ONE OF THE steers Lori had brought down from the mountains was limping. Half-wild from his summer in the mountains, he was not at all interested in letting Lori near him to take a look. She kept her distance for now, walking slowly behind him, trying to decide if the problem was with his hoof or his leg. Or it could have been something up in his shoulder, in which case it might just resolve itself in the next day or so.
She glanced at her watch. Ten minutes before she was due to meet the feed supplier down at the barn. Maybe she’d ask Jim or Ethan if they could get up here and look at the steer and see what they thought.
She called Snack, and he pulled his nose out of the hole he’d been digging, dirt coating his muzzle and clinging to his haphazard fur. The little dog tore himself reluctantly away from whatever rodent he’d been after and followed her through the gate, then sat patiently, tail wagging, while she latched it behind her. At her whistle, he jumped into her arms. She set him up on Dakota’s saddle, swinging up behind him. She’d be a few minutes late getting back to the barn, but that was okay. The more packed her schedule was, the less time she had to think about Wade.
Not thinking about Wade had become the driving force in her life. When he’d kicked her out of his life, she’d decided to fill up every waking hour, from dawn until midnight, with work. That way there’d be no time for worrying or wondering. And hopefully, with enough time, her feelings for him would just dry up like a neglected garden in a summer drought.
Unfortunately it had been almost a month and her efforts hadn’t made much difference. She still thought about him way too often. She still missed him with an endless dull ache. But the ranch was looking great, all repaired and ready for winter, thanks to the extra hours she was putting in. And eventually she’d have to stop missing Wade. Somehow.
Mandy kept telling her to call him. Or write him. To try one more time to make their love work. But she was done. A girl could take only so much rejection.
Nudging Dakota down the dirt road, she passed the water tank. And glared at it because it was a reminder of that fall day when she’d found it empty and gone storming over to Marker Ranch to find Wade there.
And how they’d fought, and then become friends and eventually more.
And how he’d promised to love her forever, and then told her it was all over, because he couldn’t let himself lean on anyone.
He had too much pride and an independent streak a million miles wide. She got why. He’d practically had to raise himself because his family had been so messed up. If he hadn’t had that independence and pride, he might never have made it.
Maybe she understood him because she was similar. She’d had a lot of time to think lately. About her own pride. Her own determined independence. That maybe her single-minded focus on being a great rancher had been a way to avoid thinking too much about the hard stuff, like losing her mom.
Had she ever really faced her mom’s death? Of course she’d cried, but as her dad and Mandy retreated into their individual, isolated grief, she’d seen that it was up to her to keep the family going. She’d managed the ranch, paid the bills, studied harder than she needed to and jumped into every school activity. It had been easier to keep herself busy than to think or feel.
Which was exactly what she was doing about Wade now. Trying not to feel. And that hadn’t worked so well the first time around with him. All her old feelings had come pouring out the moment she saw him again.
She held Snack tightly as Dakota picked her way down a steep, narrow path that served as a shortcut to the barn. It was time to do something different. It was time to stop hiding from the hard emotions.
Lori glanced at the mountains behind her. There was still a lot of daylight left. She’d go meet the feed delivery and then clear her schedule. It was time to break the pattern. It might be depressing, but she was going to do something she should have done a long time ago. Take the last trail her mom had ridden. Face down the sorrow and grief that was there. And maybe, by facing that old pain, she’d find a new way to deal with the heartache of losing Wade.
* * *
LORI GUIDED DAKOTA across a dry creek and up the trail. Here the arid eastern flank of the Sierras gave way to graceful aspen groves. The trees peppered the air with the crisp rattle of their dry leaves, reminding her of the day that Wade had made them a bed in the woods. When they’d made love with the golden leaves wafting down around them.
It had been so magical and sweet. But that was the problem with sweet stuff. It always left you wanting more, even though it was bad for you. What if she was never able to look at an aspen tree without remembering that day? Without wanting more of what they’d had?
What was she thinking? She’d been in the mountains for only an hour and she was already going a little crazy. Maybe this pilgrimage was a bad idea.
Or maybe it was good to finally think about things. She scratched Snack’s head, and the little dog looked up at her with his strange, black-rimmed eyes. “You doing okay, buddy?”
