by Jillian Hart
You’ve got two choices, man. Abandon your plan, or go ahead with it.
Maybe he would learn to love riding horses. Although that probability was growing smaller as time passed. The seasick feeling was getting worse with the way the horse was rocking forward and back, and Cam was sitting up on top like a tiny boat on a rolling ocean. Yep, that’s what this reminded him of. The ground swayed beneath him.
People called this fun?
His stomach clenched like a fist. He wasn’t going to get sick, right? In front of Kendra? That would be real attractive. She’d certainly never look at him again in the same light.
If it’s not too much trouble, Lord, please get me through this. I’ll tough it out, I promise. Just a little help would be appreciated.
“This is why I had to have this property.” Kendra’s soft alto, as gentle as spring rain, caught his attention. Made him look up and notice that the golden fields of her horse ranch had fallen behind them and they’d crossed into the tree line.
They were surrounded by sparse lodgepole pine, cedar and fir. The evergreens clung to the stubborn earth with tenacious roots, their branches spread wide to catch the sun. The trees were scattered, casting shadows across the open ground between them.
He forgot to feel sick taking in the awesome beauty of the rising foothills, the towering amethyst peaks of the Bridger Range ahead and the true blue of the Montana sky above. But such beauty seemed fleeting when Kendra pulled back her sleek golden mare so they were side by side.
Her Stetson cut a jaunty angle to block the sun’s glare. She studied him from under the gray brim. “Don’t you love this?”
“What’s not to love?” He could learn to like feeling seasick.
She apparently wasn’t fooled as she squinted, studying him. Did he look as green as he felt?
“Do you want to head back?”
That would mean his time would be over. That was not what he wanted. No way.
He would stick it out, whether he survived it or not. “I’m likin’ this well enough.”
“I think you’re lying.” Her eyes twinkled.
“Yeah, but I will like this. Once I get the hang of it. It’s kind of like riding a canoe upside down in an ocean.”
“At least there’s no storm swells.”
“True. No hurricanes.”
“No waterspouts, whirlpools or tidal waves. See? Riding is pretty tame compared to other sports.”
“Like what sports? High-altitude parachuting? Free rock climbing?” He gave thanks they’d come to a swaying stop. “You ought to smile more often, Miss McKaslin.”
“I smile all the time.”
“You smile about as often as I do.”
Cameron had a whole lot more to be sad about, in her opinion, than she ever would. No, the Lord had been generous with all His blessings in her life. But Cameron…
She shut off the image of him taking care of an ill woman, bringing her meals, tucking the blankets beneath her chin and reading to her in the soft glow of a small lamp. She knew he’d cared for his wife like that, because she’d seen the tenderness in him when he’d patted Palouse’s neck. The goodness shone in him like the sun, radiant and unmistakable and genuine.
Time for a subject change. The more of a hero she made Cameron Durango, the harder it was going to be to keep her shields up full force.
Business. This is about business, Kendra. Stop forgetting that! She nosed Jingles into motion along the groomed trail, between the sweep of fir boughs and the call of a red-tailed hawk overhead.
“We offer over forty acres of riding trails on-site, and national forest borders one side of my property. There are miles of old logging-road trails, although it’s not the best time of year to go wandering up into the mountains alone.”
“I suppose that’s what those ropes across the trail ahead would mean.”
“Exactly, but we’ll ride around them. I think we’re both experienced enough to handle any wilderness situation.”
“I’m armed, if that helps.”
“Am I that dangerous, Sheriff?”
“Maybe,” he quipped. “No, I’m the only sheriff in these parts. When I’m off duty, I’m still on call.”
“You want to keep going?” Her question was gently spoken, but it was a challenge.
He couldn’t resist a good challenge. “You lead the way. I’ll follow.”
“Here’s a hint. Don’t look down, okay? You’ll do a lot better. C’mon. I promise, you’ll like what you see if you just stick with it.”
