Courage To Follow (Cowboys of Courage 1)

by Charlene Bright

  He jerked away from Hunter, stalking back and forth in the small space between horse and stall. He had to stop thinking about this altogether. Shakota could easily turn into a distraction for him, and that was the whole purpose of having avoided dating and relationships in the first place. He didn’t have time for distractions. He already had enough to deal with on his own, and now that he had the sheriff’s badge and a potential murder rap, he didn’t have a moment to spare for even a flirtatious smile, much less time to form an image of what that beautiful body would look like clad in nothing but a sheen of sweat.

  He growled at himself for following that train of thought, and Hunter sniffled at him right as Shakota strode back in with three blankets. “Is something wrong?” she asked, stuffing the blankets into an already full saddlebag.

  Garrett turned his back to her. If his eyes wouldn’t cooperate and find something else of interest, he’d force them to look away. “No, I’m fine.”

  “Mm-hmm,” she said with obvious sarcasm.

  “What, because I growled? I do it all the time. I get frustrated with myself or with the situation I’m facing or with life itself, and I growl. Sometimes, I get frustrated at the damn can opener, and I growl then, too.” He stopped talking as he heard her laughter, enticing and sensual. It rang in the air with a clear, sweet quality that reminded him of the scent of early spring. How he could equate a sound to a smell he had no idea, but it was the only comparison that came to mind.

  He spent the next twenty minutes pretending he was alone, ignoring Shakota’s presence. He still couldn’t believe Solid Fist had sent a woman to help him. What had the man been thinking? He had so many good trackers, and Garrett hadn’t asked for one of his best. Couldn’t he have spared one guy for an old friend? It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Shakota; she’d already proven her abilities, and he fully believed her capable to the point he wouldn’t have to take care of her on their journey.

  He just didn’t need to think with his libido instead of common sense. He’d told Shakota this was a life-or-death situation, and that was true. The town would fry him without even considering another possibility unless he shoved the truth in their face. And he couldn’t do that if he couldn’t prove whatever the truth was.

  When they finally rode out, Shakota had attached Elias’s reins to her saddle, leading the beast of burden behind her. “Before we head out, I need to make one quick stop up the road at the neighbor’s to ask her to look after my place for the next couple days,” he told her. “It’s a five-minute ride, and five more minutes to talk to Eleanor.”

  She nodded. “I understand. Let’s do it.”

  Garrett was relieved. He’d expected that in her eagerness to get going she’d be irritated her at his request, but she was obviously not quite as rigid as she pretended to be. He grew curious about her, wondering how long she’d been building up that tough exterior. It had likely been a lifelong chore, since she’d inserted herself into places in her tribe typically reserved for men, and as far as he could tell, she’d succeeded at every task she’d tried. He doubted she would have had such results if she hadn’t built that hard, protective shell.

  The question was, what lay beneath that shell? Was she soft and laid-back, or did she truly harbor this need to be in control and never show weakness? It was impossible to tell, but he thought he might find out over the next few days. After all, even if he didn’t want to get involved with her—and he didn’t—he liked the woman, and as they rode through the woods following what he hoped like hell were tracks leading to Hoyt Brooks, there wasn’t much else to do but talk and sleep. He’d make the best of it and discover what made this dark angel of a woman tick.

  Eleanor was a doll and agreed to take care of the animals and watch for Diablo. She’d heard the rumors and believed he was innocent, and she wished him luck, telling him to be careful. Garrett kissed her cheek and ruffled the kids’ hair before getting back on the horse to ride out.

  “We’ll have to go back and start at your place. I could probably pick up the trail with a little work, but it would likely be faster to just get back and start at the beginning,” Shakota told him.

  “However you work your magic is fine with me.”

  She gave him a wilting look. “Magic is not the word I would use for this particular skill, though I do know a little about shamanism, and I can wield some magic.” She winked. “In case you were ever curious.”

