Vestige of Hope

by Sara Blackard

  “He’s got some broken ribs, a nasty scratch by a mountain lion, and some cuts and bruises.” Viola reported as she sat back and peered at Beatrice.

  “I think he might have a sprained ankle.” Beatrice looked up at Viola. “I don’t think it’s broken, but I don’t want to take off these fancy boots to check before we get home.”

  Viola nodded in agreement as she glanced from the man, to the sky, to their horses, and back again.

  “We don’t have time to make up a travois, not with your fresh kill and the storm building,” Viola decided aloud. “Go move that meat to Firestorm, then bring Cocoa here. I’ll see if I can wake him up enough to get him to help us hoist him onto her.”

  Beatrice raced over to the horses and shifted the items around. There was no way the feisty stallion would ride double. That loco animal only allowed Beatrice to ride him and only because Viola fancied him enamored with her.

  Viola bent back over the man, brushing her hand down the side of his face and speaking loudly yet soothingly. “Sir, I need you to wake up. There’s a storm coming, and we need to get you onto my horse. But you're so big and strapping, I don’t think my sister and I can do it without your help.”

  The man moaned as he scrunched his forehead and leaned his head into her hand. Viola placed both hands on either side of his face and leaned closer.

  “Sir, please,” Viola pleaded. “We don’t have much time. If we have to lift you on our own, I’m afraid we’ll injure you even more.”

  His eyelids fluttered, and his face worked in concentration. Slowly his lids opened, and startling blue eyes, the color of the summer sky on a clear day, gazed at her with more focus than she thought possible in the circumstance.

  “Mountain lion,” the man muttered apprehensively.

  “It appears the lion left or at least didn’t want to finish his handiwork. I’m Viola Thomas. What’s your name?” Viola asked as Beatrice came beside her with Cocoa.

  “Hunter.” The man groaned as he grimaced in pain.

  “Mr. Hunter, we need to get you on my horse and to our home before this storm settles in on us,” Viola said. “Do you think you can help us get you up?”

  Mr. Hunter breathed in deeply and winced before answering. “First name’s Hunter. Please help me sit up and clear my head a minute. It’s spinning faster than a rollercoaster.”

  Viola peeked at Beatrice in confusion. Beatrice shrugged her shoulders and mouthed, “Loco.” Viola motioned for Beatrice to go to his other side, and they both helped him up by the shoulders. He slowly raised his hands to his face, pushing his palms into his eyes and pulling his hands through his hair.

  “He can’t ride in front of you.” Beatrice peered at Viola over the top of his head. “He’s too tall. Even taller than Orlando, I’d guess. You won’t be able to see.”

  “We’ll put him behind me,” Viola answered.

  “What if he falls off?” Beatrice examined him as if it wasn’t a possibility, but a given. “If he passes out and falls, we’ll be right back where we started and probably worse off.”

  “We’ll tie him to me,” Viola said, trying to be nonchalant to save the poor man’s pride.

  Hunter sighed and rolled onto his knees. After a few breaths that seemed to settle him, he looked at Viola and said, “I’m ready.”

  Viola and Beatrice helped Hunter to his feet as best they could. When he tried to put weight on his right leg, Viola watched him wince and pull it off the ground quickly. His forehead dripped with sweat, and his shirt clung even more to his body.

  Viola said, “Though this will hurt, you must put your right foot in the stirrup and swing yourself up. We’ll help you as much as possible.”

  Hunter nodded, a drop of sweat rolling down his cheek.

  “Beatrice, once we get Hunter up, I want you to duck under Cocoa’s neck just in case his momentum takes him off the other side.” Viola hoped she didn’t sound as condescending as Beatrice had, though in honesty, she pictured that happening in his weakened state.

  Hunter pulled her a little closer to him, almost as if he was tucking her into his side. When she peered up into those perfectly blue eyes, she stood still, stunned.

  “Don’t worry,” Hunter whispered, his breath dancing with that stubborn strand of her hair and skittering down her spine. “I promise I won’t fall off.”

