Out Rider

by Lindsay McKenna

  “I just don’t want to run into one,” Dev muttered, frowning.

  “You will. Guaranteed. And if you’re tracking to find a tourist, it’s what you do with Bella that counts the most.” Sloan regarded the yellow Lab, who had lain down in the muddy trail to cool off. They had ridden for half an hour, a constant climb. Right now, they were at seven thousand feet. The horses were breathing heavier, too, so it was a good time to allow them a rest. “Has Bella had confrontations with black bears where you were assigned before?”

  “Yes, quite a few times. The trails in the Smoky Mountains aren’t like these.” She gestured around them. “They’re wide, clean paths in comparison to this stuff.” Dev wrinkled her nose. “When tracking, I always had Bella on a long lead from my horse I rode. But here, it’s impossible to do that.”

  “It’s rough country,” Sloan agreed, placing his hand on Rocky’s rump and stretching a little. “As long as Bella is a hundred percent controllable by voice commands, you’ll be okay. And she doesn’t bark, so that’s in her favor. Bears get riled and agitated in a hurry when a dog is barking at them.”

  “Probably reminds them of wolves calling back and forth to one another?” Dev suggested.

  “Yep. That’s it in a nutshell. Well? Ready to move on?” Sloan smiled.

  Heat skittered down through her lower body, his smile warming her, the corners of his eyes crinkling. There was a sultry, inviting sensation enveloping Dev right now and it felt like a big fuzzy blanket embracing her. When she knew Sloan better, she’d talk to him about this feeling that came around her at times when she was with him. Maybe he could explain it, because she sure couldn’t! The fact that she willingly absorbed the sensation confused her, as well. “Yep,” Dev said, uncurling her leg from around the horn of her saddle and slipping the tip of her boot into the stirrup, “I’m ready.”

  *

  SLOAN COULDN’T KEEP his gaze off Dev as they sat near the roaring waterfall that fell over a hundred feet into a pool. They sat on the grass and ate their midmorning snack. The horses were both trained to ground tie and knew they had to stand where they were placed. Bella had eagerly lapped up the water and now sat next to Dev, who was on a bank, her long legs hanging over it. She had taken off her baseball cap, and her black hair was shining like a raven’s wing beneath the sunlight. It was cold at nine thousand feet where the waterfall sat but they were bundled in their brown down-and-nylon jackets.

  Sloan sat about four feet above Dev on the slope of the rocky cliff. Below them, the dark green pool of water was in constant motion from the falls. Sometimes, when the breeze changed, some of the mist would come their way, but it didn’t soak them. The sunlight was bright and blinding. Sloan absorbed the heat, liking it against the chill of the morning temperature. In May, he knew too well that even if one moment there could be sun, the mountains made their own weather. Clouds could swiftly gather, dark and heavy with snow and rain, and dump on the eastern slope.

  Dev was nibbling on a protein bar and had her canteen open near her right hand. He covertly watched some of the black strands of her hair lift and play in the breeze. Her hands were long and artistic looking. Sloan wanted to ask Dev if she was an artist, too. He wondered about her time in the military, about getting wounded by the IED. From his own experience, those events branded a person forever. He wondered how jumpy she really was because it hadn’t shown up—yet. Though remembering that split-second terror in her eyes a day ago, Sloan wondered if it was connected to the PTSD from the blast. Right now Dev didn’t appear anxious. But then, he thought as he looked around in appreciation of the area, the Tetons usually encouraged a person to let down their guard and relax. Nature had that effect on tense, overstressed human beings, he’d observed.

  “Tell me more about your parents,” Sloan urged her, figuring it was a safe enough topic. He saw Dev give Bella the last of her protein bar and rest her hand on her dog’s back. Clearly, she loved her Lab. Sloan found himself wondering what it would be like to feel Dev’s hand stroking him like it was stroking Bella. Whatever sizzled and popped between him and Dev was not only alive but more intense every time he found himself around her. And Sloan had never felt this kind of connection with a woman before. It reminded him of a pot on a stove, getting ready to boil at any given moment. Something was bubbling between them.

