“I-I have to start the car to r-roll down the window.”
Wyatt heard her through the glass and nodded. “Okay, do it slow and gentle.” He held his breath until the window was down.
“Good, now turn it off.” She did as instructed, and drawing in a shaky breath, grasped the wheel as though to maintain control of the car. “Now I need you to listen to me carefully, Aimee. We need to get everyone out of the car. I have a rope tied to the guardrail. We can do this, but I’m going to need your help. The kids have to use their heads. We need to think of how to get them to hang on to the rope and climb up the hill to the sleigh without being afraid.”
She gingerly touched the wound on her head and stared at the blood on her fingers with dazed wonder. Her eyes darted to his and she nodded. “There was a mountain lion on the road, Wyatt. What if he’s still out there?”
It was a viable concern, but getting her and the kids out was of greater concern. The cat was probably long gone by now. “I didn’t see a trace of any animals out here, Aimee. He’s likely moved on to find shelter from the storm. Honey, we don’t have much time. The storm has shifted and it’s getting worse. Can you do this, Aimee? I need your help.”
She blinked, and nodded slowly. In a weary but still distinct teacher’s voice, she spoke. “Okay kids. Remember I told you someone would come. Well, Mr. Kinnison has brought Santa’s sleigh to rescue us. It’s important that we listen carefully to what he tells us to do and then we’ll all be able to take a ride back to the ranch.” The singing and sniffling in the back seats ceased abruptly.
Wyatt took a deep breath and with one hand on the rope, opened the door behind the driver’s seat.
“Okay, you must listen carefully and do exactly as I tell you. Understood? Everyone must wait their turn.” He paused to search the tiny faces. He didn’t anticipate there’d be any trouble getting them to cooperate. “When I tell you, I want you to unbuckle and come to me. Do not try to open the other doors. Come only to me and only when I call you.” Wyatt tried to keep his attention diverted from the cavernous drop-off on the other side of the truck. “Until then, you stay buckled. Can you do that?”
The children nodded in unison.
“Is anyone hurt really bad?”
They looked at each other.
“Joey has a scrape on his chin from the playground last week.”
Wyatt nodded with a smile. “Okay, good, we can take a look at Joey when we get back to the ranch. Now we’re going to pretend we’re mountain climbers on an expedition. You guys have seen stuff like that on TV, right?” He tugged the rope once more to check its security. “Let’s go, one at a time. Sadie is waiting back at the cabin and I think she misses you guys already.”
One by one, he pulled the children from the car, purposely leaving Aimee in front for balance. “Hang onto the rope. That’s it,” he encouraged each child as he got them up to the sleigh, lifted them inside, and tucked them under the blankets. “When we get back, we’ll see if we can find some marshmallows.”
With the last child safely tucked into the sleigh, he turned his focus to Aimee. “Your turn, schoolteacher. You’re not going to leave me stranded with all those kids.”
Her weary smile twisted his heart. “I wouldn’t dream of it, Mr. Kinnison.” She opened the door and handed him her book bag.
“Provisions,” she stated in a shaky voice.
He looped it over his shoulder and reached for her hand as she climbed from the vehicle. She rested her hand on the open door to steady herself and without the all of the former weight of its passengers, the Suburban began to slide sideways. Wyatt grabbed her hands, yanked her away from the vehicle, and fell to his back in the snow, hanging on tight to Aimee. He lay watching the truck slide toward the cliff, bumping up against the tops of a small bunch of trees that grew out of the side of the mountain. He looked up into Aimee’s terrified face. “You’re okay. We’re safe. We need to get to the kids. Are you ready?”
She nodded.
Wyatt searched the snow, and finding the rope, grabbed it. He got to his feet, amazed that her book bag was unscathed, and guiding her from behind managed to get back up to the road and the waiting kids. He allowed himself a momentary breath of relief as she climbed in under the blankets and drew her students close to her. She looked up at him. Tears shimmered in her eyes and she squeezed them tight. His breath caught and he felt the thud of his heart pounding hard against his ribs, and not solely from the physical strain. Something strange shifted inside him. Maybe he cared more about this bossy schoolteacher than he wanted to admit to himself. “We better get these kids back where it’s warm.” He hoped the gruff tone hid the emotion that clogged his throat.
