Wildfire Omens (Wildwood #1)

Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve

Cheyenne

Two hours later, Claire, Sheriff McGrath, and I stood in a huddle in the sheriff’s office, debating our options. Travis had confirmed that Rhett wasn’t in the loft. Claire and the sheriff had followed up with everyone they’d seen at the bar last night. Nobody had seen Rhett leave or knew who he had gotten a ride with. They’d tracked his phone and found it tucked safely into the saddlebag on his bike, like he’d never even taken it into the bar.

“He’s a grown man,” Sheriff McGrath soothed. “He probably got a ride with a woman and decided to sleep over.”

“No,” Claire said firmly. “He wouldn’t have.”

McGrath gave her a look. “Seems like that’s exactly the kind of thing Rhett would have done. Odds are he’ll show up before the end of the day.”

“I’m telling you, that’s not what happened,” Claire ground out.

“Look, it hasn’t even been twenty-four hours,” McGrath said, trying to calm her down. “We have zero evidence anything nefarious happened, other than his tires. Nobody saw or heard anything. There’s no blood in the parking lot or anything that should worry you.”

“Thomas was pissed,” she said, giving him a pointed look.

“I know.” He sighed. “Listen, I’ll have a talk with Thomas. See if anything feels fishy there. Okay?”

“We need to activate search-and-rescue,” Claire insisted.

McGrath gave her an exasperated look. “We don’t know for sure that he’s missing—it wouldn’t be the first time in history someone left that bar with someone different than who they came in with. Even if he is, we have no leads to know where to start looking. I can’t activate a SAR team to search all of Wyoming! Slow down. I’ll talk to Thomas and we’ll go from there.”

She clamped her lips together and clenched her fists.

I put a hand on her elbow, squeezing to let her know she wasn’t alone. “Maybe you’re right,” I said to the sheriff. “So if we don’t hear from him in another twenty-four hours?”

He nodded, looking relieved. “Then we’ll go from there. But I’m telling you, odds are he’ll show up at dinner tonight with a story to tell.”

I could feel Claire tensing up, so I dug my fingers into her arm and pulled her away.

“What did you do that for?” she demanded when we got outside.

“I’m trying to help you keep your job.”

She looked me dead in the eye. “Cheyenne, I promise you, he wouldn’t have gone home with another woman.”

“Okay,” I said, even though I didn’t share her confidence. Frankly, I was sure there were plenty of women who’d jump at the chance to bed Rhett Hawkins.

“Tell me what you’re thinking from a search-and-rescue point of view,” she said, desperation in her eyes.

I sighed. “Well, the sheriff is right. We have no leads to go on, except we know he was here last night and that he didn’t go home on his bike.”

Her eyes filled with tears. “It’s my fault.”

“What do you mean?”

“He called me twice last night. I must have turned my phone to silent without realizing it or something. I didn’t even see the calls until I got home, and I tried to call him back, but he didn’t answer.” She made a fist and brought it to her forehead, squeezing her eyes shut. “If anything happened to him…”

“I’m sure he’s fine,” I soothed, even though I wasn’t sure at all. I was starting to think that the terrible feelings I’d had all day were less about how Rhett was wrecking my heart and more about whatever had happened to him.

That link between us… No matter how much I wanted it gone, it was there. I only hoped that somehow I could use it this time to find him.

“Is there any chance he would have walked home last night when he couldn’t get you on the phone?”

Her eyes lit up with hope. “Of course. That makes sense. It’s only three miles to the ranch.”

“Yeah,” I said, though with considerably less excitement than her. I knew that her emotions were clouding her judgment. It was odd for him to call her, then put his cell phone back in the saddlebags. If he was walking, why not carry it with him in case she called him back? She could have picked him up and shortened his ride.

Plus, if he had walked back on the highway, he should have been safely home last night. Something terrible might have happened to him—a hit-and-run accident or even an animal encounter.

The other option was that he’d tried to cut through the forest and gotten lost. This many hours later… He could be almost anywhere. If a lost person stopped where they were, that was one thing. But often, people wandered around, thinking they were only a few steps away from finding the trail again. They could get miles off track, deeper and deeper into the woods, without even realizing it—just like Scott Fairbanks. Despite the best efforts of an experienced SAR team, sometimes those people were never found alive. The Wyoming wilderness was full of danger. I’d like to think Rhett had more common sense than that, but we’d already confirmed he’d been drinking. Anything could have happened to him.

“We may not be able to officially activate a team yet, but…” Claire said.

I gave her an encouraging smile. “We’re the best anyway, right?”

“Exactly.”

I let her hold on to that hope instead of telling her how terrified I felt inside.

Claire and I split up. She took the highway, driving slowly up and down it to make sure Rhett wasn’t lying in a ditch somewhere. I took to the woods on Wildfire. I wanted more people, more resources, more information—this was not the way to properly conduct a search. If the sheriff didn’t authorize an official one soon, I’d call in favors from my team and we’d do it unofficially anyway.

In the meantime, I’d cover what ground I could and see if I could come up with something—anything—to figure out what had happened to Rhett.

I took the most direct path from the bar to the edges of the ranch’s property first, keeping my eyes and ears open for any recent disturbance. When that came up empty, I turned back toward the bar, skirting the edge of the highway in case he’d walked through the woods but stuck close to the road. I’d made it about halfway back when Wildfire’s ears pricked up. I slowed, listening for what had gotten her attention.

“What is it, girl?” I asked, stroking her neck. My heart rate picked up as I heard what sounded like a moan. We moved forward slowly, listening.

The noise came again.

“Rhett?” I called, my heart racing as I dared to hope.

Another groan, louder this time, though it was still faint and so far away.

I nudged Wildfire forward, scanning the area. There was a service road ahead, and it sounded like the noise had come from that direction. I headed there and listened, turning toward the left. After a few more steps down that road, I saw familiar black boots jutting out of a ditch.

My heart nearly stopped.

I jumped off Wildfire and raced to where Rhett lay before dropping down beside him. Blood was matted in his hair, and the side of his face was blue and swollen. He moaned again, attempting to open his eyes.

“Shh, it’s okay. I’m here,” I said, grabbing his hand in mine. “You’re going to be alright. I’ve got you.”

“Cheyenne,” he said weakly, gripping my hand with a strength that surprised me.

“Yes. It’s Cheyenne. I’m here.” I choked up, my heart aching at the sight of him on the ground like this, broken and bloody. “Hold on, okay? I’m going to call for help.”

I called Claire, gave her our location, and told her we needed medical assistance. Her relief came through the phone, though I wasn’t sure how relieved she’d feel when she saw that he had been beaten badly and left for dead.

“Need… Water…” he mumbled, those eyes still fighting to open.

“I’m sorry,” I said, my heart breaking again. “I can’t give it to you. Not until we know what we’re dealing with medically.” Sticking to trauma protocol felt like a dagger in my heart.

It was one thing when the person in front of you was a stranger. Easier to say no, knowing that it was the right decision medically speaking. But when it was Rhett and his lips were dry and chapped and his voice sounded like his throat was full of gravel? It killed me not to give him the one thing he asked for.

“Thank you,” he said, gripping my hand again. Those dark eyes opened for a brief moment, holding my gaze. “Thank you for finding me.”

“That’s my job.”

“You’re beautiful.” His eyes fluttered closed again as his strength failed. “Never seen such a pretty sight. Never stopped loving you. Never. Had to tell you … one last time.”

“Shhh, don’t talk now. You’re going to be okay. Help is on the way,” I said, trying to keep it professional. But there was nothing professional about the tears falling from my eyes as I leaned over him, holding on to his hand as tightly as he held mine.