Chapter 24

Blake spent a restless night in the forest…two feet away from the blood stain Sam had left behind. He didn’t want to chance losing her track by leaving and returning the next morning only to have to waste time finding the trail again. Besides, if the woman occupying his every thought was going to spend the evening in the wilderness, he’d be damned if she was going to do it alone.

A night under the stars did an amazing job of clearing one’s head. And although he’d gotten little sleep, he did manage to figure out a few things.

He wasn’t ready to lose the woman. Not now. Not ever. He was completely head over heels in love with her.

The idea of never seeing her again did not reenter his mind. Not after reading her journal three more times before it got too dark to see what she’d written any longer. He’d find Sam alive. Or die trying. He simply needed to get his bearings. And now, with the early streaks of the morning sunlight filtering in, Blake could continue his search.

All he had to do was walk along the creek, and it would eventually bring him to his cabin. Hopefully, Sam remembered that and had made it to its sweet refuge. He held onto the thought optimistically. She had proven herself to be resourceful. And smart.

According to her notes, she had listened to him about the ways to survive in the wilderness. HHhHe just hoped she was able to apply the information in order to save her own life. Too bad the chance of survival depended on the slim thread of hope she’d been able to escape her assailant.

Blake searched for signs he might have missed in the dusk of last night. He prayed a fresh start would help him find something.

No such luck. Nothing.

It was almost as if her tracks had disappeared into thin air.

The morning sun caught a flash of silver. Her camera. He picked it up and cradled the treasured item in his hands for a moment before slipping the strap around his neck. Not willing to spare a precious moment more, he began trudging alongside the creek. After about fifteen minutes, he saw a glimpse of his home’s red roof. The log cabin was a welcome sight, and he still held onto his conviction she had also made her way there, imagining Sam in the kitchen possibly making coffee or hopefully breakfast.

The image was shattered as soon as he opened the door to an empty home. The silent homecoming was deafening. Standing in the doorway of his home, Blake sensed something was a little off. As if somebody had been there.

Without being able to explain his feeling, he raced upstairs, still holding onto a tiny measure of hope Sam was in his bedroom, possibly asleep on his bed. With his hand still against the hard wood rail, he whisked a keen gaze throughout the bedroom.

Running to the bed, he found a bloodlike smear stained the ivory pillow case.

Sam.

Picking up the headrest, he inhaled her scent. If she’d been here, she had to be still alive. Bleeding, but alive. He hugged the pillow to his body. Where in the hell was she? Tearing through the room, he searched for more clues. After finding nothing, he rushed downstairs, taking the steps two at a time.

Scouring the cabin, his stare centered on the woodstove. The room was comfortable. Warm, in fact. He swung open the door to the wood stove and grabbed the iron poker from the stand beside the stove to stir the dying embers. The fire hadn’t been stoked for a while. Wherever Sam was, she had at least a three to four hour head start.

He raced to the stables and checked on the horses, immediately noting two missing. Dixie and Rebel. Odd, unless…

Putting two and two together, everything began to add up. Only one other person ever used Rebel—Denali. The raven-haired steed shared the same sour disposition as his friend, making them the perfect pair.

Blake shook his head. Stealing his horse and kidnapping Sam? He never thought Denali would do such a thing, but suddenly, it was all starting to make sense. It certainly explained the false prints he followed so blindly. Only Denali would think to throw him off in such a way. But why? Why would he do something so horrible?

An odd mixture of relief and indignation consumed Blake.

Why wouldn’t he? The native had been inconsolable after their last meeting. Immediately, he recalled the argument they had over Sam. Toss in the approach of the tourist season, and the way Blake had taken her side, he’d left the proud man with little choice.

His mind began to spin with thoughts of what his oldest friend would do next. As angry as the man was, Blake knew he would never hurt Sam. It wasn’t in his nature. And Denali would never travel with her if she weren’t able to—his friend would never risk her or anyone else’s good health. At least, Blake hoped not, for Sam’s sake.

Denali would, however, try his best to scare the hell out of her.

How? A few nights spent in the woods frightening Sam with stories about Alaska? Scary legends like the ones the elders told around the campfire? It was precisely what Denali would do…

And who better to tell the legends than the elders themselves?

Furious, Blake saddled Captain. The horse stomped his front hoof on the straw-laden floor of the barn. Apparently, the animal was as ready to ride as he was.

A few minutes of tracking and he knew exactly which trail Denali took. He’d been right. The village.

Troubled, he considered the outcome. This could go one of two ways. Either the tribe would love Sam…

Or hate her.

No. Not possible. How could anyone hate the woman?

Captain snorted, gaining his attention. The horse was right. He was wasting time. He had to catch up with Sam and Denali. The tribe was hardly receptive to outsiders.

By now, McKinley would’ve told the entire village about his new love interest. However, even with his feelings for Sam, her introduction by Denali to his people could have quite a cold reception. Possibly hostile, placing her in danger regardless of Blake’s connection.