“You idiot, you shot her. You shot her! She’s going to die. You shot her!” The copper-skinned woman closest to him reached out an elegant hand and slapped him across the face. The sting pushed him back but he shook it off, returning to his knees across from her. She thrust her finger toward his nose. “If she dies, so do you.” She spat into the dirt at his feet. “I swear it on my ancestors.”
He had to fix this. He hadn’t shot her. Please… Not Cyan. “I can’t have shot her, I shot a wolf. A wolf that ran through here.” Jareth lifted his hand and pressed it to his forehead. The colors were so similar between her jacket and the wolf. Could he have shot her? Could he have done this? He didn’t know for sure.
They needed help. He wasn’t proficient in anything more than mediocre first aid. He’d never needed to be before.
He’d never shot a person.
Lifting the radio attached to his hip, he pressed the call button. “Rancher to base, rancher to base. We have a wounded camper here. She’s been shot. Request immediate assistance. Over.” If he didn’t look directly at Cyan, she would be fine. It’d be like she’d never been there. But avoiding her with his gaze, didn’t keep his fingers from seeking hers and clutching them in his desperate grasp.
The two girls continued moaning and whimpering as they pressed on Cyan’s chest. Blood the color of rust darkened the light gray of her shirt, smudging onto her neck and cheek.
He couldn’t smell her, just the iron-laden scent of her unconscious pain. Jareth held in his pain, he couldn’t cry. Cowboys didn’t cry. He lifted the radio, ready to call again, his breath clamoring for a hold in his chest.
As he moved to press the call button again, a beep called out over the foursome on the ground. “Rancher, this is base. Shine your search light into the sky. We’ll send someone straight away. Over.” The double beep at the close of the message didn’t calm Jareth’s heart.
Cyan was shot.
No. He’d shot Cyan.
The first girl in a long while who’d stayed on his mind, and he’d never even kissed her. Man, his luck sucked. He flipped on the LED flashlight attached to the radio and shone it into the night sky.
Moments passed, dragging by like days. Cyan was lying in the snow and there was nothing Jareth could do about it. He wrung his hands, desperate to be more help but certain he’d just mess things up worse.
The woman who’d slapped him held her hands pressed to Cyan’s upper shoulder and she muttered something. Hopefully a prayer, because Jareth didn’t deserve anyone to listen to his. How could he have been so thoughtless, so careless, to just shoot into the forest like that? Without having confirmation that he was shooting at his intended target? He wasn’t a novice gun handler. This wasn’t his first time. So why did he act like it?
The steady purring of a quad sounded through the trees. In a few more seconds, two sets of headlights bumped into view, stopping feet from Cyan’s spot on the ground.
Nate jumped from the four-wheeler in the back, his face ashen as he checked over his cousin. “Jareth, what happened?” Spotting Cyan, he rushed to her other side, staring across at Jareth who peered at the downed woman.
Kettleson sauntered from the ATV in the forefront, hands hooked in the extra space on his holster, a sneer curling his lip beneath a white handlebar mustache. “She’s one of those trouble-makers, isn’t she.” It wasn’t a question. He spat a stream of dark brown tobacco juice to the side, inches behind the other woman with Cyan. Glancing over his shoulder, he nodded. “You girls are right lucky you’re not twenty feet more westerly. You’ve been warned before.”
The dark-haired woman stood and lifted her chin, red blood in a bright streak across her jaw and cheek. Her voice low, she spoke firmly, confidently. “You’ve been warned, Kettleson. What you’re doing is wrong. We weren’t on your land, but your lackey shot Cyan. You have some real explaining to do, to her parents and their lawyers.” She narrowed her dark, bright eyes.
Kettleson thrust his knobby finger into the frigid air between them. “Are you threatening me, little lady?” He spat the last word and looked her up and down as if she was nothing more than an insect he could squash with his boot.
She smiled with little humor. “No, white man. When you have money like the Burns do, you have lawyers drooling to do whatever you want.” She stepped closer to him, lowering her voice. “I’m sure you don’t want any of your affairs brought to light, am I right?”
