Wild Storm (The Unbridled Series Book 2)

by Sandra E Sinclair

  He’d like to get that little upstart Storm, and hold him upside down and shake the truth out of him. Something he would have enjoyed doing earlier, had Cole just stood by him for once in an argument with the stupid little so called scout. It seemed to him, Storm couldn’t track his way out of town even if the exit was signposted, so why did Cole have so much faith in him?

  “I know what you’re thinking, and you’re wrong. I wanted to side with you. But, Colt, you have to realize that the best outcome can only come about if we do this properly.”

  Colt lowered his hat, and turned to his brother. “If you knew what I was thinking, you’d already be face down in the water, save me from having to hold your stupid head under it.”

  “I said I know what you’re thinking, not that I have any intentions to oblige you, in what you’re thinking.” Cole laughed, and sat next to Colt.

  “So, you think it’s funny. You want to sit here beside me, and laugh at me—you need to go away, Cole.” Colt cut his eyes to his brother, sat up, and stared downriver, toward the direction of the horses grazing.

  “I’m not laughing at you, Colt, but we do need to talk. This thing you have with Storm is clouding your judgment. We need to discuss it, get it out in the open.” Cole patted Colt’s shoulder. “Talk to me, what’s troubling you, little brother?”

  “Nothing.” Colt picked up some more stones and skimmed them off the surface of the water again, as his mind raced for a way to explain all the things running around in his head. He needed to focus on one thing at a time. Colt decided to be honest and share the thought most pressing on him.

  “The only thing troubling me if you must know, is you.” He stared into his brother’s eyes and hoped Cole could see the hurt there. “I never thought I’d see the day when you’d choose a stranger, over me.”

  Cole tsked, and shook his head. “I’m not choosing a stranger, Colt, but ever since you set eyes on Storm, you haven’t been yourself, and it’s worrying me. The feelings I’ve been getting from you are muddled and confused, and have my stomach churning. I’m guessing it’s having an effect on you and your ability to think right.”

  “I am confused, but not in the way you’re saying. There’s something about Storm that perplexes me. He ain’t right. I just know he ain’t, and I’m going to find a way to prove it to you.”

  “You don’t need to prove anything to me, you need to prove it to yourself. I’m sorry I can’t see your concern with Storm, but whatever it is, you need to let it go. It’s affecting our work and our relationship with the man whose sister has been abducted. Try and see it his way.”

  “I’m trying to, but until I can figure out what’s gnawing on me about him, I can’t let it go. The way he does things has been stirring some deep emotions in me—making me angry. I know he’s lying to us. I just don’t know what about.”

  “I get that feeling too, although I’m not sure if those feelings are coming from him or you. Remember, little brother, I feel what you feel. I just handle it different, that’s all.”

  “So you believe me? There’s something not right about Storm?”

  “I don’t rightly know what I believe. What I do think is this, it’s not something we can mull over until after we get back the girl.”

  “I’m going to hold you to that.” Colt smiled. “So in that case, you won’t mind me holding him upside down over the river, while I shake the truth out of him once we have the girl, right?”

  “I’m not saying I can agree to that, but we could question him further—find out what it is he’s hiding. Believe it or not, Colt, I do trust your judgment. Your instincts have never let us down before, and I can’t see why they would now. However, you need to be patient, and not let your feelings get a hold of you, like you’ve been doing lately. We have to be seen to be professional.”

  “All right, we’ll do it your way—for now. And I promise not to do anything until I get your say-so, how’s that?”

  “That’s just peachy. Are we good?”

  “Yeah, we’re good. I guess we should get the horses back up the ridge, and wait for Storm. But I’m telling you this, big brother. If he doesn’t come back with something substantial, I’m going to forget that promise I just made to you, and that’s another promise. Let’s see which one I’ll be keeping when that runt gets back.”

