Wild Within (Wild at Heart #1)

by Christine Hartmann

  Grace’s head still sizzled like an egg in a desert frying pan, but she sweated less. Both her step and her heart felt lighter. “I don’t know. I beginning to think you’re the kind of guy who can do practically anything.”

  “My mom’s the one you should admire. Pop too. He’s one of the best ranch hands I’ve ever known. But Mom.” Lone Star whistled in appreciation. “She can do anything she sets her mind to.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like kill a rattlesnake at twenty paces.”

  “You’re kidding me. That’s way too Wild West.”

  “I’m not kidding. Being handy with a gun’s a necessity where I grew up.”

  “Being handy with a gun lands you in prison where I grew up.”

  “How about sewing on a finger?”

  “Your mom did that?”

  “Sewed on Uncle Coke’s finger when his hand got caught in the razor wire fence.” Lone Star held up his hand. “Can’t show you which one without being rude though.”

  “Did it work?”

  “Long enough to get him to the nearest hospital, two hours away.”

  “Two hours? You’d drive past fifty hospitals if you drove for two hours from my house.”

  “Guess it’s better to be sick in San Francisco, then. But I still wouldn’t trade in El Paso.”

  “Why not?”

  “My family’s all there, for one. And it’s the kind of country that gets under your skin. A stranger might think it’s boring, but to me that landscape’s as pretty as a pie supper.”

  Every half hour as they walked on, Lone Star called for her to stop. He handed her the water bottle, and she took a long drink.

  “How about you?”

  “Don’t you worry none about me. In El Paso we like it hot and dry. Anyway, I have another bottle. I drink as we walk along. Saves time.”

  Near dusk, they reached Lake Morena County Park and descended to the campground. At the park sign, Grace’s foot caught on a rock. She stumbled. Lone Star grabbed her waist and propped her up. Grace felt an unexpected jolt of adrenaline at his touch.

  “Almost there. You okay to walk?”

  Grace rubbed her forehead and nodded. “Sorry. I’m okay. I’m just excited to see civilization again.”

  “Understandable. You’ve been through a lot for one day. Let’s get you to some shade and a long, cold shower.”

  Grace glanced up at the mention of the shower but saw nothing in Lone Star’s face to indicate any indelicacy.

  An elderly couple soon spotted the short, exhausted Asian woman shuffling alongside the tall, buff redhead with what looked like a baby carrier on his chest. They hurried over.

  “We were on the lookout for hikers in need of some help.” The woman took Grace’s pack while the man carried Lone Star’s. “You never know what the desert will cough up this time of year. You two look like you’re in serious need of the joys of electricity. Ice and AC. I don’t understand why anyone comes to the desert without it.”

  She invited them to a sizable RV. “We come here during the PCT thru-hiking season to help out. We used to be big hikers ourselves. But one thing and another. You know how it goes.”

  Inside, a long-haired Chihuahua pranced at the woman’s feet, yipping and begging to be picked up. She scooped him into her arms and patted his head.

  “Fritzy here is an indoor kind of guy. He has no idea what his mom and pop used to get up to.”

  She turned the air conditioning to high, filled a floral print pitcher with ice and water, and placed two large plastic cups in front of Grace and Lone Star. Lone Star drained cup after cup without speaking. Grace watched.

  I could have died out there if he hadn’t found me. I was so unprepared. So stupid. What am I going to do if he doesn’t stick with me tomorrow?

  She refilled her cup from the pitcher as Lone Star finished his sixth glass.

  “Sorry, ma’am. ” He wiped his mouth with his bandana. “I was feeling a bit parched.”

  The couple lived outside Palm Springs. Lone Star chatted with them about desert life, his family’s El Paso farm, and what he’d seen on the trail. Grace relaxed in the coolness. Her mind drifted.

  Kenji would never have ended up in this mess. He would have packed more water. He would have studied the risks. I’m a threat to myself, for goodness sake.

  Lone Star was absorbed in a story of a rattlesnake, a pistol, and a bottle of Pepto Bismol. His freckled arms circled and waved as he drew his audience in. Grace leaned back and studied him.