  All Viola could do was nod her head in idiocy as she stared up at him.

  Beatrice cleared her throat. “I’d rather get at least part of the way home before we get drenched.”

  Viola nodded, ducking her head lest anyone notice the blush rising up her cheeks.

  Chapter 2

  Hunter had awoken to the most beautiful vision he’d ever seen, an angel with long, dark blonde hair trailing over her shoulder in a braid, and eyes colored somewhere between blue and green that reminded him of his favorite fishing hole growing up. Her eyes were calm, yet gorgeous. She’d had her small hands placed upon his cheeks, and a look of immense concern marred her blood-smeared forehead. Then the nightmare invaded in a cascade of pain.

  He didn’t know how he’d pushed through the pain without passing out as the two little women hiked him up onto the horse. He would say under oath it was a testament to his years of military training, but it was more likely the bruise to his ego the jabbing comments and looks of doubt the sprite of a sister threw at him that kept him clinging to consciousness.

  Even now, after successfully mounting the horse and riding for a good while, Beatrice, if he remembered her name correctly, still glanced at him from time to time, as if to make sure he wasn’t about to drag her sister off the horse. He didn’t blame her though, since each step of the horse sent excruciating pain radiating from his chest to his outer limbs. He should’ve accepted his brother Chase’s offer to hang out rather than hike, especially since he’d been away on missions for so long. Rescue by horseback was definitely not his first choice of extraction. He’d have to catalogue this intel for future missions.

  Though being forced to hold tight to the captivating Viola might make the experience worth it. Her hair smelled so sweet and clean, like the pastures and woodlands that surrounded them had permeated into her very cells. It was intoxicating and threatened to lull him back to sleep. He adjusted his position and caught a whiff of something putrid, like she’d rolled in something dead. He moved back to where he’d been, figuring if he kept his face in her hair, he wouldn’t smell the rest of her.

  Something, however, kept tugging at his brain, that little part of his mind that shouted something was not right, preventing him from diving headfirst into the comfort that Viola’s presence infused into him. Maybe it was the odd clothing the women wore or the gear strapped upon their horses. Nothing appeared wrong with it. It just was overly old fashioned. From the blouses and buckskin pants to the antiquated revolvers holstered at their hips, and even the blanket-like jacket they’d called a capote before gently pulled over him reminded him of all those mountain-men movies he and his brother used to watch growing up. The thick material scratched his neck where it rubbed and the buttons holding it closed appeared to be made out of antlers. The whole scenario screamed Jeremiah Johnson, though beautiful feminine versions. It caused unease to skitter up and down his spine, making him force unconsciousness away until he could assess the situation.

  “I don’t remember any houses close by on the map,” Hunter said, hoping to get information without raising suspicions. “In fact, with this being a designated wilderness area, the only structure I know of is an old settler cabin on a lake about five miles from the causeway.”

  “I sure hope you didn’t pay too much for that map,” Viola said, shaking her head. “There aren’t any cabins abandoned in this area. In fact, the only permanent place for at least twenty miles in either direction is our place, unless you call the shack the Sweeney clan threw up as permanent.”

  “Don’t forget about the gold mines up on Hahns Peak,” Beatrice said. “And didn’t Orlando say something about a Cr
awford family that moved in a summer or two ago over by the mineral springs?”

  Viola answered, “I forgot all about them. You know, if time allows, we should have Orlando take us over to meet them this summer. It’d sure be nice to chat with some other ladies.”

  “But what about the town of Steamboat Springs or Yampa? Together they are pushing thirteen thousand residents,” Hunter asked with caution.

  Their exchange did nothing to settle the unease. In fact, his mind was now racing double-time, and his heart banged away like a fifty-cal machine gun. Had he knocked his brains completely loose? There was no way these women wouldn’t know that Steamboat Springs, with a population of over twelve thousand, was a quick drive away once you crossed the causeway.

