Cowboys, Cowboys, Cowboys

by D'Ann Lindun

  A moan slipped out of her. “Hurts.”

  “I’ll bet.” His heart went out to her. By some miracle he’d somehow escaped falling from the sky without injury. “Sit tight while I find something to splint it with.”

  He placed her on the white sand and stood. Scouring the beach, he quickly spotted a couple small pieces of driftwood. He grabbed them, his boots and his discarded shirts and coat. Carrying everything, he returned to Teagan and pulled on his western shirt and coat. Tearing the tee into wide strips, he lifted her injured hand and straightened her bent fingers.

  She cried out.

  “Sorry, honey. I know that hurts.” He placed a piece of the soft fabric around her fingers, wincing when she moaned. Then he wrapped a long piece of the T-shirt around the driftwood and tied it snug.

  “Thank you,” she said, strain evident in her voice.

  “I’m sorry you’re hurt.” Damn. He’d give anything to have some Ibuprofen on him.

  “Not your fault.” She licked her chapped lips. “Where are we?”

  “I have no idea.” He looked around. A stretch of rocky coast both directions. An enormous, unnamed lake in front of them. He shifted and glanced over his shoulder. A forest behind them. A mountain peak. Similar to the Colorado Rockies back home. “Not camp.”

  “Funny.”

  “Not trying to be.”

  She shifted. “Have you seen anyone else?”

  “No.”

  Tears formed in her eyes and she blinked hard. “Where’s the plane?”

  “At the bottom of the lake, I think.” He didn’t sugarcoat it.

  “My friends—”

  “Are probably with the wreck.”

  A shudder ripped through her. She buried her face in her knees. “My whole team….”

  Gage stroked her slender back. She shook with sobs. “Hey now. You made it through. For all you know they did, too.”

  She lifted her tear-streaked face. “You think so?”

  No. “Anything’s possible. We’ll look for them.”

  “Who are you? I don’t even know your name.”

  “Gage Altenburg.” He lifted his hand and dropped it. “I’d offer to shake, but considering your fingers—”

  Holding out her good hand, she said, “Teagan York.”

  “I know.” He gently squeezed. “Nice to meet you, Miss York.”

  “Teagan.”

  “Teagan,” he repeated. “Pretty name.”

  She ignored that. “Now that the formalities are over, how the hell are we going to get out of here?”

  “I don’t have a clue. We don’t know if the pilot managed to get off a distress signal before we crashed. If he did, we sit tight and wait. I’m sure Mounties will send out the cavalry before long.”

  “And if he didn’t?”

  “Hell if I know.” Gage shrugged. “Walk, I guess.” He pointed toward the lake. “Or swim.”

  “I can’t swim.” Teagan shuddered. “I alternately floated and dog paddled until I reached the shore.”

  Gage stared at her. “In that long coat and with broken fingers?”

  “They didn’t hurt until you found me. And I didn’t even feel my coat. It didn’t seem heavy.”

  “Adrenaline.” He knew a little something about getting amped up before and during a big event. A plane wreck qualified.

  “That and sheer terror.” She shuddered. “I’ve never been so scared in my whole life. I couldn’t see anything or anyone…something kept bumping into my legs. A beaver, maybe.”

  “You made it,” Gage reminded her.

  “To die in this hell hole?”

  “I won’t let you die,” he promised, although he wasn’t so sure of his own survival. He had nothing in his pockets but loose change. If he were home in Colorado, he’d have his cell phone, pocketknife and lighter. Bare minimum. But he couldn’t board the jet in Denver with a lighter or a knife, so they were stowed in his bag. His duffle and missing cell had no doubt sunk to the bottom of the lake.

  “Do you have anything in your pockets?”

  She gave him a funny look, but reached into the front pocket of her drenched coat. She pulled out a Chapstick and a pack of gum. “That’s it. Guess we won’t starve.”

  “Damn. I was hoping for a cell phone.”

  “Why didn’t you say so?” She reached into her other pocket and withdrew the most recent model. “I doubt we’d get a signal here, and even if we could, it’s soaked.”

