Quinn

by R. C. Ryan

  With that Flora walked back to the kitchen while Dora handed them each a small salad and roll. “Your meat loaf will be right up. What’re you drinking?”

  “Coffee for me, thanks.”

  Quinn exchanged a smile with Cheyenne, who nodded. “I’ll have the same.”

  Cheyenne and Quinn dug into their salads.

  The others in the diner returned their attention to their own food while keeping an eye on the two of them.

  When the door opened, Everett Fletcher strolled in and looked around.

  Spying Quinn and Cheyenne, he ambled over to the counter. “Hey, you two.”

  They looked up.

  Quinn stuck out his hand. “Everett. We just stopped by your office.”

  “That so?” He glanced at Cheyenne.

  “I left the employee files on your desk, Chief.”

  “Good. I’ll fax them over to the state boys first thing tomorrow.”

  Spotting Thibalt Baxter at one of the tables, he waved before adding, “I’ll get back to you as soon as I hear anything.”

  “Thanks, Chief.”

  They watched him join his friend.

  Half an hour later, after devouring thick slabs of meat loaf and a mound of potatoes smothered in Flora’s famous mushroom gravy, Quinn dug some money out of his jeans and set it on the counter.

  “You’re not leaving until you have a piece of my coconut cream pie,” Flora declared from the kitchen.

  Quinn merely grinned. “Yes, ma’am. If you insist.”

  “I do.” She slid two slices across the pass-through and watched as Dora added forks before serving them.

  “That’s your daddy’s favorite,” Flora announced. “Whenever he’s in town he always stops by to ask for it.”

  Quinn thought about how carefully Phoebe monitored his father’s diet these days, and realized she was fighting a losing battle as long as old Flora was here in town to feed that famous sweet tooth.

  When Quinn and Cheyenne finally got up to leave, Flora called, “Tell Big Jim and Cole I said hello.”

  “I will, Flora. And thanks. Your meat loaf and coconut cream pie could win awards at the county fair.”

  “Ha. I won all the ribbons I care to. I’ll leave that to the young girls now.” She stared pointedly at Cheyenne. “Too many of ’em have forgotten how to please their men.”

  When he saw the blush on Cheyenne’s cheeks, Quinn couldn’t help saying, “Oh, I don’t know about that, Flora. There’s a lot to be said for canned soup and grilled cheese sandwiches.”

  “That depends on where they’re served, and who’s doing the serving.” The old woman’s eyes twinkled, and he realized that nothing got by her sharp wit.

  He winked at her. “Yeah. There’s something to be said for that.”

  As he and Cheyenne walked from the diner and heads turned to watch, they could hear the old woman’s cackling laughter following them.

  Once in the truck, Quinn turned to Cheyenne. “We can be home in an hour. Or, if you don’t mind an extra half hour or so, we could head back to my cabin.”

  Her smile was quick and potent. “Did I mention that I just love long drives in the woods?”

  They drove away laughing like carefree children.

  The night was dark and quiet. And peaceful, Cheyenne thought as she snuggled beside Quinn in the big, soft bed. She’d never known such complete silence. On the ranch there were so many sounds. The lowing of cattle. The laughter of the wranglers in the bunkhouse late into the night. The sounds of vehicles coming and going at all hours. Stalls opening and closing. Horses stomping. Rusty gates swinging in the breeze.

  Here there were only the hoot of an owl, and the occasional call of a wolf or coyote. And the steady beat of Quinn’s heart as she rested her head on his chest.

  Here, she thought, was heaven. And it had arrived in the form of a dark avenging angel who had come unbidden into her barn during a blizzard and had changed her life forever.

  “You’re quiet.” Quinn touched a finger to her cheek.

  “Thinking.”

  “Want to share?”

  She tilted her face to his. “I’m thinking how strange life is. One minute I was a rancher, feeling lost, barely holding my life together. In the blink of an eye, you came along and made me feel safe. What’s more, you make me feel like a woman.”

