While Dallas clicked away, Conner waited beside the horses, gripping Molly’s bridle.
“You were right. The view is amazing.” Dallas was already mentally composing the list of contacts she’d send the photos to in the hopes of making a sale.
Conner materialized beside her. “Watch you don’t get too close to the edge.” He took her elbow, drew her back a step.
A step that brought her up close and personal with him.
Tall. Broad. Strong. Masculine. The words blinked in her mind like a flashing neon sign. Conner was all those things and more.
“I’ll be careful,” she assured him. Careful to keep a watch on her heart. He could easily steal it.
She returned to the wagon bed and reached in the ice chest for a bottle of water. What she really needed was space. No reason to put ideas in either of their heads.
Dallas might be over Richard, but she was still vulnerable. She didn’t need a man messing with her priorities. Derailing her plans.
She’d seen the results of that firsthand with her mother.
Moving to a different spot, she continued snapping pictures. The mountains, harsh and primitive, erupted from the earth like an offering to the heavens. At their base, the city, with all its modern wonders, spread out in every direction, devouring the landscape.
These were the kind of photographs Dallas sought, the ones that told a story.
Conner appeared in her viewfinder, unaware that the camera had found him. He stood staring at the city. Behind him, a rocky brown ridge rose like a wall. Cacti and shrubs grew out of it, clinging to existence against impossible odds.
Molly, her head beside Conner’s, also stared at the city, with a look of ancient wisdom in her eyes.
It was as if the past and present were colliding right there in front of Dallas.
Talk about a story.
Chills ran up her arms as she snapped a quick shot. Then a half dozen more. Instinct told her these would be her best pictures of the day.
“You done?” Conner asked.
“I am.” God, she loved her work.
The drive to the box canyon took another hour and a half, during which Dallas and Conner chatted amiably.
In the canyon, he tethered the horses to a tree and then fetched water for them from a natural spring. They drank lustily, emptying one bucketful after another.
Dallas unloaded the ice chest, adding the trail mix and protein bars she’d brought to Conner’s canned tuna fish, crackers and apples. It was, in her opinion, a perfect lunch.
Afterward, they walked the length of the box canyon. He watched over her as she got all the pictures she needed and then some. Several shots included him, but none were as compelling as the ones from the top of that first hill.
When they finally pulled out, about two o’clock, Dallas’s eyelids were drooping. Sleeping was impossible with the wagon bumping noisily along the narrow trail.
“Thanks again for taking me today,” she said.
“My pleasure.”
Hers, too.
“Can you imagine what it must have been like, crossing the country in a wagon? How incredibly tough those people were to have endured the hardships they did.”
Her comment sparked a lively discussion about pioneers heading west, which eventually segued into one about the history of Mustang Valley. Before Dallas knew it, they were ascending the first of the large hills.
She scanned the horizon, always on the lookout for more photo ops. All at once, a metallic twang sounded, like a coiled spring being released.
Conner glanced down and swore, then yanked on the reins. “Whoa, girls.” To Dallas, he said, “Pull the brake.”
“What’s wrong?” She responded to the urgency in his voice, her fingers grabbing for the brake handle as a spear of alarm sliced through her.
Chapter Four
Once the draft horses were at a standstill, Conner peered over the side of the wagon and assessed the damage. He didn’t like what he saw.
In a matter of seconds, the entire flat iron tire had separated, remaining attached to the wheel by a single bolt.
“Conner?” The concern in Dallas’s voice reminded him that he hadn’t answered her question.
“We’ve damaged a wheel.” He reached behind her and checked the brake, making sure it was set firmly. Handing her the reins, he started to climb down. “Stay put.”
“Wait!” She perched on the edge of the seat. “What if the horses bolt? I’m not sure I can hold them back.”
“They won’t bolt.” He threaded the reins through her fingers. “Just keep a steady hold on these.”
Dolly and Molly waited patiently, though holding the heavy wagon on an uphill grade couldn’t be easy.
“You sure?”
“I need you to stay calm.” He reached up and rested a hand on her shin. “The only reason these horses would run off is to get away from your squealing.”
“I’m not squealing,” she insisted, doing precisely that.
“Right.” Conner hid a grin as he squatted beside the wagon to examine the damaged wheel.
“How bad is it?”
“The tire came off.”
“I thought wagons had wheels.”
He touched the dangling band of metal. “This is called a flat iron tire. It protects the wood.”
She scooted to the edge of the seat and angled her head for a better look. “Can you just take it off?”
“I could try, but we wouldn’t get far before damaging the wheel beyond repair. Then we’d really be stuck, and Gavin would have to come after us with a truck and trailer.”
“What are we going to do?”
