Wishing for the Rancher’s Love (High Country Ranch #5)

Chapter 13

13

At a distressed shout from Grady, Clementine peered in the direction of the river, where he’d disappeared to a few moments ago.

Through the smattering of pines and craggy boulders, she glimpsed him along the riverbank, and he was swinging the canteens at an animal with thick brown fur, pointed ears, and long legs.

Her pulse spurted forward.

As Grady swung, another creature lunged at him from the other side, and then another.

There were three of them. Coyotes. And they were working together to attack Grady. He had his gun out, but with having to dodge all three at once, he obviously hadn’t been able to take a shot.

She wanted to scream at him to run, but she was frozen in place and for a long second could only stare with growing horror.

As a canteen slammed into the head of one of the coyotes, it yipped and backed away. But in the same moment, another of the coyotes grabbed on to Grady’s leg.

He released an angry roar and this time brought his gun down hard on the coyote’s head so that it let go of him.

His roar penetrated deep inside Clementine, freeing her from her shock. With a pounding heart, she grabbed the rifle he’d stuffed into the holder behind her saddle. She aimed it toward the coyotes, but even though she knew how to shoot with some accuracy, she was too far away, and the coyotes were moving too fast. She also didn’t want to risk hitting Grady.

She lowered the gun and glanced around for any other way to help him. Her gaze landed upon his horse, not far from hers. Could she scare the coyotes away by riding toward them with both of the horses?

She didn’t know if that would work, but it was the only thing that came to mind.

Without wasting another second, she tucked the rifle under her arm and mounted. Before she was even situated all the way, she directed her horse toward Grady’s and swiped up the lead line. Then, digging in her heels, she spurred her horse toward the woodland, Grady’s horse trailing behind.

Even as she wound through the trees and boulders, she urged her horse faster, thankful she’d learned to ride well as a young girl and knew how to stay in the saddle, even when she was holding a rifle and guiding another horse.

The pounding of the hooves and the trampling of the fallen leaves and pinecones drew the attention of two coyotes. They fell back as she rounded Grady so that the horses now acted as a barrier to protect him from the two.

Grady’s hat had been knocked off, and he had a scratch on one cheek that was bleeding. But his mouth was set into a determined line.

“Get on,” she called as she drew his horse around so that it stood between him and the lone coyote.

He glanced beyond her to the two coyotes who couldn’t reach him without first going around her and her horse. His frown deepened, and he seemed about to say something, but then he swiped up his hat and the canteens, reached for his pommel, and swung up into his saddle.

“Let’s go.” She kicked her mount into action, heading back to the clearing the same way she’d come.

She could hear Grady right on her tail.

When they broke free of the woodland, she glanced back toward the river to see the coyotes standing tall and still watching them. She wanted to stop and make sure Grady was okay, but they also needed to put some distance between themselves and the hungry creatures.

She galloped onto the path and forged ahead. Grady followed close behind, and she guessed he wanted to get as far away as possible too. They rode hard for at least a mile or more before she slowed down.

The path was wide, so she let her horse fall into step beside Grady’s. He’d put his hat back on, but he was cradling one arm, and the cut on his cheek was still bleeding. His denim was ripped on the lower half of his leg, and the dark material was wet with blood.

He’d been hurt worse than she’d realized. “We need to stop and take a look at your injuries.” Although she’d packed lightly for her trip to Georgetown, she did have some basic toiletries in her bag strapped on to the horse. She had soap and a clean cloth for washing his injuries. And she could make bandages if necessary.

He peered over his shoulder, likely looking for the coyotes.

She didn’t see them and doubted they’d follow so far. The breeze had also picked up, and a cold rain began to pelt them. It was all the more reason to stop. “Is there a shelter nearby?”

He pushed forward, picking up the pace again. “There’s an abandoned mine shaft not far ahead and not too far off the trail.”

“Are you worried about the stalker catching up to us?”

“I don’t want to take a chance.”

By now, most of Breckenridge—including the stalker—was probably well aware that she and Grady had run off together. Hopefully they had a decent head start, and surely they’d be safe in an out-of-the-way hiding place while she doctored his wounds.

As they started the ascent, Grady took the lead. Eventually, he veered off the trail and into a gulch, continuing until he reached a rocky area, the sure sign that a mine had once been in operation with its leftover tailings and waste rock.

