It took Matt a moment to realize what Devon had said. He let go and shook his head in disgust. “Why the hell didn’t you say so in the first place?”
Devon’s lip curved in a chagrined smile. “I forgot I was speaking to my kid’s grandfather.”
Matt looked stunned, as though it had just occurred to him that he was going to be a grandpa.
Aiden hurried over to them, and Devon put himself between his brother and his future father-in-law to prevent any further misunderstanding from escalating into violence.
But it wasn’t Matt whom Aiden wanted to speak to. He stopped in front of Devon and said, “A new fire’s started in the Bridger-Teton National Forest. If they can’t put it out, it could threaten your cabin.”
Devon had cut a firebreak around his property, but his cabin was literally surrounded by forest, and a gust of wind carrying flying embers could easily set his home ablaze. “Any idea how close it is to my place?”
Aiden shook his head. “I don’t have coordinates yet. They’re sending firefighters from this blaze to put out that fire before it can grow. But you’d better get home, so you can move your stock if it becomes necessary.”
Devon turned to Matt and said, “Don’t let Pippa leave. I’ll be coming to get her.” And then he ran for his truck.
Chapter 36
PIPPA WAS TOO excited to sit still. She felt useless because her pregnancy kept her from helping to fight the fire. Everyone else at Kingdom Come had something to do or somewhere to be except her.
She’d only ever been at odds with Taylor, but she empathized with her grandfather, whose face had looked bleak during the long hours of futile search for her missing aunt, and with Victoria, who’d been so overwhelmed by the disappearance of her twin that she’d collapsed in tears. Her grandfather had gone to Jackson, where he could help organize—and get the latest updates on—the search for Taylor and Brian. Before Leah had left to help fight the fire and search for her sister in Yellowstone, she’d suggested that Victoria stay with Eve so she wouldn’t be alone, and had sent Nathan along with her so he could play with Eve and Connor’s two kids.
The Grayhawks had banded together in this time of trouble, but Pippa hadn’t been a part of it. She knew they hadn’t excluded her on purpose, but it hadn’t made her feel any less alone.
There was a place where she belonged. And someone with whom she belonged. She’d felt happy living with Devon. She loved the life they’d led on his ranch. She wanted desperately to see him, to have his strong arms close around her when she told him that she loved him, too. That would all have to wait while he fought the fire that might have claimed his brother’s life.
However, she knew the first place Devon would go when all was said and done. He’d head home to check on Beowulf and Sultan and his menagerie of wounded animals. Pippa realized she could see him that much sooner if she borrowed her father’s pickup and drove to Devon’s cabin.
She was on the outskirts of Devon’s ranch when she noticed smoke on the horizon. This smoke was different from the haze that covered most of Jackson as a result of the fire in Yellowstone. This smoke billowed, and she saw an occasional flame. She felt a shiver run down her spine.
Ever since she and her father had narrowly escaped that wildfire in Australia when she was a child, Pippa had harbored a deathly fear of her clothes and hair catching on fire. Her natural instinct was to turn around and go in the opposite direction. But the thought of Wulf or Sultan or any of Devon’s menagerie burning to death kept her foot on the accelerator.
Pippa gunned the engine, anxious to get to Devon’s home in a hurry. Right now it looked like the wind was driving the fire away from his place, but that could change. As she hit the brakes and skidded to a stop at his front door, she heard Wulf howling inside. She was glad Devon didn’t lock his door. She shoved the exuberant wolf away so she could squeeze inside and a moment later was on her knees beside him.
“Everything’s all right,” she said, smoothing the ruffled hackles on Wulf’s back. He was clearly excited to see her, licking her face and bouncing around. “The fire’s a long way from here. We’re safe if we stay inside the house.”
Then she realized that the animals in the barn must be equally agitated. “Wait here. I’ll be right back.”
