Suddenly vaguely nervous, though she’d seen enough South Dakota blizzards that she shouldn’t have been, she dialed Ryder’s number again. No answer. Brodie, though, picked up on the second ring when she called him, and he sounded stressed.
“Brodie, where’s Ryder?” Willa asked urgently.
“I’m not sure. Beulah went missing, and he headed out on Frederick to find her. I haven’t been able to get an answer on his cell.”
“Frederick? That’s too much horse for him!” Willa pictured the temperamental black horse and felt cold all over.
Brodie shot back irritably, “Give your husband some credit. He rides like he was born to it, and those two have been inseparable since you’ve been laid up. Ryder can handle Frederick just fine. It’s the weather I’m worried about.”
Yet another thing she didn’t know about Ryder. “Sorry, Brodie. I need you to come get me. Bring a sled or something. I need to get to the barn.”
Ten
It wasn’t easy, but by the time Brodie got to the house, Willa was ready. She’d cut some long johns to fit over her cast and had layered up as protection from the elements. She’d also pulled together some extra supplies—a first aid kit, flashlights, some hand warmers and emergency blankets, and extra gloves and hats in a waterproof bag.
Even as warmly as she was dressed, though, the wind still cut through her clothes like icy fingers. Brodie pulled her quickly through the already-foot-deep snow, but it still seemed to take hours to reach the barn.
“What now, boss?” Brodie asked as he carried Willa into the barn and deposited her on a bench. The familiar scents of horse and hay surrounded her, and she realized how much she’d missed this place.
“Can you saddle up Star for me? And get the guys together. We need to organize a search party.”
“Willa, you can’t ride with that foot,” Brodie protested, running a hand through his dark blond hair in frustration.
“I can and I will,” she replied.
Ten minutes later, with a boost from Brodie, she and Star were ready to head out. Star pranced excitedly, overjoyed to see her, and Willa leaned over his neck, rubbing his neck and murmuring soothing words to calm him. She wasn’t worried about riding—Star was so well-trained that he’d respond to the reins or her voice if she chose—but she couldn’t afford to make any mistakes out there herself. If she fell off or was thrown, she’d immediately become a liability to the rest of the search team. But she had to be out there looking for Ryder. She couldn’t just wait at home.
In moments, one by one, they were ready to go. Brodie, Hollis, young Billy, and three more men she hadn’t met yet were all ready for their search. With a pang, she realized that this was what their staff of fifteen had been reduced to. Mrs. Hollis was staying behind to brew coffee and man the walkie talkies. Billy slid open the big barn doors, and they filed out into the blizzard.
Willa had to shout to be heard over the howl of the wind. “Fan out,” she instructed the men. “We’re starting from the break in the south paddock.”
Tracking Ryder would be impossible. From what Brodie had been able to tell, Ryder had been out at least two hours, and the raging storm had blown in nearly an hour ago. Any tracks were covered under several inches of fresh powder, and the driving snow made it impossible to see, anyway. Please, God, Willa prayed fervently. Please help me find him.
Fifteen minutes passed with what felt like agonizing slowness, with only the occasional lights from the other searchers visible when the wind gusts changed direction. The cold was chewing through her thick gloves slowly, making her fingers ache where they curled around the reins. Her eyes felt gritty as she squinted against the snow, already coating Star’s mane, and each shadow or bump or hill she lit up with her high-powered lantern made her heart jump. But there was no sign of Ryder, Beulah, or Frederick.
Fifteen minutes turned to a half hour and then forty-five minutes, and Brodie rode up alongside her. “You need to get back to the barn, Willa,” he yelled. “You’re going to freeze out here.” His blond eyebrows were caked with snow, and he looked like a yeti.
“I’m not going back yet,” she hollered back. “I have to find him.”
“We will,” Brodie replied. But his face was drawn with worry.
“Fifteen more minutes,” she yelled, urging a faster walk out of Star. Please, God, please God. . . . Her prayer had become a litany. Brodie nodded grimly and fell away to his place in line.