They had to search amidst the rock outcroppings and debris until they located an entrance. The cave-like mine opening had once allowed for mules pulling carts, so the two of them were able to bring the horses out of the cold rain even though it was cramped.

A narrow tunnel that led into the hillside was boarded up behind them. Shards of rocks and boards littered the floor, but a small area had been cleared for a campfire, where a few charred logs remained.

“Looks like someone else has stayed here.” She began unstrapping her bag from the back of her horse.

“Some of the old-timers in the area know about the mine and use it as shelter at times like this.” He nodded outside to the rain that was now falling heavily.

“It makes sense that you know of it, then.” She lowered her bag to the ground. “Since you’re so old, with one foot practically in the grave.”

He lowered himself onto a slab of wood braced on both ends by large stones and forming a bench of sorts. Though the cavern was shadowed and the stormy sky didn’t provide much daylight, she could still see him wince.

He was obviously in pain—not only because he winced but also because he was sitting down. Grady wasn’t the kind of fellow who could rest in the face of danger.

He reached for his pant leg that was ripped and bloody and began to tug it up, but with each inch, he went slower and his jaw clamped harder.

“Just wait, Grady.” She unclasped her bag and dug through it. “I’ll help you.”

“I don’t need help.”

“Yes, sir. You do. Now sit still and let me take care of you.”

Her fingers connected with the soap and clean cloth. Then she found her nightgown, which was light and could easily be ripped into strips to form bandages.

As she turned with the items, he was still working on his pant leg, and a soft groan slipped out.

Tsking, she knelt in front of him, then batted his hand away. “Grady Worth, you’re as stubborn as an old goat.”

“I know.” His admission was soft.

She halted, her heartbeat sputtering just as it had a short while ago at the river when he’d asked for her forgiveness and said he’d try to do better. What was going on with him today?

He lifted his gaze and met hers. His dark eyes seemed even darker than normal, but they weren’t filled with the usual anger or frustration at her. Instead, they held a gentleness that hadn’t been there in a long time.

She wanted to ask him what was going on in that head of his.

But in the next instant, he closed his eyes, his face pinching with obvious pain.

For a few minutes, she tried lifting his trouser leg so she could reach his wound, but his calves were too muscular and the blood on his leg too slick.

“There’s only one way to reach it.” He kicked out of his boots, then pushed up from the makeshift bench and began to shed his coat.

As he did so, he revealed several other blood spots on his torso. One on his upper arm, where his shirt was soaked with blood, another at his side above his waist, and another on his backside.

“Oh, Grady.” She couldn’t keep the distress from her voice. “You’re really hurt.”

“Just a few scratches and bites is all.” He dropped one suspender, then the other. And before she realized what he was doing, he let his trousers drop to the cave floor and kicked them aside so that he was standing in only his drawers, which exposed him from the knees down. At the same time, he began working at the buttons on his shirt.

Was he really undressing in front of her?

She took a rapid step back, a sudden flush moving into her cheeks. She wanted to tell him to stop, that he couldn’t take off his clothes in front of her, that doing so was entirely inappropriate.

But she couldn’t get her voice working. Instead, she stood there mutely as he finished unbuttoning his shirt and tossed it onto the heap of other clothing he’d already discarded. He wasn’t wearing an undershirt, and his bare chest was right there in front of her. He was right there in front of her, nearly naked.

She was frozen in place, scandalized, unable to think of anything except that his body was perfection. His chest was rounded with muscles, his shoulders broad with sinews, and his arms thick with strength. Every inch of his skin was smooth, as if carved and polished out of the finest quality wood by a master craftsman.

In the process of calculating each of the cuts and bites on his torso and arms, he paused, as though realizing she was staring at him.

He straightened. “What’s wrong?”

Ignoring the heat that was not only in her cheeks but also now seeping into her blood, she gave a pointed glare at the pile of his clothing. “This is indecent, Grady.” She hissed the words, although she wasn’t sure why, since they were the only two witnessing the indecency.

He glanced down at himself as if he hadn’t realized he was indecent. Then he arched a brow at her. “I didn’t think it would bother you since you’ve seen me like this plenty of times before when we went swimming together.”

“That was different.”

“How?”

“We were a lot younger.” During those summer days after a hot afternoon of sitting in the sun fishing, he’d strip down to his drawers, and she’d take off her blouse and skirt, leaving on only her shift and petticoat. Then they’d splash around in the water and cool off for a while before drying out enough to put their clothing back on.

