Wild Secret, Wild Longing: A Sweet Historical Western Romance Novella (The Front Range Series Book 3)

by Charlene Whitman

  The man listened but said nothing, his face thoughtful. LeRoy guessed him to be about twenty, maybe twenty-two. Surely he didn’t live alone. He wondered how long he’d been living up here, and who with. But he knew not to ask.

  “Name’s LeRoy. LeRoy Banks.” He didn’t bother to offer his hand to shake.

  The man hesitated. “I’m Dan.”

  “Pleasure to meet you.”

  Dan merely grunted.

  The wolf suddenly and silently emerged from the woods and looked at Dan. LeRoy shook his head. That was some huge wolf.

  Dan went over and patted the wolf on the head, and the creature began whining. He padded a few steps back toward the trees, urging Dan to come. Just like a dog. LeRoy whistled under his breath, and the wolf eyed him.

  “When we get that bear,” Dan said with a threat in his eyes, “he’s mine, you understand? I don’t care who does the killing. I want the meat and the pelt.”

  LeRoy held up his arms in surrender. Guess his ma wouldn’t get that nice bear pelt after all. But it didn’t matter. So long as he did his job and made sure that bear had attacked his last horse.

  “Follow me,” Dan commanded, picking up an unlit lantern, then strode into the woods after the wolf.

  LeRoy shut his mouth and went after him. Guess he’d just let this man and his wolf lead the way. Wasn’t going to be hard to find the bear now, he reckoned. Not with a wolf helping track. Wait till he told Eli about this. LeRoy doubted his brother would believe it. But, for some reason, he knew his ma wouldn’t be a whit surprised.

  Chapter 5

  “There he is,” Dan whispered, holding up a hand to stop LeRoy.

  His head still throbbing, LeRoy narrowed his eyes and made out the dark shape lumbering up a rock fall. Trickles of stones clattered down the mountain, puncturing the quiet. Clouds thickened like molasses overhead, blocking out the moon’s light. In a matter of seconds, icy darkness crept along the ground and snuffed out the details of their surroundings.

  LeRoy strained to see, but whether due to his head-clobbering or the night being especially dark, he could barely make out the creature from the rock. He needed to spend more time outside. This ranch living—getting up early, working hard all day, and going to sleep with the chickens—was dulling his edge.

  Dan came over to him, closer than he’d been earlier. LeRoy expected he’d stink like the other mountain men he’d met; they hardly ever bathed but a couple times a year. But this fella smelled clean, and upon closer observation LeRoy noted his clothes were clean and mended in places. He could see neat small stitches in the front of the cotton shirt where a tear had been patched. Maybe the man was married? But what woman would want to live so isolated up in these mountains, away from other women? One thing he knew, women were social creatures, and they didn’t last long without female company. He had heard plenty of stories of prairie wives going plum mad, even killing their children and themselves. Isolation was hard enough for a man, but it was cruelty to a woman.

  “How ’bout you go round there, over yonder,” Dan said, pointing to an overhang to the right of the rock fall. “I’ll circle around thataway.” He pointed to the trees to the left, so they’d flank the bear. “If we shoot above the rock fall, he should come runnin’ downhill, and then we’ll have him.”

  “All right,” LeRoy replied. “But just don’t shoot me.”

  Dan straightened and looked hard at LeRoy. “Don’t git in the way, then.”

  LeRoy clenched his mouth, holding back the biting reply he tasted on his tongue. The fella should be grateful for some help, especially if he was going to keep the spoils from this battle.

  LeRoy blew out a breath. His ma’s words came back to mind. For the life of him, he couldn’t unravel the mystery of her admonition. Love throws fear outside? He shivered. The thin mountain air turned suddenly cold, and a wind kicked up and moaned. He stuffed his hat down over his ears. A few flakes of snow fell, then more cascaded down from the sky, swirling around him in a reckless dance as he silently slinked to the overhang and got into position. Once there, he made out Dan’s shape behind a large sugar pine and saw him nod.

  LeRoy took position. He wasn’t sure just where the bear was and aimed high. The second he heard Dan’s gun fire, he pulled the trigger. The two blasts from their rifles sounded loud in LeRoy’s ears. The bullets whistled in the air, bouncing off rock, and just as Dan predicted, the massive grizzly galloped downhill, his gigantic paws chewing up the ground.

