Colt

by Duncan Leigh

  “Where?” Bree wanted to know. “What do turtles eat? Is that a baby turtle? Where’s its momma and daddy?”

  “All good questions,” Emma said. “Tell you what. Next time we go into town, we’ll stop at the library. I bet they have lots of books about the animals that live here. We’ll learn all about them.”

  At the edge of the pond, lily pads dotted water the color of strong coffee. While cicadas filled the air with their raspy sounds and grass swayed, minnows flitted between the fat green leaves floating on the surface.

  Bree delighted in watching the fish swim and spent five glorious minutes simply counting bubbles that rose from tiny mouths. When her interest waned, Emma handed her a slice of bread. Together, they crumbled pieces into the water and laughed as hundreds of minnows swam into the shallows.

  Since Bree was still bursting with energy by the time they’d used up all the bread, they struck out on the path that skirted the pond. A pond that was actually more of a lake, Emma decided as the trail narrowed to a deeply rutted track.

  A thick branch floated near the shore. Emma caught Bree’s arm, putting a quick end to her daughter’s plan to walk across the makeshift bridge. No matter how shallow the water, the idea of her child going for a dip sent a shiver down her spine. Uneasy, she glanced over her shoulder at the treeless shoreline. A laugh bubbled up from her chest when she spotted the house and barn less than a hundred yards away.

  “Look, Mommy! It’s a nest. Like a bird’s nest. Only it’s on the ground.” Bree started toward a pile of grass and debris. “Do you think the turtle lives there?”

  Emma tugged on her bottom lip. “That’s a pretty long walk for a s-l-o-w turtle,” she said, drawing the words out.

  Bree grabbed a nearby twig. “Let’s look inside. Maybe there’s babies.”

  Or snakes. Or…

  Emma shivered. “Not a good idea, honey.” She took the stick from her daughter’s hand. “How would you like it if someone came into your house and poked around?”

  Deep gouges marred the mud surrounding the nest. What would make such large tracks? Emma studied them, the unease from a moment ago deepening to concern. Maybe coming out here hadn’t been such a good plan after all, she decided as the idea that it was time to go back landed solidly in her chest.

  Looking up, she spotted Bree’s dark curls a split second before her daughter disappeared behind tall grass at a curve in the path.

  “Bree! Don’t you dare take another step,” Emma called. Rounding the corner, she slid to a halt.

  Alligators.

  Two of the largest she’d ever seen—actually the only ones she’d ever seen outside a zoo—lay sunning themselves on a muddy beach. Only feet away from them, Bree stood, her thumb in her mouth. The log they’d spotted earlier moved farther along the shore. Two eyes blinked open at one end of a long snout that wasn’t made of wood.

  Emma’s heart leaped to her throat.

  “Bree, baby,” she whispered. “Don’t move, honey.”

  She closed the distance between them on silent feet.

  Easing her daughter into her arms, she prayed for a sturdy stick, a bush high enough to keep Bree out of harm’s way, a tree to climb. Nada. She eyed the alligators, wondering how fast they could move. One of them opened a gaping jaw filled with immense, sharp teeth, and she froze.

  Crap.

  With one blow, Colt drove the loose nail into the board. Hammer in hand, he walked the perimeter of the stall, checking for protrusions or splinters that could pierce a horse’s flesh, gouge a soft mouth, put out an eye. Satisfied he’d dispatched any dangers, he rattled the latch to make sure it hadn’t worked loose.

  He eyed his handiwork, amused that such an insignificant accomplishment should fill him with more pride than hearing thousands cheer for him at the World Finals in Las Vegas.

  Stepping from the enclosure, he rapped his knuckles on the top rail. No, sir, there was nothing quite like a few hours of honest, hard work to clear the mind. This morning, he’d worked his way through a half dozen stalls, shoveling manure and spreading fresh straw. By the time he finished with the rest of the barn, he figured to rid himself of all thoughts of a certain petite, dark-haired newcomer.

  “Mr. Colt?” A lean figure crossed the strip of bright sunlight that shone through the wide opening at the end of the aisle.

  “Back here,” he called.

  Boots sounded against the floor. “Hank said to tell you he got bumped off his flight. He’s taking the next one out and won’t get to Tallahassee before late tonight.”