It felt like another hour, but only a few minutes had passed when her searchlight caught the gleam of eyes out of the darkness. Her first thought was wolves, but the eyes were too high up. Her heart picking up in rhythm, she changed direction and headed that way. Frederick, the big black beast, was plodding through the snow, head down, coat caked with ice. Behind him, being led by a rope tied to the saddle pommel, was Beulah. The small cow was moving slowly, but she was alive.
“Ryder!” Willa screamed, but the wind caught her words and threw them into the night.
She drew closer and flashed her light in their direction. Her husband’s snow-covered head appeared over Frederick’s back, and he lifted a stiff arm to wave to her. Tears were freezing on her cheeks as she gave the word to the men over the walkie talkie that her husband had been found.
Ryder shivered uncontrollably, convinced he’d never be warm again. He had been so tired, so convinced that the best thing to do was just lie down in the snow and sleep, but the thought of leaving Willa with everything wrong between them was enough to keep him moving. He’d thought at first that she was a figment of his frozen brain, riding up to him out of the darkness on Star, and as soon as he realized that somehow, she was actually here, he immediately wanted to yell at her for putting herself in danger by riding out looking for him. He was too cold to yell, though. Ryder’s second thought was that even though she was bundled into baggy, shapeless cold weather gear, and what little he could see of her face was snow-covered and red, Willa was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.
She brought Star alongside him to shield him from the wind and leaned over to hug him tightly. Her coat was so frozen it crackled in his ear, but he couldn’t feel it against his cheek. Ryder could smell her, though—the fresh, woodsy scent, underlaid with the strawberry shampoo she used. He wanted to hold her, but with her ankle, Willa probably wouldn’t be able to get back on the horse. God willing, he would survive the rest of the trip back, and, if his arms didn’t freeze completely off from the cold first, he’d hold her then.
Brodie grinned and slapped him on the back. “Darned idiot,” he yelled affectionately at Ryder. “Even a city slicker like you should know better than to head out in a blizzard!”
It was true. Like Willa had said to him earlier, Ryder had no business thinking he could do any of this. He was just a PR guy from the East Coast who happened to like Western history.
He had little time to beat himself up, though. Ryder was quickly stripped of his soggy sheepskin coat, hat, and gloves and given a dry coat, mittens, and another hat pulled from someone’s saddlebags. Next, he had a warm pack shoved down his shirt to rest on his chest, was wrapped in emergency blankets, given a thermos of cocoa to sip from, and bundled on to the sled like an overgrown child. He was honestly too exhausted to be embarrassed.
Willa sat curled up on the couch across from Ryder. It was nearly two o’clock in the morning, and Ryder was sleeping soundly, but she kept the light on low, just to watch him sleep. She had been so afraid that she had lost him, and even after she’d found him, the ride home was torture. Knowing how cold he was, wondering if he would lose fingers or toes to frostbite, worrying about cardiac arrest caused by hypothermia. . . . Now, that he was home and warm and whole, she couldn’t take her eyes off him.
The ever-efficient Mrs. Hollis had coffee, hot soup, and a doctor waiting at the main house when they’d returned. Fargo Wesley, a grumpy old country doctor who had been grumpy and old as long as Willa could remember, had looked Ryder over and pronounced that her husband “m
ust’ve had the dumbest luck in the universe,” because he was frostbite free, only had a mild case of hypothermia, and likely wouldn’t suffer any after-effects from his “blizzard chasing.”
They hadn’t had a chance to talk, with the jubilant crowd that had gathered in the kitchen to congratulate him on surviving his first South Dakota blizzard. Finally, Mrs. Hollis had shooed them all out, promising everyone chili in the bunkhouse kitchen, and it was just Honey, Willa, and Ryder in the big house. He’d seemed subdued when everyone was there, and when they were gone, had fallen asleep wrapped in blankets, Honey sprawled across his feet, before she could even talk to him.
Willa fell asleep studying the way the dim, golden light cast shadows on Ryder’s stubble-roughened cheeks, thanking God again and again for saving the man she loved.
