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Carter let loose with a string of curses as another branch snagged his hat. He couldn’t believe anyone would willingly crawl through this snarling stand of spruce. It was the antithesis of cowboy country, like following a tortuous rabbit path. And he was too big, his hat and saddlebags too bulky. Even his boots, usually so comfortable, chafed his heels.
At least Allie hadn’t made any effort to hide her trail, probably anticipating no horse and rider could follow. No horse anyway. She’d be damn surprised when he overtook her. He wiped the sweat off his forehead, rescued his hat from the offending branch, and forged on.
An hour later, her trail hooked onto a wider logging road and he breathed a sigh of relief. Thank God, she’d found the abandoned road and they were both out of that jungle. Now he could straighten and walk normally on a path fit for humans.
She wasn’t the only person who had come this way. He could see her familiar tread but also the tracks of two horses. Big shod feet, likely part draft animals capable of carrying a rider and a heavy pack. So even though she’d separated from Janet, she hadn’t been alone last night. That was a relief. Maybe these people had let her ride double. She must have been tired after all the bushwhacking. He certainly was.
But her tracks remained behind the riders, her prints overlapping those of the horses.
His eyes swept the ground, analyzing the sign. She’d remained behind them and though the horses weren’t long strided, she had never caught up. Her tracks were also a little uneven, shorter on her right side. Maybe she was too far back, too drained to speed up. Still, the riders had likely made camp close to the Mustang River. Their horses would need water and grass so she should have been able to find them.
It was only two hours since sunrise. No doubt she was sitting by their campfire, enjoying a cooked breakfast and her cherished coffee. Of course, her race was officially over now that she’d accepted help. Still, she’d made it a lot longer and further than anyone had expected. He should probably turn back and catch up to Monty so he could be part of Janet’s capture. However, retracing his route through that dense woods wasn’t appealing.
And he wanted to see Allie. To hear about every second of her time in the woods: how she’d managed to make that leap from the road to the boulders on the very first morning, how they’d known not to make a fire, and how she’d found the courage to follow Janet into that slimy bog. Monty hadn’t thought Allie physically or emotionally capable of lasting two hours, let alone two days. Neither had he.
Learning her thought process would help him for the next race, in case he had the opportunity to do this again. There might be future competitors like her, women who were as spunky as they were beautiful.
His amused snort was so loud it flushed up a grouse. He could feed himself all sorts of reasons but he didn’t really care about future Man Tracker races. He just wanted to find Allie, to reassure himself that she was okay. Maybe it was from riding together around the cattle, when she’d been so terrified of falling off but determined to do her job anyway. She’d been gutsy, gracious, and surprisingly fun.
He only knew that after keeping his dick firmly tamped down for the past seven months and then having his interest unleashed—free to follow, track and analyze her every move—she was now entrenched in his thoughts.
He was jogging now, in a hurry to share her enjoyment when she sipped that hard-won coffee. The first time he’d seen that glazed look in her eyes, the way her pink mouth parted in appreciation, he’d been so turned on he’d wanted to shove aside the circle of wranglers, throw her over his shoulder and go all caveman.
But he’d learned a lifelong lesson about thinking with his dick. It was best to control his lust and not look at her when he found her too tempting, like when she was moving, talking or laughing. Definitely not when she was dancing. So he’d avoided her completely, convincing himself she was just another Jenica.
Somehow though, Allie had become an important part of his day, first from devising ways to avoid her and then from being totally committed to finding her. He’d never allowed himself to look at her too deeply. But now that he had, he liked everything he saw. And if she were agreeable—despite that he’d been so judgmental—he wanted to get to know her better. A whole lot better.
For now though, he just wanted to reassure himself that she was safe. So he continued his steady jog, appreciating that the morning sun was still low and the air was cool with moisture. Clearly the road had swung back and the river was close.
He smiled in anticipation, wondering if she’d bolt when she saw him or take a knee. She wasn’t a quitter so no doubt she’d run. He would never rope her but she had to know he could track her down, even without a horse. Still, he’d developed a healthy respect for her athleticism and he had no desire to chase her any further.
It was probably best to surprise her.
