Although they’d probably find her mummified body curled in a fetal position inside an abandoned delivery truck.
No. No they wouldn’t. Someone would pass by sooner or later. It just sucked that he was out there stalking Jeffrey, and all she could do was sit here and listen, as hard as she could, for a possible savior.
She had no sense of time, sitting there in the darkness. She might have been in the truck for an hour, maybe two, maybe four. It felt like four, but there was still sunlight coming in through the cracks, so it was still daylight.
She was starting to feel sick from the heat. Little sparkly flowers danced in front of her eyes, and her stomach was rebelling against all the junk food she’d ingested just before she’d seen Mitch.
The dense darkness inside the truck was starting to sparkle more and more, and the top of her head felt even hotter than the rest of her. It felt like her brains were cooking, and maybe they were. It was hot enough in there to cook an egg, she was sure. Brains were a lot like eggs, weren’t they?
Don’t think like that.
She headed over to the door of the truck, even though the slightest movement made the sparkling even worse. She wanted to be by the door in case Mitch opened it for any reason. She leaned against the door. If she passed out, she’d fall out when the door opened.
Or if she died.
Well, that was morbid. She’d better find something else to think about, like what she’d do when she got out of here. Not if she got out. When.
First of all, she would never again compete in a turkey-leg eating contest. That was number one.
Second, she’d stop worrying about petty bullshit and live. She’d stop trying to change the world for people she didn’t even know and start loving the ones she did. The idea of never seeing Frankie or Josh or Carter or any of the other boys again was almost unbearable.
And Ridge?
Whatever happened between them from here on, she needed to tell him she loved him. Had she ever told him that?
Despite the airless heat, a chill rose along her arms. She hadn’t. She’d never told him she loved him.
He’d told her. He’d asked her to marry him. But she’d never even told him she loved him.
Why?
Because he hadn’t asked.
He hadn’t asked about her motives or whether she was capable of being a decent ranch wife—which she probably wasn’t. He hadn’t asked for anything. While she’d been parsing his reasons and second-guessing the feelings he’d laid before her like gifts on a blanket, he’d never even asked her to say she loved him.
What the hell had she been thinking? He was the best man she knew, and he wanted to marry her. He asked for virtually nothing in return. Quibbling over the reason why was just plain stupid. If he didn’t love her for the right reason now, she’d see to it that he did before their first year of marriage was up.
Because right now, she didn’t even deserve his love. And he loved her anyway.
The darkness shimmered in front of her eyes. Turning, she tried to see the shafts of light she’d noticed before, and she couldn’t. Was it dark outside? Or was she going blind, like a cave bat?
She needed to get out of here. She might as well yell. Opening her mouth, she did her best to holler, but what came out of her parched throat was a feeble croak.
People must be looking for her by now. Ridge would be looking for her if she’d let him come along. Would Gil call him? She didn’t know. But she had to get out of here. Because if she didn’t die of thirst or heat or starvation, she’d die of regret.
She never would have believed there was a darkness deeper than the inside of that truck, but it seemed as if an even blacker dark was closing in on her, flowing inward from the edges of her vision until just a pinhole of consciousness was left.
Just before she gave herself to that darkness, she thought of Ridge and the ranch and that stupid horse, the one that came when you—came when you—oh.
Why hadn’t she thought of that sooner?
She put her fingers to her lips, sucked in a deep breath, and blew out a keening, piccolo-pitched whistle, praying the sound would carry to every corner of the fairgrounds.
And then she slumped to the floor and let the darkness come.
Chapter 52
Ridge was confused.
He knew Sierra was upset with him, but had she seen him there with Gil and the kids and walked away? Would she really leave Gil with the kids and sulk somewhere just because he’d come and joined them? He’d found Jeffrey, after all.
But she hadn’t returned to the arcade where she’d left Gil and the boys marooned, and she wasn’t answering her phone.
“Why don’t you try calling her?” he asked Gil.
“I don’t have a phone. Lemme use yours.” Ridge shot him a look, and he flushed. “Oh. Yeah. It would look like you were calling, wouldn’t it?”