  The poor man had completely knocked his brains loose. That was the only explanation Viola could think of as the beat-up, half-conscious man wrapped around her back jabbered on about thousands of people living in these rugged mountains. What nonsense! The only reason there’d be that many people sticking around through the rough, long winters was gold. The only gold found in the area was at Hahns Peak, and that had played out about as quick as they found it.

  “The only place that big in Colorado is Denver, though I suppose it's closer to thirty thousand people now,” Viola said cautiously, not wanting to upset him more than he already was.

  His heartbeat increased upon her back from that of a woodpecker pounding on a tree to the wings of a hummingbird violently flapping. His hot breath came quick and choppy on the back of her neck.

  “Denver’s population is over six hundred thousand people,” Hunter whispered harshly, his body leaning more and more on her each second.

  Viola glanced at Beatrice, who mouthed, “Loco,” not so subtly. From Beatrice’s concerned expression as she watched Hunter, Viola knew they needed to calm him down or he’d pass out again, though that might not be a bad idea. All this talk of hundreds of thousands of people had her heart beating about as fast as a hummingbird’s wings as well.

  “Hunter,” Viola said, praying God infused her voice and words with calm and peace. “You’ve had a trying morning, what with your tangle with the lion and falling down the mountainside. We’ve had a long morning with our hunting trip. We are all exhausted, a little anxious, and you are definitely hurting. We are almost home; a half an hour more. Why don’t you try to rest, and after we get you taken care of, we can figure out what’s going on?”

  “Yeah. Sure. You’re right,” Hunter answered tersely. “I’ll understand things clearer after I get some shuteye.”

  With that, Hunter took several long, shallow breaths. His heartbeat slowed until she could no longer sense it, and his head nuzzled into her neck, which got her heart racing for an entirely different reason. After a minute or two, his body went lax, and she could tell he was sound asleep.

  “How did he do that, just fall asleep on the spot?” Viola asked, looking at Beatrice in amazement.

  “He’s a strange one. I’ll give you that.” Beatrice shook her head and examined him like she used to examine bugs as a child. “What I don’t get is his insistence that there are thousands of people living in these mountains. If we have a hundred, not counting the Indians, I’d be mighty surprised.”

  “Possibly locations got jumbled in his head during his fall, and he’s remembering some place back east.” Viola spoke softly, not wanting to wake him. “Whatever the case, we need to take this time to pray before he wakes back up.”

  Beatrice snorted. “He will definitely need a lot of prayer.”

  Viola threw her a reproachful look, then focused her thoughts on God. Viola thanked God for letting them find Hunter. She prayed for healing and wisdom since the situation didn’t seem to add up. She finished and glanced at the sky behind them.

  “Lord,” Beatrice prayed, surprising Viola since she rarely shared her prayers. “Please help open my heart to be more trusting. I’m torn and conflicted at the moment. One part of me wants to raise a shield to protect me and mine from this man who is so strange. Yet, I sense Your presence with him, that You had him fall in our path for a purpose. Help me rest in Your peace, to recognize when my sense of fear is from You for our protection. In Jesus' name, amen.”

  “Amen,” whispered Viola as she wiped the tears from her eyes. She focused on the task before them, on the best way to get Hunter into the cabin without harming him more. She thought through what she’d need to gather to treat his wounds. However, no matter how hard she tried to focus and plan, the man’s arms around her waist and his breath upon her neck pulled her thoughts astray.

  Hunter woke up in a little piece of heaven. Viola’s intoxicating perfume enveloped him in its freshness. He pulled her slender body closer to him, her back pressing to his chest. She fit perfectly. He snuggled his face closer to her neck and exhaled. This was by far the strangest, most wonderful place he’d ever napped, and with his military career, there’d been some doozies. Extraction by horseback wasn’t such a bad means of rescue after all.

  “Um, Hunter?” Viola whispered, a slight tremor coursing through her.