  Dev turned. “It’s a story light and dark,” she said with a shrug. “My parents met in the Air Force. My mom was a captain and a pilot of C-130 transports. My father was a captain in the maintenance section on those types of aircraft. They fell in love and stayed in the military for seven years. When my mom, Lily, got pregnant with me, she got out. She was thirty when she had me.” Dev smiled fondly. Then, her brows drew down a little and her voice lowered. “My father, Pete, had a problem with alcohol. While he was in the military, it was a hidden secret from my mom. She was always flying and not at home that much.” She plucked a couple strands of grass, moving them between her fingers as she spoke. “My mother was more than ready to get out of the military. Once she had me, she was hired by a regional airline and she flies with them to this day. My father, however, didn’t adjust well to civilian life.”

  “What happened?” Sloan asked.

  “Well, as a kid growing up, I didn’t understand he was an alcoholic. My mother didn’t get it until I was a year old. She found him hiding whiskey bottles all over their house, stashing them away. I think, looking back on it, my father needed the rigidity and boundaries that the military naturally provided in order to keep his drinking halfway under control, and to still be able to fully do the work he did.”

  “Did your father come from parents who were alcoholics?” Sloan wondered.

  “Yes. But my mother didn’t find out until she discovered his secret. I remember growing up with them yelling and screaming at one another. My father refused to stop drinking. My mother, because of her airline shifts, wasn’t at home to raise me. I had a lot of babysitters and maybe that was a good thing.” Dev allowed the torn, twisted strands of grass to drop from her fingers and fall to the nearby rocks.

  “Why do you say that?”

  “My father resented me being in their lives.” She gave Sloan a sad smile. “I didn’t know why my father didn’t like me…or love me… I just felt as a child he didn’t want me underfoot or around. He had a job with a metal manufacturer in Casper and had shift work. When he had a night shift, he had to babysit me during the day and he really hated that.”

  Sloan frowned. “How do you know that?”

  Dev picked more strands of grass because it soothed her. She twisted the long lengths between her fingers, staring down at them because she didn’t have the courage to see the look that was probably in Sloan’s eyes. Why was she telling him this? She’d never told anyone about it before. No one knew. Why him? Compressing her lips, Dev said, “I remember him telling me to stay in my room, not to dare going outside. At that time, I was seven years old, and I loved being outdoors. I used to sneak out through my bedroom window and run in the fields while he was drinking. When he drank, he’d fall sleep on the couch, and that’s when I’d get out of the house and escape outdoors.”

  “You were seven?”

  Dev heard the growl in Sloan’s voice and looked over at him. His eyes were banked with censure and anger. She knew it wasn’t aimed at her but at her irresponsible father. “Yes.” Hitching one shoulder upward she said, “Don’t worry, I grew up fast. My mother would be gone three or four days at a time, depending upon where she was flying. My father would sleep six or eight hours when drunk. We had a dog, Ghost, and I’d go out with her. She was a white husky with blue eyes. She was so beautiful. She was like my teddy bear growing up, and always protective and caring of me. We’d go out into the meadow and just go explore for hours. When I got hungry, I’d walk home and go to the kitchen and make myself a sandwich.”

  “Did your father know you did this?” Sloan tried to remove the anger from his voice.

  “No. I never told him. I h
ad his drunk schedule down pat and knew when I could do it and get away with it. I never told my mother, either, because if I did, they’d start screaming and yelling at one another. I couldn’t stand their anger. Whenever they’d fight, I’d run to my room and Ghost would come and lie on my bed with me and give me a doggy hug.”

  Shaking his head, Sloan said, “I’m really sorry you had to live through that. Did your father ever hurt your mother or you?”

  Dev felt a powerful sense of protection wash over her and understood now that it was coming from him. Maybe she could equate it to the doggy hugs that Ghost always gave her when she was feeling isolated and alone. “He never laid a hand on me or Mom, thank God. When I was old enough to realize he was an alcoholic, I ruthlessly researched the disease and what it meant. I wanted to understand why he was the way he was. Why—” and Dev choked up a little, avoiding Sloan’s intense stare “—he couldn’t love me. He never hugged me or kissed me or told me he loved me. He just didn’t have it in him. Frankly, after I grew up and matured a little, I saw why he couldn’t. My father couldn’t even love himself. So how could he reach out to love me?”