Hearing Willa’s breathing even into sleep, Ryder cracked open one eye. He felt like a coward for pretending he was passed out from exhaustion just to avoid talking to his own wife, but he wasn’t ready to hear her carry on the same “city slicker” refrain everyone else on the ranch had already subjected him to. He knew Brodie, the ranch hands, and even the curmudgeonly doctor were all just teasing him, but Willa was another story. Getting lost like he had probably confirmed to her every point of their argument that day. He didn’t belong here.
Willa woke to a rustling noise and a muffled curse. It was still dark, and someone was moving around the living room.
“Ryder?” she called out. Something clattered to the floor with a metallic noise, and she reached over to switch on the table lamp. Willa caught her husband, clad in just sweatpants, in the act of tripping over her scooter. “What are you doing up? Do you need something?”
“I’m fine,” he said with a wry smile. “Just a little chilly. I was going to look for some more blankets. Sorry to wake you.” He disappeared down the hall toward their bedroom. When he came back, Willa had scooted further into the deep couch, patting the cushions in front of her.
“I think we can conserve body heat if you sleep over here,” she said shyly, looking up at him with a pleading expression in her big, dark eyes that he was helpless to resist.
He stretched out his long length on the couch, switching the lamp off and pulling the blankets over them. He couldn’t help his shudder of pleasure as Willa scooched up tight against his back and wrapped her free arm around his chest. She felt so warm and good pressed up against him, and there had been some dark moments that night when he would never have thought he’d get the chance to feel her arms around him again.
“I was so afraid for you,” she whispered against his back, as if she had read his thoughts.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured. “For everything. All the problems with the ranch lately, your accident, being such a tenderfoot that everyone had to risk frostbite to come out looking for me.”
Her hold on him only tightened. “You’re not the only cowboy ever to get lost looking for an animal. It only shows what kind of man you are that would risk his life for a heifer.” She punched him in the back sharply and surprised a laugh out of him. “Not that I ever want you to do that again. And I’m sorry,” she added, her voice suddenly thick. “Check your voicemail messages later. I figured out what an idiot I had been before I even knew you were gone. I called you to tell you that I don’t care if we downsize or sell the ranch altogether.” She sniffled, and he could feel her trembling against his back. “The accident wasn’t your fault, and I couldn’t have handled the Circle G’s problems any better than you have. For a PR guy from the East Coast, you’ve been incredible. You mean more to me than this place ever has or ever will. I should have realized it sooner. I love you, Ryder.”
He dislodged her arm and rolled over in one quick movement, finding her mouth with his in a long, searching kiss that heated them both to the core. “I love you, too, Willa,” he said, breaking away long enough to press his forehead to hers. “I love you.”
Tears streamed down her cheeks, and, mortified, Willa tried to wipe them away. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I never cry.”
“Yeah, well . . .” Ryder lifted her hand to touch his damp cheek in the darkness. “Neither do I.”
The next few weeks went by in a blur for Willa and Ryder. The nights were long, and not much sleep was had, but neither of them were complaining. Days were spent holed up in Willa’s office together, planning what was to be done about the ranch. There were a few arguments and once, a full-out fight, but with their new understanding, the two of them managed to never go to bed angry.
They decided to downsize a bit, selling off some of the herd, and focus specially on their Black Angus with Ryder running a new PR campaign for the Circle G that targeted private contracts, rather than commercial ones. Crunching the numbers, Willa determined that they could get by with a smaller number of ranch hands who received better pay and a lighter daily workload, while still managing to break even in the long run.
One aspect of the business negotiations that Ryder refused to budge on was the addition of two two-week vacations per year for everyone on the ranch, including Willa and Ryder. Willa argued but was outmatched, and before she knew it, Ryder was happily planning a trip to Florida in May, to begin the very same day—whatever day that happened to be—that Willa’s doctor declared her ankle fully healed.