***
Two hours later, Wyatt felt as though his life had gone to hell in a hand basket. There was a mad dash to the bathrooms upon their arrival back at the ranch and an intense, emotional plea from Rory to borrow a change of clothes. Their exhausted teacher, after seeing her students were completely safe, allowed him to tend to her wound.
“This might sting,” he cautioned, dabbing gently at the bloody area with a clean washcloth.
“I should have turned around the minute it started snowing. I put the lives of my students in danger,” she said, her eyes in a daze.
He’d assumed her stoic expression was part of the shock from the accident, but when she spoke, he realized it was far more. He examined her injury and what he thought was a gash turned out to be a severe grazing of the flesh, for which he was grateful. He applied an antibiotic cream to the pad and dressed the wound with gauze and tape. “Don’t beat yourself up, Aimee. You had no way to know the storm had changed direction.”
She eyed him. “I hope Principal Kale sees it that way. I feel so guilty.”
He backed to the doorway and gave her ample room to wash her hands and check out his handiwork in the mirror. Arms folded over his chest, he leaned against the doorframe. “To my way of thinking, if you didn’t, you wouldn’t be a good teacher. You thought you had time to get back to town before it got worse. Anyone can have an accident.”
She tossed at him a weak smile. “Sorry. I’m grateful it wasn’t worse, and I’m not sure what would have happened if you hadn’t shown up.” She leaned on the bathroom sink, head down.
“I’ve spoken to Mr. Kale, Aimee. I told him the kids and you are safe. He didn’t sound like he was upset with you.”
She nodded and blew out a quiet breath. “May I trouble you for some pain medication?”
“Sure.” He reached for a bottle on the shelf, fished out two tablets, and handed them to her. “Maybe it’d be a good idea if you lie down and rest a bit,” he suggested.
She swallowed the pills with a sip of water, paused at the door, and looked up at him. “I don’t know how to thank you.” She looked as though she might collapse any moment.
He steered her toward the living room. “You can thank me by getting some rest so you can help me handle this brood I have in my house.” She offered him a sweet smile as he tucked her in on his couch. He paused for a moment, fighting the urge to lean down and kiss her forehead. One of her students appeared silently at his side and took her teacher’s hand, effectively thwarting any intimate ideas Wyatt might have entertained.
“You’re still my helper today, Emilee. Can you help Mr. Kinnison while I rest awhile?”
She nodded and looked up at Wyatt, her dark brown eyes looking very wise for one so young. “My grandfather says Mr. Kinnison is a good man. I think he is a hero.”
Aimee reached up and touched the young girl’s cheek. “I agree with your grandfather, Emilee. Mr. Kinnison is a very good and brave man.” She squeezed the little girl’s hand and sent her on her way.
After Aimee fell asleep, he worried his suggestion might have been premature given the squirming, grade-school energy seated on the floor at his feet. Sadie, on the other hand, was in heaven, lapping up the unexpected attention. Wyatt stood and flipped through channel after channel, searching for an a
ppropriate show he felt they could watch and at last found a National Geographic special on polar bears that seemed to quiet them down and capture their collective attention.
Rory looked up from the group and before he opened his mouth, Wyatt pointed down the hall. “Remember to wash your hands,” he reminded the small boy. He plopped down in one of the rockers nearest the couch. He glanced at Aimee, who’d been asleep for what seemed an eternity but in reality had been only forty minutes. After Wyatt called the hospital in Billings and explained her condition, the doc stated she’d probably wind up with nothing more than a goose egg and a powerful headache from the trauma. However, he also cautioned to watch for other symptoms, such as blurred vision, memory loss, nausea, which could be signs of a deeper concussion. Wyatt had no trouble keeping an eye on her as she slept. It gave him time to debate what was happening between them. Two days ago, he hadn’t had a clue who she was and now every time he turned around she was there. He checked his watch again. Only another ten minutes before he could wake her as the doctor had suggested.