  LeRoy waited, fixing to shoot after the bear galloped past him, to make sure he didn’t chance hitting Dan, but just as he readied to pull the trigger, the bear suddenly swung to the left, toward the trees—straight at where Dan was standing.

  A shot fired out, and LeRoy saw that Dan had hit his mark. The grizzly squealed in pain and rose up like a monster from a fairy tale, long arms scratching at the sky and his mouth wide open and baring his teeth. A deafening roar burst from the creature’s throat.

  But he didn’t drop. Instead, his gaze appeared to lock on to Dan, and he now had a target for his fury.

  LeRoy didn’t hesitate. He ran full-out toward the bear, screaming loudly. Somewhere behind him, he heard the wolf growl. Just dandy—I’m sandwiched atwixt two killers.

  He waved his arms, screaming, running at the bear, who was within swinging reach of Dan. The mountain man stood in shock, his mouth dropped open. LeRoy couldn’t blame him. The bear, this close, was as big as a shed, and his paws wider than LeRoy’s face. The claws were at least four inches long and they swiped at Dan, who barely jumped back in time to prevent his face from being ripped from his head.

  “Run!” LeRoy hollered. “Run! Don’t just stand there.”

  He whooped and hollered more, and finally the bear wheeled around and faced LeRoy. He was too close!

  LeRoy backed up as the bear marched toward him on his hind legs, but a rock tripped him up, and his leg slid out from under him. His rifle clattered across the rocky ground, out of reach. Crimany!

  LeRoy yanked his long Bowie knife out of the sheath at his ankle. Fear erupted in his throat, and his hand holding the knife shook. Sweat streamed down the back of his neck, and he wiped it from his eyes and blinked. Snow flew into his face, blinding him.

  His ma was wrong. He had plenty to be afraid of, and it certainly wasn’t love. It was a thousand-pound beast about to devour him. There was nothing to love about that beast.

  Gunshot came from his left, and LeRoy caught a glimpse of Dan a dozen feet away aiming his rifle at the grizzly. The bear merely cast him a brief glance, then turned back to LeRoy. He threw back his head and bellowed, the noise causing rocks to cascade down the mountain.

  Dan shot again and again. The bear continued flinching and lumbering toward LeRoy. A quick glimpse told LeRoy he’d be soon backed up against the hillside. And if he tried to turn and run, he’d never make it more’n five feet.

  He held the knife out in a tight grip, eyeballing the beast’s throat. Sweat now poured into LeRoy’s eyes, stinging them. He could hardly see. His heart threatened to crack his ribs. Fear pounded his ears. The bear’s roar shook him to the core with terror.

  He knew in that moment he would die. But he was surprised Dan hadn’t run. Nor had the wolf. LeRoy saw it hunched and baring its teeth, pressed against the mountain man, no doubt willing to die to protect his friend. He never figured a wolf to have such loyalty, but, then again, he never figured he’d meet his end by a bear. But it was a good death, wasn’t it? He could have let the bear kill another man instead. But what honor was there in that? He wished, though, that his ma and brother would know how he died.

  All these thoughts raced through his head in mere seconds as he waited for the bear to lunge. Instead, it danced around, throwing back its head, maybe trying to scare LeRoy to death first. And it’s doing a right good job of it. LeRoy waited until the grizzly threw back his head again, then, sucking in a breath, lunged with the knife. He thrust the nine-inch-long blade into the bear’s gut, yan
ked it up the bear’s chest, then jumped back.

  The grizzly roared in outrage, but LeRoy couldn’t tell if he’d even hurt him. He made to run to his right, but a massive arm swiped at him, knocking him back with the force of a train car.

  LeRoy’s stomach flared with heat and pain. He glanced down as he balanced on his knees and saw his coat had been ripped into shreds. Blood poured out from his sliced-up shirt. He doubled over as two more rifle shots detonated behind him. He felt cold snow pile up and melt on his neck.