  Garrett found himself curious about a lot of things, but magic wasn’t one of them. “Well, to the untrained eye, it’s magic. Don’t ruin my rose-colored glasses, sweetheart. I like the world through them much better.”

  “I’m sure you do,” she quipped right back. “But for the record, you might want to put them away for the next couple of days for protection if you don’t want me to accidentally shatter them beyond repair. I’m a bit more down to earth than they might be able to handle.”

  He thought about saying something snarky and lewd back, like, I’ll take the proverbial glasses off if you’ll take the very real shirt you’re wearing off, but that wouldn’t turn out well for him. Heaving a deep sigh, he chose to respond with a little more cooperation. “I guess I could use a good dose of reality. It’s been a while, except for the very real fact I’m practically on trial already.” He shook his head. “And people wonder why I live up here all alone.”

  She didn’t say anything right away, and he glanced at her from the corner of his eye. Her expression had turned a bit sour, and she stared ahead at something he couldn’t see. He remained silent, and eventually, she told him, “You might be surprised, but you can be just as alone surrounded by people everywhere you look as you are up on this mountain.”

  He would have thought Shakota was a renowned and respected member of the Crow Nation, but the way she spoke now, he had a suspicious feeling that her ambition and strength made her more of an outcast than anything. Maybe he would ask her about it later. They weren’t even on the road yet, and that was a very personal question to ask. It would take time to build that sort of repertoire with the woman who had been a complete stranger when she’d walked into his house less than three hours ago.

  Not wanting to be the guy who didn’t respond because he was afraid he’d say the wrong thing, Garrett tried, “I guess we all feel lonely sometimes, and it doesn’t necessarily happen when we’re alone.” He’d felt incredibly alone since the accusations were made yesterday. Until that point, everyone he’d ever met trusted him, with the exception of Leland, whom he hardly counted. He didn’t like how easily they’d all turned on him at the simple suggestion he might be connected to a crime. He couldn’t find an explanation for why they couldn’t just consider other possibilities rather than being lazy and putting the community’s guilty stamp on his forehead.

  “Witch hunts are old news,” Shakota mused, and Garrett looked at her, confused. She shrugged. “If you go back to the Salem witch hunts, they weren’t based on actual practices of witchcraft. Certainly some of the women were proficient with herbs and medicines, but typically, they were accused of being witches because it was an easy way for someone else to take their land and their possessions.”

  Garrett thought about that for a minute. He was by no means stupid, but he failed to see the connection. “What does that have to do with me?”

  She sighed. “You have a beautiful place, Garrett. The land is rich and peaceful, your house is handcrafted and cozy. You’ve even insulated it well. Your animal stock is pristine, and your stables and barn are sturdy. I don’t know how much land you actually have, but you can’t tell me no one’s jealous of you. And if you went to prison, you’d have to sell all of it.” She turned to meet his gaze. “You’ll learn that even earning the utmost respect doesn’t negate you from becoming a victim to man’s greed.”

  For a moment, Garrett wondered if her statement related to bitterness over the European takeover of Native American land over the years, but he didn’t say it. Her warning meant as much in this situation as it had in
that horrid past. The same thing was happening to him, if her theory was right. But who instigated? It could be a conspiracy. What if Leland and Hoyt plotted together? Maybe they were both short of cash and looking to make a buck on his land. He couldn’t imagine any other reason.

  “I guess that means the modern-day excuse for burning someone on a stake is a phantom murder,” he grumbled, and she rewarded him with a soft chuckle. He frowned, realizing they’d been riding a straight path into the woods for at least half an hour. “Hey, Shakota, forgive my ignorance, but are we even following a trail at this point?”

  She smirked. “I can multitask. Apparently, your beloved sheriff was so confident no one would find the start of his trail he didn’t even switch directions for several miles. I’d be willing to bet we find horse tracks up ahead a mile or so.”

  If Hoyt had stowed a horse out here to jump on, he’d plotted this for some time. “Tell me there’s only one set of tracks here,” he said, feeling that familiar sense of rage boiling in his belly.