Kettleson stepped back, jaw tight. He snarled. “Darby, take her back to her place. Rourke, walk the other two back to Burning Bush. Leave them there and get back to the ranch.” He spun on the heel of his boot, the crunch of his steps loud as Jareth held his breath. Over his shoulder he tossed out, “I’ll be waiting for you in my office, Darby.”
Jareth’s stomach twisted and he stood, running in a half-crouch to a collection of bushes past the stream. His boot slipped into the freezing water, filling with the icy liquid as he threw up into the brush.
What was Cyan going to think when she realized Jareth had shot her?
Chapter 8
Cyan
The jostling on the quad roused Cyan.
She blinked as she tried lifting her head. Cradled in Jareth’s arms, she was on someone else’s ATV while another man drove. She had no idea what was going on, but her shoulder burned like acid ate away at the tissues. Tensing with the pain and discomfort, she hoped he didn’t drop her. His broad chest made a promise she hoped his arms could keep.
“Ow.” Cyan moaned, the burning forcing her to react, to acknowledge its presence.
Jareth glanced down at her, studying her face. “Are you okay? Does it hurt very much?” Worry furrowed his brow and he frowned. “I’m so sorry, Cyan. We’re taking you to your place. Should be there in just a few minutes.”
Why was he sorry? From the looks of things, he was the one who’d saved her.
Again.
In his arms, she welcomed the safe comfort and heat. Her back was chilled and she blinked against the aching migraine growing in proportion to the pain in her shoulder.
She had no idea what had happened, but she was glad she was with Jareth. Twice, now, he’d saved her. Maybe, even though he had no cause that he worked for, she could give him a chance. If he was interested in a chance. Was it possible he wasn’t interested?
Cyan licked her lower lip, swallowing. She blinked. Speaking took a lot of effort. “Where are my friends?” Were they okay? Had she been the only one injured? “Someone… someone shot me.” Anger coursed through her, dulling the burn in her shoulder. She struggled to sit more upright on the back of the quad, but Jareth held her back. She looked around, as if she could discern her attacker in the passing forest. “Who shot me?”
Jareth didn’t meet her eyes, but shushed her with quiet words. “We’ll deal with that once you’re taken care of, now stop moving. We don’t want the bleeding to start again.”
Bleeding. How surreal that she’d been shot. She sank back into Jareth’s arms, relishing the sensation of being held close to him after long days of him filling her thoughts. She didn’t care about their differences or why they wouldn’t work. She didn’t care – at least for a little while. At least for the time that he had his arms wrapped around her torso.
She closed her eyes. Reality, pain, and the uneven ride worked together to create a nauseating effect. She didn’t have the strength to fight. She didn’t have the strength to care for anything except Jareth’s constant ability to save her.
The ride evened out and a shift in Jareth’s position declared her home was in sight.
Cyan had never wanted to be home so bad in her life. The man in front of Jareth turned to check on her, placing his profile in relief and revealing himself to be Nate. He stopped the quad and waited for Jareth to climb off with Cyan in his arms. Jerking his thumb over his shoulder, Nate exclaimed, “I’m going to go back and get the other girls. I’ll be back to get you in a bit.” He nodded at Cyan, his eyes somber. “I’m glad you’re okay, C
yan. Sorry to see you again under these circumstances.”
“Thank you.” Cyan moved in Jareth’s arms to get down. “I can walk.” She didn’t want to leave his arms, but she also didn’t want to be seen as a weak girl who constantly needed saving – even though it was turning out that she did.
“No, we’re not sure how much blood you lost. Let me carry you.” He set his strong jaw, determination squaring it further.
Cyan didn’t fight him. Her head hurt and she didn’t feel all that great. Well, how great could a person feel with a gunshot?
He climbed the stairs, barely breaking a sweat up the three sections to the top.
When they reached the summit of the mountainous climb, the slider door opened and Cyan’s parents burst through.
They didn’t speak, but led the way to the living room where a fire roared. Mom didn’t ask questions as she disappeared into the apothecary pantry she’d had built into the home. She emerged with a mortar and pestle as well as her emergency herb and essential oils kit.
Cyan shifted from Jareth’s arms to the couch, her legs dangling off the cushions and her head resting on multiple throw pillows.
