but it had been lovingly preserved. If she knew Wyatt, he’d sanded it every winter and applied a fresh coat of lacquer. She wondered if he still sat on it as much as they had all those summers ago.
She leaned over the porch railing, searching for the vibrant foxglove they’d planted. She smiled when she spotted it at the end of the flowerbed in front of the porch, but took a step back as she noticed the clump of forget-me-nots. If she’d known how their relationship would end, she might not have insiste
d he plant those.
She tugged at her sweater and knocked quickly on the door.
“Come in,” he shouted and she walked in, breathing in the scent she could only describe as Wyatt.
“Not quite ready. Make yourself at home,” he said from the bedroom, its door closed. She wandered slowly through the living room—she knew the kitchen would be as bare as hers—and stopped in front of the mantle over the big, stone fireplace. Family pictures covered the surface in frames of all kinds—wood, stone, glass beads, probably gifts from his sisters or his mother. On the very right, a very small frame that she recognized was tucked behind a larger one of the whole Weston family, and she didn’t need to pick it up to know it was one of her favorite pictures of the two of them. She and Wyatt, on horseback, just in from a trail ride.
She turned away quickly and sat down on the sofa. A clear, plastic bag caught her eye and she picked it up, turning it over in her hands.
“Oh, you found it. I forgot to give it to you earlier,” Wyatt said as he stepped out of the bedroom, running a towel over his wavy, sandy blond hair. He had on his faded jeans and boots, as he would, but he hadn’t yet buttoned his plaid shirt. She flushed at the sight and turned away, training her eyes on the bag as she squirmed.
“What is it?” she asked as she opened it.
“Some shell casings we found, Glen and I, when we were up on the ridge the first time. When we found the foxes,” he said as he retreated into the bedroom.
She peered inside and her breath caught in her throat. She dumped the contents out and reached for a pencil, separating the items over the dark mahogany coffee table.
Taking a quick glance toward the bedroom, she pulled her sleeve over her good hand and picked up the pocket knife, careful not to disturb any fingerprints. As she turned it over, she recoiled, dropping it with a clatter onto the table.
“What is it?” Wyatt said as he stood beside her, his shirt buttoned and his hair combed.
“Oh,” she said. “Um, nothing. I was just taking a look to see if I noticed anything.” She looked quickly at him and smiled as she struggled to keep any concern from her face. Holding the bag open to the side of the table, she swept the contents back inside with her sleeve and closed it, setting it back on the table. “I’ll take a look at it all tomorrow.”
She stood and smiled, her stomach knotting. The pocket knife was as familiar to her as her own, and she couldn’t even begin to imagine how it had ended up at the poaching scene. Maybe she was wrong, and it wasn’t the one she thought it was. Maybe she was so hungry and had lost enough blood that she couldn’t think clearly.
“Are you all right? You’ve gone pale again,” Wyatt said, cocking his head as concern flashed across his face.
“Yes, yes, I’m fine. Just hungry,” she said as she smiled.
“Okay, then, let’s take care of that,” he said, smiling as he offered her his arm.
She looped her arm through his, hoping that she didn’t have yet another secret she’d need to keep from Wyatt, just when they were getting to know each other again.
They walked quickly to the restaurant, and Wyatt held the door open for her and gestured for her to go in. Her eyes adjusted to the low lights of the restaurant and she inhaled deeply, hoping they could get right to supper. She was so hungry that all other thoughts had vacated.
“Hi, Barbi,” Wyatt said to a lovely blonde girl who greeted them.
“Hey, Wyatt,” she said warmly. “You here for supper?”
“We are. Barbi, this is Belinda Archer. Belinda, this is Barbi, waitress extraordinaire.”
Belinda smiled at the woman and shook her hand. She was beautiful, and she looked quizzically at Wyatt. He didn’t usually talk this much and in her recollection was never this friendly. She briefly wondered if maybe the two of them were an item, but when she looked up at Wyatt, his eyes were on her. Only on her.
“Nice to meet you, Barbi,” Belinda said.
“Same here,” she said as she reached for two menus. “Not sure where the hostess is, so I’ll seat you. Bar or dining room?”
“Dining room,” Wyatt said quickly, and Barbi led them to a table with a beautiful view out toward the mountains, where they could watch as the clouds changed color while the sun set.
Wyatt held her chair for her and she scooted in, taking a look around the dining room. “It looks the same, only better,” she said as she took the menu Barbi held out for her.
Wyatt smiled up at Barbi. “Thank you,” he said as he took his own menu and set it to the side of his place setting.
“I guess you don’t need a menu,” Belinda said and laughed. She set hers aside as well.
“No, I don’t. And I even have all the specials memorized. You probably smelled it, but tonight it’s barbecue. I don’t even care barbecue what, because it’s always good.”
