by Reggi Allder
“Well, I never…”
“I love you, Amy, but I won’t share our life with anyone.”
“Oh, Wyatt.”
“You and the farm are my haven.” He paused. “Do I make any sense?”
“Yeah.” She took his large hand and kissed the palm, then held it to her cheek. “I love you too. She felt him relax under her touch. “I’ll keep our plans private.”
Suddenly, she was in his arms kissing him and running her hands through his hair and down his muscled back. Her heartbeat quickened as he caressed her breasts. She moaned with pleasure when her nipples hardened from his touch. She wanted him right there in the truck, on the side of the road, in the light of day.
“I think we better get a room,” she said, her voice husky.
“The hotel’s waiting.” He caressed her cheek, then started the truck’s engine.
Her hand on his thigh, she leaned close to him as he drove toward San Francisco.”
“Buckle your seatbelt, Amy. I want you safe.”
She reluctantly slid back to the passenger’s side of the truck.
Wyatt concentrated on the traffic and increased the truck’s speed on the freeway. She glanced at the dashboard, and saw a radio. “Do you mind if I put on some music?”
“Go ahead.”
She searched for a station without too much static and found a classic rock station. She hummed along for a moment and thought of Bobby. She realized in her rush to get out of the house, she’d left her phone.
She used Wyatt’s cell to text Sophie and Vanna to let them know how to get in touch if they had a question.
The air cooled as they drove closer to the Bay Area. She closed the window and stretched.
“Amy, when we get there what should we do?”
She resisted saying stay in bed for two days. “When I lived in the City I couldn’t afford much. San Francisco’s such an expensive place to live. I spent most of my time working just to pay the bills.”
“Hey, for two days no worries, no money talk, we’re on vacation. When we’re at a San Francisco restaurant, read from the menu not how much each dinner costs, okay?” He glanced at her.
“All right—I’ll try,”
“Our hotel is on a Nob Hill and we should have a panoramic view,” Wyatt continued.
“I’ve always dreamed of that.” She hesitated. “For years, I looked out of my San Francisco apartment to the back wall of the next building. No bay view, not even close.”
She remembered the tiny yard and seeing a clothesline hung with men’s shirts, women’s underwear, and kid’s diapers. When the living room window was open the dumpster in the alley, wafted the aroma of wilted vegetables, rotting fish and other waste from the restaurant below her apartment. The loud clang of the garbage truck that came to empty the bin several times a week had been her alarm clock at five in the morning. Not the picture postcard view of the city, but her reality back in the day.
“So, what’s it going to be, Amy?”
“Uh, I want to walk across the Golden Gate Bridge. I lived there for years, but I never did it. I’d like to have a picnic in Golden Gate Park, if it doesn’t rain. I also want to go to the Palace of Legion of Honor museum. Have you been there? It has a famous Rodin sculpture and lots of European art.”
“No. I don’t know much about art. Just know what I like.” He grinned at her. “But if that’s what you want... What else?”
“I have to think.” She hesitated. “Well if I’m going to daydream, we’d have dinner somewhere high, in a building tall enough to see the whole bay, Golden Gate Bridge, and Marin County and watch the lights twinkle.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
“For dessert, I’ll have you.” She giggled. “We can fall into bed and make passionate love.”
“Honey, I like the way you think.”
***
On a small highway artery, the traffic thinned. With the water on both sides the view soothed her, and soon she closed her eyes and napped.
“Hang on,” Wyatt yelled.
She startled as the truck skidded to a halt, and just missed hitting a blue compact stopped in front of them.
“What’s wrong?” Amy sat up and stared out the window.
“A truck’s off the road. It’s nearly in the slough. On the other side of the road.” He pointed. “I think that’s my Dad’s truck.”
She squinted in the fading light and saw a big red GMC pick-up with a horse trailer still hitched to it.
“Whoever it is, they need help.”
Wyatt was out of the truck and running across the road toward the vehicle.
Be careful. The warning died in her throat.