  “You made it back already?” Colt propped his hands atop the pitchfork. The trip from the Circle P to West Palm and back should have taken Josh at least four hours. He stole a peek at his watch.

  Great.

  He’d lost track of the time. If he didn’t get a move on, he’d run out of daylight before he finished touring the ranch with Emma and Bree.

  And there it was.

  The restless feeling he’d spent hours banishing rushed over him again.

  “Since you’re back, how ’bout finishing up here?” He leaned the pitchfork toward Josh while he stripped off a pair of soiled work gloves. “Leave the last stall on the right. Maize’s in there.” One of a dozen or so cattle dogs had made the spot her home till she weaned her new pups.

  “Yes, sir, boss.” Josh hefted the tool on his way past.

  Several long strides took Colt into stifling, midday heat. Despite the cooler temperatures in the barn, he wondered if a shower might be in order before he stepped foot in the kitchen. He shook his head. Getting all spiffed up wasn’t going to help squelch his attraction to the petite brunette. It would only make things worse. Instead, he detoured to the big porcelain trough outside the barn only long enough to wash the worst of the grime from his hands and arms before he followed the walkway around to the back of the house.

  “Sorry I’m late.” He sniffed and drank in a lungful of appetizing scents, but instead of the cook, Tim stood at the stove. Colt let his smile fade. “Have you seen Emma and Bree?” he asked.

  “They’re gone, Mr. Colt.”

  “Gone? Gone where?” He pictured the duo on the road to faraway places, out of his life completely. An empty feeling he didn’t expect and wasn’t at all prepared for filled his chest.

  “Ms. Emma, she took the little girl for a walk.” The scent of rich chocolate rose from the oven when Tim held the door ajar. “She took bread for the fish,” he added after slipping his hands into oven mitts.

  The uneasy feeling Colt had been fighting made a nauseating plunge into his stomach. He grabbed the counter to keep himself upright. His voice roughened. “And you let them go?”

  The pans Tim had been holding rattled onto the counter. He retreated a step, his hands outstretched. “Ms. Doris went to the pond. Plenty of times.”

  “She knew what to look out for,” Colt growled. “Emma doesn’t.”

  Spiders. Scorpions. Snakes. He started with the small things. Thinking of Emma and Bree facing down a few of the larger predators that roamed the Circle P wouldn’t help the situation. Not at all. No, those thoughts would only drive him insane.

  He registered a sharp pop as the door slapped against its frame behind him. He veered toward the barn, but straightened. By the time he grabbed a horse and saddled up, any number of bad things could have happened. Even now, he could be too late. He broke into a run. But no matter how quickly he moved, he couldn’t get past the feeling he wasn’t going fast enough.

  Seconds that felt like hours passed before he spotted Emma standing clear across the pond. One look, and he knew he’d been right to worry. Trouble had found her.

  He scanned the tall grass. At first, he didn’t see Bree and his stomach ratcheted tighter. He sucked in a gulp of air when a light breeze whispered across the open plain. The grass parted, revealing the little girl clinging to her mother’s side.

  Neither moved a muscle.

  Snakes. Gators. Panthers. Boar. All manner of wildlife roamed
the area around the Everglades. Colt flexed his fingers and wished he’d stopped long enough to pick up a rifle. Without it, he eyed the water that stretched between him and the spot where Emma stood. Only someone with a death wish swam in an alligator hole, and he didn’t want anyone to die today. Instead, he hit the deer trail that ran along the shore.

  Though his mind screamed at him to go faster, he slowed the second he spotted the nest. Staring at the telltale imprint of a large tail in the dried mud, he suppressed a shudder. The scar on his leg throbbed, a reminder of what could happen if someone got between a mama gator and her eggs.

  He wrenched his thoughts away from images of snapping jaws, weeks of bandages and painful rehabilitation. So far, Emma and Bree were okay. It was his job to see they stayed that way.

  He stopped at the edge of the grass, both to assess the situation and to catch his breath. His heart sank as he studied the two twelve-footers that lay on the bank, their mouths agape. From the water, a third set of eyes stared intently toward the shore. Judging the distance from the gators to the spot where Emma had frozen, and from there to where he stood, Colt swallowed a curse.