“Call for backup.” He removed his phone from his belt and checked the reception, which could be hit-or-miss in the mountains. “Have Gavin bring us a drill and spare bolts so we can repair the tire enough to make it home.”
When he powered up his phone, the screen flashed No Service. “Dammit,” he muttered. Served him right for changing to a cheaper carrier. “Where’s your phone?”
Dallas looked stricken. “In my purse. Locked in my car. I didn’t think it would work up here, so I didn’t bother bringing it.”
He scanned the area, debated his options. “I’ll walk up the hill. Should have better reception up there. But first...”
Seeing what he needed, he set out on foot.
“Where are you going?” Dallas stared over her shoulder at him, her grip on the reins viselike.
“Not far.” Collecting two large rocks, he wedged them tightly behind the rear wagon wheels. He quickly located two more rocks and did the same with the front wheels. The extra precaution should prevent the wagon from rolling backward until they were rescued.
Next, he began unhitching the horses.
“Should I get down now?”
“Sit still. Keep hold of the reins until I tell you it’s okay.”
She grimaced nervously but complied.
Conner hurried.
“Good job, girls,” he said, unhooking the last chain and giving Molly’s rump a pat. He returned to Dallas, who was more than happy to relinquish the reins.
He watched her every move as she climbed down, ready to grab her if she slipped.
It turned out Dallas was nimble as a monkey. On the ground, she swiped her hands together with a job-well-done flourish. “Need any help?”
“I’m good.”
“Too bad we didn’t bring along a
spare saddle and bridle. We could have ridden out.”
“I’d have rather brought a toolbox. I won’t make that mistake again.”
Conner led the horses to a tree, the largest in the vicinity, and tied them securely. “Be right back,” he said, and headed in the direction of the hilltop.
“Can I come with you?” Dallas chased after him.
“Better stay. Someone has to watch the wagon and horses.”
“If that wagon rolls backward, I won’t be much help.”
“You can holler. I’ll come running.”
“By then it will be too late.”
“Would you rather call Gavin? He’ll need directions on where to find us. And a list of what tools to bring.”
“I won’t be much help with that, either.” She shrugged. “I have no clue where we are.”
He brushed a tousled lock of hair from her face. Her skin was cool to the touch and incredibly soft. “It’s going to be fine. The worse that will happen is we’re late for dinner.”
Possibly really late if he didn’t get through to Gavin.
He’d be stuck with Dallas. For hours. Maybe all night. They’d have to cuddle in the wagon under the tarp to stay warm.
“I, um—” he cleared his suddenly dry throat “—I’d better get going.”
Her fingers clutched his jacket sleeve, delaying him. “I’m sorry to be such a wimp.”
“It’s okay to be scared.”
“I’m not scared.” She lifted her face to his. “Not with you.”
He was sure she could read his every thought, sense his every emotion.
Warning bells went off inside Conner’s head, creating an enormous din. He moved quickly away before temptation won out and he crossed the line into dangerous territory.
* * *
HALFWAY TO THE TOP, Conner glanced back at Dallas. She’d perched on a large boulder not far from the wagon, hugging her knees. Was she thinking of him? Of those moments that kept occurring between them?
He was.
Impatient, he dug out his phone. One bar appeared in the corner. Enough to try.
The signal took forever to connect, the icon blinking endlessly. Frustrated, Conner hit the end-call button and tried again. Finally, Gavin answered.
“Conner, what’s up?”
“We have a problem.”
“You there? I can barely hear you, buddy.”
Sharp static cut off every third word. Conner strode farther up the hill. “Is this better?”
“Some.”
Speaking loudly, he quickly summarized their predicament.
“We’ll take the ATVs,” Gavin told him. “It’ll be quicker than riding. I doubt the Forest Service will give us grief for using them, since it’s an emergency.”
Before Conner finished with the details of their location, he lost the connection. Moving to a new spot made no difference. He blamed the clouds, which had drifted to gather overhead. Not rain clouds, fortunately. Tomorrow, however, would be a different story, according to the weather report.
He could only hope he’d relayed enough information to Gavin for him to find them. In their favor, no one else in these parts knew the McDowell Mountains better than his friend.
Dallas hopped to her feet at Conner’s approach, relief written all over her face. “I heard you talking to someone.”
“Gavin’s on his way.” Conner decided not to worry her about the incomplete directions. “My guess is he’ll bring one or two guys with him.”
“How soon till they get here?” She rubbed her arms through the material of her thin jacket.
“An hour. Two at the most. Are you cold?”
“Not yet.” She peered anxiously at the clouds.
“I brought the rain ponchos. They’re also good for conserving body heat.”