  “A very beautiful woman.” He brushed his mouth over hers. “And you make me feel like the luckiest man in the world.”

  He took the kiss deeper and Cheyenne could feel her mind emptying, her heart swelling.

  With love?

  She tried to deny it.

  She’d always thought that love needed time to grow between two people who’d known each other for ages. She and Quinn had spent barely any time together. And what time they had was filled with ranch chores and her problems. So many problems.

  Yet here she was feeling something very new and fragile.

  Love?

  She listened to the quiet, steady breathing of the man lying beside her and slipped out of bed to pace to the window.

  This wasn’t the shouting, fireworks-in-the-sky kind of feeling she’d always expected to find with love. This was the whispering, wonder-filled kind of feeling that wrapped itself around her heart and squeezed ever so gently.

  Maybe it was just wishful thinking.

  Ever since meeting his family, she couldn’t stop thinking about the Conway warmth, their closeness, their shared chores and shared lives. Though they lived in close quarters, none of them appeared to feel stifled. Instead, they fed one another’s joy and laughter. Time spent with them made her realize even more how much she’d lost. There’d been a time when she’d shared such things with her mother and father and her brother, Buddy.

  Was her affection for Quinn’s family muddling her mind?

  She turned. Paced.

  Despite what she felt for the Conway family, she knew that it was nothing compared to what she felt for Quinn. Being with him made her feel wildly joyful and quietly peaceful all at the same time. As though her poor, battered heart had found a safe haven, a solitary refuge from life’s storms.

  She crossed her arms over her chest and paced back to the bed.

  If this was love, then she simply loved him and hoped desperately that he shared those feelings, though she knew it could be very different for a man. Making love didn’t always mean love or commitment. For a man, loving was a pleasurable release. She didn’t see why Quinn should have to be any different. But she wanted him to be different from other men. Needed him to be different. Better. Smarter. Kinder.

  Or was she simply trying to make him into something he could never be?

  She knew she could be setting herself up for heartbreak. He’d admitted to being a loner. He’d said nothing about love or commitment. She ought to be steeling herself against reading more into this than he intended, or her poor heart could be broken into millions of pieces.

  She suddenly froze. She had the feeling that someone was watching her through the window. Turning, she crossed the room and peered into the darkness.

  She heard movement in the brush and tried to see what caused it. An animal making a nocturnal visit, perhaps? Though she strained, she could see nothing out of the ordinary.

  She had a flash of memory. Of her fourth birthday, and waking Buddy to ask him to help her look under her bed for any monsters lurking there. He’d been so sweet about it, turning on his flashlight and proving, beyond a doubt, that there was nothing to fear.

  It was time to stop looking for monsters in the dark.

  She took one final peek into the darkness before returning to bed.

  “Where were you?”

  At Quinn’s whispered words she snuggled close and stared into those fathomless eyes. Eyes that, in the glow of firelight, had the power to dissolve all her fears.

  “Checking on a noise outside. And thinking about life’s strange twists and turns.”

  Against her temple he murmured, “One of those
strange twists brought you into my life, and I’m grateful.”

  As his hands and mouth began moving over her, lifting her higher and higher, she gave up the last attempt to think. It was too much effort to rationalize her feelings or his. Instead, she would simply enjoy this special time.

  Steeped in pure pleasure, she showed him, the only way she could, all the wonderful new feelings that were blooming in her heart.

  The sun was already climbing above the peaks of the Tetons when Cheyenne woke.

  She remembered having awakened earlier, to pace, to think, to check on strange nighttime sounds. She’d been certain there had been something moving alongside the wall of the cabin. For the longest time she’d had the sense that someone was peering in the window. But she’d found nothing. And then Quinn had gathered her close and all her fears had evaporated.

  She turned toward the warmth beside her, only to find that the bed was empty.

  She sat up, shoving hair from her eyes, as Quinn turned from the stove.

  “ ’Morning, lazybones. Coffee?”

  “Um. I’d love some.”