  Shakota stopped moving, turning her horse so she could face him. He pulled to a stop as well. “Listen, Garrett, I’d love to tell you someone dragged the sheriff away and tied him up somewhere or slit his throat and got away. I know it’s a difficult position for you because, on one side of the coin, someone you obviously care about is in danger or dead, and on the flip side, the world plotted against you. Unfortunately, there is only one set of tracks, and it belongs to someone wearing sneakers with a slight limp, who you tell me is your sheriff. That means you’ve been set up, for whatever reason.”

  Garrett saw red. What the hell had he ever done to anyone to deserve this? Hoyt had been there for him through everything, even as he blamed the sheriff for his parents’ death. He’d never told his surrogate father how he felt, and he’d gotten over it fast. And when Hoyt had called on him to back him up in some legal matter, Garrett had grudgingly gone to help. Why would someone he considered family suddenly want to ruin his life?

  “You can’t let anger get in the way, Garrett. It doesn’t get you anywhere. All it does is fester inside and turn you into someone you’ll hate. It doesn’t hurt the other party.” Shakota’s gentle, prodding voice cut through his rage, and he stared at her with wide eyes. He didn’t find himself so completely consumed with rage often, but when he did, he had to be alone. No one could talk him down.

  But Shakota cleared his mind and eased the burning heat in his chest, the swirling lava in his stomach. How had she done that with just a few words? “He betrayed me, you know. He always told me how much he loved me, said I was like a son to him. He stood by me and helped me when my brother couldn’t after my parents died. You know, Alex is older than me, but he fell apart when our parents were killed. He refused therapy, and he hardly spoke to me for two years. Hoyt was all I had. And now, the son of a bitch is setting me up for his own death!”

  “There has to be some explanation. Maybe he didn’t have a choice. But we won’t know that until we find him.” Her eyes shone with conviction, and Garrett couldn’t help but fall into that gaze. She instilled faith in him, and he saw her passion. It made him trust her implicitly, and fool that he was, he wondered if her eyes held that same intensity in the throes of ecstasy.

  He nodded to her with a lump in his throat. “Let’s do this.”

  Chapter 8

  No one could have been more sympathetic to such a plight as Shakota. While her mother had pushed her to become a survivalist and her father supported her efforts, her own brother and sister had taunted her and fought her efforts at every turn. Her brother had even gone so far as to sabotage her on two separate occasions to make her look incompetent in her trials.

  When it came to betrayal, Shakota had plenty of experience.

  She understood Garrett’s pain and anger. She’d been through it already, and as she’d told him, it had only hurt her, not the people she directed it at. He would be better off channeling his efforts toward solving the mystery. Obviously, he’d started on that path or she wouldn’t be here with him. He just had to remain focused.

  Of course, Shakota needed to take her own advice. So far, the trail had been easy to follow, despite having Garrett Woodward as a distraction. But it wouldn’t stay that way the whole time. With a four-day head start, the man they were hunting could be anywhere. Likely, he’d gone on horseback to a location where a car waited and driven from there. He could have gone to the airport and flown or just disappeared in the car, renting hotel rooms for cash or finding other ways to evade anyone looking for him.

  Shakota needed to be on her game to look for that sort of trail, and as long as she let herself be more interested in Garrett than the job, she could screw up. She refused to let that happen, especially when he already doubted her from the start. Besides, he was a good man who didn’t deserve this sort of situation held over his head.

  She watched him on his horse from the corner of her eye, appreciative of his comfort in the saddle. He melded with the horse fluidly, like one being. He obviously had many years of experience. “How old were you when you started riding?” she heard herself asking, breaking a companionable silence with her lack of self-control. She chided herself for acting without thinking.