  “But your parents are still together?”

  “Yeah. Figure it out. I can’t. I don’t know why my mom never left my father.”

  “Do you go home at all?” Sloan asked.

  “No. I talk to my mom on Skype and we send emails back and forth, but I won’t go home. I know my father doesn’t like me around. And I don’t want to be around someone like that.” Dev gave him a wry look. “Life’s hard enough without going out and walking into the lion’s den to get bitten again.”

  Shaking his head, Sloan said quietly, “I’m sorry, Dev. You deserve a helluva lot better than that.”

  “I don’t know many people who have completely happy families, Sloan. Mine is completely dysfunctional. But so are a lot of other families. There are no happy endings from what I can see, for most people. We’re all wounded. It’s just a question of whether the wounds run our lives or not.” She dropped the shredded grass by her side, pushing her hands down her Levi’s. “I refuse to let the wounds my parents gave me run my life. I’m working through them, one at a time. I’m slowly winning my freedom…”

  Sloan stretched out on the grass, an elbow propping him up as he studied her. “I’m pretty lucky,” he told her. “My parents gave me a happy childhood in comparison to yours. I was an only child, by the way.”

  “Tell me about it?” Because Dev found herself starved to know more about Sloan, how he had become the man he was today. She saw amusement linger in his blue eyes as he pondered her question. “I could use some good news,” she added with a slight grin.

  “We didn’t have much money,” he told her. “My pa, Custus, is a farrier, plus a leather, saddle and harness maker. Between these skills, he had a nice business and was able to support our family. My ma, Wilma, stayed at home, gardened, canned, cooked and kept us in clean clothes and a clean house. She loves cooking, baking especially. She was also a seamstress, and often other Hill people would come to her to make special clothing, like a wedding dress for a daughter that was getting married, things like that. She also makes school-age clothes for the Hill children whose mothers didn’t have the talent my ma has.”

  “I love to sew, too,” Dev said wistfully. “Your mother sounds like she’s incredibly skilled at it. I don’t know anyone else who could make a wedding dress.” She saw Sloan’s dark features begin to relax as he shared the story of his parents. She was glad that someone had parents who loved them. She was beginning to understand why he was so calm and at ease and confident with himself.

  “She also does tatting, crocheting, knitting and needlework,” he offered. “There’re some beautiful doilies made by my grandmother that my mother uses to this day.”

  “Those things should be cherished forever and handed down from one generation to another,” Dev agreed. “She sounds wonderful.”

  “She is,” he said with a slight smile. “Now, she has her bad days, and I grew up hearing my parents argue, but they discussed things. They didn’t get angry and yell at one another. And I think that makes a huge difference for a child.”

  She raised her brows. “Oh, I think it does. I grew up thinking everyone, when they got angry, screamed and yelled at one another. It was only when I’d do sleepovers with my friends at their houses that I realized my parents were not the norm.”

  “My pa is a pretty stubborn man,” Sloan said, amusement in his tone. “My ma calls him mule headed upon occasion. She said I take after him.”

  Dev grinned. “So far, I haven’t seen you be mule headed.”

  “I like to think I learned from my pa’s stubbornness at times, and modified it a bit.”

  “Where did you get your calmness, Sloan? From your mother or father?” Dev wanted to delve deeply into this man who made her feel incredibly at ease in his presence.

  “From both of them. My ma never gets rattled and neither does my pa. I guess I have a family calmness gene?” He laughed a little.

  Dev chuckled. “Well, whether you know it or not, when you’re around me, I always feel that deep sense of calm around you.” More shyly, she added, “And it helps me ramp down, take a deep breath and just be.”

  “You seem mighty calm from the outside,” Sloan noted, searching her eyes.