  Colt stood and walked toward the horses while Cole strode back to camp. As he gathered the horses he felt better, having talked to his brother. Although he wished he’d said more. Either way he was happy to know the connection between he and Cole was still there. Colt could admit it now, the thought of losing the special bond he had with his twin had weighed heavy, more than he’d realized.

  Cole had just been trying to keep things professional. He needed to do the same.

  As he walked back, he glanced over his shoulder at the stream. Maybe he could come back later with some twine, and see if he could catch some fish for lunch, show Storm he wasn’t the only one who could live off the land. Failing that, he could open a can of beans. He chuckled, and then began to whistle.

  The fish Colt had supposedly caught with his makeshift fishing rod were roasting over the open fire. Colt was relaxed and smiling, pleased with himself. Although he neglected to tell Cole, he’d gotten tired of waiting for a bite on his line. So he’d actually gone into the water where the fish practically jumped into his open hands, and struggled to fit inside his boots. Had there been room in there, they’d have been eating fish for a week.

  Colt had laughed to himself as he’d made his way back with his spoils. He’d had every intention of telling Cole, if asked, that he’d caught the fish, every last one of them by skill alone. He was saved from giving an explanation because Cole was asleep when he returned.

  Colt had gutted and cleaned the six medium-sized fish down by the river. All he had to do was cook them. By the time Cole woke up, he’d cooked three, and had the other three roasting, when Storm came through the trees.

  “You’re just in time, there’s two on the spit for you. What’s the news on your sister?” Colt asked, handing a plate of fish to his brother, and picking at the one on his own plate.

  “I’ve found them,” Storm said, and sat next to Colt, taking the plate. “They’re staying in a cabin somewhere near the top of the mountain. We’ll be able to reach them by nightfall if we leave soon. Or we can move camp, get a little closer, and wait until tomorrow. Leave at first light and be with them by noon tomorrow.”

  “What do you want to do?” Colt asked, and glanced over at Cole who nodded to him.

  “As much as I’d like to get her right this minute, I think it would be best if we go in when it’s light.”

  “I agree,” Cole said. “We’ll eat now, then move camp and get your sister in the morning. Is everyone in agreement?”

  “I’m fine with that,” Colt said, and he was. If Storm had said they were to go in at night, he would have been concerned. He’d felt positive after speaking with Cole, and was prepared to go along with anything they suggested.

  Although he was interested to know what the concerned look on Storm’s face was all about. For someone who would soon be reunited with his sister after she’d been abducted, he seemed squirrely and not in any hurry.

  Chapter 11

  The fish was delicious. She’d licked her fingers, rinsed them with water from her canteen, and wiped them dry on her pants. She thanked and complimented Colt on the meal. He beamed at her appreciation. Storm couldn’t help noticing Colt’s attitude had changed toward her.

  The talk Cole had with him must have worked. He seemed more good-natured and less intense. He reminded her of the young man she’d met in her father’s study. The twinkle in his eyes, and the warmth of his smile were back in place. It made Storm feel warm and fuzzy inside, and tingle all over.

  In her current tense and vulnerable state, she wasn’t sure which one of the Colts she liked best, both made her uneasy and not in a good way. However, he’d stopped following her around and se
emed content to let her be. Although every now and then, his eyes would still linger on her, and the confused expression would fly swiftly across his face before he could mask it from her.

  She wondered if Colt’s current disposition was a ploy to get her to drop her guard around him. Whatever it was, she was grateful, she didn’t need any more undue weight on her mind, not so soon. She’d left Emma still without a solution to the problem of Red knowing her secret.

  Colt in this upbeat mood surprised her, he was engaging and funny. He also proved to be quite the strategist when they were scratching out the rescue plans in the dirt. Emma had given Storm details of the path leading to Red-Ken’s cabin near the top of the mountain, which Storm shared with the men.

  With a plan in place to rescue Emma, Storm gathered the used dishes and stood to take them to the river to clean them.

  “What are you doing with those?” Cole asked.

  “I thought I’d wash them out, then we can head out.”