  “Emma,” he called softly. “I’m gonna get you out of this.”

  “Co-olt.”

  Her panic-tinged voice plunged a knife into his chest. “Just stay right where you are,” he ordered. Wishing like heck he could follow the same advice, he edged into the clearing. “Nine times out of ten, a gator’ll head straight for the water,” he said, keeping his voice low and even despite his hammering heart.

  Though he hadn’t lied, it was that tenth time that had tied his stomach in knots. Cold-blooded or not, mama gators could get a mite testy when it came to protecting their young. With her nest not a dozen yards behind him, the odds weren’t good that this one or her mate would turn tail and run. The big reptiles moved fast when they wanted.

  Without taking his eyes off the animals, he sidled up to Emma. “I’ll take Bree.” He reached for the little girl, who clung to her mother. He let his voice drop into the same tone his dad had used when he’d been young and stupid and gotten himself in trouble. “We’re gonna play a game, but you have to let me hold you.” He pried tiny fingers loose and whisked Bree onto his shoulders.

  Off to his left, something crackled through the underbrush.

  Time to get moving.

  Pitching his voice below the range of little ears, he whispered, “Okay. So here’s what we’re gonna do. Slowly. Very. Slowly. We’re going to back ourselves out of here. That big male—” he aimed his chin toward the smaller gator “—he’ll probably ignore us. The one in the water’ll stay put. It’s the female we need to worry about. If she charges, run. Fast as you can. Straight down the trail. Don’t stop. Not till you’re well past her nest. You got that?”

  Though her brown eyes widened, Emma nodded.

  “So here we go.” Watching to make sure they moved together, he took a careful step. “So far, so good,” Colt hissed.

  They made it halfway out of the clearing before Emma’s foot landed on a twig.

  Crack!

  With a blur of churning legs, the smaller of the two alligators slid into the water. The other one did a one-eighty so fast it made Colt’s head spin. Looking even larger and more menacing on its feet, the animal stood its ground. A threatening hiss vibrated in the still air. The noise sent a shiver down Colt’s spine.

  “She’s gonna charge. I’ll distract her while you make a run for it.” The panic in Emma’s eyes deepened into downright terror.

  “Don’t worry,” he soothed. “Bree and I will be right behind you.” Deftly he swept his hat from his head. “Ready. Set. Run!”

  Holding the Stetson by its brim, he flung it, Frisbee style, past the animal’s nose. Feet flying, jaws snapping, the gator struck the hat while Emma moved at warp speed in the opposite direction. Matching her stride for stride, Colt caught up with her when they were halfway to the house.

  One run-in with the local wildlife exceeded his daily limit, and he glanced around, making sure no other varmints lingered nearby. When he was sure they were safe, he slid Bree into her mother’s arms. Emma cradled the little girl’s head to her chest while Colt took a deep breath.

  “In Florida, anywhere there’s a mud hole, you’re gonna have gators. You gotta watch out for things like that.”

  The informative tone he’d aimed for must have missed its mark because, pale as a fresh T-shirt, Emma pinned him with narrowed brown eyes.

  “Too bad no one mentioned it. That might have been nice to know, you know, before we left the house.”

  A warmth that had nothing to do with exertion or heat flooded his face. Educating her, that was also his job. A job he’d failed to do.

  “You’re right. I was late. I got…” What could he say? Certainly not that he’d worked in the barn all morning in order to banish her from his thoughts. He let out a slow, unsteady breath. “…tied up.”

  Emma brushed a hand through her daughter’s tangled hair. “You okay, baby?”

  “Mommy, you’re holding me too tight.” Bree pulled away, peeking up at him from her mother’s arms. “I liked riding on you. We went fast!”

  “Want to do it again?” At Bree’s vigorous nod, Colt reached for the child. But when his fingers brushed against Emma, his stomach sank. The woman who’d seemed so brave, so trusting, shook like a palsied calf.

  The minute he settled her daughter onto his shoulders, Colt drew the petite brunette to him, surprised when she practically stumbled into his arms. An urge to keep her there forever surged through him as her head landed on his chest. He cupped her ice-cold fingers in his warm ones.

