Chapter 17
17
L ila stared at the horizon, the jagged peaks of the Tetons cutting into the early evening sky. The rugged beauty of the landscape usually brought her a sense of calm, a rare respite from the chaos of her life.
Tonight, though, that calm eluded her as she traipsed out to the tiny makeshift barn Doc Tillman had erected over a decade ago. She carried a bucket of rabbit feed, taking dinner to the Jansen twins’ two pet bunnies. They had parasites, and Whit wanted to keep them overnight so he could administer the necessary medicines.
Lila opened the cage. “You guys hungry?” She added clean straw to the cage, then filled the little feed troughs and gave them clean water. “Okay, there you go,” she told the rabbits, smiling despite her mood as the bunnies gobbled down their pellets.
She heard the crunch of gravel under boots and turned to see Whit Calloway striding towards her, his expression unreadable.
Every time Whit looked at her, something inside Lila squirmed. He had a way of making her feel like he could see into the very depths of her soul with one glance like he knew all her secrets.
Thank goodness, her secrets were minimal and rather boring.
“Hey, I need you to go with me,” he said, wrapping the hose and placing it back on the hook.
“Where?”
“Looks like a wolf may have got a wild horse up Lava Creek about halfway to Davis Hill.”
“How bad?” While wolf attacks on horses were rare, it happened.
Whit motioned for her to follow as he turned and headed for the open sliding barn doors. “We’ll know the full extent when we get there, but the BLM guy said it’s leg looked pretty wicked.”
She dropped the bucket near the base of the rabbit pen and made her way to the deep, plastic sink in the corner of the barn. She barely ran water over her hands and wiped them on her jeans as she scurried out of the barn.
Whit headed to the driver’s side of his blue truck, climbed in, and hollered, “You coming?”
“Yes, I’m coming. Don’t get your jeans in a twist.” She stomped to the passenger side and threw open the door.
As soon as she climbed in, he shoved the gearshift into drive, and they took off.
She motioned out the rear window with her thumb. “You’re taking the horse trailer?”
“We may need to transport the horse to a sanctuary in Lander. You know where that is?”
“Yeah. It’s about a two-hour drive from Thunder Mountain.” Lila glanced across the seat at him, then forced her gaze back to the road ahead.
“You ever load a skittish horse?” he asked.
She stared straight ahead. “Yep.” She didn’t tell him it was only once, and it was over five years ago.
Miles passed in silence as they made the drive southwest, stopping at an overlook so he could check the hitch.
While Lila took in the stunning panoramic view over the Teton Valley, Whit inspected the coupler and the safety chains, then dug into a cooler in the back of the pickup. “Want something to drink?” He held up a Dr Pepper.
“Yeah, thanks.”
He climbed back into his truck and handed her an ice-cold can. She popped the tab, tipped the can up, and chugged the ice-cold drink like a pro.
They made it the rest of the way to Lava Creek in a little over a half hour, again riding in silence. At the junction to the dirt road bordering Lava Creek, she finally spoke up. “How far to where we need to pick up the horse?”
“Less than five miles,” he answered.
She gazed out the window at the meandering banks of a stream, at crisscrossed pole fences winding through grassy meadows, and the pine-tree-covered mountains beyond.
In some ways, the craggy vista reminded her of the guy sitting inches away. He was most certainly a fine specimen, a man she found herself physically drawn to. He had a careless look, his jawline angular and rugged, even strong. But there was something in his eyes that told her Whit Calloway was not someone easily traversed, that he was studded with icy snow-capped spires extending too high to successfully climb.
Whit slowed the pickup and eased from the paved highway onto a rutted, potholed road that meandered through heavy sagebrush that scraped against the door of the truck. He looked across at her and apologized when he hit a particularly deep furrow.
She braced herself by holding onto the dash. “You ever work on a wild horse before?”
“A couple,” he answered. Slowing, he maneuvered around the biggest of the dips, until they came to a wide-open space with nothing more than an empty corral and a small shed-like barn. A BLM vehicle was stationed nearby.
They parked and got out. As two BLM officials headed their way, Whit grabbed a lead rope from behind his seat.
“Hey, there!” one of the uniformed guys extended his hand. “You the vet? Glad you made it. That horse definitely needs medical attention.”
Whit shut his pickup door and shook hands with both of the officers. “So, where is he?”
The tallest officer pulled his cap from his head and swiped his forearm across his brow. He nodded toward an old, dilapidated barn. “Horse is in there. Frankly, I’m surprised the wolf didn’t do more damage.”
