Kept by the Woodsman: An ex-MMA Fighter Mountain Man Romance

by Ambrielle Kirk

  I lagged away from the group throughout most of the town’s walking tour, lingering to really soak in all the sights and smells and scan the area. There were adorable boutiques and small shops. The scent of freshly baked, warm cinnamon bread really drew me in and made my mouth water with craving when we strolled past a bakery on a cobblestone street.

  My camera worked overtime today as I snapped photograph after photograph of the picturesque landscape and the small town with the towering mountains on the horizon. I couldn't help myself. I became distracted by the beautiful scenic views encircling me.

  I checked my watch when I noticed the sun switch positions in the sky. A warm glow of late afternoon sunlight began to filter through the fluffy clouds and splashed across the brick buildings.

  My deadline rushed to the prominence of my mind. I needed to remain proactive here. I excused myself from the final tour of the day and headed back to the cabin without even going back to my hotel room to change my clothes first. The drive up the mountains was a lot faster than yesterday. I knew exactly where I was headed this time.

  When I pulled up in the gravel driveway of 1582 Rockbend Trail and walked up onto the front porch, I was hit with a dash of bewilderment. The note was still on the door, right where I'd left it. Either the place was deserted, or Saul Krewe had moved.

  I placed my hand to the glass and tried to peer through the open slit between the curtains. The interior looked pitch black from the outside. I couldn't see a thing. I moved back to the front door and turned the knob to test if the door had been left unlocked. Maybe my research was wrong. Perhaps the county records were inaccurate. Was the cabin unoccupied? Did some of the townspeople have obsolete, outdated information? My intel wasn't adding up.

  I looked behind me, feeling a bit out of place. I don't know what came over me, but I pulled a bobby pin from my hair and thrust it into the lock. I had been trained by my father to pick locks before. Something worked because the door gave way within seconds.

  Standing in the threshold, I felt guilty. But the thing had already been done. My father, who used to work as a private investigator and had high hopes that I’d go into the same exact profession, would’ve been proud. But I wasn’t exactly proud—I was just determined.

  I slipped inside and was met with mainly darkness since it was late afternoon and the drapes were shut tight. I didn’t see any light switches on the wall, but as I stumbled inside, I spotted a lantern sitting on a table beside a leather chair

  I wiped my sweaty palms on the back of my pants and turned the little knob at the bottom and the lantern flashed with orange light. Surprisingly, it appeared that someone was actively living in the home.

  Cautiously, I glanced around. I was definitely alone, but I called out a greeting, anyway. “Hello?”

  There was no answer. Silence filled the void. Since I was already here, I was going to make the most of it. I wasn’t a thief. I wouldn’t take anything.

  I walked to the kitchen and noticed that there was a calendar hanging off a magnet on the refrigerator. Today was Saturday. The last time an X had been crossed out on the calendar was nearly three days ago, on Wednesday. So, my timeline was more accurate than I realized. Someone lived here, but they had been away for quite some time.

  There was a stack of mail piling up on the table. Some of the papers and envelopes appeared to be opened and rifled through. Others sat untouched and wrapped in a rubber band. I picked up a few of the stacks and peered at the mailing address. The opened letters were addressed to "Silencer Construction". I peeked inside a few but didn't see any names addressing the owner. The letters bundled together with a rubber band were all addressed to Jack Haversham, the previous owner of the cabin.

  I saw a bedroom from the hallway, but there was no way I could search any further without feeling guilty about sneaking around in this man’s home. I glanced out the backyard. There was a tool shed sitting to the right and a covered carport to the left. There were some huge plastic barrels on the side of the cabin along with a stack of firewood. Building and fencing supplies were propped up against the shed. A pickup truck was parked under a large oak tree. I leaned in with my nose nearly plastered against the window. A lightbulb moment went off when I saw an old, faded Traverse City sticker on the bumper of the truck. The license plate had since between changed from Michigan to Minnesota.

  I knew it without a doubt. I had my guy. All I needed was to talk to him in the flesh and I’d have my case completed.