  Through his moans, LeRoy heard the bear’s pain—or was it his own? He clenched tight his eyes and wrapped his arms around his gut. The ground shook as the bear stomped off. The wolf’s whines came to LeRoy’s ears, and an arm wrapped around his shoulder, startling him. His head spun as pain seared his gut and chest. Bile rose in his throat, and he retched. The action rippled more piercing pain across his gut, and LeRoy knew some of his muscles had been ripped. He didn’t dare look, afraid his guts were spilling out.

  “Lemme see,” Dan said in a soft, low voice. LeRoy was surprised at the kindly tone. “We gotta get you to my cabin. I can fix you up there.”

  “How . . . far . . . ?” LeRoy doubted he could take even ten steps without collapsing. Blood oozed out steadily. “Gotta bind this up first. Losing too much blood . . .”

  Dan nodded but didn’t do anything.

  LeRoy grumbled. “Just rip off the rest of my shirt. Use that . . .” Then he remembered. “Look . . . into my pack.” He could barely breathe, let alone talk. His vision was dimming, even in the dark of night. His eyelids grew heavy, and his limbs felt like jelly.

  Dan wordlessly slipped the pack off LeRoy’s back, then untied the leather strings.

  “There’s a . . . pouch in . . .” LeRoy closed his eyes and listened to Dan rummaging in the pack.

  “Found it.”

  LeRoy could say no more. His spirit was slipping from his body, maybe returning now to Ma’heo’o. Soon he would walk the path of the dead. The snow was already burying him in a shroud of white as he lay there shivering.

  “Smells like birch, yarrow . . .”

  LeRoy heard Dan’s words, but his voice had changed. Or was he imagining things? He heard the fella mutter.

  “All right, this is going to hurt, but I can tell it’s meant for wounds. Goldenseal, juniper—even arnica in there, I think.”

  LeRoy flinched as a gentle hand spread a cool paste across his stomach. Within seconds the burning pain subsided to a dull ache. LeRoy opened his eyes and dared a look. The remnant of his shirt was blood-soaked and caked with a gray paste. He winced remembering the look in his ma’s eyes as she’d handed him the medicine pouch. “You’ll need this,” she had told him.

  He chuckled bitterly, and the effort sent another wave of pain across his stomach. He lay there a long minute, calming his breath.

  “You make this?” Dan asked as he helped LeRoy to his feet.

  “My . . . ma . . .” LeRoy checked to make sure the blood had been staunched. Just a trickle came out, but he knew when he exerted hisself it would likely gush. He looked around and found his pack on the ground behind him. He inched it over and pulled out his cotton undershirt. When he tried and failed to muster the strength to tear the shirt to make a bandage, Dan pushed his hand away. LeRoy collapsed to the ground and let Dan set to work at tying strips together.

  LeRoy watched as the fella worked quickly and efficiently, as if he’d done this plenty of times. He probably had. Most mountain men had to set their own broken bones and stitch up their own torn skin.

  “Your mother an Injun?” Dan asked, but his voice was missing the meanness it had earlier.

  LeRoy’s breathing slowed as the pain eased. “Cheyenne. She was a medicine woman in her tribe.”

  “Your father?”

  “A white man. Horse seller.”

  “You’re a half-breed.”

  So? He wanted to say. What did it matter?

  Dan finished securing the bandage and helped LeRoy to standing. LeRoy looked down and nodded his thanks. “Nice work.”

  Dan stepped back and glowered at him. LeRoy could barely make out in the dark the wolf sitting by the trees, staring at the two of them as if listening intently to their conversation.

  “Why’d you do such a fool thing?” Dan asked.

  Which fool thing do you mean? Chasing after a bear in the middle of the night or trusting you to shoot when you had to?

  “Are you just stupid, or do you want to die?” Dan added when LeRoy said nothing.

  Maybe this is his way of saying thanks for saving his life.

  “You coulda just left me to die,” LeRoy said.

  Dan grunted and pursed his lips together. Snow fell now in earnest and already covered much of the ground around them. The wind sang a mournful song as Dan wrapped an arm around LeRoy and helped him take a step, then another.

  “My cabin’s close.”

  LeRoy strained to see through the blackness. The night had swallowed up the woods whole. “How c’n you see your way?”

  “Peluche’ll lead.”

  Dan didn’t sound too happy. No doubt he didn’t like to entertain guests. LeRoy wondered again if there was a wife waiting back at his cabin—one who wouldn’t be at all pleased Dan returned with an injured man instead of a bear pelt.