The other officer stepped forward. “Here’s the paperwork.” He handed the envelope to Lila. She took the paperwork and tucked it inside the truck before following the three men to the barn.
At the door, the officers both hesitated. The one who had handed her the paperwork cleared his throat. “Well, that’s all we need. Guess you can handle it from here.”
Lila wanted to ask if he was kidding. Didn’t they intend to help? A wounded horse was predictably hard to manage. It could very well take all of them to load the horse safely. She opened her mouth to say as much when Whit’s hand went to her arm. “Thanks, guys. We’ve got it.”
“Okay then, we’ll be going.”
She and Whit waited a few minutes for the men to get in their truck. As they were driving away, Lila turned. “What was all that? Don’t you think those guys should have helped?”
“It’s not help when it’s not freely given.” Whit had already turned, and his hand pulled the rusty handle on the door. The broken wooden panel creaked open. The entire structure looked like the rotted boards might collapse at any time.
Lila glanced back at the truck making its way in the distance, leaving a plume of dust trailing behind.
Inside, the barn was dusty and dark. At the last stall, Whit held up his arm, blocking her from going any farther. She paused behind him. The black mustang nearly got lost in the shadows except for his bared, yellowed teeth and the whites of his eyes. His ears lay flat back and he snorted, blowing snot and air.
“Whoa, boy.” Whit slowly opened the stall door and took a cautious step forward. The young horse reared and lunged lopsided, striking out with his front hooves.
Her eyes widened. “I thought he was crippled.”
Whit sidestepped easily and snapped the lead rope onto the halter as the horse’s hoof banged into the side of the barn.
Lila threw open a wooden panel covering the window. “Maybe this will help.”
In the light streaming from the opening, both she and Whit got a good look at the horse’s injury—a gash that had nearly severed a tendon on his rear right leg. The wound was already infected.
Whit let out an expletive. “Looks like this horse suffered the attack a while ago.”
Lila felt the start of tears and dashed them away before her new boss could see. She never got used to wounded horses, especially injuries of this magnitude.
After carefully looping a lead rope around the wild mustang’s neck, Whit secured it tightly to the slats on the pen, ensuring the horse couldn't move too much. He knelt beside the wild mustang, his hands steady but gentle as he examined the nasty gash running along its leg. “This is pretty deep,” he murmured, glancing up at Lila.
Her face was etched with concern, but her hands were already moving with practiced efficiency, cleaning the wound with antiseptic. The mustang shivered, its eyes wide with fear and pain, but Lila’s soothing voice and gentle touch seemed to calm it.
“We need to stitch this up,” Whit said, reaching for the sutures. Lila nodded, her focus unwavering as they worked together, the tension between them momentarily forgotten in the shared goal of saving the injured animal.
Whit’s broad shoulders and powerful arms hinted at years of hard work, yet there was a gentleness in the way he cradled the horse’s leg, his fingers lightly caressing the length.
When he was finished stitching up the gash, Whit stroked the horse’s velvety muzzle, but the young stallion yanked back from his touch, his eyes rolling wildly. “Best to get him loaded and out of here,” he said to her. “I think I noticed a loading chute in the back. Might be safer to use that to get him loaded.”
“I’ll go get the trailer,” she told him. Seeing the doubt in his eyes, she immediately turned defensive. “What? You don’t think I can back a trailer?”
With only one try, she positioned the trailer at the chute with impressive precision. She climbed from the truck with great satisfaction and opened the back gate. “Your turn, cowboy.”
Whit nodded with amusement. He slowly coaxed the horse forward, cueing him with a kissing sound. “Atta, boy. That’s it.” He gave the horse a gentle tap on the hind quarter with his open palm, urging the skittish animal toward the pile of hay placed at the front of the trailer as an incentive.
The process took time and several tries, but with Whit’s carefully executed effort and softly spoken assurances, they got the job done. “Atta, boy. That’s it.” He fastened the safety bar and then the back gate.
He swiped his face with his bare forearm before moving to the ice chest in the back of his truck for a cold soda. He retrieved one for himself and tossed her one. “Well, that should do it.”
Lila couldn’t help but admire the way he’d handled the horse, with extraordinary patience and never showing anger. Animals sensed whom they could trust, and the young stallion responded accordingly.
She raised the can to her lips and took a large gulp—a careless gulp that left a bit of the soda escaping at the corner of her mouth.