  Since Saul Krewe wasn't home to talk to me, I stopped snapping pictures. I almost knocked over the lantern on the way out. That would have been a disaster. Not only was I breaking and entering, but I could have also set this guy's house on fire. I tried to adjust the thing so that it sat right where I first found it. Before anyone could catch me in the act, I left the cabin, hoping that Mr. Krewe would make this easier for me and give me a call.

  But nothing was ever easy.

  Chapter Four

  Saul

  Something was different. I stood outside without going inside my cabin, my refuge, my place of seclusion. I narrowed my eyes. I sniffed the air. I glanced over my shoulder with rising paranoia. There was a fresh set of tire tracks off to the right side, which was odd since I had never parked there before.

  “Who the hell came out here?” I mumbled to myself.

  It wasn’t uncommon for me to be suspicious by nature. After all, I still carried the hefty load of my past—burdens that couldn’t be undone no matter how far up into the woods I trekked.

  I looked down at the ground and noticed some rabbit droppings near my gravel driveway. Their presence in my yard didn’t surprise me at all since rabbits bred around here like there was no tomorrow. When I first moved out here, I used to set out traps for them. But not anymore. I hunted bigger game now.

  I’d been on a hunting trip for the past couple of days. My overnight bag and collapsed tent were stuffed in my backpack. The fruits of my labor, cut up in good-sized chunks and put on ice, were inside of a small cooler. I’d shot the deer from a distance with a scoping rifle. I didn’t want to attract unwanted predators to my cabin, so instead of dragging the meat back home, I had cut it up right on the spot only taking what I needed. I didn’t want to lure too many wild predators back to my cabin by dragging the carcass here. The people who lived out here had enough of that already.

  I dropped the cooler and my bag at my feet, then paused a few more seconds while trying to decipher what else had changed before scooping up my belongings.

  I clonked up the stairs to my front porch and gripped the doorknob. Before I could get my key in the lock, the door gave way with one gentle push.

  “What the hell?” I grumbled. The door shouldn’t have been unlocked. I couldn’t have been that careless.

  I took a guarded step inside my dark cabin. My rifle sat perched on my shoulder. It wasn’t uncommon to encounter a trespasser in the mountains, but in all the time I had been living up here, no one had ever dared to enter my home without me being present. And if some scumbag traveler was squatting in my house without my consent, there was going to be a goddamned problem.

  I'd gone down the sinister path of violence before. There were some moonless nights where the terrors of my past still haunted me and vibrated through my bones. I even had the scars to prove it. I had no intention of ever returning to that darkness, but my trigger finger was ready if it came down to an unwanted intruder who threatened me any violence or harm.

  Ever since I came up here to the mountains though, things had improved phenomenally for me in the mentality restoration department. I hunted, hiked and spent an inordinate amount of time pining after the great outdoors. I had learned how to live off the land and use my resources and skills to barter and trade with my neighbors and the townspeople. I wasn't exactly money poor. I had a sizable nest egg put away that I hadn't touched for the last few years.

  The weather was too unpredictable. That was the downside to living up here. But even when the se
asonal rains would release their steady downpours, or when the snow blanketed the yard in a sea of whiteness, I still managed to find the time to go outside and enjoy mother nature in all its profound glory.

  Pulling my mind back to the present, I noticed how the floorboards creaked under my boots with the same familiar satisfaction as they usually did. I narrowed my eyes. I was on a new hunt now, and this time it was to figure out if someone was lurking in the shadows, behind a corner or submerged beneath a bed. It wasn’t unheard of for a traveler to take refuge in abandoned homes or barns. That could have very well been the case here. The terrains were treacherous. Just a couple hours of hiking could wipe a man out. I knew that from experience.

  My pulse quickened, and my brow glistened with fresh beads of sweat that I wiped away. I licked my lips and cocked the rifle. Maybe if somebody were ready to pounce on me, they'd think twice once they got an earful of my locked and loaded riffle that was always ready to cough out a bullet or two.