A young guy, in the small sedan that had pulled off on the shoulder front of the them, sprinted after him.
“Amy, bring the First Aid Kit and call 911,” Wyatt shouted over his shoulder. “The kit is under the passenger’s seat.”
With the first aid box in her arms, she ran toward the accident. When she reached the truck, she set it next to the pick-up and dialed the emergency number. No service. She tried several times without success.
“Dad. Dad,” Wyatt shouted. “Open the door.” He and the young man grunted as they attempted to pull the driver’s side door free. The driver didn’t move. His eyes were closed. “Wake up. The door’s locked. You have to unlock it.”
The pick-up slid closer to the water and a horse snorted.
“Guys, there’s a horse in the trailer,” she shouted.
Focused on the driver, neither man paid attention to her. She climbed on the fender of the trailer to examine inside. The double rig held only one quarter horse. It struggled to remain standing as the trailer tilted toward the water and the horse favored one of its front legs.
Looking in again, she decided to lead the horse out before it fell and broke something and had to be destroyed. Just then the trailer lurched moving closer to falling over sideways. “Shit!” She jumped from the fender.
The horse’s mournful whine told her his distress had increased. Act now or get out of the way when the trailer goes into the drink.
“Hush, boy,” She whispered through the back doors, trying to sound like Wyatt when he talked to his stallion when it was riled-up.
“It’s all right. I’m going to get you out,” she said and tried to project confidence she didn’t feel. With the ramp down, she entered the rig.
“It’s all right, big boy. I’ve got you.” She pretended to comfort Bobby when he needed her. With care, she moved into the trailer, avoided his hooves, and gently ran her hand on his withers, to tell him he had nothing to fear. “Settle down. I’m here to help.”
She struggled to keep her balance and stopped for a second to get her stance. He didn’t kick her as she thought he might, seeming to understand she was doing her best given the situation. “Okay, we’re going to move out of here.” She untied his reins. He reacted with a glare at her as if saying, “Who the hell are you?”
“Come on.” She coaxed him backward. “That’s it.” The trailer lurched and she held on, trying not to fall. The horse neighed and reared up. Damn! “Calm down, boy. Take it easy.”
When the trailer stabilized, she said, “Okay, let’s go.” He didn’t move. “Backup.” The horse wasn’t budging, but the trailer slid closer to the edge of the bay.
Chapter 7
Amy’s heart raced. There must to be something she could do to get the horse out of the trailer, but what? How to make him listen, motivate the animal before it was too late and they both went into the bay?
“Damn, come with me or I’m leaving. I’m not going into the water with you. No way. Move.” As if he understood, the animal began to backup. “That’s right.” She dared to breath. “Good boy. Keep going. Yeah. Good.”
The horse hesitated at the doorway, but with a little more encouragement he slowly backed out of trailer.
On the shoulder of the highway traffic was light, thank goodness. Under the circumstances, the stallion cal
med down. On solid ground, she relaxed.
Wyatt banged on the driver’s side window with a stone until it cracked. Though the safety glass broke into tiny pieces, the window held together. With the rock, he made a hole big enough to reach in and unlock the door.
“Dad, wake up,” he yelled.
The wind whipped their words toward her.
“What the hell,” the old man shouted back.
“You’ve been in an accident, Dad.”
“Some asshole ran me off the road. Shit, what are you doing here? Where’s the horse? Is he hurt?”
“He’s okay, but you’re bleeding.”
Wyatt leaned out of the truck’s cab and yelled, “Amy, where’s the first aid kit?”
“It’s on the ground, next to the front wheel. I tried to call 911, but couldn’t get a signal.”
“Hey, you guys,” the young stranger said.
She’d almost forgotten about the man from the car stopped in front of them He’d run toward the accident too.
“I’ve got a CB radio in my car. I’ll get help,” He ran back to his sedan.
After he made the call he, waved and yelled, “Sorry I can’t stay. I got people waiting for me, but good luck.” His car sped out of sight.