He forced his steps to slow, straining to pick up the chatter of voices. But there were no conversations, no campfire smells, only a rustling in the woods. He twisted, eyeing the crackling brush. Something big was coming fast, moving aggressively.
What the hell? Carter stiffened as a figure burst onto the trail only ten feet in front of him. He relaxed when he recognized the man.
“Whoa, Dwight,” he said. “I thought you were a bear.”
Dwight said nothing, just stared at Carter with gleaming eyes.
“Are you all right?” Carter eyed the man with concern. Dwight was flushed and panting, one hand gripping a hatchet. He must have been tramping around in the woods for a while. Scratches reddened the side of his face and sweat stains looped below the armpits of his shirt. Ever weirder, the shirt was on inside out, as if he’d dressed in the dark.
“Did you lose a horse?” Carter glanced around in concern. “Need any help?”
“No, I’m good,” Dwight said quickly. “We’re all good.”
“Is your wife with you?” Carter asked, unable to remember the woman’s name. Allie had scolded him about that more than once. Probably she was right and he should try a little harder. He certainly liked it when Allie used his name.
“Yeah, Trina’s fishing.” Dwight slowly lowered the hatchet, holding it against his leg. “I was just gathering some firewood so we can cook breakfast.”
“Have you seen any hikers around?” Carter kept his voice casual, not certain if it was against the rules to ask about competitors. A heartbeat later, he threw caution to the wind. “Allie, maybe?” he asked.
“Oh...Allie.” Dwight glanced toward the woods, his eyes narrowing. “No, haven’t seen her since we left the ranch.”
Carter was floored by his rush of disappointment. And also confused since her tracks led here. “You haven’t seen her? Either last night or this morning?”
Dwight gave a curt head shake. “Haven’t seen anyone,” he said. “That’s the whole point. Trina and I came here to enjoy some private time. Not to be disturbed, by anyone.”
Carter ignored the man’s comment. It was understandable they wanted to be alone and he certainly didn’t plan to linger. But his eyes drifted back to Allie’s tracks. It looked like she’d veered off the old road and into the woods behind the clearing.
“So she didn’t come into your camp?” he repeated, walking over to the spot where her tracks disappeared.
“That’s right,” Dwight said. “What about Janet? Is she captured? Or is she somewhere around here too?”
“No, she’s upriver. Monty is chasing her.”
“So they aren’t together? And you went after Allie on foot? Alone?”
“Yes.” Carter crouched down and examined the ground, noting the dew that had collected in the tread prints. A spider had spun a web over the spot where they disappeared into the trees.
“Obviously those tracks were made yesterday,” Dwight said. “So she’s long gone by now. Where did you say the finish line was?”
“I didn’t,” Carter said. He rose and glanced toward Dwight’s camp. He could see the head of one horse and then another calm set of ears. Obviously both horses were safe; Dwight hadn’t lost an animal in the woods. But the man was edgy and something about his words sat wrong.
“Guess I’ll turn around and follow the road back,” Carter said, studying Dwight’s reaction. “Rejoin Monty. Maybe he’s managed to catch them both.”
“Yeah.” Dwight nodded, visibly relaxing.
“It’s more important to catch Janet anyway,” Carter went on, noting how the man’s fingers had loosened around the hatchet. “If you see Allie, can you help her? She’s too far from the finish line to keep racing. But I can’t waste any more time looking for her.”
“Of course not. But I’ll look after her.” Dwight’s head pumped with agreement. “Good luck finding Janet. That would be a quite a feat, to capture an Olympic champion.”
Carter raised a hand in acknowledgement, turned and strode back along the logging road. But once he rounded the knotty trunk of a large pine tree, he paused, listening. There was no sound of crackling brush, only the thud of boots as Dwight bolted back to camp. The man was obviously lying about collecting firewood. But why? Something was wrong. And Carter’s instincts were screaming. No way did he intend to walk away.
He cached his rope and saddlebags behind the tree, dragged a piece of brush over the pile, and eased silently after Dwight.
Branches encroached over the abandoned road and he hugged the edge, using the trees for cover. Soon he could see the horses. The animals were looking toward him, their ears pricked. Both horses had sweat stains on their backs. The ranch always packed a brush so guests could avoid saddle sores. Clearly that wasn’t a concern for Dwight and his wife.
