Winds of Wyoming (A Kate Neilson Novel) (21 page)

She expected the forest to be deathly silent after Lightning’s hoofbeats faded away. But birds continued to call, a stream splashed over rocks not too far away, and she could hear an owl hooting in the distance. Although she couldn’t identify other rustlings and chiseling noises, none of them sounded dangerous.

Then she remembered she lay at snake level, in snake territory. What sounds did snakes make? She could tolerate a squirrel hopping on her chest. Well, maybe. But the thought of the slimy snake in her bathroom sink slithering across her face was more than she could bear. What if it wrapped itself around her neck? Or a mouse burrowed into her hair? Or a tarantula? Did tarantulas live in Wyoming? Or black widow spiders?

She scratched her scalp with both hands, released the breath she’d been holding, and shut down her imagination. With God watching out for her and Tramp snuggled next to her, she could hang on until help arrived. That is, if the pills ever kicked in.

She clutched the blanket. Maybe she could forget about her leg and her proximity to reptiles by thinking about Mike—his tender touch, his gentle eyes, his stubbled cheek. She smiled. And his lips on her forehead. She stopped. But he would never have kissed her if he knew who she was, how different she was from him.

Though her parents had taken her to Sunday school when she was young, only a couple short-term foster families had been church attenders, unlike his family. She hadn’t learned many religious songs. He’d been raised on church music and could play the songs on his guitar. She had a terrible reputation. His was sterling. Even if he was responsible for his brother’s death, which probably wasn’t the case, it was an accident. The crimes she’d committed, she’d committed on purpose.

If their relationship grew serious, she’d have to tell him the truth. But she couldn’t let it go that far. She tucked her arms under the blankets. He needed a pure bride—a woman like his mom—to be the mother of his children. A long-term relationship was hopeless. But she could dream tonight and maybe forget the pain and the cold hard ground that seemed to grow colder and harder by the second.

Tramp yipped and leaped to his feet, jostling her body.

A searing spasm shot up her leg. Kate cried out but managed to grab the flashlight and the gun and sit up. Switching on the light, she aimed the shaky beam at the bushes on the other side of the trail.

Two green-gold spheres glowed from the foliage. Her breath caught in her chest. Was it the mountain lion?

The dog growled.

The creature snarled.

Tramp stepped closer.

Kate whispered, “Stay, Tramp.” Whatever it was might maim or kill him. Then she’d be left to fend for herself.

Tramp hesitated.

“Stay.” Her voice quavered.

Unblinking, the golden orbs continued to smolder in the light. The creature snarled again.

Kate gasped and raised the revolver, drawing the hammer back with her thumb. She wrapped her finger around the trigger.

Tramp growled and charged at the bushes.

The eyes disappeared.

She swung the light in every direction, searching as far as the beam could reach, including the treetops. All the while, she called the dog’s name.

Finally, Tramp returned to her side. But he sniffed the air for a long time, his throat reverberating with a low growl.

She hugged him, not knowing if she shivered more from cold or fright. “What do you think, Tramp? Is it gone?”

The big dog whined and licked her cheek then sat erect. Eyes wide, ears pricked, nostrils flared, his head never stopped moving. Though the forest seemed to settle for the night, he remained on duty.

Assured that the mystery animal had lost interest and Tramp intended to stand guard until Mike returned, Kate raised the blankets to her shoulders and lay down. She shook and ached all over, but the pain was tolerable. And, thank God, her neck and back were okay. She’d been able to sit up.

Despite the throbbing and the fear and the chill that seeped into her body, she slept. The ache in her leg edged again and again into her conscience. But each time she awakened, Tramp laid his head on her chest, and she fell back to sleep.

Kate dreamed she and Amy and row upon row of other female inmates stood trembling under the glare of immense white lights and endless coils of razor wire. Layers of frost fell from a bitter sky, encrusting the orange-clad inmates until they resembled Ice-Age leftovers. All around her, captive women broke free from their translucent straitjackets. Their chilly restraints crackled and popped and pierced the raw night with spear-like slivers of flying light.

But Kate, frozen as solid as a slab of marble, couldn’t even open her mouth. She groaned in despair when the single teardrop that escaped her eyelid solidified into a stone mole next to her nose, for she knew she would never be warm or free again.