“Do you have the keys to the van?” Ridge asked.
Gil nodded.
“Then how ’bout this. You take these guys back to the house. Jeff and I’ll stay here and see if we can find her. If she’s at the house, give me a call and let me know, okay?”
“I want to stay with you and Jeffrey,” Isaiah said. He and all the other boys were in full-out whining mode, and Ridge couldn’t blame them. Their fun day at the fair had turned into a dull campout in the hot sun. Carter had thrown up twice, and Josh was looking a little green around the gills. Apparently, they’d eaten an awful lot of fair food. He was surprised Sierra had allowed that, but maybe, as a city girl, she wasn’t aware of the ill effects of too much turkey leg, barbecue, and funnel cake.
“I’m just taking Jeff for right now, okay?” Ridge patted the boy’s shoulder. “There’s a good reason, but I can’t explain right now. It’s complicated.”
“It’s always complicated when it comes to that kid,” Isaiah mumbled. “I’m gonna quit talking. See how you like it when I get complicated.”
Ridge suppressed a grin. Isaiah would never make it as the strong, silent type.
He walked the group to the van and made sure they made it out okay, feeling a little forlorn as he watched the gang take off and leave him and Jeffrey in the waning light. It was probably stupid to keep on looking for Sierra, but he felt like something was wrong.
For one thing, Sierra wouldn’t stop looking for Jeffrey until she found him. She just wouldn’t. For another, she wouldn’t refuse to answer her phone. She wasn’t childish like that.
So she must still be on the grounds, looking for Jeffrey. Somehow, she’d lost her phone or maybe it was turned off and she didn’t realize it.
He’d turned away and started back toward the fairgrounds when a high, thin sound pierced the air. A whistle, loud and long.
“Sierra.” He and Jeffrey said it together, and then the two of them took off running toward the sound.
***
The whistle led Ridge and Jeffrey to the far side of the parking lot. It didn’t take long for them to notice a scratched, scarred delivery truck parked in the far corner. Ridge put a finger to his lips, signaling Jeffrey to keep quiet, then had to smother a laugh when he realized how unnecessary that was.
They ducked low and eased closer, moving from one parked car to another. As they neared the truck, Ridge heard a familiar voice.
“I’m sure sorry we couldn’t find him. But I really think you ought to come on back to town. I’ve got the power of the law on my side, so we can get all this straightened out.”
“I’m not up to dealing with that woman tonight,” said another voice. “The shrapnel in my knee’s hurting like a bitch, buddy. I’m going home.”
Ridge stopped, glanced down at the boy beside him. The kid had gone still as a scared rabbit.
“Mitch,” he whispered.
As the boy’s hand tightened on his, Ridge tugged Jeffrey behind a horse trailer and knelt down on the flattened grass of the makeshift parking lot.
“You remember what I told you?” he whispered.
&nb
sp; Jeffrey swallowed hard and nodded.
“I think he might have Sierra. I have to find out, and that means we need to face him, okay?”
Another nod.
“Just remember, you’ve got the goods on him. He’s the one who should be scared.”
Tightening his grip on the boy’s hand, he stepped forward.
“Sheriff.”
“Ridge Cooper.” The sheriff hardly looked happy to see him until his eyes lit on Jeffrey. “Well, look here. There he is now! Son, we’ve got a real surprise for you!”
He turned to Mitch, who was climbing into the cab of his truck as fast as he could.
“Hey!” Jim grabbed the door handle. “Hold on, buddy! Here he is.”
Mitch started the engine.
“Hey! Your kid’s here, buddy!”
Jim hung on like a sideways bronc rider as Mitch struggled to swing the door shut. Meanwhile, Ridge grabbed Mitch’s sleeve and hauled him out of the driver’s seat, throwing him on the ground a little harder than he’d intended.
Not much harder. It’s just that he hadn’t intended to knock the air out of the guy’s lungs. He’d wanted him to be able to talk.