“Wife, you’re scowling,” Ryder observed, as he pulled up pictures on the computer of the white sand beaches they’d be lounging on in the spring. “If you don’t knock that off, I’m not taking you to Disney World.”
“I can’t believe you think we should just leave for that long. Who knows what might happen while we’re gone? Do you even know how busy spring gets around this place?”
“I know exactly what will happen,” Ryder retorted, giving her a piercing look from his blue eyes. “Brodie, our good friend who has been your foreman for fifteen years, will keep the place from falling apart while we’re gone. You trust him to do his job, right?”
“It’s not that,” Willa said weakly.
“Come on, Willa,” Ryder said, more gently. “Loosen up on the reins, remember?”
She sighed and gave him a narrow-eyed look. “Ten days. Not a second longer.”
“Fourteen, and you have a deal.”
Their vacation was planned for fourteen days.
Christmas morning dawned bright and clear with old carols playing on the stereo, and the tinsel on the scrubby spruce Ryder had dragged into the living room sparkled in the cold winter sunlight. Amazon and the UPS delivery trucks had been given a workout in the days leading up to the holidays, and colorful wrapping paper littered the floor as if an explosion had gone off. The smell of cinnamon and nutmeg came from the kitchen, where what was left of Willa’s successful attempt at a coffee cake sat on the counter. Honey happily gnawed on a huge bone atop a flannel and fleece dog bed in one corner of the room.
“Christmas is over,” Ryder groaned, collapsing back on the couch cushions that crinkled under him with discarded paper and pulling his new black Stetson down over his eyes. “This was always my least-favorite part of the day as a kid. When all the presents had been opened.”
Willa laughed. “Then you’re in luck. I’ve got a couple more surprises.” She reached under the couch and pulled out a small, flat package.
“What’s this?” Ryder asked, tearing at the paper without waiting for an answer. “Cool! Another history book.”
“That’s not just any history book. Open it up to the bookmarked page.”
Ryder flipped open the book in puzzlement, started reading, and then whooped out loud. “You’re kidding! The story about my grandpa and Wild Bill is true! How did you find this?” he asked excitedly, grinning like a kid.
“It took some research,” Willa admitted proudly.
“I can’t believe this,” he murmured, reading the page again. “My grandpa really did eat chicken and dumplings with Wild Bill Hickock and then married the saloon girl. I can’t wait to tell Dr. Lachele.”
“Oh,” Willa
said casually. “There’s something else you’re probably going to want to mention to Lachele, too.” This time, she reached between the couch cushions and pulled out a small, skinny package with an oversized, slightly squashed red bow on it. Ryder’s brows drew together as she tossed it to him.
This tiny package he opened more slowly. The confusion on his face changed to complete astonishment, and then, absolute joy. With one shaking hand he held up the positive pregnancy test.
“You’re sure?” he asked.
“Sure, as I can be,” Willa smiled. “I sent Mrs. Hollis to the drugstore in town to buy two boxes of those, and I went through them all. You’re going to be a daddy, Ryder Pearce.”
Honey barked scoldingly as Ryder dropped the test and vaulted across the coffee table to wrap his arms around her. “And you’re going to be a mommy, Willa Pearce.” He drew back and looked at her with concern. “Are you okay with this?”
She squeezed his hands, looked into his eyes, and said what was in her heart. “I’m terrified. I don’t know the first thing about being a mom. But, especially after these last few weeks, I know that I don’t have to know all the answers. You and I are in this together, and no matter how you look at it, a baby is a blessing. I’m absolutely okay with this.”
A tear trickled down her cheek, and she automatically swiped at it, but Ryder was there first, gently brushing it away with his big thumb. “You know it’s okay to cry, right Willa?” His own eyes were suspiciously bright.
“Yeah, I’m starting to figure that out.” She gave a watery laugh and pulled a thick book out from between the couch cushions where the pregnancy test had been hiding. “It says in here in What to Expect When You’re Expecting that I’m probably going to be crying for the next several months, so we’d better get used to it.”
Sweethearts in South Dakota (At the Altar Book 14) Page 10