  He crossed the room and the mattress sagged as he sat beside her and handed her a steaming cup.

  “Oh, this is the best possible way to wake up in the morning.”

  He bent over to kiss her lips. “I agree. Tomorrow I’ll let you make the coffee. Hungry?”

  “You’re going to feed me?”

  “I am. You have a choice. Frozen waffles, or toast and peanut butter.”

  “I’ve had waffles. I haven’t had toast with peanut butter before.”

  His brows shot up. “Woman, you’ve been missing one of life’s great pleasures. There’s nothing better than peanut butter melting into warm toast.”

  “All right. You’ve sold me on it. Do you want some help?”

  “Not with the toast. But I wouldn’t mind having you beside me in the kitchen.” He caught her hand and she set aside the coffee before slipping out of bed.

  He glanced at her clothes, still lying in a heap where she’d dropped them in haste the night before. Then he turned to look her up and down, from her tousled hair to her bare toes, and all that glorious, naked flesh in between.

  With a wicked grin he muttered, “On second thought, why don’t I join you in bed and we’ll think about food later?”

  She started to laugh, until she saw the dark look in his eyes.

  Together they tumbled into bed and lost themselves in the wonder of their newly discovered passion.

  “As promised more than an hour ago, toast with peanut butter.” Quinn sat on the edge of the bed and handed Cheyenne a plate. “Better late than never, ma’am.”

  She nibbled the toast and made little humming sounds of pleasure. “Mmm. Good.” She looked up. “Is this a reward for good behavior?”

  He wiggled his brows like a mock villain. “I’d call what you did very bad behavior. And I’m so very grateful,” he growled against her throat.

  That had her laughing aloud. “Aren’t you having any?”

  He nodded. “Right after I pour two cups of coffee. Want to eat in bed?”

  “I’ll get up.” She tossed aside the blanket and reached for the pile of clothes until she’d located her jeans and shirt. When she was dressed she crossed the room and joined him at the table.

  Again she was reminded just how clever he’d been in building his cabin on this site. The view of the Tetons was spectacular, no matter what hour of the day. The woods surrounding them offered a sanctuary from civilization. The birds and other animals were free to go about their lives without interruption.

  She looked over at Quinn. “Being here is like being in a zoo. Except we’re the ones behind glass walls and the wild creatures can walk by and ignore us or stop and watch us whenever they please.”

  He lifted his cup in a salute. “That was the plan. I take it you approve?”

  “I do. I love it. Except that last night I had the strangest feeling that one of our furry friends was watching us.”

  “You, too?” He paused. “Something woke me through the night. I listened, but couldn’t hear a thing. But I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was being watched.”

  “Exactly.” She nodded.

  He grinned. “Probably some jealous wolf that figures I got the prettiest female of the pack.”

  They shared a laugh.

  Cheyenne sighed. “I wish we could hide away here forever, and never—” She looked up at the ringing of her cell phone.

  Catching Quinn’s dark frown, she muttered, “I know. We agreed to leave these in the truck. I forgot.”

  He glanced over. “You could ignore it.”

  “I could. Of course, it could be Chief Fletcher.”

  He shrugged and she reached for her phone.

  The masculine voice on the other end sounded frazzled. “Cheyenne, this is Rusty Perry. You’d better meet me in town. I’m on the way there now, heading to Dr. Walton’s clinic with Micah Horn.”

  “Micah? What’s happened?” Fear had her voice hitching in her throat.

  Quinn hurried to stand beside her and they both listened as Rusty’s voice went on. “I swung by your place to post the building permit and found Micah lying in the snow outside the bunkhouse, which was still smoldering.”

  “Smoldering?”

  At Cheyenne’s sudden gasp Quinn spoke for both of them. “Another fire?”

  “A big one. The bunkhouse is burned to the ground. I don’t know how the old man made it out, but he’s in bad shape.”

  “How bad?” Cheyenne was already scooping up her boots with one hand while holding the phone up with the other.

