Done a Runner (Wanted Men of Bison Bluffs Book 1)

by Cynthia Knoble

  “Wow, that’s amazing. I don’t know how I’ve never heard of them before.”

  “Well, horses aren’t used for work as much as they once were,” he replied. “Ranches like this one are disappearing fast.”

  “I think that’s sad. I’ve seen commercial beef farms and truly felt sorry for the animals, crammed into barns, never allowed outdoors. Your cattle have it good here.”

  Nodding, he appreciated her compliment. Too many farms were downright cruel to the animals that supported their business. It was a sad reality of the times. Consumers demanded the lowest possible prices and the only way to ensure that was to cut corners, automate processes, and do it all in the smallest space possible. He was grateful his beef was in demand for high-end restaurants and discerning consumers, allowing him to run the ranch as it always had been, with hard work performed by people who cared for the welfare of the livestock. Aware he was part of a dying breed, he’d continue to operate the way he wanted for as long as he could. If the day came when the ranch wouldn’t sustain its current setup, he’d sell the place before resorting to the practices he despised.

  “What’s your horse’s name?” she asked.

  “Horton.”

  She snickered. “Really? Or are you pulling my leg again?”

  “No, it’s Horton.”

  “Okay. Why on earth did you name your horse Horton?”

  Shaking his head a bit, he waved a hand. “Nah, never mind, it’s silly.”

  “Are you blushing?” she asked, an incredulous tone to her voice.

  He was but not with the embarrassment she obviously assumed he felt. More accurately, he was flushed, wanting to relate the story to her, but knowing he shouldn’t. He’d related too many personal things to her and never received any stories in return.

  “Come on,” she persisted, “spill it.”

  “Fine. When I was little, I loved a certain book. My mom read it to me over and over, no matter how many times I asked for it.”

  A huge smile spread across her lips. “It wouldn’t have been Horton Hears a Who! would it?” He merely grinned in return and she laughed loudly, finishing up with a loud snort. “Oh my God! That’s so sweet. Who would’ve ever thought the big tough cowboy would have a soft spot for Dr. Seuss?”

  “Had,” he corrected, causing her to snicker.

  He wished he could relate the entire story to her, how at the time he’d gotten Horton, his mother had been facing a health scare. Thankfully, the lump in her breast turned out to be benign, but he’d been consumed with worry for her the day he and Skip went to pick the horse up. For some reason, that particular memory had plagued his mind, of his mother tirelessly reading the same damn book every night, sometimes twice, for months on end. That was the whole story behind Horton’s name, but he couldn’t tell it, reminding himself he needed to keep his guard around her.

  “Sawyer hates the name,” he informed her.

  “Well, I imagine he gives the horses long names with their lineage included right?”

  “Yep. It’s all a bit hoity-toity. Sawyer breeds great working horses, and that’s enough for me. I buy them, bring them here, they get normal names, and go to work. End of story.”

  He glanced ahead of them, ensuring he was exactly where he wanted to be, an extremely well-travelled area that would assure a stable ride for her. “Want to try a trot? These horses are great trotters and, as Skip said, Dottie is a smoother ride than most.”

  “Okay,” she agreed, seemingly more at ease in the saddle now.

  As the horses increased their speed, he watched her carefully, looking for any sign she couldn’t move with Dottie. He was hardly surprised to see how well she took to the trot, how easily she moved with the horse, as if she’d been riding for years. She truly was sensational.

  “Wanna try a canter?”

  “That’s not a full-out gallop is it?”

  “No,” he replied, adding a devilish grin, “it’s not a gallop, that’s why it’s called a canter.”

  “Funny. Okay, as long as it’s not too fast.”

  Nudging Horton faster, Dottie followed suit and he again watched Zoë. Once more, she adapted to the increase in speed with ease, like a life-long rider, causing him to wonder if there was anything she couldn’t do. Besides deal with whatever made her run, that was. It stung that she wouldn’t trust him with her problem, or ask for his help. Then again, she’d made it perfectly clear she didn’t want anything more than sex from him. He supposed it was for the best, despite the feelings for her that bloomed within him. It was in both their best interest for him to stifle that shit now, before his heart foolishly overrode his head. She was much too aloof to trust with his heart.

