Tank snorted and tossed his head, breaking Colt out of his somber reverie.
“What’s up, boy? Smell something?” That’s when he noticed that the daylight had darkened considerably.
The wind that had been a gentle, humid, summer breeze now whipped tumultuously through the trees. He glanced up and his stomach dropped. Shit.
Dark clouds advanced on a warpath across the sky. Bright flashes of lightning arced across the heavens. And a deep rumble of thunder crashed, increasing in sound and tenor as the storm barreled into the area.
A midafternoon squall was common at this time of year. They could also be deadly this high up. There was a cabin nearby, one of the higher elevation getaways that Colt knew was vacant at the present time. Without a second to lose, he veered Tank off the path, and plodded toward the back-country road. He prayed that they would make it before the storm unleashed its fury in earnest.
Tank sensed his urgency with the approaching tempest, and increased his pace.
Luckily, the cabins all had a small barn with two stalls inside that were attached on the side, for visitors who brought their own horses with them for the trails and didn’t want to pay to stable them at the main barn. He’d get Tank settled out of the elements and would then chill out in the cabin while the storm raged. He might be spending a night up here after all. It could be exactly what he needed. He had a satellite phone in his bag in case of emergencies. The cabins were stocked with wood for the fireplace. And while all he had was a sandwich and water, he’d make do with what he had. At least the house keys in his saddlebag also had master keys for the ranch. Directly inside each barn door was a small lockbox on the wall that held a key to the cabin. The lockboxes were all keyed the same for maintenance. Since so many of their cabins were quite a way from the main hub, it was easier when they were on calls to be able to head directly to the next cabin and not have to worry about whether they had a key to enter.
When they were about an eighth of a mile out from the cabin, the rain began to fall in thick, heavy sheets. Lightning flashed. Thunder boomed. Tank snorted, tossing his head at the bellowing roar as the storm arrived with vehemence. Colt raced Tank as fast as was safe. He wouldn’t risk hurting the stallion. Rain dripped off the rim of his ivory Stetson. Water coated his blue jeans and gray tee shirt, and slipped down his calves into his brown leather cowboy boots. At least they were one of his older, well-worn pairs he reserved for working the stables.
They crested a tiny ridge. The hickory cabin sat on an open half acre of land encircled by a grove of trees—a mixture of aspen, cottonwood, and spruce. Hail began to fall with the rain, pelting them. The trees receded and in the open terrain, Colt pressed his knees against Tank’s flanks to increase their speed. Tank needed no urging from him.
But as the cabin came into full view, Colt spied a battered, tan SUV parked in front of the wooden structure. And there was a sprite of a woman, long dark hair plastered to her body, carting what looked like telescopes inside the building.
What the hell? Who was she, and what was she doing here?
Colt didn’t waste time, not with the hail and advancing threat of the storm. The woman even glanced his way, her eyes luminescent in the rain, as they trotted up to the side barn.
Colt dismounted, shoved the barn gate open, and led Tank inside. Outside, the storm raged, and thunder rattled the small barn. Colt spent the next few minutes getting Tank bedded down for the storm’s duration. He removed his saddlebags, the saddle, and sodden blanket. Each barn was equipped well, with extra horse supplies should they be needed. He had never been so glad for the foresight. He brushed Tank off then grabbed one of the dry blankets from the storage chest. Colt made sure he had fresh water in the stall and added a few scoops of grain from the supply he’d brought with him. He hung the saddlebag with Tank’s grain up above the storage chest and away from the stall. Tank, god love him, would eat every bite in the feed bucket. And if they had to stay the night, Colt wanted to make sure there was some for later that night and in the morning before they headed back down.
With his second saddlebag with his lunch, keys, and satellite phone tossed over his shoulder, and his rifle in the other, he strode out of the barn, making sure to lock the door behind him. It would keep Tank safe from any predators in the area looking for a meal.
The woman was still there, carting in some monstrosity of a telescope that was damn near as big as she was. Rain and hail battered Colt. He was thankful the brim of his hat kept the rain out of his eyes. He glared at his squatter.
“Who the hell are you? This is private property,” he yelled loudly with the thunder booming.
She bared her teeth. Her eyes dominated her face. They were a rich mahogany that glowered with venom, and she snapped, “If you’re just going to yell at me, go away. I need to get this stuff inside before it becomes waterlogged and useless.” She struggled with the equipment. Her hands slipped. The weight of it was almost too much for her slight frame.
She might be a squatter, but Colt wouldn’t kick her out in a storm like this. Squatter or not, he wouldn’t have her death on his hands, even if her attitude made him want to wring her elegant neck.
“Leave it. This storm is only getting worse,” Colt barked, his fury rising in undiluted potency. He waved his hand in the direction of the ominous clouds as they turned day into night. The woman was risking her neck for a bunch of stuff that would be worthless if she lost her life in the process.
“All this equipment costs more than your damn horse. If you’re not going to help, at least move out of my damn way so I can get it inside,” she snarled, fighting against the rain and wind as she struggled.
The urge to throttle her swept through Colt. He glanced skyward and back at the damn fool woman.
“Shit.” He moved past her up the stairs, and set his saddlebag and rifle just inside the door. Then he jogged down the stairs to where she stood, struggling with the telescope. He gripped the opposite side, and lifted the slick device up. Shocked by its weight, he wordlessly helped her carry it up the porch stairs and inside, where she already had a few pieces standing throughout the studio cabin.
Working together quickly, they hauled every piece of apparatus inside, fighting the wind and rain. What was she, an astronomy club gone wild? Colt had never seen so many telescopes for one person. One by one, they hauled them into the cabin until they had retrieved them all from outside.
The telescopes and corresponding equipment filled the small space, dripping everywhere. Colt could only wonder about the water damage these things would do to the hardwood floors.
In the interior light, he studied the woman while she flitted around the equipment, apparently unconcerned that she was just as wet, or that she was alone with a strange man who had a firearm. She used the big plush towels that they stocked in the bathrooms to dry off the gear.
This was one of their honeymoon cabins with an open plan floor. The walls were a golden, honey-toned wood, and the hardwood floors matched them in color, giving it a feeling of warmth. On the left was a pinewood king bed with matching nightstands, and a chest of drawers against the wall. On the left beyond the bed was the bathroom that held a full-size tub and shower, and was the only room that was walled off. There was a full-sized fridge, and electric stove in the kitchen on the far right. There was even a stacked washer and dryer unit on the wall between the bathroom and kitchen. But directly to Colt’s right was the living room with big, plush dark brown sofas, and his uninvited guest and all her equipment taking up every ounce of free space.