Her eyes burned. She looked up at the sky and tried to ignore the hot tear rolling down her cheek. “I’m sorry. I’ll try.”
After a few moments, Red seemed to accept her apology, and the feel of his presence faded as he walked away. His steps slowed when he reached the stable, and his quiet voice, hesitant and heavy with pain, traveled back to the paddock.
“Hannah, not all men aim to hurt.”
She waited until she was sure he’d rounded the stable and joined the others, then scrubbed the back of her hand over her cheek. “Maybe not.” She refocused on the plume rising from the mountain. Stared as the curl of smoke rose higher. “But some do.”
CHAPTER 2
Travis scrubbed harder at the blood on his shaky hand. The red stains were deep. They caked every crevice in his palm, discolored his cuticles, and lodged beneath his blunt fingernails. Scales and fish guts had dried on the bare skin of his forearms and the acrid smell of fish flesh still lingered in his clothes, his hair, and even his lungs.
A bit of soap and water were no match for five hours of scaling, gutting, and filleting the pile of trout and bass Red had caught. Travis tossed the hose aside, cut the water off, sat back on his haunches against the stable wall, and admired the grounds.
The midafternoon sun was high. A fine blue mist still hovered over the mountain peaks in the distance, but the view at the ranch was clear. Well, except for the thin smoke still trickling up from that nearby mountain.
Travis turned his head and watched as Hannah walked across a nearby field and dumped another armload of firewood onto a high stack of logs. She rubbed the small of her back, tilted her head and shielded her eyes, her attention focused on the rise of smoke in the distance.
“Thinking of giving her a hand?”
Travis faced forward at the sound of Red’s voice and watched as Red walked up the hill. Hours earlier, after he’d shown Travis his preferred method of filleting, Red had excused himself to return to the lodge and finish up some renovations on a room. But he’d returned to the stable once every hour to check on Travis as he cleaned fish and to speak to Hannah as she chopped and stacked firewood. He brought snacks and soda for the two of them twice, then returned to the main lodge.
Travis appreciated the company and the snacks, and knew Red meant well. But he also knew Red was keeping an eye on him as he worked near Hannah, which he understood and accepted.
“Wouldn’t waste my time if I was you,” Red continued. “Most occasions Hannah won’t accept anyone’s help no matter how politely it’s offered.” He stopped by Travis and studied Hannah as she stood in the field. “She’s stubborn.”
“She’s afraid.”
Travis stiffened as Red’s attention shifted back to him. He hadn’t meant to say that. Not out loud. He broke eye contact and watched Hannah again. She had turned away from the smoke rising from the mountain peak and stretched over the stack of firewood, tugging a large blue tarp across the logs. Even from this distance, he could make out her guarded demeanor, the tight set of her shoulders and rigid posture.
The sight of her, strong but haunted, and the memory of her panicked warning hours earlier stirred a strange urge within him. An unfamiliar longing to fold his limbs around her slender frame. To shield. To protect.
“Has someone hurt her?” Travis cringed as the quiet words left him, afraid they’d revealed too much.
Red’s blue eyes didn’t flicker; they continued studying him with unwavering intensity. “That’s her story to tell,” he said. “But, yeah. She’s got reason to be skittish.”
Probably as much reason as Margaret . . . if she knew who I really was.
Travis slumped, lowered his head, and picked at his filthy nails. “Is Margaret still working in the lodge?”
He hated to ask. Was ashamed that after hiking all this way, instead of having to search for days on end to locate her, he’d stumbled across her almost the moment he’d arrived without even looking, but still couldn’t bring himself to walk the field separating them and reveal his full name.
How could he? From what he surmised, after the passage of twenty long years, Margaret no longer recognized him. She had no idea who he was; otherwise she wouldn’t have greeted him the way she had. And if he were to tell her now, there was a very high likelihood Red would throw him off this beautiful property, shout him down the serene mountain, and ostracize him from the only person who’d given him a reason to keep breathing.
“She spiffed up a cabin and is straightening up the back deck now.” Red grinned and glanced over his shoulder. “She’s polishing furniture, washing her nice dishes, cleaning the outdoor fireplace, and tossing orders at me left and right. Having a guest for dinner. A night’s stay is a rare occasion around here so she’s eager to impress.”
Frowning, Travis glanced around at the cabins dotting the picturesque landscape. “But this is a guest ranch, right? With this view, I’d imagine you’d be booked on a permanent basis.”
A dismayed sound left Red’s lips. “We used to be, but things have slowed over the last few years. With fewer guests, fewer cabins were used and kept up. The horses we boarded came few and far between.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Guess things on the outskirts of the ranch slowly died away and now it’s started to creep into the main grounds.”
The happy light dimmed in Red’s eyes, and Travis scanned his surroundings once more, wondering how a place that felt so welcoming, bright, and alive to him could be seen as dying by anyone.
“Here.” Red dug in his pocket and withdrew half a lemon. “No amount of scrubbing with soap and water will clean those hands of yours. Come with me. I’ll give you a quick tour and show you a little trick I learned.”
Travis stood, threw his bag over his shoulders, and followed Red as he ambled down the hill and onto the dirt path between the stable and paddock. They walked up the incline silently for a few minutes and had just reached the top of the hill behind the stable when something pounded the ground rapidly to their right.
Travis froze as two horses shot past them, galloping away from the fence and seeking refuge across an open field.
“Easy.” Red, two feet ahead of Travis, paused and waited for Travis to rejoin him. “It’s not you—they spook easily.” He pointed toward the two horses now slowing across the field. “Hannah named the gray mare Ruby and the black one Juno. They were neglected by their original owners. A Good Samaritan rescued both horses and boarded them here last year. Hannah rehabilitated ’em, then bought ’em.”
Travis eyed the horses as he kept pace with Red, noting they were different from the ones in the photo he’d seen in Red’s truck. “Are there any others?”
Red shook his head. “Not for a while now, and we need more horses. And guests. We’re bleeding money.”
Travis looked around, taking in the sprawling pastures, tall trees, and majestic views. It’d be a shame for this place to wither up. “I’m sorry.”
Red shrugged. “Ain’t your fault, but thanks just the same.” He led Travis down the other side of the hill and off the dirt path. “Though you could help do something about it. Margaret wasn’t too far off base with that laundry list of needs. There’s plenty of work to be had here if you happen to be interested.”