  “Mr. Colt, we fed the fish,” Bree prattled from her perch. “We saw a turtle and a great big turtle’s nest. I wanted to see the baby turtles, but Mommy said no. We saw birds. Mommy called one bird a crane, but that’s silly. Cranes build buildings. Where we used to live, we saw lots of them.”

  “I’m sorry,” Colt whispered into Emma’s hair. “My fault. This was all my fault.”

  He hung on, determined not to let her go until her legs stopped quaking. For long seconds, they clung to one another while Bree chirped overhead. At last, he felt Emma’s chest expand. She stirred, the movement triggering a sudden awareness of slim hips pressed against his thighs, his arm around a trim waist, firm breasts against his…

  He released her and stepped back.

  What had he been thinking? Not a thing. He hadn’t been thinking about white picket fences or the kind of roots that didn’t figure into his life on the road. No, he was only doing what he was supposed to do—keeping Emma and Bree safe. Nothing more. Nothing less. But despite his stern lecture, he threaded his fingers through Emma’s. Her hand in his, he led the way toward the house.

  “Hey, Little Bit,” he called to the child who sat, lighter than a feed sack, on his shoulders. “How’s the view up there?”

  “Good!” Bree leaned back, her viselike hold on his forehead tightening. “I can see the whole world from here.”

  Colt clamped a steadying hand on the little girl’s bottom. “I’ll show you more stuff this afternoon when we go for a ride around the rest of the ranch.”

  “We might have to wait on that.” Emma searched his face, the odd expression on her own letting him know he’d missed something. “I think we’ve had enough excitement for one day, don’t you?”

  Though spending more time with Emma and Bree was exactly what he wanted to do, Colt shoved his disappointment way down deep where it wouldn’t show. There’d be other times, other chances, he reminded himself. He even managed a casual, “Yep, I reckon you’re right.”

  Minutes later, he stood, watching mother and daughter walk into the house without him. He told himself he ought to be glad Emma had canceled their tour for the afternoon. Especially since it gave him time to accomplish a few other things on his agenda. Like taking a shower. He could muck stalls and fight alligators without breaking a sweat, but put him within five feet of the feis
ty little cook, and a shower moved to the top of his list.

  A cold one.

  Chapter Eight

  Emma squinted at the clock on the nightstand. Two in the morning. She flipped over onto her back and stretched one arm above her head. When alligators still prowled the backs of her eyelids, she admitted defeat. No matter how many cute, fluffy sheep gaily jumping over fences she counted, she’d never be able to relax as long as every one of them landed in a puddle of snapping jaws and swishing tails.

  She eased herself out of bed. Careful not to disturb the child sprawled across the mattress, she tucked the covers beneath a tiny chin and pressed a kiss against her daughter’s cheek. Bree didn’t so much as stir.

  “Thank goodness,” she whispered. She had Colt to thank for the child’s peaceful sleep. The man had turned their brush with danger into an adventure for her four-year-old. Over dinner, he’d shown even more of his protective side when he’d impressed his men with a lecture on watching out for all their guests, including her daughter. Especially her daughter.

  A slow sigh escaped Emma’s lips. The man was full of surprises, not the least of which was the moment she’d spent in his arms. She could still feel his hands at her waist. Still hear the steady thudding of his heart. Hours later, she caught his faint scent whenever she ran a hand through her hair. None of which helped her relax. Quite the opposite, it stirred an odd restlessness within her.

  Tugging a sweatshirt over her pajamas, she headed downstairs for the one tried-and-true method of calming her nerves. In the pantry, she gathered ingredients for one of her favorite recipes. She set to work, confident her activities wouldn’t disturb Bree.

  As for Colt, well, the rancher’s temporary quarters were on the far side of the house. She doubted the noise she made in the kitchen would reach him, though it took more effort than she liked to resist a quick peek in on him to double-check.

  Soon, the makings for a special cake littered the counter. Dense and dark, with a rich peanut butter filling, the dessert would make the perfect thank-you gift for the man who had rapidly made a habit of saving her daughter’s life. Only, she had a sneaking suspicion that Colt Judd, with his brilliant blue eyes and easy swagger, was even more dangerous than wild animals.