  But LeRoy was grateful the man decided to help him. Whether it was due to gratitude or a sense of obligation, at least it meant LeRoy wouldn’t die from the cold. As soon as he got his strength back up, he’d take his leave. The bear was still out there, probably more hurt and more angry than ever. And those two fool ranch hands were either wandering about lost, needing rescuing, or had headed back to the ranch as soon as the snow started falling. He hoped it was the latter, for if the former, that meant LeRoy had more tracking to do—if it wasn’t too late.

  He cursed hisself for getting hurt. This hadn’t been in his plans. He’d meant to kill the bear and hurry back down the mountain to join back in with the wedding celebrations. But, like with most plans, his had taken a turn. And now he would have to follow that trail wherever it led—for however long it took.

  Chapter 6

  Gennie threw open the cabin door, not at all happy with her predicament. Heat from her smoldering stove washed over her, making her frozen cheeks burn. She could smack herself for letting that bear get away, but she was relieved Peluche was safe and hadn’t been killed.

  Snow fell thick and quiet on her shoulders, snuffing out the sounds of the night. Already foot-high drifts flanked the cabin. Her mule brayed upon hearing her stomp at the door. At least the monster hadn’t found its way to her cabin. She blew out a breath. At least not yet.

  She was sore, tired, and fed up. No way would she get a good night’s sleep tonight.

  She stepped inside, leaving the door open a crack. The soft glow from the lantern on the table showed her nothing had been disturbed in her absence. She set down her rifle and brushed snow from her hat and coat. A longer glance around the cabin made her ball up her fists. She hurriedly gathered up a pile of clothes laid out by the stone hearth as Peluche came trotting in, snow piled on her back like cake icing.

  Gennie had a sudden flash of memory—of a big iced cake, with little pink sugar flowers. Of her picking the flowers off the cake and popping them in her mouth, the explosion of sugar making her eyes grow wide. Her mother sang her a birthday song as her little brother jumped up and down, begging for a slice. She was wearing a pretty yellow party dress with lots of layers of petticoats that rustled when she moved.

  Gennie stopped and stood in the warm confines of her cabin and closed her eyes, relishing the memory, letting the sweet pain flood through her. Just another piece of her childhood she had long forgotten coming back to taunt her.

  She glanced only briefly at the only photograph she had of her family—set up on the mantel in a gilt frame. Old Bill had found it among the strewn belongings on the trail that day. She grabbed it and looked around for someplace to put it, the
n laid it facedown on the small table next to the rickety chair Old Bill had loved to sit in.

  A moan drifted in through the front door. Gennie cursed under her breath. No, she was not at all happy with how things had transpired out in the woods with that bear. Yes, it could have been worse, but not by much.

  After dumping her washed clothing on her neatly made bed, she latched the door to the tiny bedroom and surveyed the rest of the cabin. She stoked the fire in the stove, then turned the knob on the lantern, dimming the light so there was just enough to see by, then sighed. There was no putting this off.

  As much as she wanted to shed her heavy coat, she didn’t dare. She pulled the hat down lower on her head and straightened, hardening her face with resolve, then marched to the door.

  Outside, the half-breed leaned against the side of her cabin, his arm clenched around his gut, his head hung. She could tell he was in a lot of pain. The walk through the snow drifts even that short distance had been difficult. He wasn’t all that big or burly a man, but he’d leaned on her with dead weight, and they’d mostly tripped and stumbled their way back. No way could she just send him home in this heavy snow. He’d get no more than fifty feet before he collapsed. She might even have to stitch him before he’d be ready to leave.

  But she’d done plenty of that over the years. Old Bill had taught her well—one thing she could give the rotten man credit for. He’d made sure to teach her everything he knew about surviving alone in the wilderness.

  “Come on,” she said to the man called LeRoy Banks, keeping her voice low and gruff. “Let’s get you inside.”

  LeRoy lifted his head and tried to walk. Gennie clasped his arm and mostly dragged him into the cabin, then laid him down gently on the rug by the cold hearth. He wrapped his arms around his gut and closed his eyes. She pulled the snow-capped hat off his head and set it on the stone.