  “Lady, I think you just saved our life.” Gage grinned like a fool as he took the phone. “This little baby can help us in about ten different ways.”

  Hope sparked in her eyes. “Even waterlogged?”

  “Even then.” He held it up. “Fire. Signal. Fishing line. Spear.”

  “All that?”

  “And more,” he said. “I wasn’t a boy scout, but I grew up in Colorado’s Rockies.” He flashed a cocky grin. “The song is true—a country boy can survive.”

  A wry smile lifted one corner of her luscious mouth. “So I’ve heard.”

  “You’re about to find out,” Gage promised. He lifted his face to the sun. “I think it’s around two. Plenty of time to explore a bit and get a fire built.”

  “Fire sounds good. I’m freezing.” Now that she mentioned it, he realized he had goosebumps. A long stay in the water had chilled them both to the bone. Until now he hadn’t realized how cold he was.

  He slipped on his boots. “Take off your coat.”

  She shivered and shook her head. “I’ll be even colder without it.”

  “Wear mine.” He handed her the expensive garment made to keep out the wet and cold. “You’ve got to dry off or you’ll catch pneumonia.”

  “What about you?” A shudder racked her body.

  “I’m fine with my shirt.” He wasn’t so sure, but she needed his coat worse than he did.

  She shrugged out of the soaked wool and slipped into his down coat. It came to mid-thigh on her. “That feels better.”

  “You should take off your shirt,” he said. “I’m going to find some wood and try and figure out where we are. You okay here while I gather some wood?”

  “Yes. But please be careful. There might be snakes.”

  He froze. Give him a grizzly, a mountain lion or a combination of the two, but even harmless water snakes made his blood run cold. The thought of a timber rattler made his gut churn. Then he realized no such animal lived here. And certainly none in the fall when it was cold.

  “I’d take the snakes if it meant I wasn’t here.” She looked around with the same disdain she’d shown him on the plane.

  “It might not be the Hilton, but you’re alive,” Gage reminded her.

  She sighed. “What do we do?”

  He moved toward the forest. “You stay put while I gather some wood. After that we’ll make some kind of plan.” What, he had no idea. He’d been a little off track while hunting in the Colorado mountains a few times, but it was fairly easy to orient himself either by familiar landmark, or retracing his steps. Neither was possible here.

  He took a minute to look around. In other circumstances he would be awed by the enormity of the land. Endless pines and towering snow-capped peaks.

  Where the hell were they, anyway?

  How far off course had the storm blown them? For all he knew they were a few miles from his camp, or that of the models. Hell, they could be anywhere. He kept expecting this to be a bad dream and to wake upon touchdown.

  No matter how much he wished it away, he’d survived a plane crash and landed in the middle of nowhere. They were alive now, but for how long? They needed fire, food and shelter.

  No telling how long they would be stranded here.

  Was someone looking for them as he’d assured Teagan?

  A horrible thought crossed his mind—if the plane had sunk, would the rescuers assume all passengers drowned and dropped to the bottom of the lake? Maybe no one would search for them at all.

  As the rocky beach faded into tow
ering trees, he stepped lightly with all the talk of snakes making him edgy. Depending on where they’d washed up, there might even be lurking predators. He must have really hit his head hard; his imagination was running away with him.

  He shook off that idea and found a down tree. Quickly, he gathered an armload of wood and hurried back to Teagan. The model looked worse for wear. Her face showed signs of stress and pain as she cradled her injured hand close.

  Maybe a fire would help a little. Give her hope.

  He dropped the wood in a pile and sat beside it. Breaking it into tiny pieces, he built a pyramid.

  “Do you still have that gum?”

  “It was hard, but I managed to not eat it all in one setting.” She handed the pack to him.

  “I always heard you model types live on a lettuce leaf and a Lifesaver. A whole pack of gum would be overkill.”

  She snorted. “You’re not far from wrong.”

  He unwrapped a stick of gum, handed it to her and placed the wrapper under the dry twigs. Then, pulled apart her cell phone and withdrew the screen. Propping it so the sun would reflect onto the silver paper, he added a little dry grass he’d found around the wrapper.