  “He’s conscious, but just barely. Besides being half-frozen, he’s almost incoherent. He keeps babbling, but I can’t make heads or tails of what he’s trying to say. I’ll leave that to the doc. You’d better get to town as soon as possible.”

  “Yes. Thank you, Rusty. And tell Micah—” Cheyenne’s voice broke, and she had to stop and swallow the lump in her throat several times before she managed to say, “Tell Micah I need him. He can’t leave me. He has to hang on.”

  “Will do.”

  By the time the line went dead both Quinn and Cheyenne were frantically pulling on the last of their clothes and snatching up whatever they needed to take with them for the long drive to town.

  As they climbed into the truck, Quinn looked over and squeezed her hand, feeling the tremors she couldn’t hide.

  “He has to be all right. He’s all the family I have left in the world,” she said through her tears. “Oh, Quinn, I can’t lose Micah, too.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  The drive to town was the longest of Cheyenne’s life. She sat as still as death, her mind playing through images of her childhood, with Micah encouraging her to ride her first pony and, later, showing her how to saddle her first mare. Micah teaching her how to bake corn bread. Micah driving the big hay wagon on her first high school date, when she and her friends from town planned a hayride.

  Micah was as much a part of her life as her father and brother had been. Micah Horn was her teacher, her uncle, the grandfather she’d never had. The thought of him lying alone and injured in the freezing night, with no one around to comfort him, tormented her.

  When at last she and Quinn drove through town, she kept her hands clenched so tightly the knuckles were white from the effort.

  Quinn parked the truck in front of Dr. April Walton’s walk-in clinic. Parked beside them was Rusty Perry’s truck.

  Quinn hurried around to hold the door and take Cheyenne’s hand in his. She was so cold he closed her hand between both of his, hoping to lend her his warmth, as they walked into the clinic.

  Rusty got to his feet and hurried over. “The doc’s with Micah now.” He gave a shake of his head. “I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. There it was, the bunkhouse burned to the ground, and that tough old man lying there. His clothes had been burned so badly, I thought I was seeing a pile of rags, until he starte
d moaning. Even while I was getting him into my truck, he was mumbling and muttering and waving his hands. He was like a wild man, grabbing my arm, trying to make me understand his ravings. But all I could make out was some gibberish.” He laid a hand over Cheyenne’s. “I’m just glad I stopped by your place when I did.”

  Her tone was low with emotion. “You saved his life, Rusty.”

  “I’ll leave that to the doc.”

  Hearing voices, the doctor stepped from one of the examining rooms and hurried toward them.

  The doctor indicated the room she’d just vacated. “Cheyenne, Micah Horn is in here.”

  “How bad is he?”

  The doctor’s voice lowered. “It’s too soon to speculate. He’s an old man, suffering not only from hypothermia but from a nasty blow to his head. He was probably hit by falling debris, and he’s lucky to have escaped before the building collapsed.”

  “I want to see him.”

  As Cheyenne started to turn away, the doctor put a hand on her arm.

  “I must caution you. He seems extremely agitated. I’ve just given him something to sedate him.”

  Cheyenne barely heard her words as she forged ahead and hurried into the room, with Quinn and the doctor trailing behind.

  When she paused beside Micah’s bed, Cheyenne looked over at the doctor with alarm. “Why is he wearing this mask?”

  “It’s oxygen. I’m hoping to clear his lungs of the smoke he inhaled during his flight from the burning building.”

  Cheyenne laid a hand over his and leaned close to whisper, “Micah. It’s Cheyenne. Can you hear me?”

  He stirred, and she saw his eyes trying to focus.

  “Thank heaven you’re alive.” She could feel tears welling up and she blinked hard, trying to cover the rush of emotions that swamped her at the sight of him lying so battered and helpless.

  When he recognized her, his hand clawed at the mask and he tore it aside.

  His voice was as raspy as a rusted old gate. “Chey… honey… listen. You need to know…”

  Though his lips were moving, the words were little more than a jumble of guttural sounds.