by Susan Laine
Soon, Daniel seemed to notice his faux pas, though, and he offered Jim a courteous smile. “Shall we? My truck is down the bend. Not even the dirt road comes up this far.”
Feeling awkward, Jim wondered what he should say to Dak. “Um, thank you for, you know, saving me and all.”
“You’re welcome. Stay out of trouble.” That was the extent of Dak’s response, and he went into the cabin and closed the door after himself.
Well, that was that, Jim thought, glum and sad to see the back of his knight in shining armor. Sighing, he turned to Daniel, plastered a smile on his face, and said, “Okay, guess we’re ready to go.”
Daniel nodded, looking frustrated for some reason. Then he shrugged, turned on his heels, and led the way down the mountainside along a rugged path not many feet had trodden. It took them over twenty minutes to reach a small clearing where a shiny black truck awaited them. Daniel climbed into the driver’s seat, and Jim followed onto the passenger’s seat.
Swiftly, Daniel started the ignition and eased the huge truck down the dirt path, still not intended for vehicles it seemed. The road was full of potholes, grass, pebbles, and tree roots. The ride was bouncy all the way, and Jim’s brain rattled badly. He closed his eyes to shut out the shaky visual.
The truck slowed. Daniel asked in a concerned voice, “Are you all right? Am I going too fast for you?”
Jim waved his hand dismissively. “I doubt any speed would feel good right about now. It’s funny, but I felt fine when I woke up. Now….” He couldn’t fathom why he felt nauseous and dizzy again. At the cabin he’d been clearheaded and uninjured.
“Okay,” Daniel said finally, but it was clear his worries hadn’t been alleviated. “We’ll be in town soon. I could take you to the local inn, or I could take you to the Howling Creek Ranch, which belongs to my family. Your choice.”
Puzzled, Jim thought about the offer. He didn’t even know this man, but he still invited Jim to his home like it was no big deal at all. How curious. “Um, I wouldn’t want to put you out—”
“Not at all.” Daniel smiled, relaxed. “You’d be more than welcome. You’ll find that Conxing is very accommodating to—”
“Sorry, what?”
Daniel laughed self-deprecatingly. “Oh, forgive me. I meant Connor’s Crossing. We shorten it to Conxing around here. Force of habit.”
“Oh, I see.” Jim had already heard about the town from Dak, but to realize how close he was to his goal made him shudder.
“Are you cold?” Daniel asked.
“No. Not really,” Jim deflected with a casual tone. “Um, is this inn expensive? I’m a little short on cash at the moment….” He worried that might sound too blatant, but he shouldn’t have.
Daniel chuckled, shaking his head. “Well, that settles it. My wife would give me hell if I let you, the man who fell from the sky, fly away. You’re more than welcome at the ranch. No charge, I promise.” His warm levity made Jim feel like a heel, but he smiled back gratefully.
“Thank you kindly, Mr. King.”
“Please, call me Daniel.”
Though Jim didn’t know what he was searching for exactly, he felt he was now one step closer to his objective.
Ten minutes later they reached paved road, and ten minutes after that they swerved onto a driveway up a hill where a gorgeous white house rose. This was no log cabin. It was a modern piece of architectural perfection, perhaps a bit unfit for the rugged mountain surroundings, but definitely impressive and luxurious, Jim thought as he got out of the car, gawking in awe.
“Ranching must pay well these days,” he commented, studying the house.
Daniel chuckled. “Depends on the ranch, I suppose. A lot of them modernize to turn their budgets cost-effective. Like using motorized vehicles instead of horses for everyday chores.”
Jim frowned. “Well, that takes a bit of the romanticism out of it.”
“There’s the historical idyll and then there’s keeping cost down.” Daniel nodded toward the house. “Come on in and meet the missus.”
They entered through large, windowed doors into a cool, fresh, open space where the absence of odors was distinctive. A glass coffee table, fine art on the walls, and black leather furniture increased the modern ambience of the place. Jim could hear voices, but they were distant.