  After a few minutes, he slowed Horton back to a trot and then turned to head back to the barn, and Dottie smoothly followed Horton’s every move. As much as he enjoyed the time away from the others with Zoë, he didn’t want to push her on her first ride. She wasn’t used to it and undoubtedly wouldn’t appreciate a sore butt. Mind you, he’d gladly massage it for her if it did occur. Likely, he’d do anything at all she wanted in the bedroom. He smiled thinking, about some of their wilder escapades. She turned a sexy smile on him, making his heart race. She was so damn perfect. Why didn’t she want more than sex from him? Keep it physical, Collins. Yep, that was the smart thing to do. Too bad it was getting harder to heed that advice.

  26

  “Hey, how’s it going?”

  Wrapped up in thoughts of her horseback ride with Ethan a few days ago, dissecting it, like every time she’d spent with him, Zoë just about jumped at the sound of the voice, whipping her head to see Myles standing in line behind her in the grocery store. He was wearing his RCMP uniform, complete with hat, making him even more handsome. She placed the items she held on the belt, and then turned fully to answer him.

  “I’m great, thanks. And you?”

  “Oh, can’t complain.” He smiled. “Well, I could, but nobody cares to hear it, so what’s the point?”

  After delivering a smile in response, she bent to retrieve more items from her cart to plunk on the belt. Again, she found Myles charming but remembered his harsh treatment of Rory, and Zandra’s consequent hatred of him. It was best to stay out of that mess and, therefore, keep Myles at arm’s length.

  “That’s a lot of groceries,” he commented, obviously intent on keeping their conversation going. “Then again you’re cooking for quite a few men.”

  “Eleven,” she confirmed with a nod of her head.

  “I sure hope someone will be able to help you get all that into the house when you get back to the ranch.”

  “I’m sure someone will, but if not, I can handle it on my own.”

  “You do seem to be in great shape,” he commented. “Do you work out?”

  It wasn’t a line, his tone suggested nothing but friendly interest, and she decided to converse with him instead of shooting him down. Her budding friendship with Zandra did cause some wariness of Myles, but he was the law in Bison Bluffs, and truly only trying to get to know her, the town’s newest resident. Really, it was his job to do so, and there was no need to be rude to him.

  “Not so much anymore,” she admitted.

  “Well, if you’re interested, there’s a gym in town. It’s on fourth and Wellington, right beside the bank on the corner.” He shrugged as he placed the few things he held down on the rack beside him that held last-minute impulse buys like candy bars and gum. As he pulled items from her cart to hand to her, he continued speaking. “Jim Corden runs the place, and the membership rates are very reasonable.”

  “A guy named Jim runs the local gym?” She couldn’t contain the humour that spilled into her voice.

  “Go figure,” he returned with a grin.

  “Well, thanks, I probably will check it out at some point.”

  “All the guys end up there at some point,” he continued. “I go as often as I can but my hours are erratic so I run every day.”

  His trim physique left
no doubt he did indeed run as often as he said. Again, he wasn’t being flirty, just friendly, and she began to appreciate his attempt to pass the time in the store in such a gregarious manner. When the cart was empty, he set down the plastic divider and then his purchases. Eyeing them, she raised a brow.

  “Please tell me that’s not your lunch.”

  “It is,” he admitted.

  The energy bar and small carton of milk had her shaking her head. “Your parents own a diner and you eat that for lunch?”

  “If I ate at the diner everyday no amount of running would help me,” he quipped.

  She laughed at that and then turned her attention to the waiting cashier, apologizing for not paying attention. The cashier was friendly, making her wonder if the entire town was, and, after paying for her purchases, she loaded the filled bags into the cart.

  “Hang on,” Myles called to her as he paid the cashier, “I’ll help you load those in your vehicle.”

  “Thank you, but that’s really not necessary.”