  “I was three years old the first time I got on a horse by myself. We had a small paint mix-breed, and he was the most docile animal you ever knew,” Garrett told her, and she noted the hint of a smile on his lips and the shine in his eyes as he recalled what was obviously a fond memory. “I miss that horse. Of course, he couldn’t hold me now, but he would have been my pet, put out to pasture. What about you? How long have you been riding?”

  Shakota couldn’t remember that far back. “I remember already knowing how to gallop when I was four. I don’t know how old I was the first time I sat on a horse.” She frowned. “I don’t remember much at all before I was four. It’s a bit of a blur. I’m not sure why.”

  “Maybe something happened you don’t want to remember,” Garrett suggested, looking concerned.

  Shakota didn’t like that thought, but she couldn’t deny that trauma tended to be the top reason people had no memory of certain time periods. “I guess it’s possible. Anyway, I know I could ride proficiently at four, in a saddle or bareback.”

  He grunted. “I can ride bareback, but I’m not a big fan. It’s slippery, and I don’t have anything to hold onto, much less a way to protect myself.”

  Shakota couldn’t help but glance down at the area to which he referred, distressed at the thought of any damage coming to his nether regions. She told herself it was only because for someone with genes as good as his it would be a disservice to the world if he didn’t procreate, but deep in her soul, she knew better. She was profoundly attracted to him, to every aspect of him she’d seen thus far, and she craved more of him. Some of that was a physical urge, and she couldn’t help but think about how he would feel inside her.

  Trying to decide how to respond to that, she finally said, “Being that I’m a woman, I never thought of that. And from my perspective, it’s easier to grip with my legs without the saddle.” She watched him for a reaction to her subtle double entendre, and though it wasn’t overt, she saw his eyes dart over her body and his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed hard. That gave her great pleasure, and maybe a little more incentive to be flirtatious. “You told me you live alone, Garrett. Why aren’t you married?”

  “I don’t have time for a wife,” he answered quickly.

  Shakota laughed out loud. “That’s the worst excuse I’ve ever heard! You do realize taking care of your livestock requires more of your time than having a wife, right?”

  He glared at her with his brows knit over troubled eyes. “Dating does. Courting a woman takes a lot of time, and a lot of them are needy and clingy and don’t trust men. I don’t have time to reassure someone that, when I go into town for half an hour to buy groceries, I’m not going looking for a stripper or some underage girl with too many curves.”

  It was Shakota’s turn t
o scowl. She knew the type of women he spoke of, and she didn’t get along with them. “Those are the women that give the rest of us a bad name. Let me assure you, there are plenty of women who aren’t controlling or paranoid. Maybe you just haven’t had time to find one of them.” She winked at him as she turned his words back on him.

  He raised his eyebrows at her. “Well, now that you’re here, maybe you can track one down for me. They must have a certain scent about them I’m not familiar with, some sort of floral or angelic aroma specific to only that type of woman.”

  Jealousy hit her mid-chest, almost knocking the wind out of her. The idea of hunting down a wife for Garrett definitely didn’t sit well with her, and she wanted to backhand him and tell him not to overlook the obvious example of that sort of woman. He should have known she was talking about herself. Instead, she bit out, “I suppose I could help you track the endangered species, but it would cost you. You only get this one favor for free.”

  He scoffed. “Here I was, thinking you were all sorts of concerned with my loneliness and the need for a good woman to take care of me. Maybe we could work a trade. I’m not sure why you aren’t married, but I’m sure I could help you find a suitable husband. You know, men who appreciate women who are both strong and beautiful are hard to find.”

  Rather than blush or bask under his praise, she said, “You forgot intelligent. Besides, what makes you think I’m not married?” she asked, curious of his assessment.

  “Oh, please. It doesn’t matter how good of a tracker you are or even if, for some crazy reason, you volunteered. Solid Fist wouldn’t send you to meet a single man who lives alone on a mountain off the reservation if you were married. It wouldn’t be proper.” He sounded so sure of himself that she wished she could tell him he was wrong.

  Instead, she sighed and asked, “How is it you know so much about our tribe?”