by Sheryl Lynn
Reb slumped on a chair and rested his cheek on a fist. He stared at her; she stared at him.
“Nothing,” he said.
“I know. I was there.” She sighed. “Let’s face it, Tuff’s long gone. And I say, good riddance.”
“Uh-huh.” Reb turned his gaze in the direction of the barn, where Emily had insisted he leave the empty duffel bag. “Animals got into that bag.”
Emily had already figured that much out. The mountains harbored a large population of bears, coyotes and foxes, along with smaller scavengers such as weasels, skunks, crows and magpies. Mountain lions occasionally scavenged, too. Hungry animals readying for winter would go to great lengths to dig up any possible source of food. “Well, whatever was in the bag is gone now.”
Emily lowered a baleful glare on the telephone. It was too late to call the sheriff. Small consolation knowing there were no drugs left to endanger the ranch. Tuff had wreaked his havoc and was getting away with it, free and clear.
She pushed to her feet. Her back twinged, sending biting pains down the back of her left thigh. Rock climbing called for muscles she didn’t use every day. “Five minutes in the shower, then I’ll fix something to eat.”
“I’d like to take you to dinner.” His eyes widened as if he surprised himself with his own offer.
“Tonight?”
He shrugged. “Sometime.”
He seemed sad, as if sometime would never come, and it saddened her. “I’d like that, Reb.” Hope built. If he saw her in a setting outside the ranch, removed from her family problems, perhaps his thinking about their relationship would turn onto more permanent avenues. She smiled. “I clean up pretty good.”
“I know.” Reb tapped the tabletop with his fingers. “I haven’t always been a cowboy. You might not approve of some things I’ve done.”
His caginess set off her inner alarms. “Are you…a criminal?”
He shook his head.
He was going to make her guess. In no mood to play, she said, “Cruelty is the only thing I can’t forgive, and I know you aren’t cruel. But you’re not looking for my approval. Be straight with me, Reb. The idea of settling down scares you, and that’s the real problem here. So if you think you’re letting me down easy, forget it.”
He lifted his eyes to her.
Shut up, she told herself, you’re delving into areas where you don’t belong and looking for answers you don’t want.
Still, she wanted to assure him that she wasn’t anything like his parents; she’d never abandon him. “I understand…I think. You’ve traveled a lot of places, know a lot of people. You’re like one of those sailors with a girl in every port. Itchy feet and a restless heart.”
“Not exactly.”
She waited for elaboration, but none was forthcoming. “Fine, deny me the juicy details. It’s beside the point anyway. What I’m trying to say is I don’t want to put a harness on you.” A lie. If Reb wanted a commitment, she’d hitch herself to him in a second. She suspected if Reb tasted true commitment and could learn to trust, he’d like it, too. “You’re a good man, Reb Tremaine. A mysterious man, true, but I suppose it’s part of your charm. I’d like to change your ways, but I’m thinking it’s impossible. So let’s drop it.”
“You’re too good for me.”
Common sense said to take his statement at face value. Her heart flung away sense with willful abandon. She lifted her chin. “I know what’s good for me.
I also know I hate being treated with kid gloves. If you’re staying, then stay, if not, then go.”
His eyes acquired an icy glitter. She’d struck a nerve, but he’d started this stupid conversation, and it was only fair he share the pain.
“Some things aren’t meant to be, Emily.”
Arguments rose like noisy children, waving hands and shouting for attention. He was strong and decent and mannerly. He was smart and hardworking, with integrity. He treated her and Joey with respect. Which didn’t begin to cover his handsome face and exquisite lovemaking. Or how, when he looked at her, she felt beautiful and powerful and alive.
“Whatever,” she said, turning away. Her pride ached worse than any sore muscles.
“Don’t say that.”
“What?”
Reb sighed. “Emily, I’d give anything not to hurt you.”
“Yeah, right.” She walked out of the kitchen.
He followed her up the stairs. “Don’t blow me off.”