Snack wagged his tail. He was perched in his usual spot, in front of her on the saddle, looking thrilled with his wilderness adventure. His ears were perked up and he turned his head back and forth, snuffing the wind, trying to take in everything around them. She was glad he’d insisted on coming with her.
As Dakota’s steady hoofbeats took them further up the ridge, past the aspen and into the pine-pocked high country, Lori scanned the surrounding hillsides. Here the real mountains began, with granite boulders piling up around her as if tossed by some giant hand. It was wild country, not good grazing land, so she rarely came here.
In its stark way, it was utterly beautiful. Above her, the granite peaks shot straight up into the sky, jagged and foreboding and a testament to the fact that Lori and her problems were just a tiny part of it all. She needed that reminder.
Forty-five minutes later, she and Dakota crested the ridge, and Lori’s heart beat a little faster. The trail descended with a treacherous scree slope on one side—a vast steep field of broken rock stretching from the trail to the edge of a cliff. Every time she’d ridden this trail, she’d made a point to stare straight ahead here and never look down.
But this trail led to the rock that looked out over the Ten Lakes Valley. And just before the lookout was where her mom had died.
The wind was picking up, finding its way in between the seams of her parka. The temperature was dropping, too, and Lori scanned the sky. It couldn’t be more than three in the afternoon. She should have time to get to the lookout, pay her respects and still get back to the ranch before dark.
She pulled her hat down lower and slowed Dakota a little, encouraging the mare to pick her way more carefully down the slope. The horse was sure-footed, and soon the trail flattened out. This was it. The place where her mom’s horse had spooked and her mom had fallen.
Suddenly it was hard to breathe. Lori reined Dakota in, and the obedient mare stopped immediately. Tears blurred her vision, and Lori scooped up Snack, letting the little dog nuzzle her face, offering his own brand of snuffly terrier comfort. Why had she thought this would be a good idea?
Because she was trying to face things. To feel things. To stop running. Setting Snack down on the saddle, she forced herself to calm down. What happened here was horrible. Terrifying. Devastating. But what else? She listened beyond the pounding of her own heartbeat to the quiet rushing of the wind in the pines. To the stillness of the high country.
There was more here than just fear. She remembered her mother’s smile. So quietly beautiful. How she’d worn her straight blond hair in a ponytail most days, but there were always a bunch of wisps that escaped and framed her face. How she’d lie in the hammock her dad had hung in the pines by their house on Sunday afternoons after church and read a book for an hour. Her mommy-time, she’d called it. How she’d loved to dance, and cook, and garden and ride. She’d put Lori and Mandy on horses as soon as they could walk, and she loved to get the entire family out for trail rides together as often as possible.
Cozy blanket forts in front of the fire, birthday cakes and the huge Christmas party she threw every year. Church committees and girlfriends and board games and laughter. Memory after memory came spilling out like gems from a treasure chest that Lori hadn’t realized was hidden in her heart.
Her mom might have died too young, but she’d lived and loved so well.
And ever since her death, Lori had traded those kinds of rich experiences for rigid goals. She’d let her fears rule her choices, and they’d kept her from so much. From friendships, connections, hobbies and all the small, fun adventures her mom had brought to their lives. And now they might steal her chance at a deep and generous kind of love.
When she got back home, she was going to write Wade Hoffman a letter and tell him one last time that she loved him, and why he’d made the biggest mistake of his life when he told her to go. She was going to ask Mandy if she wanted to go to the movies. She was going to put on a nice dinner for the ranch hands. She was going to start living.
“Thank you, Mom,” she murmured to the empty sky, to the woman who’d taught her so much, and continued to teach her right here on this mountain path. “I love you. And I miss you.”
Turning Dakota, she started back up the trail. The afternoon was a little dimmer, the air was getting colder and the mare was eager to get home, walking in a fast jerky rhythm that would get her back to her warm stall as fast as possible. Lori felt the same way and let her set the pace.
The path was steeper now, and the scree slope and the cliff dropped off on her left. Lori kept her eyes ahead, glad that with this pace, they’d soon be past it. Dakota, too eager to oblige, stumbled. She lurched forward, twisting her body suddenly to avoid the slope. But her back legs went over the edge, and she scrabbled frantically in the loose rock.