He shrugged. “There’s not much about me that’s changed between now and then.”

She let her gaze dip to his chest again, then his arms. The heat flared hotter, spilling into her abdomen and setting her whole body ablaze. He’d always been good-looking, but he’d been somewhat gangly and skinny when she’d first met him, still in the phase between being a boy and a man.

But he was all man now. Totally and completely. And a swoony man at that. One she wouldn’t mind staring at all day.

Except that he was injured, and this wasn’t the time to salivate over his body as though she were some hussy. Besides, if he didn’t think it was an issue to be unclothed around her like this—so she could tend to his wounds—then why was she making it an issue?

Maybe if she avoided looking at his torso, she wouldn’t think about how she wanted to run her hands over his arms and shoulders and then down his chest so she could feel each hard muscle.

“Done admiring me yet?” His voice was filled with teasing.

“I’m not admiring you.” She narrowed her eyes on him. “I’m just assessing your wounds.”

“Okay. Sure. Well, take your time assessing me.”

She once again tore her attention from his chest and dropped it to his leg. The bloody and torn flesh there seemed to be the worst of the injuries.

Dragging in a breath of the musty, cold air, she stepped back up to him. “Sit down and I’ll start washing the wounds.” She pushed on those bare shoulders, letting her hands linger there even though she didn’t want them to linger.

As he began to lower himself, a smirk curled up one side of his lips, as if he was well aware that his unclad state was ruffling her.

She stood above him and pressed her hands to her hips. “You stop your gloating right now. I’m just surprised, is all. And I’m sure you would be too if I tossed off my clothes in front of you.”

“Just admit, you like what you see.”

She never would, not in a hundred years. “So I suppose you’d be okay with me shedding my dress?” She stood and shrugged out of her coat, letting it fall onto the growing heap of their clothing.

His cocky grin didn’t waver.

She tossed off her hat and then began working on the buttons of her bodice.

He tracked her movements.

Was he really planning to let her unbutton her entire bodice? Of course, she had her chemise on underneath. But still...

As she neared the middle button, she let her fingers slow. The lacy edge of her chemise was now exposed along with some of her cleavage. She popped another button open and moved to the next.

She needed to stop. She was taking this too far. But now that she’d started, she couldn’t show any weakness or hesitation.

She slipped open the next button, and her bodice slid off one shoulder.

With a strangled sound, Grady jumped up and grabbed both of her hands and tugged them away from her bodice.

For a long moment, he stood in front of her, her hands pinned in his, his body radiating tension, and his chest rising and falling rapidly. “Fine,” he whispered, but the one word was strangely charged. “You made your point.”

“What point?” She didn’t want to stare at his bare body directly in front of her, but how could she not when he was so close and so beautiful?

“You’re right. We’re not kids anymore.”

“So you don’t want me to take off my clothing?”

“Do you want me to say what you want to hear?” His voice dropped low, so low that her stomach fell with it. “Or do you want me to tell you the truth?”

She was suddenly dizzy with a haze of wanting that seemed to rise up and grip her, tightening every muscle and nerve in her body. Whatever was happening between them was delicious, just like their kiss from the night of the dance.

But it was also dangerous. There had always been something about Grady that was slightly combustible, as if all it would take was a small spark to set them on fire and destroy them completely, along with the little bit of friendship they’d hung on to.

And she wasn’t ready to let go of that little bit of friendship. As difficult as it had been to keep him from pushing her entirely away over the years, she’d held on this long, and she didn’t want to do something they’d both regret, like kiss again. Or more.

She took a step back from him and swiftly began to rebutton her bodice.

Without a word, he grabbed his shirt from the top of the stack and stuffed his arms in. Then he lowered himself back to the bench, braced his elbows on his knees, and let his head fall into his hands.

“I’m sorry, Clementine.” His whisper was so soft she hardly heard it above the patter of the rain outside and the breathing of the horses beside them.

She swiped up the soap and cloth. “I’m sorry too.”

His shoulders were slumped. “No, it’s my fault, not yours. I should have been more careful.”

“It’s all right.” She unscrewed the lid of one of the canteens and poured water onto the cloth. “Now, let’s get your wounds cleaned and bandaged.”

It would be for the best if neither of them dwelt on what had just happened. In fact, it would be for the best if they forgot about it altogether.