Chapter 16
CHAPTER 16
WILDER
W ilder knew he should calm down. Blaze would be able to sense the tension in him. He could tell the horse was uneasy, barreling into a faster gallop than usual because of the pointless adrenaline burning through Wilder’s veins.
He’d told them all he was gay. He didn’t mean to. He was just so sick of Billy blaming him for the past. There was enough on his shoulders already. If Rebecca still wasn’t over whatever had happened between them in high school, that wasn’t his fault. He’d liked her well enough as a friend; he couldn’t help that he didn’t love her the way she wanted. And like Billy said, she was better off now, wasn’t she? Why should he still be blamed for the past if she’d moved on?
The others took a little longer to fall in behind him, but soon enough they had the herd on the move once again. Wilder stayed far ahead of the rest of the riders, keeping an eye on the faster heifers and bulls near the front. He didn’t want to talk to anyone or see anyone right now, not until he could have a moment to breathe .
He should’ve been paying closer attention to the herd. All morning, they’d followed the hands’ direction, but animals—especially bulls—were unpredictable.
To Wilder’s right, one of them charged. Blaze saw it coming before he did, turning on a dime to dodge. The motion jerked Wilder to the side, and though his thighs tightened around the saddle to keep him in place, the world tilted anyway. A bolt of panic hit him—he thought Blaze was going down at first. But no, he realized as his weight continued to the right. It was the saddle. It had come loose, and now he was falling. Falling toward the bull, who had pulled up alongside Blaze.
“Oh God ,” he hissed dumbly, throwing himself forward in an attempt to catch himself on Blaze’s shoulders. All it did was startle Blaze.
Fuck, fuck, fuck , blared through his brain as the saddle kept going. It would fall, tangle up in Blaze’s legs, and make the horse go down, too.
He knew the fall was coming before it happened. Someone shouted his name as his shoulder brushed the bull’s thick flank. He saw pounding hooves waiting for him down below, and he only hoped the pain would be over fast.
But when Blaze fell, his body turned, pulling Wilder away as they went down. The bull kept going without them, driven by the instinct to stay with the herd. Wilder didn’t know which way was up. Pain crashed through his leg and arms, and above all, he hoped Blaze was okay.
There was grit in his mouth, and he knew he was hurt but not how bad. He swore he heard a gunshot, but that didn’t make sense. Weight lifted off his leg, and a shadow passed in front of the blinding sun.
Voices drew him out of his disorientation.
“Wilder?” Gentle, callused hands touched his face. “Wilder, can you hear me? Open your eyes, come on.”
“Should we call an ambulance?”
“They can’t come all the way out here. There are no roads to this field.”
“Call the ambulance.” He recognized that voice, like the burn of whiskey during a summer sunset. “Have them waiting at the house.”
“Nnng,” Wilder tried to say.
“Wilder? You with me?”
“Nnng,” he said again.
“Open your eyes.”
It took monumental effort, but soon he was blinking up at Cash, who was paler than Wilder had ever seen. He smiled in relief, but the furrow between his brows didn’t fade.
“There you are. How many fingers am I holding up?” He held up two.
Wilder lifted his middle finger. “How many am I?”
Cash laughed. “Quit messing around. I need to know how badly you’re hurt.”
“Two, it was two,” Wilder croaked. “Blaze, where is he? He okay?”
“He got up and took off running, but Lain caught him. He’s fine.”
“Did I hear a gunshot?”
“You did.” Cash winced. “That was me. The herd was running too close to you. I was afraid you’d get trampled, so I fired a shot into the air to move them away in a hurry. The others are dealing with the herd. How are you ?”
Wilder paused to take stock of himself. His abdomen and his back felt okay, which was probably the most important thing. His head, too. He nodded, holding out a hand for Cash to help him up.
Cash hesitated. “I’m not sure you should move just yet. If you injured your spine?—”
“I didn’t. I mean, I’m sure I’ll have some interesting bruises later, but my back is fine. I think—I think Blaze landed on my leg. Help me sit up.”
Cash took his hand and gently helped him upright. It was then, bending at the hip and moving his right leg, that he felt the first needle pricks of pain.
He groaned, gripping his leg just above the knee.
“What is it? Tell me,” Cash said, hovering over him. “Broken?”
“I don’t think so?”
“Dislocated?”
“Um.” It was hard to tell. Moving it caused pain to flare fast and bright, but… “I don’t think so.”
Cash pursed his lips. “Maybe a sprain or tear, then. Can I check you over?” He reached his hands toward Wilder’s leg, looking askance.
Wilder nodded, leaning back on his hands with a grimace.
Cash’s hands on his upper thigh would have been a sensual, intimate experience under any other circumstance. He worked his way gently down Wilder’s leg, checking his face often for signs of discomfort. When he reached his knee, he kept his touch very gentle. The pain worsened on the inside, which Wilder told him. There was some milder pain down his shin and calf, which probably meant bruising, and his ankle had definitely felt better.
“Okay, I feel confident that you’re not gonna die,” Cash said.
“Always good to hear, doc,” Wilder quipped.