Belinda laughed and set her menu aside, able to put thoughts of the pocket knife out of her head in favor of food.
“Barbecue it is,” she said as she placed her napkin in her lap. She looked around the restaurant again and saw some familiar faces with eyes wide in their direction. Old timers, guests or staff that had been around back in the day when she’d been there, too.
She turned to Wyatt, his eyes trained on her. He seemed oblivious to the attention they’d aroused with their arrival.
“Nothing. Just thinking how lovely you look. Sight for sore eyes, I think.”
She flushed and looked down at her hands in her lap, twisting her napkin as her stomach lurched. Darn that brother of hers. Just when Wyatt was talking to her again, he would throw a wrench in things. As soon as she could, she’d find out what was going on and fix it, one way or another. But for now, she looked up at Wyatt from under her lashes, determined to put it out of her mind and have a simple, wonderful dinner with someone close to her heart—quite a handsome someone.
Chapter 14
Belinda had turned white as a sheet when she’d found the evidence bag on his table the night before, and Wyatt couldn’t quite understand why. When she’d first come in, her color had returned, so it wouldn’t have been loss of blood—she was healing nicely.
She’d said she was going to catalogue evidence this morning and she hadn’t even taken it with her. He guessed she’d forgotten, and he planned to drop it off at the Copper Cottage on the way to the stables as soon as he had some coffee.
He put the evidence bag in his pocket and reached for the silver bag in the cupboard—shoving aside the few cans of beans he had—and opened it, intending to make a pot. He closed it again, knowing that Belinda was as apt to cook as he was. He’d take it over there and they could have coffee together before he had to be at the stables.
He shrugged on his coat and grabbed his hat, taking a quick glance in the mirror and smoothing his hair before he put it on. He smiled and reached for the coffee, heading out the door and down to the Copper Cottage.
“You’ve got quite a spring in your step today,” Jaclyn called as he passed by her cottage. He tipped his hat and slowed, stopping next to the white picket fence. He raised his eyebrows at all the rabbits on her yard and looked at her.
“It’s exercise time. They like to be outside,” she said as she smiled loving at her—herd was the only word Wyatt could think of. Herd of rabbits.
“Ah,” he said, as if that made any sense, that rabbits would need exercise. Not much surprised him anymore when it came to Jaclyn.
“Come in and have some coffee, son,” she said as she shooed the rabbits back from the gate and opened it wide.
He glanced down at his coffee and over to the Copper Cottage, not wanting to wait any longer to see Belinda.
“She’ll be there in a few minutes. We won’t be long,” she said as she tugged at his elbow, pulling him in side.
He took a last glance over toward where he knew Belinda was and sighed, following his grandmother’s best friend inside. He’d known her his whole life, and if she wanted to talk, he would. Well, maybe a little.
/> “How was your trip up to the ridge?” she said as she handed him a steaming cup of coffee. He inhaled deeply before he answered, his eyelids feeling a little less heavy with even the scent.
“Good, I think. We found a few things. Not much, but a few. Belinda thinks maybe she can put something together.”
“If anyone can, she can. I hear she’s a hot shot game warden now.”
Wyatt felt his chest swell with pride at her description. “She certainly is. She did a great job. Got injured, though.”
“Injured,” Jaclyn said, her eyebrows rising over the brim of her teacup as she took a sip.
“Yes. I’m pretty sure she’ll be all right, but I’d like to go and check on her.”
“Of course you would,” Jaclyn said as she set her tea cup down and lifted a rabbit onto her lap.
Wyatt shifted on the sofa, sensing he hadn’t yet been excused. He looked around the room, pictures of Westons and vistas of the ranch filling every empty space.
The grandfather clock in the corner ticked slowly, it seemed to him, while he waited.
“Did you get a chance to talk much?” she asked finally.
“No, ma’am, not too much. Actually got caught up in the storm and had to stay the night.”
“Ah,” she said. “You’ve had an adventure. Was it difficult?”
“Well, we had supplies. She had her agency issue and Kelsi had packed us a lunch. Liverwurst and onion sandwiches,” he said with a chuckle.
He looked up at Jaclyn, who’d raised her eyebrows again.
“That’s not what I meant.”
He circled the brim of his hat in his hands and looked over to her, not a clue what she was referring to.
She let out an exasperated sigh. “So you two cleared things up?”
“Oh, that,” he said, his face warming.
“Yes, that. I saw Belinda before you went up, and she was quite anxious to speak with you. Wasn’t at all sure that you’d listen.”
He stood and crossed over to the window. Jaclyn wasn’t someone he’d ever accuse of meddling, but it felt a little like that. He wasn’t quite sure how to answer her question. Belinda had tried to talk to him but he hadn’t let her. A couple times she tried. And then everything else had happened—
Honest Horseman (River's End Ranch Book 5) Page 6