But that was okay. He was willing to hang on while Mitch coughed and hacked, struggling to get his breath back.
“Now take it easy,” Jim said. “We don’t know for sure he’s a criminal or anything. It’s just he says that boy’s his son, and I’m starting to have my doubts.”
“His son?”
Ridge turned around, but Jeffrey was gone. Panic set in for a second before he saw the boy scrabbling around on the floor of the truck cab, setting all kinds of junk on the seat.
A lipstick. A little packet of Kleenex. A roll of Lifesavers. A cell phone. And a very familiar leather purse.
Ridge stared at it a moment before he realized what it meant.
“Open the truck,” he said to Mitch.
The guy stood, swaying a little, and started back to the cab of the truck, but Ridge grabbed the back of his shirt and hauled him backward.
“Open the back,” he said again.
“I don’t have to open anything for you,” the man said. “I’m outta here.”
Jeffrey stepped up to Mitch, holding Sierra’s purse in front of himself like a shield. The kid was red-faced again, Ridge noticed, and he trembled all over as he looked up at the big man.
“You better open it,” the boy said. “Because if you don’t, I’m gonna talk and talk and talk ’cause you can’t stop me. I’m gonna tell the sheriff everything you did. I’m gonna tell him…”
Mitch leaned toward the truck cab again. Ridge started to grab him again, but he was only reaching for the keys.
“I’ll open it,” he said. “I’ll open it. Just hold on, kid.”
Jeffrey folded his arms over his chest and looked on as the man staggered around to the back of the truck and unlocked the padlock on the overhead door. Ridge gave the handle a yank, boosting the door up on its rollers, and barely managed to catch the unconscious woman who tumbled into his arms.
***
The walk-in clinic in Grigsby was busier than usual. Sierra wasn’t the only case of heat stroke to come from the rodeo, but she was definitely the most severe. She lay on a cot, her face pale, and closed her eyes while a nurse expertly started an IV.
“She just needs fluids,” the nurse said. She was a portly middle-aged woman with a motherly face. Ridge made a mental note to find out who she was and to find out whether she might want to volunteer at Phoenix House in her spare time. “Don’t you worry, we’ll have your wife fixed up in no time.”
He cleared his throat, wondering if Sierra would notice the slip. He’d told the admitting clerk that they were husband and wife, just in case they wouldn’t let him stay with her. She’d barely regained consciousness on the drive to the clinic, so he wasn’t sure she’d be able to make rational decisions.
She reached over and tugged his sleeve.
“It’s okay,” she said. “It sounds kind of nice, actually.”
He took her hand and squeezed gently then patted it with his other hand, worried he might have hurt her. She looked so small and fragile under the bright lights.
But at least she was alive. He’d never forget how she’d tumbled into his arms when he’d pulled up the truck door. How limp she’d been. He’d been afraid they were too late to save her. And now he could barely speak. Had he heard her right? Had she changed her mind?
“I just hope it can still come true someday, even though I was an idiot,” she murmured. Her voice was hoarse, probably from shouting for help, and her words trailed off as she closed her eyes. She flipped them open again, looking a little panicked as she turned to Ridge. “I love you,” she said. “Did I ever tell you that?”
“Sure,” he said. “I think so. I knew it, anyway.”
“That’s not good enough.” She squeezed his hand so hard it hurt. “I love you. Love you so much. You’re the best man I know. The best I ever knew.”
He smiled. “Thanks. I’m not sure what that says about the men you’ve known, but I’ll take it.”
“Please do,” she murmured.
“Okay.” He paused. “Are you in your right mind?”
She laughed. “I’m living in Wynott, Wyoming. How could I be in my right mind?” She saw by his face he was serious and sobered. “Yes. I’m feeling better. Really. You don’t have to worry.”
“Good.” Sliding out of the orange plastic chair he was sitting in, he knelt on the shiny linoleum floor and took her hands in his.
“You already did this,” she said.
“You said no.”
“I said yes. And then I got stupid and doubted things and screwed it all up.” Tears sprang to her eyes. “I’m sorry, Ridge. I was selfish and stupid.”