  “If someone is in here, you better show yourself before you’re unfortunately staring down the business end of my rifle’s barrel.” My own voice rang through the air with an eerie chime.

  I was met with nothing but silence that, oddly enough, was louder than if someone was really there and shouting behind me. With each step I took through my home, my paranoia climbed. I hated to slip on the rungs of a ladder that I constantly chased to the sky. Maybe peace of mind would never find me. There was a chance that I didn’t deserve to find tranquility either.

  The first clue I noticed that confirmed that someone had been fucking with my shit was that the lantern beside the door was turned on and flickering. Whoever had been in this house had been careless enough to leave it on before they left. It couldn't have been very long ago either because the lantern battery would have died out by twenty-four hours of being lit continuously. Maybe they had come in looking for a place to rest and then realized that a person lived here and left. It was also possible that they messed with the wildlife—maybe threatened by a wolf or beer—got scared and ran into the first house they found. Stranger things had happened. Either way, I couldn't be sure.

  I rushed to my bedroom, gripping the door jamb as I swung myself in like a catapult freshly launched.

  My fingers shook with anticipation as I rummaged through each of my drawers, ransacking the place far worse than if a robber had come and completed the mission for me.

  Everything appeared to be intact, to my relief. The intruder might have left subtle hints of their presence, but nothing seemed to be stolen, at least not to my knowledge thus far.

  I walked back into the kitchen. My footsteps boomed and echoed through the cabin as if the entire home was sitting on pins and needles awaiting my reaction. I wish the house could speak to me and tell me who had been here and invaded my privacy.

  I swung the refrigerator door open. A couple of beer bottles hanging off the side compartment door clanked against each other with the jerky movement. I plucked one out and twisted the top off with a grunt, guzzling down nearly half of the liquid before I came up for a breath.

  I glanced around, sizing the place up. I belched loudly and clenched my teeth. I needed a better door lock. Maybe I'd even build myself another door.

  I journeyed across the room with a beer in hand to glance suspiciously out the window. On my way there, my boot scuffed up against a foreign object and I tripped, nearly tumbling over. I cursed loudly when my beer slipped from my grip and smashed to pieces on the floorboards.

  Ignoring the mess I'd have to clean up, I crouched on the floor and picked up the object I had stumbled over. It was some kind of vintage hotel key, dangling from a trinket made of hard plastic. There was a number engraved in the plastic. I recognized the symbol from one of the hotels in town. I had stayed there a couple nights before I moved out here, so I knew exactly where this hotel was. I passed by it many times whenever I ventured into town to send off mail or visit my favorite diner.

  My attention lingered on my writing desk where I had placed a stack of mail earlier. Jack, the old guy who'd sold the place to me, kept getting his letters sent here. As I promised him, I forwarded mail to his new address at least once a month. But the stack wasn't where I left it and it looked like my papers had been shifted through.

  I felt my mouth curl downward into a scowl as a list of possibilities for why this person might have entered my home raced through my mind. I was off the grid and had moved out here for a reason, and this person certainly wasn't about to ruin that for me.

  My intruder might not have been some random camper or traveler seeking emergency refuge after all…

  I shoved the vintage key down into my pants pocket, dove to the counter for my own set of keys, exited the back door, and marched toward my pickup truck.

  Chapter Five

  Saul

  I climbed into my pickup truck and shoved the gear into drive. The tires spun out in the gravel and dirt as I barreled down the mountain.

  The audacity of some people…it really amazed me. It was one thing to walk up to my house unannounced, but the very fact that whoever had been there had invaded my personal property bothered me. Not only that, they had gone through my letters, probably trying to find out exactly who I was.

  I turned the wheel, dodging trees, branches and stumps left and right. My truck engine whined in protest against the savage way I was throttling it down the mountain.

  I eased up slightly. If I damaged my truck, then all of this would become a lost cause. She’d been with me through thick and thin. The one time I thought her little engine had died out, I’d been a mess. I worked on her day and night until she was running like new again.

