With a shake of her head, Sarah muttered, “I don’t want your help!”
“Too bad. You’re getting it.”
Sarah sat there, tense and frustrated. She wasn’t willing to listen to her instincts, which were whispering that Wolf was trustworthy. Not after all that had happened in the past six months of her life. How many times had she dreamed of someone coming to help her defend what was rightfully hers, rightfully her family’s? But no one had come.
Angrily she said, “Knights on white horses don’t exist. They never did! Didn’t you know that?”
A gutting pain shattered through Wolf. “Yeah,” he whispered rawly. “No one knows that better than me.” He turned and left the room as quietly as he’d come.
The silence wrapped around Sarah as she sat digesting the awful sound of his words, the horror that had been banked in his eyes. Then she slowly began to dress, her mind ranging from her own predicament to Wolf’s admission. The anguish in his gray eyes had touched her even more than her own dire situation. Who was he? What was he doing here? And what terrible secrets weighted down those magnificent shoulders of his? And, more importantly, why did she care?
By the time they reached Philipsburg Hospital, it was 9:00 a.m. Sarah sat on the passenger side of the truck, with Skeet as a barrier between her and Wolf. She had to give Wolf credit: He knew how to drive the truck through the muddy mire of the road. Was there anything he didn’t do well? Didn’t know about? She stole a look at him. His profile could have been chiseled from the rugged Rockies of Glacier National Park. But somehow the unforgiving set of his mouth made her heart ache for him. Sarah kept replaying his last words, about not being a knight in shining armor. What had happened in his past to make him believe that? Because, like it or not, Sarah, right now, he rescued you, her conscience taunted.
With a ragged sigh, Sarah closed her eyes. For the first time in a long time, she had put herself in someone else’s hands. It was a disturbing thought—a paralyzing one. But what else could she do?
As they neared the hospital, the truck radio unexpectedly crackled to life, so Wolf called his boss to explain the situation, saying he’d report in shortly. Arriving at the emergency entrance, Wolf carried Sarah into the hospital. But as he prepared to leave, he saw fear in her eyes that she obviously was trying to hide.
“I’ll try to drop in and see you late this afternoon, before I go up to your cabin,” he said, trying to sound more cheerful than he felt. Sarah sat on a gurney in a cubicle, her long legs dangling over the side. Her bare feet bruised and swollen. Her hair desperately needed to be washed and brushed, the mud from yesterday’s accident still clinging to the golden strands. Her head was bowed, and Wolf started to reach out, to graze her pale cheek to reassure her, but he couldn’t even do that. Nothing was for sure in life. Absolutely nothing. His hand stopped in midair.
“Thanks,” Sarah whispered, unable to look up. Just having Wolf standing beside her, she felt so much safer, as if everything really might work out—and the knowledge that he was leaving brought her ridiculously near tears.
The urge to hold her, to whisper that things would be okay, needled Wolf. But he, of all people, had no right to guarantee that. To hell with it. He gripped her hand momentarily, squeezing it gently. “You worry too much, Sarah. I’ll be back later,” he said with all the confidence he could muster, and he released her hand. But not before her head snapped up and those glorious blue eyes of hers flared with disbelief and some other tangible but indecipherable emotion. As Wolf turned away, he tried to figure out what it was that he’d seen reflected in her lovely gaze, then shook himself, putting it firmly out of his mind. Once he’d thought he could understand a woman, but experience had taught him differently. He knew he didn’t dare trust his sense of the situation with Sarah—as much as his heart bid him to do just that.
Wolf glanced at his watch. It was nearly four o’clock, the day still bright with sunshine after last night’s storms. The hospital, a small two-story brick building, stood out against the side of the green mountains that surrounded the small valley town. He pulled the truck into the visitor’s parking lot and left Skeet sitting obediently in the cab, his head out the window, his tongue lolling out of his mouth.
Unaccountably, Wolf’s spirits lifted as he entered the hospital. All day, she’d been on his mind and lingering in his heart.