  “Give them to me,” Cole said and stood next to her, his hand outstretched. “I’ll take the canteens too, then I can fill then up after I’ve washed the wares. You rest a spell. We can leave later. You’ve traveled far today. Colt cooked, so I’ll wash. Get some sleep—an hour or two won’t make any difference.”

  Storm handed him the dishes, sat on the ground, pulled her blanket still rolled up to a space behind her and laid her head against it. She was tired but not in the way Cole suggested. She was tuckered out inside her head—drained from the lies, the pretense, and the struggle to remain hidden. All she wanted to do was disappear into the background. Her life was a joke, a farce, and she was a fraud.

  Pretending to be something she wasn’t, was too much of a burden without her mother’s strength behind her—and one she no longer wished to carry alone. The struggle she had maintaining this deception was more than Emma could possibly understand—her life was easy.

  When Storm’s mother died, she’d have gladly told her father the truth, had it not been for the promise her mother forced out of her. Being with the marshals highlighted her struggle was real. More so than working alongside the other men who worked on the ranch.

  They were used to her keeping herself to herself; being the boss’s son, she could pretty much do what she wanted. None of them ever interfered or questioned any weird goings on she might be displaying. In their minds, she was Storm, Mr Peckham’s scrawny little bastard son, who was to be left alone if they wanted to keep their jobs.

  She glanced over at Colt, who for the first time in days, wasn’t staring at her with those accusing eyes. Instead he was stretched out with his head on his saddle, his hat covering his face. From the sounds he made, it seemed to her, he was already asleep. Maybe she should just come out to them. Tell the brothers what she was before they got to the cabin—where she felt sure Red-Ken would expose her true identity. Emma had said she’d take care of it, but Storm wasn’t convinced.

  All she ever wanted was to be feminine, wear women’s clothes, and walk the earth as the woman she was, fall in love someday, and be loved in return. She’d had enough. If her father gave her away, so be it. She could defend herself against a husband with a desire to get physically abusive, unlike some of the females already in such marriages. For all she knew, her father might keep her home; marry her off to one of his ranch hands—many of them were without partners. Then she’d still be able to live on the ranch, and get to see Emma every day, if her father did something like that. She could ask him.

  If she came clean, what was the worst that could happen? He says no and sends me away. If that were the outcome of her confessing, so be it—could such a situation make her feel any worse than the way she felt now? Somehow Storm couldn’t imagine that being the case. She turned away from Colt, giving him her back as she curled into a ball. Tears of frustration and hopelessness leaked out over the rim of her eyelashes and rolled down her cheeks. She sniffed them back and rubbed at her eyes.

  An exhausted breath left her lips. Even that—something as simple as crying had to be a guilty, hidden secret, an additional privilege denied her. She wasn’t allowed to express anything she was thinking or feeling. Not Storm the little brave, Mr Peckham’s son but only to him, Emma, and his workforce. To the others, the people who mattered, Storm was a ranch hand and tracker—another secret which Storm was sure everybody knew, but no one spoke of within the circle of his influential friends.

  Storm saw herself as no more than a scab to be picked at whenever she became an itch that couldn’t be ignored. She decided the next time Colt asked what she was hiding, she’d tell him and let the chips fall where they may.

  “What’s wrong with you?” Colt asked.

  Her heart stopped, and flew to her throat, shutting off her airways. She’d been so lost in her misery, she hadn’t noticed the soft rhythmic sounds he’d made as he slept had ceased, nor the way his shadow had dimmed what little sunlight was left, as he lolled over her. Her sniffles must have woken him; she could feel his gaze burning into the back of her neck.

  Here was her chance to put an end to her gammon and lies. Tell the world she was an impostor, the daughter of a man who for the last eighteen years thought she was his son.

  Storm curled her shoulder away from Colt, and fondled her cheeks. They were dry, she must have wiped the last remaining traces of her tears a moment or two before he’d came over. But there was no doubt in her mind, her face would be a smeared mess. It wouldn’t do her any good for Colt to see her that way. For all her bravado on planning her grand reveal, she didn’t want him to see her face dirt-stained by the tracks of her tears.