He already did. She balanced ahead of him on that golden horse of hers, riding into the long rays of light arrowing through the trees, her blond hair whipping behind her.
The horse lurched forward beneath him. Cameron swallowed. Don’t look down? Then he’d keep his gaze on her. Fir boughs brushed his knees and his elbows as he followed her. He wouldn’t think about the narrow path the horse was now following, or that it fell away into nothing, except for the sturdy split-rail guard that stood between him and the hereafter.
“You let kids ride on this?”
“Trail safety is part of the lessons they take. You aren’t afraid of heights, are you, Sheriff?”
“No. Heights don’t bug me. Falling hard and breaking a few bones does.”
“It isn’t a far drop, and the trail is as wide as a road. Horses are surefooted. You’re perfectly safe. What do you think of the view?”
He’d forgotten to look around him. He’d been so busy watching her. Watching the graceful arch of her neck, the delicate cut of her shoulders. The hint of her shoulder blades against the soft white knit shirt she wore.
The golden shimmer of her hair, caught back in a white scrunch thing at the base of her neck, shivered over her shoulder as she glanced back at him.
“When I first viewed this property, I was disappointed. The outbuildings were so run-down, useless, and the house hadn’t been lived in for twenty years. But the moment Jingles and I set out here up this trail, I knew I’d come home. Look.”
They curved around a granite outcropping and the rough amethyst peaks of the Bridger Range speared into a sky close enough to touch. The rugged foothills of meadows and trees spread out around them, climbing upward, as if in reverence to the mountains.
“God’s handiwork sure is something.” It was all he could think of to say.
“Exactly. Forty acres of this is mine. Mostly wilderness except for the manicured trails. I know, because I made those trails myself.”
He shouldn’t have been surprised, not after she’d admitted to learning better than adequate carpenter skills. “When did you buy this property?”
“About six years ago.”
That explained it. Right after he’d rescued her that day. Right after he’d driven her to the hospital. Sorrow for her banded his chest like a vise.
Had she put all her heartbreak and all her broken dreams into this place? “Must have been difficult clearing these paths.”
“It took me most of four months working every afternoon until dusk. I got pretty good with an ax, a saw and a shovel.”
“You did all the railing, too?”
“Until my blisters had blisters.”
Forty acres of trails? It had to have taken the better part of a year. How could someone so small and delicate work that hard?
Heartbreak. He knew, because that’s how it had been after Deb passed. He’d worked long hours taking up the slack of being a single officer in a growing district, until the city had hired a deputy. He hadn’t realized how much he’d stayed at the office, doing paperwork well into the evening until Frank had shown up to help out.
Only then had Cam been aware of the aching emptiness in his life.
Yeah, he knew what Kendra was talking about. He took in the rustic trails, groomed so they blended well with the environment, and the carefully constructed wooden rails that marked the edges of the trails. Solidly made.
This is where Kendra had put all her broken dreams.
I
t took a lot of guts to put your life back together. He admired her more as the horse moved beneath him, obediently following Kendra.
This isn’t so bad, he realized. There was a sort of rhythm to the horse’s gait, and he was starting to get the knack of this riding thing. At least he didn’t feel seasick anymore.
He breathed deep, taking in the beauty of the day. A strange weightless feeling expanded in his chest. Something he hadn’t felt in more years than he could count—happiness.
He wanted to remember this forever. How the clean mountain air smelled like summer and sage and pine needles. The rustle of the wind in the bear grass. The faint thunk of hooves on the hard-packed earth. The creak of the leather saddle beneath him. The sense of rightness—as if heaven were smiling down on them in approval.
“Look, there’s a fawn. He’s still got his spots.” Kendra whispered, her horse stopping in the middle of the trail. “Do you see him?”
Branches swayed peacefully to his left. If he squinted, Cam could make out the faint outline of a doe frozen in the underbrush, ears alert, soft eyes unblinking, tensed as if ready to flee. At her side was a fragile, knobby-kneed fawn.