Room 205 had two beds in it, but only Sarah was there, the other bed unoccupied. Wolf halted, and his breath caught. Sarah was on crutches, looking out the west window, and sunlight bathed her form. Her once muddy hair was clean, reminding him of the golden corn silk that had tassled the green ears on his father’s farm every August. It waved softly down around her shoulders like a cape. She wore a blue tank top that emphasized her small form. As Wolf’s gaze moved downward, he saw to his satisfaction that Sarah’s feet and ankles were snugly wrapped in elastic bandages, although they still were obviously swollen.
“Sarah?” His throat was dry, his pulse erratic, as he said her name. As she slowly turned her head, Wolf felt as if sunlight were bathing him for the first time in this last dark year of his life; a strange warmth flowed through him, easing some of the pain he carried within him twenty-four hours a day. Delicate bangs framed Sarah’s gently arched eyebrows. Today she looked like a beautiful woman, not a waif. The change was heart-stopping.
Sarah turned at the sound of her name—and froze beneath Wolf’s unexpectedly hot, hungry gaze. Never before had she been silently caressed like this. Automatically her gaze dropped to Wolf’s mouth. What would it be like to kiss him—to feel that dangerous high-voltage power that seemed to throb around him?
Shaking off the strange, heated languor that threatened to engulf her, Sarah frowned. “You!”
Taken aback by the sudden change in her, Wolf halted halfway across the room. “Me?”
“Yes, you!” Sarah watched as he took off his ranger’s hat and held it in his long, callused fingers. She hobbled around, hating the crutches and especially hating the fact that she had to rely on them. “Do you know how much just one day in this place has cost me? Four hundred dollars!” She halted a foot from him and glared up into his face. “Four hundred dollars! I can’t believe it! I’ve got to get out of here. I want you to take me home!”
Wolf gripped her gently by the arm. “Come on, sit down while we discuss this.”
“There’s no discussion, Wolf. I want you to take me home. You brought me here, and you can take me back. You owe me that much.”
He nodded and released Sarah’s arm as she crossed with some difficulty and sat on the edge of the bed. Grabbing a nearby chair, he turned it around, swung his leg over it and sat down.
“What did the doctor say about your feet?”
Wrinkling her nose, Sarah muttered, “Same thing you did. No broken bones, just a lot of smashed muscles and skin. I’ve got to stay on these lousy crutches a week.”
Despite her belligerent tone of voice, the distraught quality in her eyes made Wolf wince. “I thought so. How do you feel now?”
“Four hundred dollars poorer.”
Wolf grinned, silently applauding her spunk. “I told you—I’ll help you out. A loan you can pay back with no interest.”
Adamantly Sarah shook her head. “I don’t accept help from strangers, Harding.”
Wolf sighed. There was such turmoil and anguish in Sarah’s face. And there was turmoil within him, too. He had no right to offer her help, but he couldn’t seem to help himself. “You’ll never be able to take care of yourself up there right now, Sarah,” he warned.
Her name rolled off his lips like a whisper of wind, and it sent a warmth through her. “Yes, I can! Quit treating me like I’m some breakable piece of glass. I’ve survived out there all my life just fine without you!”
“But not with two injured feet.”
“Stop it!” Sarah awkwardly rose to her feet again. “I’m checking myself out and leaving right now—with or without your help! If I have to walk back to my cab
in, I will!”
“What’s going on in here?”
Sarah jerked a look toward the door. Her doctor, Bruce Evans, stood in the doorway in his white coat, running a hand through his gray hair.
“I’m leaving, Dr. Evans.”
Wolf stood up, replacing the chair against the wall. He looked at the doctor.
“I’m Ranger Harding, Doctor. I’m the one who found Sarah on Blue Mountain and brought her here. Can she make it on her own?”
Evans smiled ruefully. “About ten minutes on your feet, Sarah, and all that pain will return.” He looked over at Wolf. “The answer’s no. At least for a week. She needs enforced bed rest to allow those feet to heal.”
“I’m sorry, Doctor, but that’s not an option.” Sarah made her way slowly to the door. “Now stand aside. I’m checking myself out. I can’t afford the bill that comes with this rest you’re talking about.”
Evans’s fatherly face gave Wolf a pleading look.
Grimly Wolf stalked over to where Sarah stood.
“Get her a wheelchair,” he ordered Evans. “I’ll take her home with me for a week.”