Before she left the house, sugar cubes in hand, Pippa thought about calling Devon to tell him a fire was burning in the forest nearby. But he was an hour and a half away. What could he do from there that she couldn’t do, since she was right here? Besides, she might be worrying him for nothing. The fire could burn itself out, or the wind could take it in the opposite direction, and she would have made him leave the fire in Yellowstone—and the search for his brother—for nothing.
She watched the direction of the distant smoke as the wind swirled around her. Which way was it blowing now? She saw charred ashes floating in the sky, but no burning embers.
She’d been gone for six weeks, but the instant she spoke, Sultan’s head appeared over the stall door. “There you are,” she said, smiling at the sight of his ears tipped forward in welcome. “I have something for you.”
Pippa held out her hand and Sultan lipped the sugar into his mouth, all the while watching her with calm—rather than wary—eyes. Pippa smoothed a hand over his nose, then let her other hand wander up his jaw. She smiled when he lowered his head so she could more easily scratch behind his ears. “You like that, don’t you?”
She slid her arm around his neck as she moved his forelock away from his eyes. “You’re such a beauty. I hope I won’t need to test your trust by trying to lead you out of this stall.”
If the fire came in this direction, Pippa could simply release Sultan, but there was no guarantee he would escape. It would be better if she could load him onto a horse trailer and drive him out of here. But she wasn’t sure whether that was feasible, since she’d never even put a halter on him.
Maybe she ought to try that now.
She left Sultan and found a halter, holding it out so he could see it as she returned. He became restless again, turning in circles, but she stood patiently at the stall door, waiting for him to return. At last he stuck his head out and stood, his ears flicking back and forth, his nostrils flared, his dark eyes focused on her.
“I know you must have had a halter on before, so you know this won’t hurt a bit.” The halter circled his nose and had straps running up either side of his jaw which connected to a strap that went over his head behind his ears and buckled on the side. A lead rope could be attached to a metal ring under his jaw. “Easy peasy,” she said as she slipped the halter over his nose, then laid the strap over his head, before buckling it on one side of his jaw.
When she was done, Sultan shook his head, testing the halter, but he didn’t retreat from the door.
“See? That wasn’t so bad. Now if I need to get you out of here in a hurry, we’re all set.”
Pippa went to check on the animals in the cages at the other end of the barn. They were all different from the ones that had been there before she left. She was shocked to see a skunk and wondered how Devon had been able to treat it without getting sprayed. He was also helping out a blue jay, a possum with babies, and a fox. The fox surprised her, because it looked exactly like the picture on the “F is for Fox” page in a book her father had read to her as a child. Somehow she hadn’t expected the fox to be quite so red, or its face to be framed with such distinct white and black fur.
Pippa had just made a plan for how she could lift and carry each of the cages to her pickup, if and when she might have to evacuate, when she heard a car door slam. She looked out and saw Devon’s truck, then caught sight of him entering the house. She left the barn on the run—or as much of a run as she could manage.
She met him coming down the front steps as she was going up. “Have they found Brian and Taylor?”
“What the hell are you doing here? Don’t you know there’s a fire headed this way? You could have been trapped!”
Pippa wa
s stopped in her tracks by the anger in his voice. A second later he picked her up in a crushing hug and said, “Thank God you’re safe!”
She suddenly realized his anger had actually been fear for her safety. She wrapped her arms around him in return, but gasped, “Devon, I can’t breathe.”
He loosened his hold on her enough to search her eyes and said, “I didn’t mean to hurt you. Are you and the baby all right?”
“We’re fine.”
He pulled her close again, laid his cheek against hers, and said, “I can’t believe you’re here. I was on my way to get you and the baby when I heard about Brian and Taylor.”
“Are they all right?”
He leaned back and said, “The fire is out, but Brian and Taylor have disappeared like the morning mist.”
“How is that possible?”
He released her, but then took her hand and twined their fingers together. “I have no idea. I came home because I heard about the fire here in the Bridger-Teton forest. They’ve sent a bunch of firefighters from the Yellowstone fire to put it out, but I couldn’t tell on the drive in whether it’s coming this way or not.”
