A Promise Worth Remembering (Promises Collection) (2 page)

Tucker held his head high and his wide stance boasted an assuredness, a grounding presence, that hadn’t graced the adolescent who’d seated his roots in her soul.

Suddenly, her tomboy legs morphed to tree-limbs. She swayed with the gentle wind that transformed her strength, ability, and self-sufficient nature into that helpless girl Tucker rescued from the shadowy waters. Without denial, her body registered her first love even if he’d also been the same person who’d kept her cemented in her inescapable past.

She threw back her shoulders, making her five-foot-four height appear five-foot-six. She didn’t need anyone but herself to make her happy. Nothing stood in her way of dating again and finding happiness. Of fulfilling
her
dreams with someone other than the man who’d betrayed her trust.

“…your tiger,” he called over the river’s purr.

Her chin quivered at his baritone yet business-like manner and she bit her lip. What had she expected? Words of apology and love? Tucker had moved on a decade ago, no matter how badly her ears still craved his endearments wafting warms puffs of air against her neck. By now, he probably had a family of his own… She glanced at her clothes stuffed in her backpack and, although he’d seen her in her bikini, much less than she wore now, she held her ground. How many times had he stood beside the river and watched her from afar? Once, twice?

As many times as she’d wished he’d gazed upon her with eyes that bore into her tough exterior and tempted her heart, her trust, her words of forgiveness, so she could leave her imprisoned past?

His gaze found hers and held.

Corkscrewed into her heart until her chest hurt. Smoothing her chin with her palm to quiet the quivers spidering across her face, she raised her brows and expected him to say more.

But he only stared.

She lifted a palm, a subtle wave before she dropped her arm to rest at her bare thigh. What could she say to him? Hello? How have you been? Too many questions riddled her mind to settle on a single syllable.

Pointing upstream, he repeated, “It’s important we talk… I’ve seen…tiger.”

If what he needed to discuss caused him concern, why hadn’t he crossed the river or driven to the preserve? They were adults and she didn’t have any problems with Tucker, only his father.

No matter… Most likely he’d seen some of her tigers housed in the sanctuary. Because of their natural instincts to hunt large game, they slinked along the north side of the property to stalk deer that paused where the gentle slope led to the water’s edge. But bridging their past with small talk?

She didn’t want chit chat. She wanted answers, she wanted justice, she wanted the resolution she promised herself she’d never stir up, but couldn’t let go. Like their forbidden relationship, those feelings were better left undisturbed. Only seeing Tucker voided all warnings of caution she’d erected. She waved him over to her side. “We can talk over here.”

He glanced at his boot that nudged something too small to make out from forty feet away.

He seemed uncomfortable. Why? Guilt over how he’d treated her? Or because he’d come at his father’s instruction, to threaten her to stay on her side of the river—a typical Pierce Sr. MO? 

Tucker lifted his head, adjusted the gun strapped to his shoulder, and then cupped his mouth to project his voice. “I spotted one of your tigers on my property. Don’t do anything rash. Give me a chance to find—”

Her heart lurched into her throat and pounded in her ears, causing Tucker’s remaining words to drift away along with the fallen leaves atop the current. She jumped off of
Kissing Rock
and sank into the silty sand up to her ankles. She burst into a trot, stumbled over a cobble and landed two feet from the shoreline.

The late spring melt rippled across submerged boulders, sending a lulling resonance into the treetops, but she focused on a mark in the muddied riverbank, a mark that belied the tranquility, a mark she’d somehow missed before that sent a stab of betrayal straight to her stomach and twisted into a queasy knot.

The five-inch paw print, the left front missing an outer toe, confirmed her prized male Copper had escaped the safety of the sanctuary. His trail disappeared into the water.

Nausea wormed through her tummy. With narrowed gaze, she glared at the opposite bank, the Pierce’s side staked with
Trespassers Shot on Sight
signs. How could Copper have left her care? Unless…

Poachers.
Had Old Man Pierce purposefully targeted her cats with the intent of closing down the sanctuary to claim her family’s lands?

Her pulse ratcheted up until heat filled her face. She scanned the thick branches that swung over the river, searching for a glimpse of orange fur among the shadows, but Tucker’s movement pulled her attention his way. She considered how his hand clasped on his gun’s strap conflicted with the compassion he’d had for her uncle’s preserve. Back then, he hadn’t agreed with his father’s sport hunting practices, but had he changed? “Don’t shoot him!”

Tucker’s glare found hers and his blue eyes darkened in the same way they had the night he’d turned from their last kiss and faded into midnight’s shadows never to be seen until now. But his eyes then, like now, held something she couldn’t define.

She quickened her pace and left a trail of size seven footprints in the red mud. Ignoring Tucker’s shouts from behind, she grabbed her backpack and lifted out her pants. Quickly, she retrieved her cell from the front pocket and called her ranch hand who’d worked the preserve since before she’d been born. “Raymond, Copper is on Pierce land.”

“W-what? How can you be sure he’s crossed the river?”

Her fingers tightened on the phone. “Tucker’s home. He spotted the cat.”

“Where are you?”

“The
Rock
.”

“Be there in twenty. You stay put, Bailey,” Raymond snapped out. “The future of the preserve hinges on Copper’s safe return.”

She understood Raymond’s alarm. Without Copper, the upcoming grant renewal to continue the Bengal breeding program would be forfeited. The animals would be left homeless. That wasn’t an option. Nor was waiting to reclaim what belonged to her. “Copper wouldn’t have wandered too far from the pride. And he’ll come to me.”

At least, she hoped he’d return to with her. How could she be sure with an entire mountain enticing him to stay on the wrong side of the river, the same way something had lured Tucker from her arms? Raymond’s steady breathing resonated in her ear along with heavy footprints.