“You started it, Reb.” She stepped into the bath room and turned, holding the door. His pained expression made her chest ache. She wondered if they even spoke of the same things or heard each other, or if both of them were trying to be so careful they might as well be speaking gibberish. “I don’t understand you at all. I’m used to people speaking their minds. I’m tired and irritable and not in the right frame of mind for your pussyfooting around.”
“I’m trying to explain.”
“Don’t bother. Either you’ll stay or you won’t. Neither decision needs an explanation.” Without another word she closed the door.
ONCE WASHED AND DRESSED in clean, dry clothes, she went downstairs. Reb was gone. Her heart caught in her throat until she looked through the window and saw lights on inside the bunkhouse. She supposed if she somehow wheedled him into staying, she’d always remain on edge, wondering when he’d leave for good. Other horizons, other places were calling to him, tempting him with new sights and fresh adventures. His past was probably filled with women like her, loved and left, wondering if someday, somehow he’d wander back into their lives.
She made a solemn promise to leave him alone.
Still, without plan or conscious thought, they ended up in her bed. She held nothing back of her mouth or body or passion, except the I love you she longed to say. Those words she intuited would send him fleeing into the night.
When she awakened to find his blue eyes mellow and soft, and his smile sweet, she rejoiced.
Good feeling fled when she saw it had snowed in the night. Snow blanketed the ranch and the surrounding mountains, turning the dark morning landscape into a Christmas card. Tree branches still wearing summer leaves drooped under heavy loads of snow. Hannah Peak looked like a charcoal drawing, stark black-andwhite.
On the radio an announcer read off a list of school closures. After he finished, he warned motorists about snowplows and tire-chain requirements.
“Wow,” Reb said, staring out the window over the sink.
She prayed Joey had found warm shelter in the night. She couldn’t help thinking about what this was doing to the hay crop. Having to buy hay could very well deplete her remaining bank accounts and force her to take out a loan. With a sigh she dressed and headed outside to do her morning chores.
When she finished, Emily slammed around the kitchen, taking small satisfaction in making the old cupboard doors bang. Reb cradled a cup of hot coffee in both hands and focused his attention on the steam curling from the surface.
When she set breakfast in front of Reb, he asked, “Want to talk about it?”
She swiped hair off her shoulders. “Nothing to say.”
He smiled gently. “You’re not very good at hiding your moods.”
She slid into her chair and stared at her plate. “Everything is the matter,” she said. “I can’t win. If it isn’t my brothers, it’s the weather.” And you, she added silently.
He gave the radio a nod. The newscaster was predicting warming temperatures. By the weekend they could expect a return to Indian summer. Owners of ski resorts were rejoicing, boasting about record early openings. “The snow won’t last long.”
She turned her gaze to the window. Dawn colored the sky in a pastel medley of pinks and oranges. Where outdoor color mingled with the interior light, it brushed the old cabinets in gold. “Neither will the hay. I don’t know if I can do this anymore. It’s just too hard.”
“So sell out to Claude.”
“Don’t start—”
“You don’t have to have cash up fro
nt. Hold a mortgage. Work out a deal to get back what you’ve put into it. Make him put Joey on the deed.”
“What about Tuff?”
“To put it bluntly, he’s going to end up dead or in prison. No other options. Either he found his goodies and left or he didn’t, but he’s not your problem anymore. As for Joey and Claude, make it a part of the deal to hire an accountant. At least until Joey learns the bookkeeping.”
The more she considered Reb’s suggestion, the more it made sense. No law said she had to sell the ranch for what the developers would pay. She could recoup her money and start fresh. Joey would certainly think it a grand idea.
Except…“I can’t see making Joey buy what rightfully belongs to him in the first place.”
“He’s willing enough to make you foot the bills.”
“That’s different.”
He cocked his head, and half his mouth pulled into a sad smile. “I get it. You’re buying off your sins.”
She bristled. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“In a way your grandfather blackmailed you. But you don’t owe him. You don’t owe anyone.”
Reb made it all sound so simple. Sell the ranch, walk away, everybody was happy, the end. “What if Claude dies before Joey is capable of handling the ranch?”
“What if he doesn’t?”