  “I remember doing that in elementary school,” Teagan said.

  “Uh-huh. I’ve never had to use this old trick before, but I recall doing it in the third grade.” Gage eyed the makeshift fire kit intently. Finally a tiny spark lit the wrapper. Holding his breath, he prayed the grass would also catch fire. Slow, oh so slowly, the wrapper charred. Just when he thought the task futile, a tendril of grass caught the flame.

  As if in slow motion, the little bundle of grass began to burn. Carefully, he placed it under the twigs.

  For what seemed like forever he waited for the kindling to light. One of them turned cherry red then burst into flame.

  The breath he’d been holding rushed out of him. “Got it.”

  “Amazing.” Teagan scooted close and held her uninjured hand over the tiny flame. “Nice job, cowboy.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  As Gage added sticks to the fire, encouraging it to burn, Teagan gradually stopped shaking. While he’d been gone, she’d slipped out of her bra and shirt and back into his down-filled jacket. It smelled like the man—warm and musky and safe.

  She stretched her frozen feet toward the fire. Her high-heeled boots had seemed so stylish with her skinny jeans. Now, she wished for a plain pair of tennies, or her slippers.

  Comfort over style wasn’t her way.

  Gage had gone out of his way to make her comfortable under the circumstances.

  Her hand hurt like hell, but she could almost forget the pain when she’d looked at her rescuer’s ripped abs and oh-so-fine ass. She’d worked with some of the hottest men in the world, and this man could easily stand among them. Dark hair cut short and deep blue eyes that reminded her of a Santa Fe sky.

  On a shoot in that New Mexico town, she’d fallen in love with the artsy atmosphere, the earthen tones of the land and the open blue sky. And the people. So real and down-to-earth. Nothing like the types she usually dealt with, all about looks and money and who had the most of both.

  That point had been driven home right after her last trip to Japan when she’d come home a few days early and found her movie star boyfriend in bed with Victoria DeSilva, the newest face in town. She’d thrown David’s empty apologies in his face, kicked them both out, and swore off men forever.

  Teagan sighed. At twenty-four, she wasn’t exactly over the hill, but with younger girls coming in by the boatload, it became more and more difficult to stay ahead of the hungry pack. She’d invested wisely, taken acting and dance classes. She wasn’t going to be one of those girls who looked around in despair when it was all over, wondering what the hell happened. Already she’d been on some TV shows and had one call back for a small part in a movie.

  She almost laughed. Here she was in the endless Canadian wilderness, thinking about David, his wandering cock and her job. She ought to be worrying how the hell they were going to get home.

  Somehow, she trusted the cowboy to lead them there. Why, she wasn’t sure. He had a calm, steady approach to the situation that reassured her, too. David would have been freaking out, screaming for Valium or some other less legal drug.

  Gage spoke, drawing her out of her gloomy thoughts. “I’m going to take a look around.”

  She pushed to her feet. “Not without me.”

  “You should stay here, rest.”

  “I’m not tired.” That was a bald-faced lie, but truthfully, being left alone scared her senseless.

  He hesitated, then held out his hand. “Come on then.”

  She slipped on her damp socks and boots, then took his hand, warmth from it shooting up her arm. His fingers were slightly rough. A working man. Nothing like David, with his regular manicures and facials. As different as night and day.

  They walked along the rocky beach. If it hadn’t been a life or death situation, Teagan would have found the stroll romantic. The heavy wind from the storm had died down and the blue waves were gentle.

  “Oh, shit.” Gage stumbled to a stop.

  “What?” Teagan looked to where he stared, but didn’t see anything.

  He pointed down the beach to an item. She couldn’t make it out. “What is it?”

  “I don’t know. Let’s find out.” He strode forward.

  She dug in her heels. “Wait.”

  He turned toward her. “What?”

  “Maybe it’s—” She shuddered. “—a victim.”

  He paled a little under his tan. “Wait here. I’ll check.”

  Although she wanted to protest, be strong, she sank into the pebbles along the shore. “Okay.”

  “I’ll be right back,” he promised. With a last squeeze of her hand, he strode away.