The minutes ticked by as they waited for the paramedics and a tow truck to arrive. They sat on the shoulder away from the truck and trailer in case it slid further into the drink.
She glanced at Mr. Cameron. Pale and with a bruised face, he didn’t speak. He slumped forward. Head in his hands, he moaned.
Wyatt paced back and forth staring in the direction the paramedics might come.
She did her best to keep the horse calm. She’d learned Shadow was Wes’ horse. Wyatt’s dad had agreed to drive him back to Sacramento so Wes could have the night free, to party no doubt.
“Stop hovering, Wyatt,” Mr. Cameron said. “I’m all right.” He wiped blood from his forehead.
Even in the waning light, she could see a bruise forming around the broken skin and blood slowly oozed from his wound. He got up and started to walk away.
“Where you going, Dad? The Paramedics will be here soon. Sit down.”
“Your brother will kill me if that horse isn’t okay. Did you see he’s favoring his front leg?” His father groaned and sat down again.
“I’ll take care of him. Wes should be here. The stallion belongs to him.”
Wyatt looked the horse over checking for injuries, all the while whispering to the animal. Shadow obviously knew him, and relaxed and stopped pawing the ground when he spoke. Amy never knew anyone as good with horses as Wyatt.
Holding the horse’s reins, he stood next to Amy. “That damned brother of mine shouldn’t have let my father drive alone. It was his responsibility not Dad’s. Wes is never going to grow up and I’m sick of his behavior,” Wyatt said under his breath.
“Don’t start on your brother. He deserves a night out. Just take care of the damned horse,” Mr. Cameron growled.
“Relax, Dad. Shadow’s fine.”
Wyatt tensed when his dad defended his brother. Amy realized it must be a reminder Mr. Cameron had chosen Wes as the favorite son when he divorced, leaving Wyatt and his mother to fend for themselves. Yet Wyatt was helping his dad, still being the good son.
“You know Amy got the horse out of the trailer and settled him down.”
“You’re kidding.” The old man looked at her with an expression of disbelief.
“No, I’m not.”
“Well, I never.” Dad caught a drip of blood before it ran into his eye.
“He should have a bandage,” Amy whispered.
“I tried. He wouldn’t let me touch him.”
“I’ll try. If I can manage horses and kids…”
With the first aid kit in hand she knelt next to Wyatt’s father. “Let me cover that cut on your forehead.”
“Don’t matter. I’m okay.”
“I know you are. It’s getting dark and you could see better with both eyes clear.” She forced a smile. “Give me a second.” With the first aid kit open, she picked out what she needed and with a piece of gaze she cleaned the wound and placed antibiotic cream and a band-aid in place.
“You handled Shadow?” he asked.
“Yeah, he understood I was trying to help.”
“I’ll be damned. He’s an ornery cuss. I’m flabbergasted he let you near him.” He closed his eyes.
“Mr. Cameron, are you okay?”
Wyatt arrived carrying a blanket from his truck. “Lay down Dad. The ambulance should arrive any minute now, but might as well rest.”
Without comment the old man did as he was told. So out of character for him, it worried Amy. Where was the argumentative old man? Was he too injured to even say “no”?
She glanced at Wyatt. “You cut your hand.”
“I did it when I reached through the broken glass to get the truck’s door unlocked. Never mind.” He yanked his hand from hers and brushed the back of his hand on his jeans.
“You need a bandage too.”
“Don’t go playing nurse with me, Amy.”
“Don’t go bad-tempered on me, Wyatt.” She grinned and took his hand and placed antibiotic cream and a band-aid on his cut, then kissed him on the cheek as if he were a little boy.
To her relief, he laughed and kissed her hard on the lips and then said, “Okay, you happy now?”
“Yeah tough guy, I am.”
They both laughed.
As the night darkened and the wind blew harder, she and Wyatt huddled behind the trailer to stay warm.
“Damn, help is taking why too long, Where the hell are they?” Wyatt pulled her closer. “Honey, this isn’t what I planned for tonight.”