“Tucker make any threats against you?”

As she considered her answer, a thought formed. Would Tucker hurt her or her tigers?

No. She believed that, even if he’d changed his mind about loving her. Just because his father had targeted the tigers, Tucker had brought her cat’s escape to her attention.

“No,” she said firmly. “But I’m going after what’s mine before Old Man Pierce gets involved. I have to protect Copper from that lunatic.”

“No need to take on the world by yourself. If poachers are in the vicinity, you both could be in danger. I’ll contact the warden, but remember Pierce’s restraining order against you still stands. So stay put.”

Raymond was right. She’d practically gone ballistic when Old Man Pierce had run her off Crooked Bridge road. Although she’d defended her harsh words against Pierce Sr. during mediation, he’d still counter sued for a restraining order. With her prized tiger’s life teetering on false freedom, she decided the heck with a paper warning.

Someone had cut the fence. No doubt Copper could be caught in the crosshairs of human hunters on her adversary’s side of the river, even with Tucker out there trying to find him. She had to bring Copper home and find the hole she’d overlooked. “Do what you have to do. I’m going after Copper.”

From across the river where the two banks narrowed to less than twenty feet, hound dogs bayed, but the cottonwoods’ thick plumes muffled their cries and kept their numbers hidden. They also kept Tucker’s voice from reaching her ears. He jabbed his finger in the air toward Crooked Bridge upstream and locked his stare on hers.

The knot in her stomach tightened to a nest made of ivy vines. She didn’t know what she feared most. Coaxing Copper back to the preserve or facing Tucker, looking him in the eye, confronting her past when doing so could drastically change her memories. She didn’t live for today, she realized. She never had.

Though a thousand unanswered questions about Tucker’s whereabouts over the past decade battered her temples, so did the desperation in Tucker’s eyes that reflected her inner fear of him disappearing again. Of a future he’d promised and the hope she still clung to that her dreams would become reality.

Foolish girl…

Only the way his lips parted, his eyes
blackened, his chin lowered to meet his chest, his face still held a similar expression to the one he’d worn the night he’d pronounced his love, but then had vanished.

What had been on his mind then that he
hadn’t
shared?

What similar thought warred in his mind now?

She slid the phone back into her backpack as three knee-high shadows blazed through the underbrush toward Tucker. Dogs—mouths frothing, tongues tasting their prey, lips curling to show sharp teeth—appeared and warned her to stay on her side of the river. The Pierce’s well-trained coonhounds. Day and night dogs bayed—though, lately not as often.

What were they chasing? At the base of the rock, she grabbed her pants—

A flash of orange from the corner of her eye stilled her movement and her jeans fell from her grasp into the water and disappeared. Damn. She stomped a bare foot against the gritty surface. She’d swim better without pants anyway.

Copper sprang from the opposite side of the riverbank, upstream, and a hundred feet shy of Crooked Bridge. He moved with a staggered gait.

She gasped and lurched forward toward her injured cat as he landed in the middle of the stream where the water deepened.

His thick paws beat against the angry surface and his head, ears pinned to seal out the water, bobbed. He made no headway when normally he would have crossed the stream effortlessly as tigers are superior swimmers. The current’s frothy curl whipped him downstream.

Away from her.

Panic etched her veins like acid on flimsy glass. She commanded herself to stay strong. She couldn’t discount the possibility Old Man Pierce and his cronies had shot Copper already, like Pierce Sr. had warned.

Injured, Copper didn’t stand a chance against a hired killer or the upcoming eddies. She needed to pull Copper from the water before the river forced him into the narrow strait that threatened to swallow him like the undercurrent had consumed her pants. “Copper!”

Copper flipped his head in her direction. Wide paws beat the surface and he tried to swim toward her. His precious eyes, those golden globes, locked on hers. Desperate eyes, pleading to be saved.

Eyes she’d loved since that first day she’d held the fur ball and listened to his darling mews.

Her throat tightened.

Tucker jogged along his side of the river’s edge.

The dogs followed, their baying, howling, and panting making Copper spin in pointless circles.

Tucker halted where a thick trunk had fallen and blocked his course. He held her gaze for a moment. Again, his brows furrowed and his lips pursed.

Determination to help her? Or something else she didn’t want to accept—he’d truly moved on…

As Tucker faded, her chest pinched, but she forced a deep breath and willed herself to stay strong. Although she wanted to yell for him to stay, she had as much control over Tucker—a Pierce helping a Yant—as she did the waterway’s grip on her cat. But she’d grown up on the river and she’d memorized each submerged boulder from when the August heat drank the river nearly dry.

The current sucked Copper below the surface, leaving only a foamy spiral over his head.

Twenty feet away, but the distance between them lengthened with every passing second.
This is Copper. The tiger that slept in your bed until he was old enough to join the other orphaned cats. Save him!

Her arms flashed over her head and she dove into the water
.

The chilled water wrapped around Bailey, stealing her breath, but she sliced the current with her arms and hands, pulling toward where Copper had gone under and ignoring the water’s biting sting.

As soon as she reached where Copper disappeared below the surface, she inhaled and dove again. With eyes open underwater, she could just make out his orange glow.

The current bumped him along reeds. His limp body bounced off cobbles and skidded along the sandy bottom.

She curled her fingers around his neck, but a slick, red-tinged fog spread through the water. Copper had a large gash along his left shoulder. From the cut fence? A bullet wound?

He struggled free.

A shot of adrenaline surged in her muscles—part anger, part fear, part disbelief that she might lose her only semblance of a child. Kicking, she slipped an arm under his ribcage and pulled the cat to the surface. That he let her hold him without resisting proved he’d weakened from blood loss.