Her dad pressed a chunk of gauze to her shoulder and looked up at Jareth. “What happened?” He wasn’t shouting or losing it, he was very calm and controlled, even peaceful. The only explanation for that would be his dealer had come through with some cannabis product that worked.
Too bad Cyan was in pain when her dad seemed to have his momentarily controlled.
Her father’s stoicism must have thrown Jareth off because he glanced around the living room as if the answer to Mr. Burns’s question lay somewhere in the shag rugs or the simple tapestries on the wall. “I, uh, well… I was…”
Cyan winced at the pressure from her dad’s hand on a spot by her clavicle. She struggled to comment, inhaling the sting of the rubbing alcohol he’d daubed on her skin. “Dad, he saved me. Some idiot working for Kettleson shot me – I’m assuming it’s one of his men. The shots came from that direction.” She gazed at Jareth, warmth spreading through her that had nothing to do with her pain. “He saved me again.” She sought his hand with her fingers, grabbing hold when she made contact.
He looked down, once more avoiding her gaze. His actions confused her. Why wasn’t he smiling at her or something? Anything. Maybe he was mad at her or something? Maybe he was mad at whoever shot her. That made sense.
She nodded to herself. Yes, that must be it. He couldn’t control his anger at whoever shot her. Look at him, still protecting her. Her heart warmed with the thoughts running through her mind.
Just when she’d thought she’d never see him again, there he was – her knight-in… well, not shining armor.
Upon closer inspection, she noticed dark red spots on his flannel and hands where her blood dried on him. He also wore a holster with a radio hooked onto it. He’d tipped his hat back on his head, framing the bright blue of his eyes and the crinkle above the bridge of his nose as he frowned worriedly at her.
Mom worked a poultice together, pressing the mashed herbs and oils into a cheesecloth. “Clean that really well, Gulliver. Can you tell if the bullet went all the way through?” She leaned over the back of the couch to inspect Cyan’s shoulder, smoothing Cyan’s hair. Pushing the cushions away from Cyan’s back she looked close, producing scissors and cutting away her jacket and sweatshirt. The metal slid coolly against Cyan’s skin.
Cyan tried not to cry out when her mother tugged the material from her shoulder, grazing the wound.
Her mom stood. “There’s a back wound too, that’s bleeding pretty good. Looks like it went through, Cy. That’s good news, even though it’s an extra wound to deal with. Let me get a tincture for you and we’ll get the pain controlled.” She hustled to the kitchen, returning seconds later with a dark blue bottle and rubber medicine dropper.
Cyan groaned. “Mom, I hate those.” The cannabis tincture never tasted great and Cyan’s lips contorted as she lifted her tongue for the alcohol flavored medicine to be administered sublingually. Her mom never added anything to help with the taste and Cyan shuddered as she swallowed.
“You might not like them, but they help with the pain.” Her dad grabbed another chunk of gauze and pressed it to the wound on Cyan’s back where her mom had indicated.
Jareth bit his lip and then blurted out, “Cyan, I shot you. I’m the idiot-Kettleson-worker that shot you. But I wasn’t trying to shoot you. I was trying to shoot a… wolf…” He watched her, his voice trailing off.
Her throat constricted as betrayal sliced through her. She didn’t know which was worse, the fact that he’d shot her, that he kept quiet about it while she’d gushed about him saving her, or the fact that he’d been trying to kill a wolf!
He knelt beside her, ignoring the presence of her parents. “I’m really sorry, Cyan. I didn’t see you. There’s a huge bounty on these wolves and I need… I mean… Look there’s no excuse for shooting you, but it really was an accident.”
Cyan bit her lip to hold back the tears. “I’m mad at you right now. It might be better if you leave.” How could he do that? How could he have shot her? Why hadn’t she seen the way he was acting was from guilt and not worry? He didn’t care about her. He didn’t care about anything.
“I know you’re mad. You have every right to be. I really am sorry.” He tried to reach for her fingers, but she pulled away.
“You think I’m angry because you shot me. And I am, but…” Cyan finally looked at him, ignoring her father’s grunt and her mom’s piercing stare toward Jareth.