Emily had to admit that Reb had a point. Before she could respond, Copper barked, high and yodeling. Emily went to the door. The dog stood in the partially open barn doorway, staring down the driveway. He leapt at the snow, sank up to his hocks and jumped back. Barking, he disappeared inside the barn only to return again. Emily stepped onto the porch.
A riderless horse trotted up the driveway, throwing up clumps of snow as he headed for the barn. Copper bounded across the snow, exhaling fat clouds of steam. Despite Copper’s antics, the horse paid him no heed whatsoever.
Emily shook her head in mute, futile denial.
“That’s Joey’s horse,” Reb said beside her. He thrust her coat at her in passing and hopped off the porch into the snow.
The horse reached the barn, but the door wasn’t open wide enough for him to enter. He turned his head and whickered plaintively at Reb. Emily struggled into her coat, and she and Reb ran through the snow. Reb pushed open the barn door, and the horse trotted inside.
“Where’s Joey?” she whispered.
The horse waited in front of his stall. His tail was coated with clumps of snow, and sweat darkened his neck and chest. Steam rose from his hindquarters. Reb worked quickly in getting the animal stripped of tack.
“We’ve got to find him,” she said.
Hard at work rubbing down the now-trembling horse, Reb said, “Get yourself dressed for riding. I’ll ready the horses. We’ve got to move before the sun melts the snow and erases his tracks.”
She ran back to the house. Moving on autopilot, she dressed in a heavy parka and rubber boots. By the time she was ready, Reb was, too. His eyes were grim under the brim of his hat, and his mouth set in a thin line. Emily mounted Strawberry, and Reb swung onto Jack. As if sensing his rider’s urgency, Jack moved out sharply.
As the sun rose over the mountains, each sparkling ray burned against the snow. Mist rose off the rolling meadows, hovering like steam off a boiling pot. All around them water dripped and clumps of wet snow fell from tree branches.
Joey’s horse’s tracks followed the driveway, then angled toward the creek before heading due south. Giving Strawberry her head to follow Jack, Emily sat tall in the saddle, anxiously scanning the horizon for any sign of her brother. The tracks formed a dark line aiming directly for a stand of trees. Reb urged Jack into a lope, and the powerful animal lunged through the snowdrifts, breaking a trail for Strawberry to follow. Copper bounded behind Emily.
At the tree line the trail thinned, and the path turned icy. No longer impeded by snowdrifts, Copper raced ahead of the horses. The dog seemed aware this was no mere romp, but a mission. Ears flat, head low, he followed the swiftly melting spoor.
The trail disappeared on a rocky outcrop where the trees and wind had prevented snow from accumulating. Emily forced down her panic as she watched Reb and Copper circle. Sniffing at the ground, the dog coursed back and forth.
Staring hard at the earth, Reb whistled sharply, then called the dog. Copper loped to the man, stopped in his tracks and stared, his ears pricked. Suddenly Copper loosed a howling bark, lunged at an oak tangle and wriggled into the brush.
Reb leapt off the saddle. Following the dog, he used his shoulders and hands to sweep aside the thick branches.
They found Joey wedged in a dirt hollow between the roots of a pine tree, his body hidden by brown oak leaves. When Emily reached him, Copper was licking furiously at the boy’s pale, blue-lipped face. Reb shoved the dog away and crouched, feeling at Joey’s throat for a pulse.
He is not dead, Emily told herself. He isn’t.
“He’s in bad shape,” Reb said. “Bring the horses around. Move!”
She ran back the way she’d come, barely feeling branches whipping her icy cheeks. She caught Jack and Strawberry and led them on a wide path around the oaks.
When she reached Reb and Joey, Reb hoisted Joey’s lanky body over his shoulder. A drop of blood fell from Joey’s head, splattering like a crimson flower on a patch of snow.
Down a hill lay a ramshackle cabin once used by cattle drovers. A track led from this stand of trees to the cabin. Joey must have taken shelter in the cabin before attempting to ride home.
“The main road is about a quarter mile that way, Reb. It’ll be easier getting him there than back to the house.”
“I’ll take care of Joey. Ride Jack back to the house. He’s faster. Call the paramedics and get an ambulance to meet us on the road.” Reb cradled Joey against his chest.