Sarah’s mouth dropped open. “What? Go home with you?” Shock made her voice come out squeaky, not at all in keeping with the confident image she was trying to project.
“That’s right.” Wolf’s tone brooked no argument.
Sarah’s eyes grew huge.
“It’s me or the hospital, Sarah. Make up your mind.” Damn, but she was stubborn.
Evans smiled, placated. “Wonderful solution, Ranger Harding. I’ll get the nurse to bring you a wheelchair, Sarah.”
Once they were alone, Sarah whispered fiercely, “I’m not going home with you! You take me back to my cabin or else!”
In that moment, Wolf saw just how fragile Sarah really was. Instead of losing patience, he said softly, “Honey, you’re in need of a little care right now.” He hitched one shoulder upward, his voice turning apologetic. “I’m not the best of caretakers, but I’ll do the best I can for you. I’ve got a small house with one bedroom. I can sleep on the couch in the living room. I’m not such a bad cook—and it’s a place for you to rest and heal up.” He held up his hands. “Do we understand each other? I’m a friend doing a favor for a friend. Nothing more or less.”
Stunned, Sarah couldn’t say anything for several moments. She just didn’t have the money to stay and pay a huge hospital bill. And right now, her feet were aching as if they were being smashed all over again. The pain was nearly unbearable. But worse than that, when he’d called her “honey,” a dam of feelings, both good and bad—emotions she’d held onto so long by herself—flowed through her unchecked.
Sarah realized she had no other friends. She didn’t dare have friends. Still, she knew in her heart that she needed help. But her recent past caught up with her, and her voice shook with anger. “You promised to drive by my cabin a couple times a day. Why not take me there instead—you can still check in on me.”
Wolf felt as much as heard Sarah’s panic. She didn’t want to lean on anyone for help. That much he understood, but when he caught and held her distraught gaze, he didn’t really see anger, he saw vulnerability.
“The doctor said you had to stay off your feet for an entire week, Sarah. Checking on you twice a day isn’t going to do it. I can see it in your eyes. You don’t really believe what you’re saying.”
Fear struck deeply within Sarah. Wolf had seen through her anger and knew her true feelings! Grasping at straws, she snapped, “I’m not going to be your housekeeper, Harding!”
“I’ll keep house for both of us.”
“Then what do you want out of this?” she demanded. “Everybody always expects something.”
Wolf smiled gently. “Where I come from, we were taught to offer our home, food and the roof over our heads to total strangers. This isn’t out of the ordinary for me, Sarah, even if it is for you.”
Warily Sarah demanded, “Where do you come from?”
“The Eastern Cherokee reservation in North Carolina. I was born and raised there. My father’s a full-blooded Cherokee. He met my mother when she came to the reservation to teach. The native American way is to offer help when it’s needed, Sarah.” He held her mutinous blue gaze. “And you need help.”
Sarah was losing the struggle to stay independent, and she knew it. No matter how much she wished her feet hadn’t been injured, there was no contradicting the doctor’s diagnosis. It would take at least a week for them to heal enough that she could walk again. Silently Sarah vowed never to let her guard down around Wolf Harding. She sensed that to do so could be devastating—in ways she couldn’t even imagine. “Okay,” she muttered defiantly.
Wolf felt Sarah’s disappointment at giving in. And she had every right to be wary of him, as harsh experience had taught him in South America. Still, a strange lightheartedness flowed through him. “It’s not a prison sentence, Sarah,” he said, and his voice came out almost teasing.
Sarah struggled to rally, knowing Wolf didn’t deserve her anger. “But my cabin…the mine…”
“I’ve already been up to your mine and cabin twice today. Everything’s quiet. Don’t worry.”
“I’ll need stuff from the cabin,” Sarah said unhappily.
“I’ll drive up there tonight and get clothes and anything else you want for your stay with me.”