“The wind keeps shifting,” Pippa said, as she turned and searched the air above the surrounding forest.
“Let me look at you,” Devon said, taking her other hand and turning her to face him, his eyes eating her hungrily. “You look so…” He laughed and said, “Big.”
She made a face.
“And beautiful,” he added. “Very beautiful,” he said in a softer voice.
“I love you, Devon.”
He smiled his lopsided smile, his eyes crinkling as he met her gaze. “I’ve been waiting a long time to hear you say those words, my friend.”
Pippa laughed.
He took her face in his hands and kissed her tenderly on the lips. Then he looked into her eyes and said, “I love you, Pippa.” He put his hand on her swollen belly, leaned down, and whispered, “I love you, too, Sprite.”
Pippa felt her heart swell with gratitude at Devon’s gesture. She had all the answers she needed. And a whole lifetime of friendship to look forward to.
She was reaching for Devon’s hand when he suddenly said, “Wait!”
Pippa froze. Had he changed his mind? Was he having second thoughts?
“Listen. Do you hear it?”
“Hear what?” Pippa listened, but she wasn’t sure what it was Devon had heard.
His arms circled her from behind, his hands resting on her burgeoning belly. He kissed her on the neck and murmured, “Rain.”
Epilogue
PIPPA COULDN’T BELIEVE eleven days had passed without any word of Brian or Taylor’s fate. Her grandfather was beside himself. Angus was in mourning. She was amazed at Aiden and Leah’s continued dedication to the search. Neither of them seemed willing to give up. Both seemed convinced that somehow, although Pippa couldn’t imagine how, Brian and Taylor had survived the fire.
“One of them is hurt,” Leah had speculated. “It has to be Brian. Otherwise, he could carry Taylor out. You wait and see. Both of them will be back with a story to tell.”
Pippa wasn’t so sure. A thorough search of the burned area had revealed no sign of them. And eleven days was a very long time to be missing. If one of them was injured badly enough to keep them from moving around for that long, what were the chances that whoever was injured could have survived without professional medical attention?
Pippa covered the male arms that enfolded her in bed with her own and said, “It seems wrong to feel so deliriously happy when everyone else is so sad.”
“I have something to ask you, Pippa.”
“What is it?” she murmured, half asleep.
“Will you marry me?”
It was a heroic feat, but Pippa managed to turn her nearly seven-months-pregnant body over so she was lying flat on her back, her head elevated on a pillow so she could see Devon’s face. “Say that again.”
He looked very serious as he leaned over to kiss her. Then he said, “Will you be my wife?”
“You want to marry me before the baby’s born? It will have your last name if you do that.”
“I know,” he said. “It’s what I want. You haven’t answered my question. Will you?”
“Yes, my very dear friend. I will.”
Devon leaned down far enough to whisper to her belly, “Hear that, Sprite? You’re not going to be a Grayhawk. You’re going to be a Flynn.”
Pippa laughed. “She’s going to be the spitting image of her mother.”
“She? It’s a girl?”
Pippa nodded. “I found out when I was staying with my mother. I only tell you because there seems to be a dearth of little Flynn girls.”
“Connor has one.”
“Yes. And now you’re going to have two.”
The dazzled, dumbfounded look on Devon’s face made her laugh. Pippa kissed him sweetly and said, “Did I neglect to mention that twins run in my father’s family?”
This book is dedicated to
Michael J. Ludvik,
a writer and prolific reader.
Acknowledgments
I owe a great debt to my friends Sally Shoeneweiss, Barb McCleary, Gloria Skinner, and Billie Blake Bailey, who keep me inspired and support me when I’m struggling to get words on the page, and my sister Joyce, for her advice on arranging commas and syntax.
I also want to thank my public relations and marketing assistant, Nancy November Sloane, who makes it possible to stay in touch with my readers and still write.