They were within throwing distance. Too close for a wild animal’s comfort, surely, but instead of streaking off and taking her baby with her, the doe blinked, watching Kendra.
“You must ride up here a lot.” He pitched his voice low, to keep from scaring off the deer. “She’s used to you.”
“Sure she is. Wildlife comes down into the foothills to feed this time of year, when the mountains get so dry. After I bed the horses for the night, I go out and leave some hay and grain in the feed troughs for them. She’s probably one of the deer that waits for me every evening. When they know you’re not hunting them but bringing them grain, they get pretty bold.”
“Do they come right up to you?”
“Within a few feet.”
If he were a deer, he’d come up to her, too. Her gentle voice and radiant kindness were unmistakable. He had no problem picturing her feeding the wildlife. Not as many landowners in these parts would be so generous. Wild animals were seen as nuisances, mostly. And often dangerous.
As delicate and willowy as Kendra looked, she had confidence, too. She was capable. She knew how to take care of herself in the backcountry. He guessed the small pack tied to the side of her saddle, hardly noticeable, held necessities like a hand radio, knives, snakebite kit and maybe a small handgun. It looked just the right size for all that.
“I get mostly deer, elk and a few moose. The deer are the most frequent. They show up every evening and lay around the house on my lawn to sleep. I had to put up ten-foot lattice all around my rose garden to keep them out.”
“I take it they eat roses?”
“Oh, do they. The first summer I was here, they ate my tea roses down to the stems. Let’s leave mama and baby. I saw some moose up here just yesterday. Maybe we can spot them again.”
“Suppose you see more dangerous critters up here, too.”
“Sometimes.”
The path had turned steep and rocky, but Kendra didn’t seem worried as her surefooted mare curved around the steep hillside toward mountains so close, he had to tip his head back to see their granite faces.
“Sometimes? That doesn’t sound reassuring.”
“I’ve come across everything from rattlers to bears.”
“And lived to tell the tale, huh?” He hadn’t guessed she’d like the backcountry, too. A lot of women preferred shopping malls to spending a day where wolves and bears hunted.
“Mostly I mind my own business, they mind theirs. But that’s why I keep the riders down below the tree line this time of year. So they’re safe.”
They’d risen so high and fast up the slope, he couldn’t see her ranch below, just the far edge of the extensive valley stretching out behind him in gold and green.
“Want to head back?”
She’d noticed where he was looking. “Back? No, I was just taking in the view. You can see the Rockies from here. And the Tobacco Roots.”
“Can you imagine when all this was wilderness, before the settlers came from the East in their wagons?”
“It had to look like this. Except wilder.” Lewis and Clark had come this way in their canoe and crossed on foot the rest of the way, over the Great Divide. “Clark wrote of seeing nothing but giant herds of elk and deer and buffalo for miles.”
“It’s amazing to think that it’s still the same wilderness, isn’t it? Without the giant herds.”
“That what I love about heading up into the backcountry. It’s finding that part of Montana that’s wild. The way it was a hundred years ago.”
“Exactly.”
How weird that he felt that, too. Kendra didn’t know how to explain it, just that she was aware of the past that had come before her, in the hunting pair of eagles overhead and the peaceful deer resting in the undergrowth or the quiet reverence of an old-growth pine grove that had clung to the side of the mountains when natives hunted and cared for their families and each other.
God’s handiwork was timeless.
They rode in companionable silence for a long while, until the sun touched the tops of the trees, making long shadows in the bunches of wildflowers and bear grass.
When she heard the faint rush and gurgle of running water, she guided Jingles off the beaten path and through the shade of Douglas fir. Creek water trickled over smooth, round rocks, so clear and clean it sparkled like diamonds in the sunlight.
“My favorite picnic spot. Just Jingles and I know about it.”
“Not anymore.”
“I guess I can share this place with you, since you understand.” She let the reins slide through her fingers, giving her mare enough slack to sip from the fresh cool water.