A roar ripped Kate from the dream. She jerked to a sitting position.

Tramp barked and shot toward the sound.

The black forest echoed with guttural growls and the squawks of startled birds. Wrapping her cold fingers around the flashlight, she flipped it on, but saw nothing but thrashing branches. Though fur flashed across the beam, she couldn’t tell if it was the dog or the other animal. She fumbled for the pistol with her free hand and found it.

But she couldn’t hold the gun steady. “Help me, God. I have to save Tramp.”

Shoot high.

Balanced on her elbow, she pressed the trigger. But her arm wavered and the gun fired low. Almost the instant the pistol discharged, she heard a frantic yelp and the sound of scrabbling in the bushes. Then silence. Dead silence.

Kate waited, her heart racing, but Tramp did not return. She called and called. “Tramp, come here! Tramp ...” Though she managed a weak whistle, the dark woods offered no response, not even chirps or squeaks.

Tears streaming down her face, she panned the area with the light. Was the beast coming after her next? The beam weakened. She turned off the flashlight, dropped it and the gun on the ground, drew the blankets up and lay back.

Even colder than before, she shivered so hard it hurt. “God …” Her teeth chattered. “I’ve never in my life been this scared.” Fear was nothing new to her, but the source had always been people … not wild animals.

I will never leave you or forsake you.

She hugged her quaking ribs.
Is it true? Are you really here with me right now?

Look up.

She lifted her gaze above the treetops. From the midst of a cluster of brilliant, shimmering stars, a solitary luminary, one that shone brighter than the others, glided near the earth, changing colors. The final color, violet, erupted in a glittering shower of lavender that floated onto her face, the touch of the tiny petals as soft as a kitten’s paw. A fragrant aroma blanketed the forest floor. The smell enveloped her, calmed her, warmed her. She fell into a deep dreamless sleep.

***

Later—how much later, she couldn’t tell—Kate heard a twig snap. She lifted her head but saw nothing in the inky-black night, not even stars. Clouds must have moved in while she slept.

The ground shook, and she heard sounds she couldn’t decipher. She grabbed the revolver and sat up, barely breathing, nearly strangled by fright. When she heard the rhythmic beat of horses trotting up the trail and saw a swaying shaft of light, she dropped the gun and fell back, too spent to stay upright any longer.

The horses stopped. A voice broke into the night. The first voice she’d heard in hours, and it was Mike’s. “Here’s my marker. I’ll cut the trees apart. She’s on the other side.”

Kate closed her eyes. “Thank you, God.”

In moments, Mike was beside her, a flashlight in his hand.

She couldn’t hide her tears.

He dropped the light and pulled her close. “I’m sorry it took me so long, Kate. My horse threw a shoe and I had to walk him part way, but I called the hospital the moment we got to the ranch. A life-flight helicopter is on the way.”

“M-Mike …” Though she sobbed and her teeth chattered, she tried to talk. “I killed … him.”

He rubbed her back. “We brought more blankets and some hot pads. You’ll feel better when we get you warmed up.”

“No.” She moaned, twisting her head back and forth. “It’s Tramp.”

He looked around. “Where is he? He should be taking care of you.”

She clutched his arm. “I’m so sorry, Mike.”

“For what?”

“I killed Tramp. Something growled in the bushes …” Her breath between words and sobs came in short, hiccupping gasps. “And he ran after it. I tried to shoot high, but I lost my aim.” She hiccupped again. “I didn’t mean to kill him ...”

She felt his arm muscles stiffen and knew he finally understood. She began to cry harder.

He lowered her to the ground. “I forgot you shouldn’t be sitting up. You need to lie flat.”

Her back was fine, but his dog wasn’t. “I wanted to scare the other animal. Instead …” She was crying so hard she could barely talk. “Instead, I ... First your brother, then your dad. Now Honey is gone and so is Tramp. I—”

“Honey beat us to the barn, just as I expected. And Tramp did what I left him here to do—protect you.”

“He saved my life.” She moaned. “Then I killed him.”

“Calm down.” He spoke above her head. “Do you have the blankets, Cyrus?”

“Yep. And Manuel has the warming pads.”

“Put the pads on top of these blankets and the other blankets on top of the pads.”

Cyrus knelt beside her. “Mrs. D made these a couple years back. They’re filled with rice. We keep some in the freezer and some ready to heat in the microwave.”