“The bad news is that you’ll have to get back on a horse to make it to the ambulance and the good drugs. And getting on a horse is probably gonna hurt.”
Wilder snorted, then said seriously, “I don’t want to ride Blaze. Not until I’ve had a chance to look him over.”
“I’ll look him over,” Cash said. “You’re going to the hospital. And you’re not riding Blaze back, you’re riding with me. We’ll tie Blaze to Hexie and get you both home.”
Cash hauled Wilder to his feet, where he hobbled on one foot. Cash held him until he was sure he had his balance, and then he moved away quickly to grab Hexie’s reins from Lain. On Lain and Persimmon’s other side, Blaze was breathing hard, his ears back. Still shaken from the fall, or feeling some kind of pain?
“Blaze,” Wilder said, moving toward him and grunting in pain when he put weight on his bad leg.
Cash’s head whipped toward him. “Wilder, don’t do that! You might make it worse!”
Wilder shot him a glare he didn’t really mean. “I need to check on him. Blaze, c’mere, boy.” He clicked his tongue, holding his hands out. “Come on, come here.”
Lain glanced at Cash and reluctantly let go of Blaze’s reins as the horse inched closer, pressing his nose into Wilder’s palm and chuffing softly.
“Are you okay?” His voice quavered with emotion. He searched around them for the saddle, which was laying in the dirt a short distance away. It had completely come loose. How? How did this happen? He’d watched Cash put it on that morning, and it was fine for the first half of the day. Had his anger made him overlook a problem with the saddle at lunch? Did he stop to check the strap before he got back on like he’d been taught?
Guilt was a knot in his gut. He didn’t think so. And that meant this was his fault.
He was so consumed by it that he didn’t notice Lain had gotten down from Persimmon until he was there, laying the saddle over Blaze’s back and fixing it into place. Their eyes met, and Wilder resisted the urge to duck his head. His eyes swam with tears, but he was too wrung out to hide the guilt he felt. Lain would be within his rights to fire him over this. He’d let his anger get the best of him, once again, and this time an innocent animal suffered for his recklessness. He never meant to cause Blaze pain, and he was so, so glad the mustang didn’t seem to be injured.
Lain opened his mouth to speak, and Wilder prepared himself for a verbal lashing. He deserved it. If Lain wanted him gone, he wouldn’t even argue. Maybe it would be for the best. He hurt everything he touched.
Before he could speak, Cash was back. “Here, found your hat.” He plopped it on Wilder’s head. The front was bent, broken straw sticking up at an awkward angle.
Wilder took it off and looked it over. The whole thing was covered in dust. It looked more like crumpled paper than a functional hat. “It was trampled?”
“Better the hat than your head,” Cash said. “We’ll get you a new one. Now, come on. Think you can get up in the saddle? I’ll climb on behind you. If we take it easy, Hexie can carry both of us.”
Wilder wasn’t sure he’d be able to put his weight on one leg long enough to get up there, but they didn’t have a lot of options. He hobbled over to Hexie’s left side and gripped the saddle.
“I’m gonna help you up, okay?” Cash said, crowding in behind him.
“Mmkay.”
Cash wrapped both arms around his middle, and when Wilder raised his left foot to put it in the stirrup, Cash took his weight off his injured right one. His muscles shook as he levered himself up, and a groan left him as he lifted his right leg over her back to settle in place, breathing a sigh of relief. He didn’t put his right foot in the stirrup, because that would mean bending his leg to an uncomfortable degree. Letting it dangle hurt, too, but he could endure it long enough to get back to the house.
“You good? Okay. Here I come.” Cash used the stirrup next to swing himself into place behind Wilder.
It wouldn’t be healthy for Hexie to carry them both for long, but at a steady walk, she should be able to make it long enough to get them home without hurting her.
“Maybe I should come with you,” Lain said as he handed over Blaze’s reins.
Cash shook his head. “Don’t worry about it, boss. Catch up with the others. We’re already down two riders today. They’ll need your help.”
“Fuck,” Wilder hissed. He wouldn’t be able to help them with the herd for the rest of the week. Maybe longer. Depending on what was wrong with his leg, he could be laid up for a while. What good was a ranch hand who couldn’t do ranch shit?
“It’s fine, Wilder,” Cash murmured in his ear. “Your safety and health is more important than the work you can do.”
Then why didn’t it feel that way? His health and safety had always been an afterthought to the people around him. He didn’t see why that would change now.
His spine curved in defeat, and he rested an elbow on the saddle horn under the guise of wiping sweat and gritty dirt from his forehead.
“Okay,” Lain said reluctantly, glancing in the direction the herd had gone. “You’ve got a radio, right?”
“Yessir.”
“Leave it with Mary-Beth when you get to the house. Go with Wilder in the ambulance. Call her with updates and let her know if you need anything. She can relay the info to me.”
“Will do. Come on, Hexie. Places to be, ambulances to meet.”
With Blaze’s reins tied to Hexie’s saddle, Cash waved goodbye to Lain and turned the horses in the direction they’d come. It would be a straighter path back to the house, though at this pace, it would still be a couple of hours before they made it. Hexie was in no hurry to run or even trot with two fully grown men on her back, and Wilder didn’t blame her. Lain raced off to catch up with the herd, and Wilder tried to breathe through the pain and the growing anxiety that gnawed at his gut.