  She watched him go, his ass so fine in tight Wranglers, causing her to wonder what he would be like in bed. Shaking her head, she banished the thought. There were a lot more important things to worry about than doing a cute cowboy.

  Still, her gaze remained locked on his firm ass.

  He walked a few dozen yards, stopped and knelt by the object. In a moment, he waved her over. With a relieved mind, she stood and hurried toward him. As she drew near, she saw what he’d found. A large gray suitcase.

  He examined the owner’s tags with a frown. “Katherine Schellar.”

  She blanched. “Brooklyn’s mom.”

  He reached for the zipper.

  “No.” Somehow she felt as if she were invading the woman’s privacy. “Stop.”

  His hands froze. “What?”

  “We shouldn’t do this. She’ll want it back.”

  “Unlikely.” With a pointed look at her boots, he added, “There might be something in here we can use to survive.”

  With a jerky nod, she acquiesced. “Open it.”

  Almost reverently, he slid the zipper open. Inside laid two stacks of tightly packed clothes. As Gage lifted them out, it became apparent Mrs. Schellar had been practical. She’d packed plain undies, khaki pants, T-shirts and sweaters.

  Nothing Teagan would ever look at twice under ordinary circumstances. Now a bright red cardigan caught her eye. Turning her back, she slipped out of Gage’s coat and into the sweater.

  “A little big,” Gage said dryly.

  “A bit, but it will keep me warm tonight.” She slid his coat over it and the top half of her felt almost normal. Her bottom half not so good—wet jeans like ice against her skin.

  He grinned. “Lucky sweater.”

  A hot flush zipped through her body at his suggestive grin. “Hopefully we’ll be rescued by tonight.” Ignoring his hot gaze, she slid her hand along the pouch sewn on the top of the suitcase. Bingo! She withdrew a long pearl necklace. “Oh my God. Look. Who brings pearls to the wilderness?”

  “A city girl?” He looked skeptical.

  She slid the slick strand of pearls through her fingers. “I’m as city as they come and I didn’t bring my p
earls.”

  “That string can do a million things for us, though.” He reached for the necklace.

  “Great.” She withdrew a large cosmetics bag. Inside she found all the things women around the globe treasured—unopened shampoo, conditioner, toothbrush, toothpaste, deodorant. Best of all, the lady had packed a brand new hairbrush. Teagan raised her gaze toward to the sky. “Thank you, Katherine.”

  Gage reached for the bag. “Let me see that.”

  She handed it to him and he dug around inside, but didn’t pull anything out. “Damn. I was hoping for something metal.” He repacked the clothing and toiletries. “We’ll pick these up on the way back.”

  “Other than the shoes and toiletries, what good is any of it?”

  “We’ll use the clothes for a shelter, or a bed.” He turned toward Teagan. “Ready to go on?”

  “Yeah.” Dear God. Would they be stuck long enough to need a bed? Was someone looking for them? Did the authorities know where the plane had gone down? So many questions with no answers.

  As they trudged along the shore, she kept her gaze locked on the ground, hoping to find another bag. No luggage, but they spotted a few pieces of paper too wet to read. Gage stuffed them in his back pocket. “Fire starter.”

  She wrapped her arms around her middle. “How long do you think we’ll be here?”

  “Not long, I imagine. Soon as the Canadian authorities realize we’re down, they’ll come galloping to the rescue.” He glanced at her. “You were flying into the wilderness for a photo shoot?”

  “Yeah. For the Sports In Pictures swimsuit issue.” She thought of the people traveling with her. Longtime friends and associates. Her photographer, Jackson. Katherine and her teenage daughter, Brooklyn, who she managed and was so protective over. Dear God, she prayed, let them be alive somewhere. She forced her thoughts away from the grim possibilities. “You said you came here to hunt moose. What do you do at home?”

  “I breed running quarter horses. Race horses.”

  “Racing? Like the Kentucky Derby?”

  He chuckled. “Yes, but those are thoroughbreds. My horses are quarter horses, bred for a quarter mile dash, not distance.”

  “Fascinating.”