  He took one last inhale and hugged just a little tighter, hoping to imprint this memory. Maybe once he got released from the hospital he’d hike on out here and spend the rest of his R&R getting to know Viola better. If things went well enough, he wouldn’t mind spending his leave time in Colorado. The mountains were refreshing when they weren’t chewing you up.

  “Hunter, we’re here,” Viola said.

  Was her voice huskier, or was he imagining it? Yep, definitely spending some days in the wilderness after the hospital. He sat up, every part of his body burning in pain. His ribs seared him in white hot agony, as if the dumb cat hadn’t left him be but was chowing down.

  Hunter looked at Viola’s delicate lines as she turned in the saddle, a slight blush pinking her neck. She lifted her eyes to his. They were kind and bore an expression of worry. Hunter smiled, or rather hoped it was a smile and not a grimace that would scare the sweet thing away. Just for good measure he winked, reveling in the crimson blush racing up her cheeks and the slight movement that lifted her lips before she turned back around.

  “Let’s get you in,” she said, swinging her leg over the horse’s head and dismounting.

  A small cabin sat fifty yards from an emerald blue lake fed by a creek that danced through the mountain meadow. The cabin’s back side butted up against a steep, smooth rock face of the mountains that stretched behind it as though grafted to it. From a strategical standpoint, the position was brilliant. The rock face was smooth and stretched on forever with an outward bend that created a natural awning up high that would protect it from weather and anyone who attempted to drop something nefarious onto the cabin. Whoever was inside would only have to worry about three sides, and with the lake so close, actually only two. The large meadow stretched out past the cabin and was lined with fluttering aspen trees, towering pines, and magnificent mountains jutting up like a sentry as they horseshoed around the luscious wide valley. Someone had built a log barn with a corral attached that held a handful of horses and a dairy cow. The cabin, which appeared from the outside to be one room, had only one window on the front and a sod roof.

  As the unease of before tried to claw its way up his throat, Hunter pushed it down with difficulty. Lord, what is going on? Hunter was a Delta Force captain. The US government trained him to remain calm, assess the situation, and find a solution. He had commanded more successful missions in the most bizarre and dangerous situations possible than any other operator, ever. He could figure this out. All he had to do was remain calm, in control. He closed his eyes and forced his mind to focus, to push past the fear and concentrate on what needed done posthaste. He had to get off this horse, have his injuries dressed, and then set up communications. Once he reached Search and Rescue and got someone on their way out here, he could look at the situation more clearly.

  “Okay, here’s what’s going to happen,” Hunter said as he took charge of the situa
tion. He ignored the look of surprised amusement that passed between the sisters. “If you ladies would stand here next to this horse, I’ll lean forward and dismount. I can tell you it’s not going to be the prettiest dismount you’ve ever witnessed, but if you help me keep steady and not fall on my face, I think we can get it done. Would you mind looking at my injuries and see to anything that needs addressed before Search and Rescue makes it out here?” he asked looking at Viola and ignoring the petulant smirk that seemed a permanent feature upon Beatrice’s face.

  “I think we can handle that,” Viola answered as they came up alongside him. “Will your party be looking for you then?”

  “Without a doubt, once I get in contact with them.” Hunter grunted in pain as he leaned over the front of the horse and lifted his leg back and over. The agony of before ratcheted up to hellish torture as his entire body protested the movement. He clamped his teeth tight, more than likely breaking some, to keep the scream from ripping out of his throat. Once off the horse, he stood supported between the sisters, shaking like a leaf and breathing as deeply as his ribs would allow, to keep the black tunnel of unconsciousness threatening his line of vision at bay.

  After a few minutes, Hunter nodded his head and said, “Alright, let’s go.”

  The short walk to the cabin had his grip on the tunnel loosening. By the time they reached the threshold and made their way to the bed shoved in the room’s dark corner, the women almost completely supported him. Four more steps and he’d rest. Control. Hold it together.

  Two more steps, but the tunnel was winning. He mumbled an apology before his consciousness tumbled down the tunnel into darkness.

  Chapter 3