  Such masculine hands. Not an ounce of fat. Just muscle. A bear would think twice before attacking that body.

  Lone Star paused and rocked in his chair.

  “Well?” The woman leaned forward. “Don’t leave us hanging.”

  Maybe hiking’s not the kind of thing an unfit person like me should do alone. Maybe you need a partner. I could have done this before breaking up with Ben. But that would never have worked. Ben was way too competitive. He’d have said, “I’ll see how much farther I can get than you today,” and that would have been the last I saw of him until Canada. No Ben is good. But no one in my life isn’t.

  “Pink crud dripped all over him.”

  Grace reached for her water glass as Lone Star gestured for effect. Her arm collided with his. Water spilled across the vinyl tablecloth and her shirt.

  “Aw, Just Grace, I’m so sorry.” Lone Star handed her a napkin. “I should watch where these big hands of mine are flying.”

  Grace flushed and rubbed the blotch. “Don’t worry about it. You’ve got great hands. I need a shower anyway. I probably smell like the elephant exhibit at the zoo.”

  Lone Star laughed. “Darlin’, you smell as sweet as a daisy. Wait until you’ve been out on the trail for two weeks without so much as a rinse. Even the mosquitos won’t come near you.”

  “I hope you still would.”

  “You betcha. Nothing would keep me from your side.”

  Lone Star gave her hand a squeeze. A warm tingle surged up her arm.

  Maybe it’s not just me who’s thinking about us.

  Outside, the evening breeze felt fresh and new. Grace beamed at the emerging stars.

  Maybe he’ll stick with me after all.

  Their gear lay under the motor home’s blue and grey awning. She picked up one of Lone Star’s shoes and peeked inside.

  “Size fourteen. Wow.”

  She glanced at his pack. Its compression straps held her empty three-liter water bottle. On a hunch, she squatted, slid open the pack’s draw cords, and felt around inside, recognizing items by touch: sleeping bag…tent stakes…headlamp…cook pot…hard candy in a plastic baggie…socks…toilet paper and trowel…harmonica?

  In the depths, her hands encountered another plastic container, squashed to take up less space. She pulled it out. A second three-liter bottle. Empty.

  Her heart beat quickly as her eyes registered shock.

  The other bottle he said he was drinking from was empty the whole time. He never had any water out there. Just let me use up his entire supply.

  She sat cross-legged on the dirt by the camper and stared at the bottle.

  So, basically, when I’m on the trail, I’m not only a threat to myself, I’m a threat to others.

  She rose and walked to the showers, shaking her head.

  Later, after sharing a hearty dinner with the RV couple, Lone Star and Grace pitched their tents in adjacent campsites. For Grace, tent poles went into wrong grommets, stakes came loose, and clips misaligned. Lone Star set his up in a flash and sat in the entrance, watching her struggle.

  “I wouldn’t mind a little help here, if you’ve got the time.”

  “I’ve got the time. But you have to learn this for yourself, darlin’. Soon it’ll be as easy as pie. But not if I do it for you. Besides, I enjoy watching you. You clean up real nice.”

  “Thanks.” Grace curtsied. Her foot caught in a tent line and she fell. Lone Star chuckled so long he had to hold his sides.


  “From where I’m sitting, Lone Star, you’re not living up to Southern gentleman standards.” She brushed herself off. “What’s the Texas expression for go jump in a lake?”

  “What I think you’re trying to say is that you think I’m about as fine as cream gravy.”

  Grace used a rock to pound in her final tent stake and attached its guy-line. “Yes, that’s what I meant.” She tossed a pine cone at his head. “You’re as fine as clean gravy. So is my tent. Not bad for a first try.”

  “Not clean gravy. Cream gravy. And it’s a fine tent indeed.”

  Once inside her shelter, Grace was too tired to crawl into her sleeping bag. She pulled it over her like a blanket, thought for a second of Lone Star’s blue eyes, and fell asleep before the cover reached her chin.

  Cheerful whistling roused her when dawn was still a light orange glow on the horizon. She pushed the tent flap aside and made out Lone Star breaking camp.

  “Didn’t mean to wake you, darlin’.”

