40. Chapter 40
40
Gray clouds spilled across the endless sky the day we left Misery Creek.
“Could be a storm later,” Jameson chewed on a toothpick. “It won’t catch us in the wildlands, though.”
My stomach swirled as Misery Creek disappeared behind us. The sheriff shaded his brow, studiously ignoring his blubbering wife and inconsolable Lucinda next to him. Emory waved, and Garcell held his heavily pregnant wife. We’d said all our goodbyes over the week, but it was hardest to say goodbye to my friend and her pack.
“You’ll see her soon, and the baby.” Oliver kissed my brow. Lucinda and the Baylark Pack decided to come with us. The threat of arrest too much, especially with a child involved. They were going to wait until the baby was born and join us in the wildlands. Jameson assured us all that we would be pleasantly surprised by the spot he called home.
Oliver fussed with the pillows behind my back and tried to put a blanket over my knees. Bruises painted my skin still, and I couldn’t hide a wince as the cart went over a dip in the path. There were no roads into the wildlands, just a network only a few knew how to traverse.
“Nice of you to show me the same care.” Bram bounced on the seat next to me, jammed in between Birdie and the bundles of bedding and crates.
The cart was filled to the brim with the entirety of our existence. A sad collection in the scheme of what we lost in the fire, but things didn’t matter, as my alphas kept reminding me.
“You don’t have two cracked ribs.”
Mr. Whit had prodded me with gentle hands and along with my bullet graze, barely a scratch, according to his approximation. Nothing a few hearty meals wouldn’t fix. He was remarkably blithe about my two cracked ribs and a rolled ankle, still swollen and blue. The cool demeanor didn’t extend itself to my alphas. The diagnosis made them mirrors of trembling pale, with Hale even retching into the basin beside the bed.
The stress of organizing to leave left all my men haggard. In addition to scouring the house for anything salvageable, organizing supplies to take into the wildlands, they also went back to the ravine and mined a staggering amount of gold. Two barrels worth of nuggets, to be exact. There was more left there, which Hale told the sheriff in confidence. We’d also left a good-sized nugget for Madam Silver as an extra thank you for rousing help so quickly when I was taken.
The wheels of the cart squeaked under the significant wealth.
It was a strange feeling to be so rich and feel so bereft at the same time. The cart ride left me too long in my thoughts, and by the time Jameson said we should make camp, I was wrung out, trembling, and sore all over. Ruck forced me to rest in the cart while a fire was lit and dinner prepared, a broth with dried beef. Lucinda baked us some scones, and most were devoured over the long day, but Hale kept a few for dinner, and the soft bread was a comfort. Ruck pulled me onto his lap and I protested, aware of the sidelong glances we were getting from Jameson and his friends.
“Hush, we can do this now,” he muttered against my neck.
“It’s still not proper.”
Jameson pulled the metal pot off the fire and filled enamel mugs with the rich, smelling broth. My stomach rumbled.
“What’s improper about love?” He gave Birdie a sidelong glance, offering her a mug which she took with a distracted thank you. She balanced it on her knee while perusing her notes.
“What are you working on?” Jameson asked, plonking himself beside her. The man had grown on me over the week, and the intimidating energy I’d initially felt from him faded. He was a man made harsh by circumstance and was used to keeping secrets. His obvious, unrequited crush on Birdie made me feel for him.
“I’m calculating data.” Birdie drank her broth and let out a soft noise, going back for another.
“Alright,” Jameson replied, sipping from his mug with wide eyes.
Most people didn’t know what to make of my sister, especially when she stuck her head in a problem she was trying to solve. Now it was the scent masking tea and how she could recreate it. I covered a smile as she bent over the paper, ignoring any attempts at conversation Jameson made. He’d admitted his friends were a pack, along with an omega man who hadn’t made the journey. But they hadn’t found a woman they wanted to join their pack yet.
Ruck jostled me, and I let out a sharp exhale.
“What is it?” Oliver and Hale were by my side in a flash, and I smothered a laugh at the tension etched in their features.
“My behind is just sore from the cart.”
It was going to take seven days to get to Jameson’s home and perhaps longer, depending on the cart. Hale cupped my cheek and rubbed his callused thumb over the soft curve.
“I wish there was more time for you to heal, but the sheriff was already generous in giving us a week.”