  “What kind of man would I be if I watched you struggle with all that?”

  She wouldn’t struggle with any of it, and believed he knew as much. She also knew his offer was born of good manners, obviously raised to treat women like ladies. It would do little good to inform him she didn’t need help, and so she nodded.

  “Thank you, then.”

  After he finished loading the bags into the cab of her truck, Myles smiled deeply. “There you go.”

  “Thanks again.”

  “My pleasure.” He waited until she closed the backdoor and then tilted his head questioningly. “So, how are you enjoying Bison Bluffs? Have you had a chance to see the town yet?”

  “Not really,” she admitted, “I’ve been kind of busy.” She didn’t add she’d been busier with Ethan than actual work, but it was the truth. Before her expression gave her thoughts away, she posed a query. “Actually, I have a question for you. Is there a bookstore in town?”

  “Yep, you’re in luck. My sister Anya owns a used bookstore. She carries some new titles but most of them are used. It’s called Twice Loved Books and it’s on Third Street, just down from the diner, actually.”

  “That’s great, thanks, I’ll check it out. Wow, so you’re the law in town, your parents own the diner, and your sister owns the bookstore. Your family has made quite a mark here.”

  “Yep, pillars of the community, salt of the earth, and all that.” He chuckled as he waved a hand. “Whatever, we’re just doing our thing.”

  Smiling again, she gestured to the truck. “I gotta get going, but it’s been nice chatting with you.”

  “You too,” he returned with his own broad smile. “Take care, Zoë. I’m sure we’ll see one another soon enough.”

  With that, he turned and walked away in the direction of his cruiser. As she got into her truck, she had to admit she liked Myles. As with Zandra, she didn’t mind indulging in small talk with Myles, something she’d always detested. Unsure if it was the friendly atmosphere in town, or if she’d relaxed greatly since her arrival, she found she liked Bison Bluffs more as the days went on. It was an ideal place to live. Shaking her head, she dismissed the idea as folly, considering she couldn’t stay. As her mind drifted to how long it might take to hear word on when she could leave town, she started the truck.

  27

  That night, Zoë snuggled against Ethan’s side after yet another incredible love-making session. His prowess and endurance were admirable and, as always, she was completely satisfied. With her head on his chest, she stroked her hand over his thigh, her fingertips tracing the deep scars there.

  “You can ask about them,” he told her. “I don’t mind.”

  Keeping her hand on his thigh, she shifted onto her belly to see his face. “Okay, how did you get them?”

  “It happened on the worst day of my life. Turns out it was also the luckiest.” Intrigued, she waited for more but received nothing more than a slight twitch of the corner of his mouth. Then he shook his head. “I said I didn’t mind talking about it, but I guess I do.”

  “Then don’t, really, it’s okay.”

  “No, it isn’t. Truth is, I want you to know about me. I want to share things with you.” He chuckled. There was zero humour in it. “You know, the one-sidedness of this—whatever this is between us—is hard to deal with, but I meant it when I said I wouldn’t press you to confide in me.”

  A lump strained her throat. He wanted to confide in her, even when she refused to do the same, when she’d rebuked his interest, disregarded his offer of help. Feeling about as low as she ever had, she examined his face carefully, looking for signs of—what, exactly? Indications he was falling for her? It was a ridiculous notion. He was too shrewd to trust a woman who wouldn’t trust him back, something made painfully clear the first night they shared.

  “Did it happen during an international policing mission?” she asked, certain it had, but eager to divert attention from his mention of how unfair their union was to him.

  “Yeah, it did. Boone was with me, and our unit was supporting a police force during a transition in government. We were on border checkpoint that day, something we’d done before. Really it was a normal day there. A teenager approached the gate and, well, there was something odd about the way he walked but I couldn’t figure out what. He got closer and, shit, he was just a kid, twelve, or thirteen at the most. I thought I saw a vest under his clothes but wasn’t sure and then Boone yelled ‘Get down!’ I tried to turn to dive but didn’t have enough time before the bomb went off.”