“Looks like everyone’s out on the back patio,” Daniel remarked and headed left, toward an open kitchen with large granite countertops, stainless-steel sinks, and immaculate surfaces. “My wife has a good nose for visitors, though, so she’ll be around soon, I reckon. Please, have a seat.”
As Daniel busied himself with the coffee machine, the water soon percolating and the smell of coffee from fresh-ground beans wafting his way, Jim sat down on a stool and waited politely. His host was a true gentleman cowboy, and Jim felt bad about taking advantage of his hospitality.
“What kind of business are you in, Mr. Faulkner?” Daniel asked, his back still turned.
Jim swallowed hard but plastered a congenial smile on his lips. “I, um, I write travel books and nature articles for magazines. Nothing major.”
Daniel glanced over his shoulder, seemingly pleasantly surprised. “And jumping out of airplanes is part of this type of work?”
Jim chuckled. “I’ve been active all my life. Doing something special, like hopping out of an airplane in the middle of the night, adds spice to the humdrum.”
“An adrenaline junkie, eh?” Daniel teased.
“Yeah, maybe twenty years ago when I was young and dumb. These days I only do this sort of thing for—um, for the thrill of it, just once in a while when these weary bones still feel up to it. I wasn’t trying to jump to my death, you understand.” He’d almost let things slip. Jim cursed his relaxed state. He realized this might happen again. Daniel had a soothing presence that lulled Jim into a false sense of security. Jim didn’t want to spill his beans to a perfect stranger. “How do you know Dak?”
Daniel’s hands on the coffee cups stilled for just a second, but Jim saw it because he was watching intently. There’s something here. “Dak is a family friend.”
Jim frowned at the suddenly stilted dialogue. “Is that cabin where he lives?”
“Uh-huh. Year in, year out.”
“He doesn’t say much.”
Daniel turned halfway to Jim, but his gaze was glazed over as he smiled ruefully. “No, he doesn’t. He’s a reserved man. He doesn’t like the town or crowds.” Then he seemed to recall where he was, and his smile returned to superficial politeness. “But he’s a good man.”
Jim smiled back in earnest. “He saved my life, so yes, I know he is. Is there something I could do to thank him? A gift of some kind, maybe?”
Fidgeting, Daniel shook his head slowly. “Like I said, he’s reserved. Not trying to contact him would probably be the best course of action.”
Unable to convey how disappointed he felt about that, Jim nodded glumly. “I see. Well, I won’t trouble him, then.” He took the steaming cup of strong coffee Daniel placed in front of him and sipped, trying to hide his melancholy mood. I’ll never see Dak again. Damn, that felt so wrong he didn’t understand it at all.
Suddenly, Daniel said in a more upbeat tone, “But Dak has been on his own for so long that maybe what he needs now is some good company. I have some supplies I was supposed to take him in a few days. If you really want to thank him in person, perhaps you could spare me another trip up the mountainside.”
Perking up, Jim nodded enthusiastically. “That sounds great. Thank you, Daniel.”
As Daniel chuckled and took a gulp of his coffee, Jim allowed himself a moment to appreciate the prospect of seeing his rescuer again. Dak might not like people as a rule, but Jim could be very charming when the situation called for it.
And if Dak had lived in this region for a long time, then Jim could think of no better source of information.
Chapter 4
THE TOWN physician, Dr. Walsh, saw Jim the following day and gave him a clean bill
of health. Jim could have told him that. He felt great. Since he hit forty, mornings had been hard for him, every part of him achy and refusing to cooperate. Only an early workout or yoga helped, and his energy to do either had waned of late.
But this morning, like the day before at Dak’s cabin, he’d gotten up feeling as if he were twenty again, strong and fit and ready for the day.
Jim had met the members of the King family at dinner yesterday. Rebecca King, Daniel’s wife, was a force to be reckoned with, a little bundle of energy and exuberance. Her smile was infectious. And the obvious love and respect she and Daniel felt for each other was truly a sight to see. Jim had squelched any envy that had threatened to come up—but only just.