“I thought Claudia was going to blow her top,” Bram interjected with a sharp laugh.
Claudia didn’t know what happened on the ranch, but the rumors were all worse than the truth. She’d appeared as we were leaving town and burst into noisy wailing when her father refused to tell her where we were going. For a moment, I thought she was going to scratch my eyes out, but her husband took her elbow and marched her back to their grand house, threatening to keep her locked up if she kept making a scene.
Claudia tossed a lingering glance back at Hale, the yearning not subtle. Hale didn’t notice. He was only interested in making sure the incident didn’t unsteady me. But I saw the way Claudia’s shoulders drooped and the devastation she was too slow to mask. Hale was the alpha she thought was hers and her punishment was always having him out of reach. Now, she wouldn’t even be able to look at him and spin delusional fairy tales about him secretly loving her, too.
“I don’t want to speak on that infernal woman.” Hale waved his hand with a noise of disgust. “Have you fed Charlie?”
We couldn’t leave Misery Creek without the sweet bull, who was too big to be considered cute. Nor the six chickens Hale meant for the coop he was building me. It wasn’t a smart decision to bring them if Jameson’s opinion was anything to go by.
“There are wolves, coyotes; someone even thought they saw a black panther one night. They’ll enjoy the tasty meal.”
“I’m not leaving them.” I hiked up my chin.
“What my wife wants, she gets,” Hale exclaimed, brushing a kiss on my lips. Ruck and Oliver followed suit. They carried me to the bedroll by the fire and tucked themselves around me. Sleep crashed over me as soon as I was horizontal.
Dawn on the second day the wildlands became an alien landscape. The earth cracked with white fissures and there was nothing for miles, all the way to the hazy distance. Jameson tapped into knolls he seemed to recognize, with a knack for finding water. My dry throat appreciated his eagle eye, even if they did follow my sister too heavily.
Every time the cart jostled, it moved me with it. My ribs throbbed and the graze, even minor, burned like a thousand sewing needles stabbed in my side. The men were on horses, keeping the livestock moving with us, including Charlie.
Nettle loped next to the cart, darting behind the cattle and being more of a hindrance than help. By late afternoon, my splintering headache was all I could focus on, and my neck felt one pothole away from dropping right off.
The barren landscape gave way to rough scrub and some spindly trees with thin trunks that offered no shade. My eye drifted to a ridge in the distance, and I saw movement. Nobody else noticed, sunken in their own silent misery.
“Wait, wait, stop the cart. Look.” I pointed frantically to the horizon.
Oliver pulled the cart up as everyone else followed the line of my finger.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” Ruck muttered, shading his eyes with his hand. Trotting over the crest of the ridge was a herd of horses, but there was one I couldn’t draw my eye away from.
Dalton.
Shadows reached over the rolling hills as the sun sunk behind the ridge. Dalton paused, turning in our direction like he noticed us. My throat grew tight. His dark mane rippled like ink in the wind. Seconds dragged in silence, each of us frozen. Dalton’s ears twitched, and his nostrils flared. His sharp whinny sliced through the distance between us, and he reared up. His powerful hooves struck the air, the defined muscles on his thighs tense.
“Gosh, he’s so beautiful,” I breathed.
Dalton landed on all fours again, kicking up dust with a silent, haughty toss of his head.
Try and catch me again, I dare you .
It was a taunt, a celebration. Dalton was majestic, churning dust into a cloud as he disappeared. His herd streamed after him, a show that made my heart crash.
“Wild looks good on him.” Ruck shook his head. A small smile tipped up his lips.
Dalton belonged here. In the sprawling sparse ground and rolling tumbleweeds. The trees with harried trunks, bending toward the ground. The air tasted like dust, the sun turning it sweet.
Oliver flicked the reins, and the cart lurched, but my head didn’t ache as fiercely as before. I wiped moisture from my eyes. Dalton was gone, but the dust kicked up from his hooves swirled red in the falling sun.
“Wild looks good on us too. Our pack,” I said to Ruck, and he leaned over the pommel and pressed a kiss to my lips.
Then Ruck spotted a bright pink flower, he called it a desert wildflower and he tucked one behind my ear and stared at me until I blushed.
“I thought so,” he muttered, an awestruck smile on his face.
I didn’t know what that meant.