But he couldn’t barge into a wilderness camp and give someone hell for not brushing their horse. Man Tracker rules also stated he couldn’t borrow an animal, although that point was moot since Dwight hadn’t offered to loan one. In fact, the man hadn’t wanted him anywhere near his camp.
Fair enough.
If he were fortunate enough to have Allie alone on a camping trip, he wouldn’t want visitors either. He wouldn’t even unzip the tent unless it was to take her on the grass, or against a tree, or over a log... The color of his thoughts made him scan the clearing again. In trying to avoid her for so long, he’d developed a sixth sense about her presence. And it felt like she was close.
He stood for long minutes, watching, listening. Everything seemed fine. Dwight had acted peculiar, his actions not in line with his friendly behavior back at the ranch. But the horses were okay, alert and standing square.
No doubt, Allie was beyond the bluff by now. He could probably head there and pick up her trail. Still, if what Monty said were true about her aversion to being alone, it didn’t make sense that she wouldn’t have hung around here.
Her tracks did lead into the trees behind the camp. Maybe Dwight and Trina were helping her avoid capture, although that didn’t fit either. Allie wasn’t the type to accept help and then deny she’d received it. She was a team player, following every rule, loyal to Sharon and the ranch, as well as her co-workers. She brightened everyone’s day and, dammit, he wanted some of that sunny personality for himself. And he wanted it now.
He yanked his hat lower then doubled back, returning to the place where he’d last seen her prints, the familiar V-shape tread that was seared into his brain. This was the spot where she’d left the logging road and headed into the brush. As Dwight had noted, the tracks were old, probably at least eight hours.
But what if she was still in there? He didn’t want to go into the thick woods again but this was the last track he’d seen. Pulling in a resolute breath, he shoved his way between the trees.
There weren’t many broken branches marking her trail, but he found a few. And she was nimble. In one spot she’d wiggled through a deadfall that completely blocked his progress. He wasted several minutes searching for another way around, and then he simply couldn’t go any further. The brush was too dense and if he squeezed to the left, he’d be visible from the campsite. But that should have stopped her as well.
He paused, stymied. It looked like she’d walked right out into the open. However, Dwight hadn’t seen her.
On a hunch, he dropped to his knees and peered beneath the deadfall, then smiled in triumph. A pile of leaves and moss held a distinct impression. She’d lain there, possibly even slept, close enough to the camp to enjoy a companionable fire but totally hidden. Clever girl.
He squeezed his shoulders further in, almost imagining he could smell her. Then he saw it—her backpack. His smile faded. No way would she willingly leave her pack, so critical for survival. Unless she was lightening her load for a sprint to the finish line. Yet she was still a day and a half away, not nearly close enough to dump her supplies.
On the other hand, this was the first time she’d been on her own, forced to make decisions without Janet. She was probably disoriented, scared. But why hadn’t she asked Dwight and Trina for help?
He reached in and pulled out her backpack. It was surprisingly light. When he opened it, there wasn’t much there: a couple bags of dulse, a can of bear spray and some lacy underwear that he was inappropriately holding. He dropped the pack like it was a hot branding iron.
Okay, he gulped, forcing his thoughts away from what those silky panties had last touched. So she’d taken everything of value. There were no energy bars, radio, compass or water bottle. Obviously this was a planned dump. Maybe she had a smaller daypack. Monty said contestants could be surprisingly innovative, especially with all the high-tech gear available.
Her sleeping bag and ground sheet were still here, but no tent. Maybe Janet had taken the tent when the women split up. He wondered how they had decided. Rock, paper, scissors? And Allie should have taken her ground sheet. He wondered why she’d left it.
Sighing, he squeezed out of the deadfall, accepting the extent to which her tiniest actions dominated his thoughts. Of course, he’d always been super aware of her movements, tuned in like a bird dog on a scent. Back at the ranch though, he’d been able to avoid her. Now his whole focus was finding her, and it seemed that singular purpose had swept away his reserve. Along with that came an overriding sense of protectiveness.
And it didn’t matter that Monty and Janet were moving further away. It didn’t matter that he might be the very last person to finish the race, days behind everyone else. He simply couldn’t leave these woods until he had assured himself Allie was safe.