“I know.” She hesitated. “Not your fault. You have to take care of your dad.”
“Do I? Where’s Wes? I texted him. He’s never been responsible.” He tensed and she was reminded just how physically strong he was. The vision of Wyatt slugging Wes, after his brother called her a slut, flashed in her memory. Why was Wes always causing problems?
Fog rolled in and traffic picked up. Finally, a fire engine with a paramedic on board arrived, followed by a tow truck. It wasn’t long after a Highway Patrol car parked on the shoulder. Wyatt rushed to greet the officers and fill them in on the situation.
In the flashing lights of the vehicles, Amy tightly held onto Shadow’s reigns and did her best to comfort the animal. He neighed, but didn’t try to get loose.
The special services worked swiftly to clean up the accident. Soon the red GMC truck was back on the road and the trailer was righted. She was allowed to load the stallion into a stall in the trailer.
Wyatt ran up to her just as she was closing the trailer’s latch.
“I think my dad is spending the night in the hospital, Vallejo General. The ambulance will transport him to the emergency room and paramedic said he’ll stay for observation.”
“Oh.”
“Can you drive my truck back to Sierra Creek?”
“Yeah.”
“Good.” He paused. “After I leave the hospital, I’ll take Wes’ stallion to his barn and drive my dad’s truck to the farm.”
“Wyatt, I could follow you and we could caravan home.” She shivered as a gust of wind struck her.
“Honey, there’s no point in you staying up all night. And Dad’s an old grump. If I don’t stay with him he’s liable walk out of the hospital without the doctor’s permission.”
“No way.”
“Afraid so. I’ll make sure he stays. The keys are in the truck, Drive carefully. You sure you can manage the pick-up?”
“Hey, I’m a country girl. I drove grandpa’s old GMC before I was old enough to get a license. Three on the tree, and it handled like a tank. No worries, your truck should be easy.”
“Okay, just stay safe.” He threw her a kiss then checked the trailer hitch again before running to the GMC’s cab.
In Wyatt’s Ford 150, she watched the red truck
and horse trailer disappear. Keep safe, Wyatt.
Totally alone, she shivered.
***
Amy glanced out of the second story bedroom window of the old farmhouse to the driveway below. Three thirty in the morning and Wyatt wasn’t home yet. His truck was parked near the barn, but he was still gone. She froze in place and hoped to hear the sound of an approaching pick-up.
Silence.
The first time she’d seen Wyatt again was on her return to Sierra Creek. Sitting in his black truck, his brown hair had fallen casually over his high forehead and deep-set blue eyes had sparkled in the sunlight. It had been years since seeing him. Even so, that day his sex appeal had sent a strong reaction through her. Now every time he came home and smiled at her, there was a passionate response.
She went to the farmhouse to get some sleep, no need for both of them to be up all night. She pulled the bed covers up and closed her eyes.
Sleep eluded her as the night’s events played over and over in her mind. At four thirty in the morning she gave up any idea of sleep and got up to make coffee.
The house was quiet with everyone gone. She entered the den and turned on the computer, may as well get this week’s blog written. The subject for the blog was beautiful and inexpensive flowers for a spring wedding. She forced herself to focus and turn her thoughts away from what Wyatt must be doing.
After researching she discovered roses and orchards were definitely out. Daisies of all types and colors fit the bill. She especially liked the Gerber daisy because it was available in many colors. As she viewed the gardens online she relaxed. For the first time, she realized the importance of beauty. Was she making sure there was enough in her life?
Perhaps she should grow flowers on the farm. She’d have to find out. Daffodils grew well in the California foothills. She made a mental note to look into growing and selling them.
An hour later satisfied with the blog, she resisted texting Wyatt for an update. He’d get in touch when necessary. “You have to learn to be patient,” she said into the empty house.
***
Wyatt hoped to hear from the doctor soon and stopped pacing the hospital waiting room. It had been a relief when he received a text from Amy letting him know she was on the farm. At least he didn’t have to worry about her.