The Kings’ eldest son, Gabriel, was another big cowboy, but he had the most serene attitude Jim had ever encountered. He doubted there was much that could aggravate the man. Gabriel’s partner was, surprisingly, a man, Kieran Knight, who was the complete opposite of gentle Gabriel. Kieran spoke little, and his expression remained stony throughout dinner. Whenever someone spoke to Gabriel, Kieran glared. Jim was sure he was quite the possessive type.
The youngest son, Rafael, seemed like a very joyous person—always smiling, happy, and bouncy on his seat. Next to him sat his partner, also a guy, Kris Ellis, who looked at Rafael with so much affection Jim felt another twinge of jealousy.
Those young men had found their respective partners in life, companions in and out of bed. As glad as he was for those good folks to have found their happy ever after, Jim felt lonelier than he had in years. That feeling had haunted him as he went to bed that night—and dreamed of the mysterious Dak.
This morning after breakfast, Jim had his plans all set. He had promised Daniel he would deliver Dak’s supplies to him, and that was what he was going to do.
“What exactly am I taking up to Dak?” Jim asked as he loaded the small crates and the burlap sacks to the back of the truck.
“Provisions,” Daniel replied vaguely, tossing a soft sack up as well. “Dak can get what he needs from the woods, but we make sure he gets his vitamins, new clothes and shoes, oil for his lamps, that sort of thing. In exchange, he keeps predatory animals away from our bull herd and our horses, much like a park ranger.”
“Sounds like an equitable tradeoff.” Jim’s curiosity got the better of him even though he was supposed to be focusing on other things. “What does Dak do for a living?”
Daniel stopped and frowned, more pensively than anything. “He’s done a lot of things in his life. More than most men, surely.”
“How old is he? I couldn’t tell. He’s in great shape.” Jim blushed at saying the last part, not having intended to speak so candidly.
Daniel chuckled. “Older than the land he walks on, older than the skies above us. The truth is, I don’t know. He may be a family friend, but he’s a private person. We’ve never pried.”
Pondering the odd response, Jim was even more intrigued about the mysterious man in the woods. “What’s his name? I mean, besides Dak.”
“I think it’s Dakotah. A tribal name. But I’m not sure.” Jim couldn’t tell if Daniel was being evasive or oblivious. Either way, the puzzle that was Dak merely deepened. And Jim wanted to get to the bottom of it.
“Is he Native American?” he asked, loading the last sack onto the back of the truck.
“Dak’s many things,” Daniel replied. From his distracted expression, it was clear he wasn’t really paying attention to the conversation.
Jim was bewildered about this so-called friendship between the King family and Dak, when it seemed Daniel didn’t know the first thing about Dak. Or perhaps he was simply guarding the man’s privacy. Lord knew he had a right to keep a lookout for his friend.
And Jim couldn’t exactly claim pure innocence since he did have an ulterior motive for speaking with Dak again, and it didn’t have anything to do with the intense attraction he felt for the man.
HALF AN hour later, Jim was within sight of the log cabin up in the mountains. The dry air was warm and getting hotter as the sun blazed down. Loose pebbles and rugs of dry pine needles made sure Jim couldn’t approach the place silently.
He stepped onto the railed porch, stamping his feet to make sure Dak heard him. On his right were stacks of crates and a yellow wooden box—probably for perishable food items, Jim surmised—and on his left a simple wooden rocking chair, fit for two. The image of Jim sitting on it with Dak, enjoying a warm evening and a golden sunset, made his heart flutter oddly.
Swallowing hard, Jim pushed the thought aside and knocked on the door.
No one answered.
Jim knocked again, louder this time. “Dak? You in there? It’s me, Jim. Daniel asked me to bring you some provisions. Hello? Anyone there?”
Just when he was about to peer through the windows, Jim heard a rustling sound in the bushes behind him.
Startled, Jim turned around and narrowed his eyes in inspection as he waited in place. Now nothing stirred. Only the faint rustle of branches high up, disturbed by the summer winds. Nothing else. Yet Jim was certain there was something in the bushes, not thirty feet from the porch.
Licking his lips and fighting the urge to panic, scream, and run, Jim called out, “Hello? Is someone there?”