“That may come in handy if Gavin’s late.” She reached over the side of the wagon for the ice chest and opened the lid. “Right now, I’m thirsty.” She removed two bottles of water. “Want one?”
“How comfortable is that boulder?” Conner downed half his bottle.
“Not very.”
“There’s a nice spot over there.” He indicated a place near the horses. “We can sit while we wait for Gavin.”
Her mouth turned down at the corners. “Looks a little rocky.”
“I can fix that.” Conner stepped around her, gripped the edge of the wagon seat and pushed up. It immediately came loose.
Dallas gasped. “You mean to tell me that thing’s not nailed down? What if it had come off during the ride?”
Conner removed the seat and set it on the ground. “We’d have had to be going over a pretty big bump at a full gallop for that to happen.”
She didn’t look reassured.
“Come on.” He carried the wagon seat to the spot he’d chosen and set it down, making sure it was stable. “Ladies first,” he said, gesturing grandly.
Playing along, she gave a little curtsy before sitting. “Thank you, sir.”
He joined her, the seat bouncing on its spindly legs.
The location was a good one. It allowed them an unobstructed view of the trail, the wagon, the horses and the city.
“What are the chances someone will come riding by?” Dallas asked.
“Not much. This isn’t the most popular route.”
“I should get my camera.” Dallas’s gaze wandered. “Could be worse. At least the scenery’s beautiful.”
Conner studied her profile. “It sure is.”
“I know that’s South Mountain, and over there’s Camelback.” She pointed to a craggy range in the far distance. “Which mountains are those?”
“The White Tanks,” he answered, without taking his eyes off her face.
“Incredible,” she breathed. “We can see the entire valley from here.”
She must have become aware of his scrutiny because she turned to face him. “Do you even know where I was pointing?”
“Yes.”
Laughter bubbled out of her, lively and enchanting.
If not for his mouth having gone completely dry, he’d have joined her.
Was she the least bit aware of her effect on him?
“I had dinner at my parents’ last night.”
She was distracting him with small talk.
“How are they?”
“Good.
“I bet your mom’s happy about the baby.”
“Are you kidding? She’s ecstatic. Already making plans. Has a furniture maker friend building a cradle and an artist friend designing a mural for the nursery wall. She said to tell you hello, by the way.”
“Give her my regards.” The wagon seat creaked in protest as Conner shifted. There wasn’t much room, and their thighs inadvertently brushed, then their elbows.
Dallas didn’t seem to mind. Conner sure didn’t.
“Hank mentioned he may have some clients who are hiring. He’s going to make some calls tomorrow.”
Conner’s defenses rose. He hated the idea of Dallas and her family discussing his lack of employment. “I don’t want to impose on him.”
“It’s no trouble.”
Conner didn’t need help. Not from Dallas or her family. He was more than capable of finding a job on his own. “Since when did I become dinner conversation?”
“I was telling them about our trip today, and they asked how you were.”
“I see.” He leaned forward and struck a closed fist on his knee.
Dallas must have realized all was not well. “Did I do something wrong?” She placed a hand on his arm.
Her tenderness and compassion could be his undoing if he let it.
“I’m not one to take handouts from people.” He had enough trouble with Gavin and Clay. At least he could repay their generosity with hard work.
“Hank calling some of his clients isn’t a handout. He’s being nice.”
She was right. Conner was letting that damnable pride of his get in the way. Instead, he should be exploring every opportunity regardless of the source.
“Thanks.” He covered her hand, which still rested on his arm. “I like that you’re thinking of me.”
“It’s only fair, after all the help you’re giving me.”
“You really think the book can boost your career?”
“I hope so.” A wistfulness came over her. “Someday, my photos are going to be hanging right there alongside Dorothea Lange’s.”
“Who’s that?”
Dallas gawked at him in disbelief. “Only the most influential documentary photographer of the twentieth century.”
“Oh, her.”
She rolled her eyes.
“I thought your commercial business was doing well.”
“It is. Pays the bills. Keeps me busy and out of trouble.”
“But you want more.”
“What can I say? I crave fame and success. You understand.”
He did. The success part, anyway. He also understood how reaching for the stars could result in a spectacular fall.
“Mostly, I want people to look at my pictures and do more than say isn’t that nice.” The wistfulness from earlier returned. “I want them to get goose bumps. Be inspired. Moved to tears. Have their perspectives changed. Heck, maybe even their lives.”
“Wow.”
“I know it’s a lot.” Her cheeks reddened. “And I sound like an egomaniac.”
“No, I’m just...impressed. And jealous.”
“Of what?”
“You’re lucky to be so passionate about your job. Most of us head off to the office, put in our eight hours and head home.”
Cowboy for Keeps Page 5