“How are you feeling? How’s the pain?” Cash asked after they were back on the trail outside the fence.
“It’s present, but I’ll live.” He looked over at Blaze, walking beside them. “Maybe I should ride him. We’d be faster that way.”
“No.” Cash’s arm tightened around him, and lips pressed to the side of Wilder’s neck. “I want you here where I can remind myself you’re still with me. God, when I saw you go down…” His head fell forward, resting on Wilder’s shoulder. “I thought you were trampled by the herd. I didn’t even think . Took out my rifle and fired and hoped like hell that you’d still be whole when I got to you.” His voice broke, and a sense of wonder hit Wilder.
Cash cared . He really fucking cared about Wilder. When was the last time anyone had worried about him like this?
“Oh my God,” Wilder moaned miserably, turning his head and capturing Cash’s mouth. He tasted salt, and realized with another start that Cash was crying . Over the idea of something happening to him . “I tried to pull away,” he confessed. “I tried to keep my distance, avoid you, but you make it so damn hard.”
Cash looked shocked. “Don’t,” he pleaded. “Don’t avoid me. Don’t take this away.”
“If Lain finds out?—”
“I’ll talk to him.”
Fear lanced through him. “No! No, Cash, don’t. Fuck, it’s bad enough I’m not gonna be able to work?—”
“Do you really think he cares that much about?—”
“I don’t know , and it scares the shit out of me, okay?” Wilder said. “I don’t know what he thinks. I don’t know what he’d do. I know he didn’t want me to come back. Not really. He let me because he knew I had nowhere else to go. I’m already only here because he pitied me.”
“Wilder,” Cash protested.
“It’s true. I don’t want to wear out my welcome here. Maybe I’ll have to leave eventually?—”
“Stop talking like that!”
“Well, I might!” He turned forward again, sighing hard. “Fuck, I didn’t mean to bring this up right now. Maybe I have a concussion or something.” What was wrong with him? He should have just kept his mouth shut.
Cash’s hand appeared in front of him, grabbing his chin and turning his head for another searing kiss. Wilder leaned into it, hungry for everything Cash might offer.
“Okay,” Cash said when they parted, with deliberate patience. “You’re worried, because you don’t know where Lain’s head is at. Right?”
“Yes.”
“And maybe you… have learned to expect the worst.”
Wilder scowled. Was it written on his forehead or something? How did Cash read him so well?
“Don’t frown at me,” Cash sassed. “Yes or no?”
“I… Yeah, I guess.”
“Okay. Then let me deal with Lain—although I still say you two should talk.”
Wilder tried to pull away at that, because there was nothing he’d rather do less than have it out with his brother, especially when Lain literally held Wilder’s future in the palm of his hand. Lain could have him out on his ass in a heartbeat if he wanted. Staying on his good side, or at least out of his way, was Wilder’s priority right now.
Cash didn’t let him move away, still gripping his chin tight and rewarding him with another kiss when he stopped struggling. “Fine, fine. I hear you. You’re not ready for that. But I’m not willing to give this up.”
“What if?—”
“Shush, I’m not done.”
Wilder sighed.
“I’m too old to play games and hide what you mean to me.”
Wilder softened.
“I like you a lot, and I want to explore what we could be. If that means staying a little more private for now, until you’re comfortable enough to be public with me, then so be it.” He gave Wilder an arch look. “Unless you don’t want this?”
Wilder hesitated. The smart thing to do would be to lie, tell Cash he didn’t want this, and let them both walk away with their hearts intact. But he was not smart, he did want this, and he was just selfish enough to risk everything for it.
“What if I have to leave?”
“He’s not kicking you out for getting hurt, Wilder.”
“Maybe not. But I can’t pull my weight.”
“Accidents happen. You signed paperwork informing you about Workers’ Compensation, remember? He can’t fire you for getting hurt. Besides, taking a break to heal doesn’t mean you’re not pulling your weight. Everybody is allowed to have breaks when they need them. But if it’ll make you feel better, you can take over cooking for the hands while you heal, if you’d like. We’re easy to please, and you won’t have to strain yourself. We’ll see what the doctor says, but I’m sure there are at least a few things you can do while taking it easy until you’re healed.”
“I don’t know how to cook,” he warned.
“You cook the meat until it’s no longer pink. You cook the noodles until you can stick a fork through them. Drain any water or grease.”
Wilder snorted. “I think there’s more to it than that.”
“Those are the basics. You’re welcome.” Seriously, he said, “I want this. If you don’t, tell me now.”
Wilder’s chest ached, and it had nothing to do with his fall. He leaned in, letting Cash take his weight. “I do,” he confessed against his neck. “I just know it’ll hurt in the end.”
Cash’s fingers found his hair, threading in and holding on. “Not all falls end in disaster. Just give me the chance to prove it.”
Wilder closed his eyes. If he trusted anyone in this cold, cruel world, it was Cash.
“Okay.”