Sarah moved aside when the nurse brought in the wheelchair. She needed no nudging to sit down in it and take the pressure off her throbbing feet. Wolf was immediately at her side to take the crutches. Just his nearness sent an unexpected sheet of warmth through her, and for just a split second, she wavered. The absurd urge to simply open her arms and move into Wolf’s arms was nearly overwhelming. Confused, Sarah sat awkwardly in the silence, unstrung by him. Her entire world was unraveling, and it was all she could do to continue to hold herself together. But, whether she liked admitting it or not, Wolf’s quiet, steadying presence was shoring her up.
Skeet barked once in greeting when Sarah climbed into the truck with Wolf’s help. The dog thumped his bushy tail.
Sarah rallied at Skeet’s enthusiasm, offering a slight smile as she patted the dog’s huge head. “I’ll bet you thought you’d gotten rid of me, huh?”
Wolf climbed in the driver’s side and shut the door. “He won’t mind the company. In fact, he’ll like it.”
“Will you?” Sarah asked sourly as Wolf drove away from the hospital.
With a shrug, Wolf glanced over at her, feeling the tension building between them once again. “Does it matter what I think?”
Sarah set her lips and stared straight ahead. “Yes.”
Wolf didn’t want to lie to her, but he couldn’t tell her the truth, either. It was just too painful to talk about. “It will take some getting used to,” Wolf admitted, “but I’ll handle it.”
Inwardly Sarah sighed. Living with Wolf was going to be like living with a wild animal. He was so unpredictable. And so were her wildly fluctuating emotions whenever he was near her.
“We have some talking to do now that we’re alone,” Wolf said seriously after a few minutes of driving in silence.
Sarah looked at him. She was trying to hold herself apart from him—trying to pretend she didn’t care what he would say. “About what?”
“I snooped around your mine this afternoon and took a closer look at that tree that fell on you yesterday.”
“Yes?”
Wolf held her gaze. “The tap root and half the roots on the other side of the tree had been sawed through. Did you know that?”
His words sunk in, and Sarah gasped. “Someone deliberately sawed through those roots?”
Sarah folded her arms defensively against her breasts as Wolf nodded confirmation. “Summers,” she bit out. “It was that bastard Summers! He sent some of his hired guns up there to do it.” She closed her eyes, suddenly feeling very alone and afraid.
Wolf forced himself to pay attention to his driving. “Look, I’m filing a police r
eport on this with the sheriff’s office, Sarah. Something has to be done about it. Before, I figured you were blowing things with Summers out of proportion.” His straight black brows dipped. “Now I know you aren’t.”
“Sheriff Noonan will circular-file your report, just like he did mine on my dad’s murder, Wolf.”
The sound of Sarah saying his name moved through Wolf like a heated wave, thawing his once-frozen emotions. “You’re paranoid, but in some ways, after looking at what someone did to that tree, I don’t blame you.” And then, trying to lighten the darkness he saw in her fearful eyes, he said, “I kinda grow on people like moss on a rock. This week at the house won’t be too bad on you.” He desperately wanted Sarah to believe he could help her through this period. But could he? He didn’t know. He’d failed before—and a life had been lost. But as he stared over at Sarah, painfully aware of her situation, Wolf knew he’d never wanted to protect anyone more.
Sarah sighed, fighting the emotions his gruff kindness aroused in her. “When are you going to file the report?”
“Tonight. I’ll get you comfortable at the house, then drive up to your cabin. My last stop will be at the sheriff’s office.”
The news of the cut roots had shattered Sarah, although she fought to appear calm. She not only felt the fear, she could taste it. Summers was out to get her claim—one way or another. Never had she felt so nakedly alone. But Wolf’s voice was a balm to her raw nerves. His nearness enforced a sense of safety she desperately knew she needed, even as she struggled against it. With a shake of her head, Sarah muttered, “I’d just never have believed a stranger would come into Philipsburg and help me out so much.” She looked deep into his gray eyes. “Are you sure there isn’t a reason why you’re doing this?”
Wolf didn’t want to think about reasons. Was it to atone for—to somehow try to change—what had happened in South America? Could he really help Sarah? Even as he wrestled with his own uncertainty, Wolf still saw clearly that if he didn’t reach out to help her, Sarah would be in even more immediate danger. He tried to smile to reassure her. “Like I said before—I’m Cherokee, and we’ll open our homes to a stranger who needs help.”
Heart of the Wolf Page 5