Palouse came to a rocking stop and did the same.
Wow. This was going better than he’d ever thought. He leaned on the wide shelf below the saddle horn, the way he’d seen his heroes Clint and John do.
What should he say now? No witty banter came to mind. Think, man. He felt itchy. Antsy. Why?
“Look, fresh tracks.” Kendra swung nimbly out of the saddle.
Okay, that was why. Were they in danger? “I don’t think that’s a good idea, getting down like that.” They were cougar prints. He could see them plain as day at the edge of the creek, beginning to fill in with water. “The cat was just here.”
“Still is.” Kneeling, Kendra nodded toward the way they’d come. Calm, quiet, not moving.
That was good. Never a smart idea to act like panicked prey in the backcountry. He eased down slow, glad for the locked and loaded Smith & Wesson on his hip.
“I’ve never had one threaten me. Mostly they keep their distance. Look, there she is. Under the fir branch there against the bank, crouched low. Oh, she’s pretty.”
Cam couldn’t spot the animal from where he was, and he didn’t like that. The back of his neck prickled. He liked to keep an eye on his enemies, assuming the mountain lion was looking for an early supper.
Then he saw it, a second before the low fir boughs shivered. He had his gun in his hand and was on his feet in front of Kendra, ready to protect her with his life.
The golden brown blur slipped soundlessly away over the carpet of the forest. The branches shivered, and the next instant there was no trace of the predator. Adrenaline kicked in, thrumming through him until he could hardly breathe.
He’d been so rattled, so fierce with the need to protect her, that he wasn’t thinking straight. He was a tracker. He could see plain as day the cougar hadn’t been hunting. Now he felt like a fool and reholstered his revolver.
“Awesome.” Unaware, Kendra rose gracefully and handed him a small bottle of water from her small nylon saddle pack and kept one for her.
“You were going to protect me.” She sounded amazed as she removed the plastic lid with a supple twist of her wrist and took a long pull.
“You? No, I was worried about me. I didn’t wa
nt to be that cougar’s early supper.”
“You have a real protective vibe going, don’t you, Sheriff?”
Did he look as embarrassed as he felt? “Part of my job. Habit.”
“Habit? Like how you serve and protect?”
“Hey, don’t go thinking I’m noble or something, because I’m not.” How was he going to talk his way out of this one?
“Oh?” She crooked one eyebrow, not fooled.
“I was protecting my best interests. You know the buddy rule?”
“Sure. Don’t go into the woods alone, so you have someone to help if you need it.”
“Sure, but there’s more to it than that. I always make sure I go with a slower runner, that way if a bear or a cougar takes after us, you’d be the first one they’d catch and I’d be just fine.”
“That’s a fine plan, but guess what? How do you know that I’m a slower runner than you are? That’s why I wanted to take you out here instead of Colleen. She’s a really slow runner, and I’d hate to lose another employee. They take time to train. You, on the other hand, what’s another boarder? They’re a dime a dozen.”
“You’d let a bear eat me, huh?”
“Absolutely. About as easily as you’d let a bear attack me.”
She couldn’t remember when she’d laughed with a man like this since Jerrod. It just went to show what a decent man Cameron was. He’d jumped to protect her, physically put himself in harm’s way for her sake. Without a thought. He just did it.
Just as he’d done before.
The laughter inside her vanished.
She retrieved her reins, fighting to keep from remembering that night. The scent of cooled sausage-and-olive pizza sitting on the kitchen table. The rhythm of rain beating the aluminum siding. Thunder crashing overhead as if the night were breaking apart around her. Cameron pounding at the door, the flash of red-and-blue strobes cutting through the closed slats of the plastic window blinds—
“Are we heading back?” He sounded disappointed.
She gathered her reins, keeping her back to him so he couldn’t see her shivering or the goose bumps on her arms, even as the bold sun scorched her skin.