Another whir of sound, this time from the other side of the cabin. Jim whipped around, but the cause of the sound was again hidden in the shrubbery. Jim felt cold sweat drip down his back as primal fears began to overrule good sense.
He continued to stare into the bushes, and for a split second, he could have sworn he saw two golden eyes staring back at him, oval and glowing, like mirrors. The giant wolf was back. He would have peed his pants if he hadn’t been so stiff and scared.
Then Jim blinked, and the eyes were gone. All was still once more.
But did he feel safe and calm? Fuck that.
He saw a large stick close to the porch, and he dashed for it, grabbed it, and swung it around himself, doing a whole ungraceful pirouette, just in case.
When he stepped toward the porch again, Dak was standing there, studying him with an unreadable expression.
“Oh, hello.” Jim might have stammered a little, caught off guard. He straightened up, not having realized he’d hunched. “Um, hi. It’s me, Jim Faulkner, from a couple of days ago?”
Dak cocked his head to the side, his long hair shifting, and he quirked an eyebrow. “You sound unsure.”
Jim chuckled nervously and rubbed the back of his neck. The heat wasn’t sweltering yet, but it undoubtedly would be by afternoon. “My memory’s fine. I wasn’t sure about yours.” When Dak didn’t respond, Jim added quickly, “Daniel sent me with some provisions for—”
“I heard you before. The whole mountain range heard you,” Dak cut in, his tone not quite hostile but far from friendly. Jim wondered why the man didn’t like him.
Dispirited, Jim nodded his acquiescence for now. “The truck is full. Could you help me get stuff back here?”
Dak was already moving when the word truck emerged from Jim’s lips, and he strode past Jim on long, stout legs before Jim had finished speaking.
“Okay, then.” Jim sighed and followed the man in silence.
By the time Jim reached the truck, Dak had already hoisted two crates in his arms and hefted them onto his massive shoulders as if they weighed nothing. But Jim had lifted them to the back of the truck and knew well enough they were far from feathery. He wasn’t sure if he felt admiration for Dak’s strength or unease for the same reason.
Through the clearing process, Dak remained stony of expression and silent. Jim didn’t like either, but he didn’t say anything. The one good thing that came out of all of it was his subsiding erection, which had jumped up in delight upon seeing Dak at first. Now Jim’s cock lay soft in his pants, and he could think and work without having to move bowlegged.
Another half hour later, the truck was empty and all the crates and sacks brought into the cabin or the porch. Jim was exhausted and dying of
thirst, though he was sure he had in fact done only a third of the work involved. Heck, probably only a quarter in all honesty.
And Dak wasn’t even sweating!
“Any chance of getting a drink?” he asked, unashamed. His throat was dry, and his voice had gone raspy from the exertion and the hot, dry air in which the winds carried sand and pollen.
Dak nodded and headed to the side of the cabin. A rock- and moss-covered root cellar stood about fifteen feet from the cabin. Dak opened the creaking door and entered into the shade. Jim watched his receding back descend, so he figured the cellar was below ground. As curious as he was, Jim still didn’t go in himself.
Dak returned less than a minute later and offered Jim a glass bottle filled with clear water. Frost covered the glass, now sweating in the sun. Jim didn’t question the offering but took a deep gulp, then another, and before he knew it, he had emptied half the bottle. The water refreshed him in every sense.
It was a good thing too, he thought. Because the brief brush of Dak’s fingers against his own had sent heat coursing through his veins like magma. The ice-cold water cooled off some of that sensation.
“Thanks,” he said after he had drunk his fill, and he gave the bottle back to Dak.
Nodding, Dak took the bottle, his gaze directed at it as if he was lost in thought.
But Jim had a nagging feeling the man just didn’t want to look at him.
Once again, he had two choices. He could leave the brooding man to his own devices, or he could stay and find out more about him.
His natural curiosity—and rising libido—won out. “Have you lived here long?”
Dak looked at Jim in surprise. It was unnerving to have to crane his neck and look up at this man who seemed so unapproachable, but Jim held his ground.
“A while,” Dak answered.
Short and to the point, Jim thought. “It’s nice out here. Though not a lot of modern amenities.”