Whit’s gaze was relentless. His ability to maintain eye contact was something she had a hard time getting used to—the way he looked at her now with that blue stare as he removed his aviator sunglasses and tossed them on the dash.
“You need a napkin?” he asked.
She nodded.
As Whit leaned over to open the glove box, Lila’s gaze drifted to the curve of his jaw, shadowed with a hint of stubble, and the way his short-cropped hair tapered at his neck—the way the muscles rippled in his back as he reached across her.
Her breath caught unexpectedly at the sight of his strong, capable hands moving with such assured precision. She hadn’t felt this in years—a sudden, undeniable spark that sent warmth flooding through her. It startled her, this unexpected jolt of physical attraction.
She’d believed that part of her was forever dormant, but here she was, unable to ignore the flutter in her chest every time Whit’s arm brushed against hers.
Her mind quickly drifted to what it would be like to kiss him.
The pit of her stomach warmed at the idea, and she chastised herself mentally.
He’s your boss, she quickly reminded herself.
Whit looked at her again with one of those unreadable stares. “You good?”
She barely nodded. “Yeah.
“Well, let’s get this injured horse to the sanctuary, shall we?”
The Wind River Wild Horse Sanctuary, located in Lander, Wyoming, was one of four public off-range equine refuges in the nation, and the only one located on an Indian reservation. The sanctuary included a visitor center that featured a curated, interpretive display describing the importance of the horse in the culture and traditions of Native Americans, as well as the history of wild horses in North America.
She’d visited while chaperoning a field trip for Camille’s class.
On the way, she turned to Whit. “You think that leg’s going to heal up?”
He beat his thumb against the steering wheel, clearly sharing her concern. “No doubt, that was a nasty gash. With some strong antibiotics and a little care, the horse should be good as new physically.”
She dared another glance at the rolled-up sleeve on his arm that barely concealed his bulging bicep. “But?”
He slowly brushed his fingers across his stubbled chin and gave her another of those looks—this time staring intensely into her face. “No doubt pain can change an animal.”
Suddenly, Lila didn’t think they were talking about the horse anymore. “Are you implying something here? Because if you’ve got something to say, I invite you to just spit it.”
Her new boss could have heard any number of things from the townspeople, especially Nicola Cavendish. She was a woman who could never be trusted.
“Nothing, it’s just?—”
“Just what?” she demanded.
His eyes softened. “Nothing.”
“What did you hear?”
Whit didn’t say anything for a few seconds. Finally, he cleared his throat and glanced over at Lila, his voice growing gentle. “I heard about your husband. I’m so sorry for your loss. It must’ve been tough, being alone all these years.”
Lila’s eyes flashed with a mix of surprise and indignation. “Alone? I haven’t been alone. I’ve had my daughter, my friends, my work. Just because I haven’t been in a relationship with a man doesn’t mean my life hasn’t been full.”
Whit held up one of his hands in a placating gesture. “I didn’t mean it like that, Lila. I just meant…it can’t be easy. That’s all.”
Lila’s posture relaxed slightly, but her voice remained firm. “I know you didn’t. But I don’t need anyone to feel sorry for me.”
Whit’s jaw stiffened and he gave a slight nod. “Understood.”
The tension hung in the air, heavy and palpable, as the afternoon light began to fade. Lila turned her gaze out the truck window, watching rays of sunlight paint the distant mountains in hues of blue and purple. She took a deep breath, the beauty of the landscape offering a moment of solace.
They continued driving in silence, the truck rumbling down the dirt road toward the horse sanctuary. The quiet between them was thick, filled with unspoken words and lingering frustration. As they approached the sanctuary, the sight of the horses grazing peacefully in the pasture brought a brief sense of calm to Lila’s mind.
“Look, I know you didn’t mean any harm,” she finally said, breaking the silence. “But my life is good. I don’t need anyone thinking otherwise.”
Whit nodded, his grip tightening on the steering wheel. “I get it. I really do.”
As they pulled into the sanctuary, the truck came to a slow stop. Lila unbuckled her seat belt, her movements deliberate and firm. She turned to look at Whit, a mixture of frustration and confusion still swirling within her. There was something about him—an attraction that got under her skin in a way she hadn’t felt in years. An appeal that had her unnerved.
“Well, here we are,” Whit said quietly.
Lila’s eyes drifted to the horizon. “Yeah, here we are.”
They exited the truck together, the mountain air cool and still. As they walked toward the sanctuary gates, Lila couldn’t shake the feeling that this unexpected partnership was going to be more complicated than she had ever anticipated.