***
Aimee woke, disoriented, to the shadowy twilight and the sound of quiet narration from somewhere in the room. A blur of images swirled in her brain. Then, as if punched by a cattle prod, her thoughts snapped awake. She sat up with a start and frantically looked around her. A table light nearby came on and she looked up to meet Wyatt’s concerned gaze.
“The kids are safe. You’re safe.” He pushed from the chair, sat down on the sturdy coffee table across from her, and clasped his hands over his knees.
She touched her head and the bandage she felt started a slow trickle in her memory of the sequence of events. She couldn’t remember how she wound up with the bandage or how she came to be on the couch. “How long have I been asleep? Has Principal Kale been called? The kids…. Are they okay; have they eaten?” She started to rise from the couch and immediately her students clamored around her.
“Mr. Kinnison fed us.”
“Mr. Kinnison fixed your head.”
“Mr. Kinnison let us put roasted marshmallows on our peanut-butter sandwiches.”
The barrage of accolades caused Aimee to ease back down on the edge of the couch. She held her hand up. “Please, one at a time. Ms. Worth’s head is still a bit groggy.” She managed to smile and mouthed a heartfelt “thank you” to Wyatt, who simply nodded. Despite his grumbling about children on the ranch, he looked remarkably comfortable in the midst of her students. Children, as Aimee had discovered, were good judges of character. Wyatt didn’t realize just yet how high up the totem pole her students had placed him. “No one else is hurt?” she asked, searching the brood before her.
“Not a scratch, except Joey,” Wyatt stated matter-of-factly. “Apparently there was an incident on the playground last week. Becky pushed him down. It’s a lengthy story and probably one you’ll want to hear full details of when you feel better.” He folded his arms across his chest and looked at the kids. “I gave them peanut butter and jelly, except Artie, who just got jelly due to his peanut allergy, which he was so thoughtful to share with me. Daytime television, even with satellite, I’ve discovered, lacks in choices of shows, but I managed to find the National Geographic Channel. There’s a show on bear migration and that’s kept them occupied most of the afternoon.”
“Can we—”
“May we,” Aimee corrected, wincing at the residual throbbing in her temple.
“May we go watch the polar bear show now, Ms. Worth?” Emilee piped up.
Aimee nodded and watched them scurry back to their spots on the floor near the dog. Her heart warmed with how safe he’d managed to make them feel. “You’re quite good with kids, Mr. Kinnison. Not many could keep their wits about them in a similar situation. We owe you….” Aimee’s throat closed with emotion and she recovered with a swallow and faced him directly. “We owe you a great deal.”
He narrowed his gaze on her and leaned forward, his dark eyes penetrating. She fought the desert dryness in her throat.
“I have a small request, Ms. Worth. When we aren’t in earshot of your students, I’d like it if you’d call me Wyatt. Mr. Kinnison sounds like you’re talking to my dad.”
Aimee refused to deliberate the implications of his request. “Sure.” She nodded and watched him stand.
“Can I get you like something, maybe some hot tea? Are you hungry?”
She tossed aside the lovely crocheted afghan that she’d snuggled under. It had the faint scent of Wyatt to it and she’d found it comforting “Just tea would be lovely. I can help you.” She stood and felt his hands on her shoulders.
“You probably should stay put for a while longer.”
His hands lingered, as did his concerned gaze. What she wanted was to curl herself under his arm and watch TV with her kids.
“Yeah, that’s probably wise. Has anyone at the school been called?” She tucked her legs beneath her as he adjusted the afghan around her shoulders. Her body came alive when he gently brushed her hair back over her shoulder.