“But?” He pulled back to look her more fully in the face, confusion shadowing his eyes.
Emotions warred within Cyan. Of course she was upset he’d shot her. Who wouldn’t be? She couldn’t breathe deeply because of the pain and it hurt to talk. But some betrayal hurt worse than anything physical could. “I’ve been tracking and protecting those wolves you shot at. I’m trying to save them and you’re out there killing them… for money!” Cyan half-sat up, pain bursting up her neck and down her arm. She groaned, letting her father push her back onto the couch. “Get out, Jareth.”
He reached out and stroked her hair, his fingers sending little tingles down her cheek. “The wolves really matter that much to you?”
Why did she react to him now that she knew the truth? Was her heart that slow to understand? “Yes. I get it was an accident. Fine. I’ll forgive you for that. But you weren’t target practicing, right? You tried to kill a Gray wolf. They’re protected. Protected. Endangered. And you’re… you’re killing them.” She lifted her hand and dropped it to fall listlessly on the couch. “I don’t understand.”
Jareth settled back on his haunches, taking in Cyan’s parents. “I’m really sorry this happened, Mr. and Mrs. Burns. Is there anything I can do?”
Cyan’s dad squinted at him and then back at his daughter. “Please pass along to Kettleson that our lawyers will be contacting him in the next day or so.”
Nodding, Jareth met Cyan’s gaze, his eyes pleading. For a moment she considered relenting, begging him to stay, but her pride pulled her back, restrained her more than her bullet wound could.
He’d shot her because he hunted the one thing she tried to protect.
As he tread across the rock flooring and out the door, Cyan couldn’t help watching him.
Her mother hummed in her throat. “You like him, don’t you.” Not a question. With Mom, it was never a question. The woman had more of an empath aura around her than anyone else Cyan had grown up knowing.
“I don’t know him, not enough.” Cyan drew her breath in sharp as her dad dabbed around the edges of her wound with another antiseptic swab.
“Enough for what, honey?” Dad replaced the swab with a new one, his eyes calm and collected like he wasn’t constantly in pain from his fibromyalgia. Mom’s tinctures worked, and Cyan was glad for that. For both her and her dad.
“Enough to change my plans for him.” Cyan closed her eyes.
/> And she would have to.
She’d have to change everything about herself just to make him see her for who she really was.
Chapter 9
Jareth
Snow crunched under Jareth’s boots with a snapping bitterness that matched the guilt in his heart.
Headlights pierced the darkness of the driveway and he peered intently at the approaching ATV.
Nate nodded as he passed Jareth, coming to a stop by the stairs and letting the two women off with their haphazardly thrown together packs and gear. They didn’t acknowledge Jareth but muttered their thanks to Nate and rushed up the steps.
Jerking his hand toward the ATV, Nate waited for Jareth to climb on. “Come on, cousin. We need to get back.
Would Cyan forgive him? Jareth wouldn’t allow himself to want forgiveness. He didn’t deserve it. He climbed on behind Nate and held his gaze away from the house. He didn’t even deserve to stare longingly at her home, filled with all the things he wanted to say, should say.
He barely knew her, but he wanted to know more and now he’d just shot his chance in the foot.
Okay, shoulder. He’d just shot his chance in the shoulder.
Literally.
He and his cousin didn’t speak on the drive back to Kettleson’s ranch which gave Jareth time to contemplate what the hell he’d gotten himself into. He’d never considered he would get into trouble because he’d physically hurt a woman. That wasn’t how he worked. He didn’t hurt anyone, least of all the fairer sex. He might not have settled on one before, but he’d never harm one – not emotionally or physically. Every girl he’d ever been involved with knew it wasn’t a commitment thing. But now that he’d hurt the one woman he wanted to get to know better… Jareth didn’t know if he could handle the guilt of that.
Quite frankly, he deserved whatever Cyan chose to do. Before he could fix things with Cyan, Jareth had to face Kettleson and deal with whatever consequences the old man decided to dole out.
Accident or not, hopefully, Jareth wasn’t fired, but he understood if he was.
Forbidden Trails: A Clearwater County Romance (The Montana Trails Series Book 2) Page 6