Lori reached for Snack, throwing him uphill, away from the drop and free of the falling horse. She kicked her feet out of the stirrups and used the pommel to vault off, shoving herself away from Dakota so her leg wouldn’t be caught underneath if the mare fell.
She missed the path and hit the scree shoulder first. The steep slope took her, rolling her over and over. She scrabbled frantically at rocks as she went, searching for a handhold, but each one was as loose as the last, coming away in her hands. And then she saw the cliff, and made one last desperate, useless grab before she slid over. There was a sickening feeling of falling. Rocks loomed and she twisted, trying to right herself so she’d hit the bottom feet-first, shielding her head with her hands. And then there was nothing.
* * *
WADE WAS GROOMING JM when his phone buzzed. Seeing the unfamiliar number light up the screen, he ignored the call, letting it go to voice mail while he cleaned the gelding’s hooves with a pick. It was soothing, work like this. Simple and straightforward.
It was easier to think when he had something to do. And right now he had a lot to ponder. It hadn’t taken more than a few appointments with his new counselor, a long talk with Dan and a few beers with Ethan to realize that he’d made a terrible mistake with Lori. That he’d fallen right back into his old ways of handling crisis—making sure he handled it alone. It came from his childhood, his counselor said. He’d been rejected by everyone when he was growing up—his parents, his older brothers, even his town. So he had no faith that anyone would be there for him. When things got scary, he pushed people away to avoid the rejection he was sure was coming.
In other words, he was royally screwed up. Thanks, Dad. Thanks, Mom.
But whatever the reasons for what he’d done, he’d hurt Lori in a big way. And he had no idea what he was going to do to try to win her back. Ironic, because the one thing in his life most clear to him was that he loved her—and he wanted a life with her.
The late-afternoon light filtered through the stall door. He’d given JM some grain, and the sound of the horse’s contented chewing filled the air. Until it was interrupted by the phone buzzing again—the same unknown caller.
Shoving the hoof pick into his back pocket, Wade picked up his phone and answered. It was Mandy, talking fast, the panic scrambling her voice. Lori had gone for a ride in the mountains. And Dakota had come back without her.
Wade hit Speaker and set the phone down so he could slide a halter over JM’s nose. “I’m trailering my horse, and I’ll be over in fifteen minutes. Can you have some supplies ready for me?” He listed off anything he could think of, picturing his pack when he was in training to be a ranger. Food, first aid, emergency blankets, fleece clothing, rain gear and rope. Really long rope. Flashlights. A gun, or bear spray. A fresh horse for Lori.
By the time they were off the phone, he was at his truck, backing it up to the trailer. He lowered the hitch down at record speed, slapped the chains on and ran back to the stall to get JM. Ten minutes later he was pulling up to the main barn at Lori’s ranch with a mantra in his head: please let her be okay.
Mandy came running toward him, tossing a few coils of rope onto the heap of gear on the ground. “She went up toward the Ten Lakes lookout. The trail starts near the well and heads southwest. She took her little dog with her, and he isn’t back, either.”
“Why did she go up there?” he asked, unlatching the trailer door.
“I don’t know. She said she just wanted some time to think.”
Guilt shot through Wade. He’d certainly given her plenty to think about lately. “I promise you I’ll bring her back.”
“I know you will.” It was a flawed vote of confidence. Mandy’s voice was shaking, and she looked white as a sheet. Wade knew it wasn’t just fear for her sister that had her falling apart. Her mom had died on that trail.
He opened the trailer door and backed JM out. He set down the bucket of grain JM hadn’t had the chance to finish in the stall, and the horse ate while Wade opened a side compartment and grabbed the saddle and the thick pad. He settled them carefully over JM’s back, taking his time to make sure his horse would be comfortable.
When the cinch was tight, Mandy handed him a pair of stuffed saddlebags. “There’s a chestnut in the corral just on the other side of the barn. His name is Teton. The saddle is on the corral fence.”
Wade nodded, taking the halter and going over to swipe a handful of grain from JM’s bucket. He jogged around the barn. Teton was a big guy, almost sixteen hands high, perfect for this situation. He could carry a bunch of the gear out and bring Lori back home again. I hope. Wade shoved the words away before they sickened him.
Teton snuffed up the grain while Wade slid his halter on. He had the chestnut saddled by the time Mandy came back with the rest of the supplies. They worked in silence, tying on the last of the saddle bags.