Emily held Strawberry’s bridle while Reb draped the boy over the saddle, then Emily mounted Jack. The quarter horse gelding was warmed to his task and trembled eagerly as she gathered the reins.
“I’ll take care of him, I promise,” Reb said.
She turned Jack for home, gave him his head and slammed her heels into his sides. Clinging to the saddle horn for dear life, she leaned low over his neck, trusting Jack’s surefootedness as he galloped between the trees.
Snow flew in huge sprays and clumps from his hooves. She could hear only the steady huff-huff-huff of Jack’s breath and the crunching of snow. Sunshine hit the snowy fields and burst into millions of prisms, blinding Emily.
“Go faster,” she whispered over and over, never daring to loosen her grip on the saddle to wipe the streams of tears from her pained eyes. “Go faster.”
Reaching the driveway, she spotted a figure standing next to the house. Snow-blind, all she saw was a blur moving to intercept her and the horse. Her hands had gone numb, but she fumbled with the reins. She tried to shift her stance in the stirrups, but they were adjusted for Reb’s longer legs. Jerking her body backward, she flailed for footing and hauled up on the reins. Jack obediently tucked his hindquarters, sliding like a skier in the slushy snow.
Emily jounced hard on the saddle. She lost the right stirrup completely.
The figure waved his arms and shouted, “Hiyup, there!”
Jack planted his forehooves, threw up his head and stopped. Emily lost her balance, grabbed wildly for the saddle horn, missed and fell.
She hit the ground hard. Slush melted through her jeans. Dazed but unhurt, she lay on her back in an icy puddle. Blinking hard, she gazed up at the man looking down at her.
“Damnation, girl, what are you doing riding a real horse? You tore up here like a tornado. Don’t you know you can ruin an animal that way?”
“Claude,” she whispered breathlessly, and struggled to rise. He grasped her parka front and hauled her upright. She clutched his arm until she felt confident about remaining on her feet. His tirade continued, buffeting her ears, but she pushed him away and staggered toward the house. Cold and the hard ride had numbed her
legs.
Grousing and grumbling, the old cowboy dogged her heels. At the base of the porch, she turned on him. “We found Joey!” She gasped in a breath. “He’s hurt, Claude. Just take care of Jack.”
Claude’s mouth fell open. “My boy can’t be hurt,” he whispered.
“He’s unconscious and bleeding. Reb’s with him, carrying him to the road.” Terror caught up to her. “I have to call the paramedics. Take care of Jack.” Thinking, He can’t die. I won’t let him die, she stumbled up the porch steps and into the house.
Chapter Fourteen
The Blue Creek Volunteer Fire Department paramedics met Reb, Emily and Joey halfway to Humbolt. The paramedics took one look at Joey’s blue face and sprang into action. All business, they strapped him onto a stretcher and threaded an IV line into his arm. They announced their intention to take him to the Humbolt hospital. The hospital was little more than a clinic, so Emily knew they doubted he’d survive the longer trip into Grand Junction.
Reb drove the car, following the ambulance along the icy road. Emily hunched into her parka, watching the flashing lights in front of them.
“He’ll be all right,” Reb said.
She fervently hoped so. But once they reached the hospital, there was nothing to do except wait. Emily paced the corridor, keeping her gaze fixed on the ornate wooden door separating her from Joey. Reb offered her coffee from a vending machine. She sipped it, tasting only the waxy cup and her own dread.
The doctor finally came out of the treatment room. Dr. Cort Nelson had been her grandfather’s primary physician. At the sight of his bright red hair and florid face, she mustered a smile.
His bushy ginger eyebrows tangled in a scowl. “I think he’s been shot, Emily.”
She shook her head in mute denial.
“The X rays show a crease in his skull and a severe concussion. It looks as if a bullet entered his scalp just below his ear, then bounced off his skull and exited at the top of his head. Not much bleeding because of the cold, but he’s got some hairline fractures. We’re getting him stabilized. I’ve got the receptionist calling the sheriff.” He lowered his voice. “Is this Tuff’s doing?”