She felt something hot and heavy on her chest that smelled like food. Her “thank you,” spoken through hiccupping, chattering teeth, sounded like a foreign language.

He laid two more hot pads across her torso. “You won’t thank me when I put the cold ones on your leg. Which leg is broken?”

She couldn’t think clearly enough to answer.

Mike spoke for her. “Left.”

The cold packs hurt, but Kate focused on the delicious whorl of heat spinning through her upper body. They laid more blankets on her. Cyrus asked, “Can you move your neck?”

She answered by moving her chin toward one shoulder, then the other.

“Good. Hold her head up, Mike, and I’ll pour hot chocolate down her throat.”

“You sure? I don’t want to cause any more damage.”

“My neck is okay.” Kate wiped tears from her cheeks. “I sat up several times while you were gone.”

“Even so, we need to be careful.” He slowly raised her head with one hand and held the light with the other.

Though his warm hand felt wonderful, she was once more reminded of the prison infirmary—and the confined helplessness she’d experienced while chained to a hospital bed and guarded by a correctional officer as a nameless doctor aborted her baby. She blinked. There it was again—
her baby
.

Cyrus lifted the cup to her lips. “Drink up.”

Startled by the rich smell of chocolate, she just looked at him.

“Go ahead, Kate.” Mike put the flashlight on the ground and took the cup. “You need to raise your core temperature.”

She drank, the compassion in his voice warming her heart as the silky liquid heated her ribs. “Thank you, both of you.”

“Drink it all,” Cyrus commanded.

She did, sip by sip, picturing ice shards shooting off her body and rocketing into the night. She finished with a whisper. “I’ve never tasted anything so good in all my life.”

Mike laid her head down and tucked the blankets around her neck. “You’re not shivering as much.” He sniffed, picked up the flashlight and aimed the beam at the ground. “Strange. I smell flowers, but I don’t see any.”

She smiled, remembering the colorful star and the shower of lavender.

Cyrus stood. “I can’t help but say you eastern girls are mighty uncoordinated.”

Mike grunted. “That’s not funny, Cyrus.”

She slipped her arm out from the under the blankets to touch Cyrus’s leg. “I’m sorry I forgot lunch duty.”

She couldn’t see his face, but his voice was gruff. “That’s a whole ’nother matter.” He shifted out of her reach. “Want me to go start the fire for the ‘copter, Boss?”

“Yeah, we need to do that pronto. I made a fire pit in the clearing about a mile up the trail. The pilot ought to be able to see the blaze and land on the ledge. Do you think the EMTs will want to walk or ride?”

“Hard to say. I’ll take all three horses, just in case.” Cyrus disappeared. Moments later, he led the horses around Kate.

Again, she felt the tremor and heard the drum of hooves. The dust made her sneeze. Her head felt ready to burst.

Mike spoke to the darkness. “Manuel, light that lantern and come sit with Kate while I look for Tramp.”

“Okay.” Moments later, Manuel sat on the ground beside her, a propane lantern in his hand. “Smells like my mom’s closet.”

Kate smiled at the private joke between her and God.

Mike stepped into the bushes. “I won’t be long.”

Kate heard him call for his dog, and heart broke. She dreaded the moment he found his ever-present companion’s mangled body.

She turned to Manuel, grateful for a diversion from the sadness and pain. “I’m so glad you’re here. When I’m alone with the forest noises, my imagination runs wild.”

“The helicopter will be here soon to fly you to a hospital.”

“Do you know where?”

“Probably Rawlins. That’s where they took my sister when she got bit by a rattlesnake.”

“Is she okay?”

“Yeah, she’s fine. They gave her antivenom and kept her overnight.”

Kate wondered how long she’d be hospitalized. Would she lose her job? Where would she go? She didn’t want to return to Pittsburgh and the life she’d lived there.

“Do you want to talk about something?” Manuel swung the lantern between his knees. “It might help pass the time.”

“That’s a good idea … but I don’t feel up to talking much. Would you like to tell me about you and your family?”

He shrugged. “There’s not much to say. My father’s family came from Mexico, but we’ve been here for four generations. My dad herds sheep not far from here, like my grandfather and great-grandfather before him. My mom, whose family settled in Arizona, makes jewelry and takes care of me and my brother and sister.”