Wade swung up on JM, and Mandy handed him Teton’s lead rope. “I’ll bring her back, Mandy. But it’s getting late. I’ve only got a couple hours of daylight left, so I probably can’t get her home tonight. Call the sheriff and tell him to have search and rescue head up first thing in the morning in case I need help with her.”
“Can you help her? If she’s hurt?”
“Until a few months ago, I was an army ranger. We’re trained for pretty much anything. I can do this.” God, he hoped so. The anxiety inside was eating at him, fraying his composure. It would be so easy to lose it. To rage at whatever twist of fate had gotten Lori into trouble. But he wouldn’t allow the fear and anger out, no matter how hard it burned. He could control it. He just had to use what he’d learned from his counselor the past few weeks. He took a deep breath like he’d been taught, and let it out. He could do this. He had to.
He turned JM toward the mountains, giving Mandy a quick wave. Teton trotted along next to them through the ranch and along the dirt track that would lead them out of the ranch. He passed Lori’s well, dry now thanks to him, and stepped the horses carefully over the irrigation lines they’d run from his well to her land.
Water sharing. It had seemed so complicated at the time, but he’d give a lot to have that be their only problem now.
* * *
A DULL THROBBING pain filtered in through the darkness. Awareness flickered, disappeared into blackness. Flickered again. Her head hurt. Where...? Lori tried to organize her thoughts, but they kept floating out into the blackness again. Was it dark? Were her eyes open?
She forced her mind back from the darkness. Focus on just one thing. Open your eyes. She found the muscles eventually and opened her eyes, surprised to see that it was still light out. Not bright, though. Evening. Or early morning. She could see dirt, and a rock right in front of her. It hurt to look. She closed her eyes. The blackness came back and she welcomed it.
A sound penetrated her oblivion. Someone was shouting. Or barking. There was an echo in her brain. Or was it in the mountains? She opened her eyes again. It was her name. Lori. Someone was yelling “Lori.”
She lifted her head, and her forehead throbbed. She tried to bring her hand up to touch it and gasped at the stabbing pain in her wrist. Broken for sure.
She had to yell back, had to be strong and get help. Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to roll onto her side. It hurt. But at least her mouth wasn’t in the dirt anymore. “I’m here,” she tried to call, but it came out as a whimper. She took a breath that hurt going in and tried again. “Here!”
The sound bounced off the walls of the canyon. That’s right. She’d slid down the slope. Over a cliff. Was she at the bottom?
She heard frantic barking. Snack? She’d had him with her. Pushed him away from Dakota. The last thing she remembered.
“Lori, I heard you! Where are you?” That deep voice. Wade. A rush of relief had her eyes tearing up. No, she couldn’t lose it. She had to stay strong and calm.
She sucked in another breath and it was a little easier this time, thank goodness. Ribs bruised, but maybe not broken. “Down the scree slope!” She had to stop and catch her breath before she could shout again. “Over the cliff!”
“Are you hurt?”
“Yeah.” Every time she yelled, her ribs radiated pain.
“I’m going to lower some gear before I come down there. Is there space for it?”
She raised her head out of the dirt a few inches. She was on a sizeable ledge. “Twenty feet wide. Only ten deep,” she yelled up to the sky above. Ouch.
“Got it. Don’t move.”
Don’t move. Ha. Not really a problem. Could she even move her legs? She tried, and her right ankle shot pain. Broken?
She closed her eyes and was just getting comfortable in the blackness again when a pebble hit her on the forehead. Dirt followed, raining down. “Oh, ugh.” She heaved herself out of the way, spitting out dust as a large bundle hit the ground next to her.
“Do you have it?” Wade called. “Just pull the tail end of the rope. It should untie easily.”
Lori used her right hand, the only one working at the moment, and did as he said. As the rope came loose, the wool blanket wrapped around the bundle opened, and all kinds of gear spilled out. Tarps, sleeping bags, clothes and a small duffel bag. An overwhelming wave of gratitude washed over her. He’d found her. She wouldn’t make dying out here a family tradition. She closed her eyes, saying a silent prayer of thanks, trying to block out the pain.
Wade was coming. And he knew what to do. It was going to be okay.