“You’re neither one of those things. You got scared, that’s all.”
“So we’re good?”
He shook his head solemnly. “Nope. Every time you say no, I have to ask again. So here we go. You ready?”
“Sure.” She looked down at her hospital robe. “I’m even wearing white.”
“Good.” He cleared his throat. “Sierra Dunn, will you be my wife?”
The nurse walked in, took one look at them, and screamed. Ridge jumped up, ready to grab her if she fainted, grab Sierra if they were being attacked, grab whoever needed grabbing. But the nurse grabbed him instead and seemed intent on shoving him down to the floor.
“No,” she said. “You go on. I didn’t mean to interrupt.” She leaned out the door. “Sadie! Carol! You gotta see this! That good-looking cowboy’s proposing to the little blond girl!”
By the time Ridge got his nerve back, he had an audience of three nurses and a doctor.
“Go on,” the original nurse said. Her name tag said Mary. “Ask her again. I’m sorry.”
He looked down at the floor, gathering his courage for the third time.
“Sierra Dunn…”
“Yes.” She sat up, almost dislodging her IV as she reached for him. “Yes, yes, yes. Now come up here and kiss me.”
He stood up and shot the audience a look. The two newest nurses and the doctor skittered away, but Mary just beamed. So did Sierra, and she looked so pretty, Ridge kissed her, gently, and eased her back down on the cot. When he finished, Mary was gone. He sat down on the edge of the cot and held Sierra’s hand.
“Sleep,” he said.
“After that I’m supposed to sleep?”
“Definitely. I’m going to kiss you like that every night when we’re married.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
She was almost asleep when she suddenly struggled to sit up, her eyes wide and panicked. “Hey. Is Jeffrey okay?”
“He’s fine,” Ridge said. “Better than fine. Jim called and found out Mitch had all kinds of warrants on him—so many that the Denver police came up and got him. Jim was strutting like a bantam rooster while he waited. Mitch has enough paper on him that they’l
l be able to hold him until Jeff’s ready to go talk to them about whatever it was he saw. And I think he’ll be ready soon.”
“That’s good,” she said. “Really good.”
“Here he is now,” Ridge said.
She looked alarmed, and he realized she’d thought he meant Mitch—or the sheriff. But it was Jeffrey who walked into the room, accompanied by Mary.
Sierra’s face lit up. Ridge kind of wished she’d smiled like that for him, but part of the reason he loved her was the way she loved her boys. It was the thing that had drawn him to her in the first place. He knew what a difference that kind of love could make in a boy’s life. Just knowing somebody thought you were worth caring about made the world a better place to live when you had no one to call your own.
The boy edged over to the bed. It was obvious that the medical setting made him nervous. Who knew how many emergency rooms he’d seen in his young life? Or how often he’d been forced to lie to doctors about walking into doors, falling down the stairs, and all the other timeworn lies kids told to save their parents?
God, the world was a screwed-up place. Sierra thought she could change it, but Ridge didn’t see how you could. For him, it seemed ambitious to believe they could even change their little corner of it, but he was willing to try.
That just went to show how much Sierra had changed him. Before he’d met her, he’d been convinced that all he could do was ride broncs and bulls, take the beatings they dished out just as he’d taken the beatings his parents had given him before he was taken from them all those years ago. He’d always believed his only real talent was stoicism—the ability to cover up the pain no matter how much a blow hurt. He’d gotten pretty good at covering up emotional pain too.
So had Jeffrey. Ridge had assumed his refusal to speak had its roots in the same kind of pain that made Ridge quiet and unwilling to engage with people. But as it turned out, Mitch had ordered the poor kid not to talk, threatening to kill anyone Jeff cared about. That hadn’t been a problem until Sierra came along and the poor kid had something to lose. Talk about a mixed blessing.
Right now, the kid was leaning against the side of the cot and beaming down at Sierra, the love in his eyes as clear as the sun rising on a bright spring morning.
How to Handle a Cowboy Page 33