  He issued a stiff shrug that pulled at her heart. How difficult it was for him to relate the story was visually apparent, and she wanted him to stop. “I got hit. Hard. I hit the ground and I was certain my leg was on fire. It burned so bad. Boone grabbed me and was yelling at me not to move but my leg burned so bad I wanted nothing but to put it out. I tried to roll, I remember that part so clearly, trying to roll to put my leg out even though I knew it wasn’t actually on fire.”

  He paused. She could do nothing but continue to stroke his leg as she reached her other hand to caress his cheek. Again, she wanted him to stop his relation but wouldn’t tell him to. He needed to tell her and, even as she felt unworthy to hear it, she remained quiet.

  “I was certain I’d lose my leg. Bits of metal were sticking out of it and there was so much blood. Boone tied a tourniquet around my leg and I begged him to stop. It hurt that badly. Then I guess I blacked out. I remember bits of the helicopter ride, then a doctor asking me something I couldn’t understand.” He blew out a long breath and then nodded, perhaps assuring himself he’d gotten through the worst part. “Boone saved my life. If he hadn’t tied that tourniquet I would’ve bled out before the medics got there.” He glanced down at his leg, and then met her eyes again. “You can see how bad an injury it was. When I woke up after surgery, the doctor told me I’d come precariously close to losing my leg. Shrapnel had nicked my femoral artery, but not severed it. He said if the damage was even slightly worse he probably wouldn’t have been able to repair the damage and he would’ve had no recourse but to amputate my leg. So, you see, it really was the worst but luckiest day of my life.”

  Another shrug followed a few rapid blinks of his eyes. “As soon as I could be transported, I was brought back here, to hospital in Calgary. I had a long recovery. It was painful, full of physio treatments I could have done without, but I trudged through them and eventually I got back full use of my leg. Long before I was fully recovered, I’d decided to retire from the RCMP. My parents were so grateful I was still in one piece and, even as they’d planned on retiring a few years from that time, they encouraged me to take possession of the ranch then. I wasn’t sure at first, thinking they were rushing a stage of their life just for me but, you know, they’re damn happy doing all the travelling they do, and I’ve never regretted a single day on this ranch. I love it, I really do.”

  He smiled, not happily, and then delivered a comment that pricked
her badly. “You know, you’re the only person I’ve ever related that entire story to. I mean, Boone was there, so he knows, but I never told my parents just how precarious the situation had really been.”

  Unable to respond to that, she rolled onto her back and patted her belly. He snuggled against her side, placed his head on her abdomen, and then cupped a breast.

  “I like this position,” he murmured.

  “I bet,” she returned.

  He chuckled. She couldn’t even smile. As she dragged her fingertips through his hair, she could think of nothing but his admission he’d never told his parents the entire story behind his injury. Sparing them the full brutality of his pain made sense, but telling her didn’t. Not if he only wanted sex from her. He wanted more from her, and a realization that should have elated her did nothing but crush her. She wanted more from him, too, but couldn’t have it. What was a perfect arrangement had become so unfair to him, but she had to stick to her resolve. It was more unfair to endanger him, and she wouldn’t, not under any circumstances, see harm come to him.

  28

  Late Saturday morning found Zoë enjoying tea with Zandra as the pair sat on the porch of the ranch house. Zandra had finished cleaning the house and Zoë insisted she relax a bit before heading home. A few moments of questions had yielded that Ethan’s was the only house Zandra cleaned on weekends, and had also resulted in a happy agreement from Zandra to join Zoë, Ethan, and several others to The Scruffy Goose the following Saturday.

  After sipping from her mug, Zandra raised a brow. “Boone told me he was having lunch at the diner with Ethan today. Why didn’t you join them?”

  “Because I wasn’t invited,” she wisecracked, and then laughed at Zandra’s embarrassed expression. “No, it’s fine, I didn’t want to go anyway. Ethan needs time with his friends and, honestly, I’d rather hang out with you than with the boys.”

  “Well it does afford the opportunity to talk about things we can’t when they’re around.”