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“I think the word you’re looking for, is ‘help’.” A man laughed from his perch on his horse about twenty yards away.
He sat in the saddle like he had been born to do so. His build was strong and sure. A tan hat sat pulled down low over his forehead and a bandana protected the lower half of his face from the dust. His voice was familiar, yet not. Could this be Kent? Her traitorous heart fluttered a warning.
“And if I say, ‘help’, is that what will get you to come over here and get your bull?”
The animal looked between both of them, as if unsure which target best suited him.
“I don’t generally ask damsels in distress to verbally ask for help, but that would be a nice addition.”
She locked her jaw and gave him her best scowl, wishing she could see his eyes. If she could see his eyes, she would know if this was Kent. “Why don’t you tell me your name before I ask for help? You could be anyone.”
“Are you worried I’m a Douglas, Johlman?” His tone dipped slightly and if he hadn’t been masked, she would swear he’d sneered.
“As a matter of fact . . . ”
She didn’t get to finish her words before he got out his lasso and, with four whirls above his head, sent the rope over the bull’s head. He whistled softly as he anchored the circle around the horn of his saddle. The bull didn’t like the tension and gave one good tug against it. He followed, with the rider staying well away from getting gored by the horns.
Alice climbed down to the lower branch and scanned the area for her horse. Today had not turned out as she’d hoped. Now she was stranded with a winded horse on Douglas’ land and they knew she was there. If the bull got injured, she’d be blamed for it. Bulls were expensive and necessary. She could never repay the cost of having him replaced if that’s what Louis demanded, and that would be his way.
She swung her feet down off the limb to drop to the ground and as she hung there, the rider returned. A moment later, his arms circled her waist, sending fissures of tension down her legs and arms.
“What are you doing? I’m trying to get down.” She wiggled, trying to get free of his hold.
“And if you do, that bull will be right after you. I only let him go down the valley where he wouldn’t see you. If you don’t keep quiet, he’ll hear you.”
Alice stilled her fighting, and the rider helped her get her footing on the rump of his horse. He held her hand steady until she could turn around. “I’ve got to go find my horse.”
“There is no way I’m letting you walk around this fence all alone,” he grumbled.
“Why? Are you afraid of a Johlman walking around in your precious pasture?” She matched his tone from before. Part of her wanted to reach up and yank the bandana down, to know who she was with. The other part respected that he wanted to remain hidden. If he was Kent, he might still be scarred from the wound on his cheek, making him cover up.
“No, I’m scared of an angry bull plowing into you with the force he hit that tree. Now, situate yourself back there and we’ll find your horse.”
Kindness with a dose of a gruff edge. She couldn’t be certain until she saw his face, but she couldn’t convince her heart this wasn’t Kent. And despite her anger and desire for revenge, she also wanted to hold him close and tell him she’d missed him.
Slowly, she threaded her arms around his waist and resisted the urge to rest her cheek against his broad back. She’d wanted to hold him and be held by him for years. She’d hoped that when he’d left Deadwood without telling her, he hadn’t negated his promise. But deep inside, she’d worried it had. Something had changed in him, shifting his desire for her, and taking its place.
“He ran that way.” She pointed to the right.
“I know. I saw him.”
Heat bloomed through her entire head. He’d watched her get peeled off her horse like a novice rider. Words fled as she bit her lip.
“Looked like it hurt. I hope you’re all right.”
Alice swallowed. “All but my pride is fine.”
He rode on in silence, and she allowed herself to enjoy the few moments with him. Would she ever see him again after this day? Was this God’s way of allowing her to say goodbye to Kent and her hopes and dreams? She’d wanted to be Mrs. Kent Douglas since she was seventeen.
A child. She’d been a child when she’d agreed to his offer. He had been little more than a child at the time, too. People changed. He’d changed and so had she. She opened her mouth to tell him she forgave him when he pulled up short, silencing her.
“Do you hear that?” He craned his neck.
She noticed, now that they were very close, when he turned his head she could see the faintest hint of dark, scarred skin between the bandana and the hat, right over his temple.
“I didn’t hear a thing.” Her heart broke for him. Her clothing could hide Ma’s scars. Especially now that she didn’t have any tremors. But Kent, he had to wear his out in the open.
He gave a nod, almost brushing her nose with his hat. “There are some thorny bushes down by the river, near the fence. If your horse went down there to hide, it may trap him in there. I hope not. He’ll be scared and possibly injured.”