  She sensed more than heard him lowering himself to her level. His shadow followed. He wanted an answer to his question, and she’d better find her voice before he forced her to look his way. Maybe she wasn’t as ready to expose herself as she thought she was.

  Both men had only recently begun to see her with trusting eyes again. She didn’t want to witness the icy glare of suspicion and disgust in them whenever they looked at her. Her emotions were too fragile. She needed time alone to collect her thoughts and get to grips with her feelings.

  The warmth of his hand pressed to her shoulder spurred her into action. Like a jackrabbit she sprung to her feet, knocking Colt over. Storm kept her back to Colt, she didn’t want to see or assess what she’d done to him, as she heard the hissing of the fire he must have disturbed with his landing.

  Deepening her voice, for fear her feelings may make her sound an octave or two higher, she mumbled, “Sorry, we’ll talk when I get back. I need to relieve myself.” With that she raced into the trees.

  Colt yelled something after her, but she didn’t know, nor did she care what it was.

  Chapter 12

  “I can’t leave you alone with him for a minute, can I? What did you do to him? He flew past me faster than a coyote,” Cole said, as he emerged from the spot in the trees where Storm went in.

  “Me!” Colt had his hat in his hand, beating the dust from his pants. He paused and looked at Cole—then watched as his brother took in the array of what used to be the fire before his boots scattered it all over the clearing.

  “I didn’t do anything to him. I thought I heard him crying. When I came over to see what was wrong, he upped, and threw me into the fire, then ran off.”

  “Why would he be crying?” Cole asked, cocking his head as he stared at Colt bemused.

  “Really?” Colt shook his head. “You’re more concerned with why he might be crying, not the fact, he almost barbecued my tail. You know what, never mind.”

  “Well, if you let him get the drop on you, your tail deserves to be barbecued, fried, and spit roasted.” Cole laughed, stooped over by the saddlebags, he began to pack away the wares. He glanced up at Colt. “I wonder what’s eating at him.”

  “I’m damned if I know. Your guess is as good as mine. I told you, he ain’t right,” Colt said as he resumed beating at his pants, and then stomped out his boots, on seeing a trace of
ember on the toes.

  “Well, seeing as the fire is already out, we might as well make ready to break camp. We can ask him what’s wrong when he gets back.”

  “If he comes back. He sounded pretty upset.”

  “And you’re sure you did nothing to him?” Cole furrowed his brow.

  Colt harrumphed, and narrowed his gaze at his brother, kissed his teeth, picked up his saddle, spat, and strode over to his horse. Cole didn’t want to start on him again, he’d had about as much as he was prepared to take from both him and Storm.

  He wasn’t a wet nurse, and he wasn’t about to start babysitting a grown man. Storm had better get his act together before Colt used his fist to straighten him out. Maybe that’s what had been lacking in Storm’s life. A good hiding could be all he needed, and Colt was the man to give it to him. If Cole got in his way, he’d sock him in the jaw too. His brother was getting on his last nerve—accusing him without hearing all the facts.

  Colt muttered under his breath as he tightened the girth of his saddle. He was about ready to go home and leave the others to it. Didn’t seem like he had to do much to be at fault lately.

  “I’m sorry,” Cole said.

  Colt felt Cole’s fingers dig into his shoulder before he patted him on the back and moved over to his own horse.

  “It’s just, he breezed by me so fast. I was sure I’d see you on his heels soon after. I didn’t get a chance to see if he was upset.”

  “It’s all right. He’s been acting stranger than usual, ever since he got back from scouting.”

  “I saw that too, it’s as if he had the world on his puny shoulders.”

  “Something is troubling him, make no mistake, and maybe it’s time we found out what it is.”

  “Let’s wait until he gets back and assess the situation. If you’re saying he’s upset about something, ganging up on him may not be the way to go.”