  “You’re leaving? Already?” Sudden anxiety prickled in her.

  “Sure am. Today’s supposed to be cooler, they say. Still, it’s good to start early in the desert, no matter what the prediction.”

  “Wait.” Grace scrambled out. “I can pack up and go with you. Quick as a caterpillar in heat. Or whatever you’d say.” She wrapped her arms around herself to keep warm in the crisp morning air.

  Lone Star’s face shone with affection. “Just Grace, your coming with me is a sweet thought.” He took gentle hold of her shoulders and turned her around. “But you crawl right back in your bag. You’re staying put today.”

  Her attention focused on his hands as he gently pushed her toward her tent. Warm, firm, comforting hands. A sudden longing enveloped her. She struggled out of his grip. “I don’t need any more rest. I’m fine.”

  “You don’t know how tired you are.”

  “I’m okay. Really.” She jumped up and down. “See?”

  “No arguing.” He again ushered her to the tent and waited until she was tightly wrapped and zippered inside. His thighs appeared at the entrance as he folded his long body until his head was level with his knees.

  “I loved hiking with you yesterday, Just Grace. My heart is saying stay here with you. But I’ve got 2,600 miles to hike before snow lands in Canada. And my law practice isn’t going to be there forever if I don’t get back to it as soon as I can. I’ve just got to skedaddle.”

  He cares more about his work than he does about me.

  She fought back tears and willed her voice not to crack. “Okay. I understand. You’ve got your…priorities.”

  Lone Star reached for her chin but she jerked it away.

  He let his hand drop. “Don’t be that way, Just Grace. You’ve got to have a little faith.”

  “Faith in what?”

  “Faith in us.” He rubbed his hand against her cheek. This time she leaned into it.

  “There’s an us?”

  “There’s an us now. I’m fixin’ to make sure there’s an us for a good long time.”

  Grace’s heart exploded with a warmth that shot through her. She unzipped the bag and flipped over, propping herself up on her elbows.

  Lone Star stroked her hair. “You take a day or two of rest. Get going again when you feel strong and secure. Take lots of water, you hear? I think you learned your lesson yesterday, but be careful.” He jerked his thumb behind him. “It’s so dry out there, even the catfish are carrying canteens.”

  Grace raised her eyebrows, feeling suddenly playful. “I think I saw some of those yesterday.”

  “They’re out there if you look for them.”

  “Are you done with the advice?”

  “No. When you meet more experienced hikers, listen to what they tell you. You’re still green.”

  She wriggled partly out of her bag. “Why don’t you just slow your pace a little? I’ll hike faster, I promise.”

  “Whoa, there.” Lone Star held up his hand. “I thought we had that settled. On the trail, your legs and mine aren’t constructed to go the same speed. Listen, Just Grace. There’s something on the trail called magic. Like when a man with water finds a woman with none. But the thing about trail magic is that you can’t hold on to it forever. On the trail, you sometimes have to let go.”

  A tear escaped the corner of Grace’s eye.

  Lone Star swept it away with his finger. He rubbed his nose, blinked, and pulled the blue bandana from around his neck, using it to wipe his eyes. “Darn dust.”

  He held out his hand. Her tiny fingers disappeared in his. His long, unblinking look telegraphed strength, comfort, and something else.

  Passion?

  “Look for my name in the hiker registers in the towns up the trail. I’ll leave you a note in every one. And, who knows? Maybe down the road a bit, I’ll take a couple of days off, and you’ll catch up with me.”

  “You promise?”

  “I promise. Nothing will keep me from seeing you again.”

  He squeezed her hand and rose.

  A tiny drum beat a strong, persistent rhythm against the wall of her chest. From her sleeping bag, she watched his hiking shoes disappear from view. Only exhaustion prevented her from jumping up and clutching him to her.

  Chapter 5

  Lone Star’s stride intermittently quickened then slackened for the first hours after leaving Grace that morning. At points he turned around and retraced his steps for a few yards before turning again and surging forward.

  What am I doing leaving her back there alone? She needs me. Heck, I need her.

  He swung south toward Lake Morena.

  But this ain’t my first rodeo. I know how this goes. Getting back together will be all the sweeter because we’ve been apart for a while.