  “It’s a game face,” Dev admitted. Opening her hands, she said, “I can’t remember a time when I didn’t feel anxious.”

  “Well,” he drawled, “you grew up in a household where there were threats and you were in survival mode. It would make any innocent and vulnerable child feel unsafe, don’t you think?”

  “I guess I never quantified my childhood like that,” Dev admitted.

  “Do most people make you feel edgy?” he asked.

  “Yes, if I’m truthful.” Dev sighed and gave him a confused look. “But with you, Sloan, I let my guard down. I relax. I don’t feel anxiety when I’m around you. It’s really odd. That’s never happened to me before.” She saw him give her an assessing look, a momentary burning expression in his eyes that quickly disappeared and was replaced with a hint of kindness.

  “That’s a nice compliment. You know, farriers are good at soothing a fractious horse or mule they have to shoe. They generally work real quiet and slow around an animal to get it to relax and get it to trust them.”

  Dev straightened, his words filling her heart with a new realization. Trust. That was it! For whatever inexplicable reason, Dev trusted Sloan. And on the heels of that, she suddenly realized for the first time that she had never trusted her father, and that had directly led to her always feeling anxious around him growing up. Even now, when she thought of him her anxiety would amp up. And just as quickly, when she was around Sloan her anxiety dissolved. Instantly. Always. It was trust. Moistening her lips, she said softly, “You’re right. Farriers can calm the most scared horse or mule.” And he could calm not only her general anxiety, but mysteriously dissolve the fear of men she’d developed since Gordon’s attack.

  Sloan slowly sat up. He gazed up at the waterfall, appreciation in his expression. “I could stay here all day,” he confided to her. “There’s just something about running water, the sound of it, that fills my thirsty soul and sates it.” He slanted a glance in Dev’s direction. “What about you? Does water have that kind of effect on you?”

  “Oh, yes. I remember as a kid we had a creek that ran through that large meadow out behind our home. When I was feeling really upset, me and Ghost would go to the creek. There’s a part of it where there’s a little two-foot waterfall and I always used to sit down there. I’d cry, get out whatever I was feeling, and then let the water heal me. I always felt better being around water, Sloan.” And she almost blurted, You’re like water to me. Healing. Wonderful. Soothing my soul. But she didn’t.

  “I wish I’d known you growing up,” Sloan said, rising and brushing off his lower legs. “I’d have let you cry on my shoulder and just held you.”


  His piercing gaze cut straight through to her opening heart and Dev felt Sloan’s protectiveness and something else that she couldn’t define. It made her go all warm and fuzzy inside. When he offered her his hand, she slipped her fingers into his. She felt the thick calluses on his fingers and palm, the strength that he called on as he pulled her to her feet. There was a storminess in his eyes and she sensed he was upset for her about her childhood. Sloan didn’t try to mask how he felt and that was refreshing to Dev. Reluctantly, she pulled her fingers from his large worn hand. Her heart wanted her to move closer to him, slide her arms around his neck and broad shoulders. The ache within her lower body caught her by surprise. He was so tall, so solid and reassuring to her emotionally that Dev found herself falling into his blue gaze, reading that he wanted to kiss her.

  That snapped Dev out of her reverie. A kiss?

  They barely knew one another, her head warned her. Dev took a step back, suddenly unsure of herself, not of Sloan. She had no idea what was taking place between them because no man had ever affected her as deeply and wonderfully as Sloan did. And yet, Dev knew he wasn’t stalking her. He was casual. Not chasing her. This cowboy was the opposite of Gordon. Night-and-day difference.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  BART SMILED A LITTLE. He had the weekend off as a truck driver for Ace. He’d been working for two weeks, showing his boss he had the right stuff. Rivas, the owner, seemed happy with him, and that was all that counted. Even better, Rivas had given him a cot in a back room near the repair bay, a place to stay, until he could find somewhere to live. There was more to it than that, of course, Bart thought as he drove in his silver Dodge Ram. The day was sunny even though the sun was sinking in the West across the Tetons. The mid-June weather had been welcoming and warming. No more snow flurries, thank God.