I want to thank you, the readers, for sharing your kind thoughts with me and making it easier for me to keep the seat of the pants to the seat of the chair so you’ll always have another book to read.
And last, but by no means least, I want to thank my friends at Penguin Random House, who make my book read like a better writer than I am wrote it, put a stunning cover on it, and then sell it to devoted readers in great numbers. Gina, I appreciate all your support. Shauna, you have the patience of a saint and the perfect editorial touch. I could never do this without you. And Sarah, you are a blessing. Thanks for all your help.
LETTER TO READERS
Dear Faithful Reader,
While you’re waiting for Brian and Taylor’s story, Surrender, to hit the stands, I’ll be looking forward to hearing your theories about what happened to them. I’ve included an excerpt from Surrender at the end of this book.
Those of you who’ve been reading my historical Mail-Order Brides series of Bitter Creek novels, Texas Bride, Wyoming Bride, and Montana Bride, will be delighted to know that I’ll be writing the final book in the series, Blackthorne’s Bride (Josie’s story), next!
You can contact me, sign up for my e-newsletter, and enter contests through my website, www.joanjohnston.com. You can also like me at facebook.com/joanjohnstonauthor, or follow me at twitter.com/joanjohnston. I look forward to hearing from you!
By the way, if you enjoyed this novel, it’s connected to more than thirty-five other books in my Bitter Creek series, which begins with my contemporary novels The Cowboy, The Texan, and The Loner. If you’d like to read more about Libby and North Grayhawk, check out The Next Mrs. Blackthorne, A Stranger’s Game, and Shattered.
Enjoy!
Take care and happy reading.
Joan Johnston
Taylor and Brian’s story heats up in the next installment of New York Times bestselling author Joan Johnston’s sizzling contemporary Western romance series, where power, money, and rivalries rule—and love is the best revenge.
Surrender
Coming soon from Dell
Continue reading for a special sneak peek
Does your life really flash before your eyes when you know you’re going to die? Taylor Grayhawk was a great pilot, but there was nothing she could do with both engines flared out. A whirlwind of fire had engulfed her Twin Otter as she flew over Yellowstone National Park dropping smoke jumpers to fight the raging inferno that had been burning for the pa
st two weeks. She turned to stare over her shoulder at the single smoke jumper who hadn’t made it out of the plane.
“You can still jump,” she said over the eerie rustle of the wind in the open doorway at the rear of the plane.
“Not without you,” the jumper called back.
“I don’t have a parachute.”
“We can share mine.”
Taylor calculated the odds of getting to the ground hanging on to Brian Flynn by her fingernails—and whatever other body parts she could wrap around him. He was wearing a padded jump jacket and pants made of Kevlar, the material used for bulletproof vests. It was bulky, to say the least. She imagined herself falling—sliding down his body—into the flames below and shuddered.
“I’ll take my chances on getting the plane to the ground in one piece,” she said, turning back to the control panel to see how much lift she could manage without the engines. Not much. She searched in vain for a meadow—any opening in the trees—where she might crash-land the plane.
She regretted leaving the ground without the spotter who usually came along to gauge the wind, fire activity, and terrain. He might have been able to steer her away from the catastrophic encounter with fire that had occurred.
Or maybe not. Maybe taking off without waiting for the overdue spotter had saved his life. She doubted anyone could have anticipated the sudden tornado of flame that had shot up hundreds of feet into the air from the forest below.
“This plane’s headed straight into the fire,” Brian said from the doorway. “We need to jump now, while there’s still time to hit a safe clearing. Get over here, Tag. Move your butt!”
The use of her nickname—from her initials, Taylor Ann Grayhawk—conjured powerful, painful memories. Brian had dubbed her with it when he was a junior and she was a freshman at Jackson High.
Taylor felt the plane shudder as the right wingtip was abruptly shoved upward by a gust of hot air, and knew that time was running out. In a voice that was surprisingly calm considering the desperation she felt inside, Taylor reported their position on the radio, along with the fact that she’d been unable to restart the engines.
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