  He reversed direction and headed north again.

  His mind ricocheted between two warring impulses such that the scenery, normally an integral part of his awareness, could have changed to skyscrapers, icebergs, or rocket ships. He wouldn’t have noticed.

  Why didn’t I meet her back in Texas? Sure, I’m always at work. Could have met her at a trial, though. Grace Mori, public school psychologist, sued for encouraging kids to bother their parents with questions instead of keeping quiet in front of a video game.

  Something bumped his arm, jerking his mind back to the desert.

  “Excuse me.” A teenage girl with a blonde pixie cut held up her hand in apology. “I tried to get out of your way, but you stepped right into me.”

  Lone Star wiped his hand in front of his face, as if trying to clean away cobwebs. “Completely my fault, little missy. My mind was busy as a one-armed paper hanger. Just didn’t see you.”

  He turned to face a group of four girls, all wearing maroon ‘Julian High School Volleyball’ shirts.

  Lone Star pointed. “Where’s Julian?”

  One girl turned to show him her backpack, embroidered with multiple renditions of pie crusts and fillings. “You’ve never heard of Julian apple pie? You can’t be from California.”

  “Do I sound like I’m from California, darlin’?” Lone Star chuckled. “What’s the famous Julian apple pie volleyball team doing out here in the Mojave? Playing catch with armadillos?”

  The girls nudged each other. The one who’d spoken first stepped forward a little. “I’m Amber. This is Emily, Brianna, and Taylor. Emily’s captain of the varsity team. It was her idea to come out here.”

  Emily shook her head quickly. “Was captain.”

  “So it’s a graduation trip for you gals?”

  “Sort of.” Emily glanced at her teammates. “My girl scout troop did a day-hike on the PCT a few years ago. It was awesome. I always wanted to come back, but my parents never thought it was a good idea.”

  “She talked it up a lot.” Amber widened her eyes and spread her hands far apart.

  Lone Star nodded. “Does it live up to expectations?”

  All four girls chimed in at once. Lone Star made out “awesome,” “swe
et,” “seriously scary,” and “best three days of my life.”

  Amber looked up at him. “Why are you out here?”

  “I’m a thru.”

  Open mouths greeted his announcement. Lone Star suppressed a chuckle with a well-timed cough.

  “A thru.” The complete silence of her friends accentuated Amber’s whisper. “Awesome. We were saying this whole time we wanted to meet one.”

  “Now don’t go making my head swell. I haven’t reached Canada yet.”

  “But you’re going to try.” The amazement in Brianna’s voice brought a light blush to Lone Star’s cheeks.

  “Talk to me in a few months, bonita chica.”

  In unison, the girls flung off their backpacks and scrabbled inside. One by one they held up their cell phones.

  “You want my…” Lone Star paused.

  “Facebook page.”

  “Instagram username.”

  “Twitter handle.”

  “Pinterest account.”

  As the words tumbled out of their mouths, Lone Star wrinkled his mouth and squinted with one eye. “I hate disappointing you all. Work email’s the best I can do. And I won’t be checking that for months.”

  The girls’ faces fell.

  “That’s okay.” Amber punched her phone a few times and handed it to him. “Put your contact information in here.”

  Lone Star took the phone with both hands and typed slowly, hitting the delete key almost as often as he hit the letters.

  Amber glanced at what he’d written before her fingers flew over the display. “Mr. Hogan, from El Paso. I’ll put a note in my calendar to email you in August, okay?”

  “That’ll inspire me.”

  Amber glanced again at her phone. “Our parents are going to meet us at Lake Morena in a few hours. We’ve got to get going, Mr. Hogan. It was awesome meeting you.” She held out her hand and shook Lone Star’s with enthusiasm.

  “Wait. Group photo.”

  After Brianna squeezed them all together for a selfie, the girls jogged down the trail, turning back periodically to wave at Lone Star.

  When they had shrunk to images the size of his hand, he turned back to the trail and marched forward with firm steps. “Well, now, wasn’t that all sweetness and light? Nothing like a little youthful enthusiasm to put the spring back in my step.”