“I called the principal as soon as I got everyone settled. He’s notified the parents. You don’t remember me telling you earlier?”
Aimee frowned. “I don’t. Is that bad?”
He shook his head. “Probably not, after all you’ve been through. I’d hazard a guess you’ve suffered a mild form of shock from that bump on your head. You just need to rest. One cup of tea coming up.” He turned to leave and she caught his hand. “Thank you for everything.” His hand was warm, rugged, firm. She felt safe near him, in some ways and completely at odds with herself in others.
“It’s nothing that anyone wouldn’t do under the same circumstances, Aimee. I’m no hero.” He let her hand slide from his. “I’ll get your tea.”
She felt the sting of his dismissal and yet part of her wondered if he purposely chose to keep his distance. It was better to adhere to his wisdom in any case.
As the lazy evening wore on, Aimee sat with her students and watched the perils of crocodile hunting, ate some wild rice soup, and watched a series of old television shows Wyatt had on video. Outside, the snow showed no signs of letting up.
She noted he sat after supper at the large desk at the end of the room, disconnected from the boisterous guests who’d invaded his quiet home. For being so close to the holiday, she noticed no decorations of any sort having to do with Christmas. Cast in the bluish light of the computer screen, his intense expression made her curious to know if he might be her mysterious classmate who called himself Montana.
She picked up the hot tea she’d made and walked up behind the chair to look over his shoulder. On the screen was a weather radar map. Bright splotches of white, pink, and blue covered the state, as though it were under attack from an erratic paintbrush.
“Is this the current weather?”
He nodded. “And the forecast isn’t much better for next couple of days.” He propped his chin on his hand and stared at the screen. “Looks like you all are staying put until this is over.”
“Oh dear, I nearly forgot. Do you have a landline I could use to call my friend? My cell phone battery has died and my only charger is for a car.”
He nodded toward the opposite corner of the desk where the phone sat.
Aimee nodded and walked behind him to get it. Her fingers itched to massage the broad shoulders that had carried so much today for her and her kids. She placed her cup on the desk, called Sally, and had to wait a moment before she answered.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Sally, it’s Aimee. I guess by now you’ve heard we’re back at the Kinnison ranch.”
“I heard. You poor thing. I was so glad to hear you were all okay. How is it out there?”
Aimee’s gaze darted to Wyatt who sat busily studying the radar. “It’s fine. Mr. Kinnison has taken very good care of us. He’s a very gracious host.”
“Well, I for one am green with envy, but I’ll tell you, your adventures sure gave us plenty to talk about around the punch bowl at the parti
es today.”
“I’m sure,” she replied, hoping Sally would have defended her if the need arose.
“Oh no, honey. No one was talking bad. The topic was pure jealousy of having to be stuck in a snowstorm with the elusive Wyatt Kinnison.”
“And nine students,” Aimee reminded her, turning her body slightly so Wyatt wouldn’t hear her. “Listen, I understand Mr. Kale called all the parents?”
“Yes, ma’am. Hours ago. Your cowboy made sure of that. He even made sure to offer that the parents could call their kids at any time if they wanted to check on them.”
“He’s not—” Aimee glanced over her shoulder and met Wyatt’s steady gaze. “That’s very thoughtful.” Sparks. The kind she read about in those sappy romance novels. Ba-da-boom.
His smile as he glanced back down at the screen made her insides weak. Oh, yeah, he knew they’d been talking about him.
“Well, I guess that’s all…oh, wait. The potluck. I might have to ask you to cover for me. It’s tomorrow night.”
“Honey, if it keeps snowing like this, there may not be a potluck at all this year. Don’t worry about that. You just take care of yourself, your kids, and that cowboy.”
“Okay, I’ll be in touch. You all tucked in for the night, then?” she asked her friend.
“Oh yeah, it’s just me and a couple of Nick Sparks movies to make me think of you out there.”
“Enjoy your movies, Sally.”
“Enjoy being stranded.”
Rugged Hearts Page 13