  I had to stop acting like a madman. I'd find out soon enough if I were in deep trouble. My mind reeled, wondering who the culprit might be. Whoever it was must be pretty damn brave. They probably didn't have any clue who they were dealing with. Soon they would find out as soon as I barged through their hotel room just like they snuck into my home.

  Whoever had been inside my house was careless, reckless and had the most giant pair of balls I’d ever imagined. I was going to get to the bottom of this, and the mountain for that matter.

  A deer suddenly came out of nowhere. I slammed on the brakes and my tires screeched.

  “Shit!” I roared and blared the horn to get the animal out of my way quickly. The deer scampered off, hopping along and out of sight.

  There was another theory I pondered. The local cops around this area were as lazy as a sleepy teenager. Sometimes escaped convicts hid out in the mountains. Whatever. It didn't matter if the culprit was an axe murderer or a nosy camper. They had no right going through my stuff. There was a reason the tour guides only took visitors out on the other side of the mountains. There were too many private homes on my side of the terrain, and I didn't know about any of my neighbors, but I loved my seclusion.

  Finally, I made it down the mountain and onto the pavement of the highway below. My engine purred as if it was relieved to be on a smooth surface and solid ground. I tried not to speed as I etched my way closer to the hotel in the center of the small town. The employees at the little bed-and-breakfast had been so nice when I last stayed there.

  When I approached it, I peered up at the name flashing from a neon sign in front of the quaint and cozy looking establishment.

  We have free WiFi, the sign flashed above me. I fished out the key and compared the symbol to the one on the building just to make sure nothing had changed.

  I shifted the gear into park and climbed out, ready to spit nails and breath fire. I hurtled into the lobby where a receptionist was waiting behind the check-in desk. The hum of elevator music tinkled through the air from speakers that weren’t visible. A fake fire crackled inside the double-sided fireplace. The last time I was here, they’d had a real one raging in there.

  A red couch sat in front of a wooden coffee table with a few magazines and tour guides spread out on top. The lobby was empty.

  �
�Welcome to Cedar Grove Inn.” A woman with long blonde hair and a fresh smile greeted me. She straightened her posture and stuck out her full-sized breasts as I neared the counter. “Are you checking in?”

  “Something like that,” I murmured and suspiciously glanced around. I started to head towards the elevator.

  “Um…sir? You have to check in with me before you go up,” she warned.

  I stopped short and turned around. “Oh right.”

  “Can I have your last name?” She looked down at a clipboard.

  “I was just meeting someone,” I said.

  The receptionist put her clipboard away. "Well, a gentleman was waiting here not too long ago for someone. He said he was from the bank. About this high…" she demonstrated with her hands "…he was wearing a black suit and tie."

  I shook my head. Unless my intruder was a camper walking around pretending to be a banker or vice versa, I didn’t think the man waiting in the lobby was who I was looking for.

  “No, not him.”

  “So, you picked a fine time to come out here. It’s getting ready to rain,” the woman said, batting her eyelashes. “Aren’t you one of those loggers? They come in here all the time.”

  "No," I replied, glancing behind me. Fat welts of raindrops began to pour out of the sky. They smacked against the sidewalk pavement outside of the lobby doors and created instant puddles.

  “Sorry. You just look like a logger or a mountaineer with those big thick arms of yours.” Her gaze landed on my arm and traveled to my fingers. “You know what? Haven’t I seen you at Donnie’s before?”

  I leveled my gaze with her and realized she was coming on to me. No matter how many times I came into town, I was still surprised at the number of passes the young women made at me, especially when I visited the bar. Donnie’s Bar & Billiards was the only place in town that sold my favorite beer. When I was in the mood for the latest televised sports game or fighting match, Donnie’s was usually where I, along with the other bachelors in the town, ended up. It was also where all the unmarried women of the town congregated, for obvious reasons. It was the ultimate spot for hook-ups. I tried to keep my beard thick, my profile low, and my net worth a secret. The last thing I wanted was to be a guest on the latest Jerri Bainger show titled ‘Whose the daddy now?’.