Chapter 29
Charlie
A noise jolted me awake.
I blinked into the darkness. Stars still dotted the sky, but deep purple-black bled across the horizon.
Dawn was on the way. Mitch's bare chest kept my back warm, and his heavy arm was still across my waist. After making love last night, we'd washed in the billabong again, then dressed in our filthy clothes to sleep.
He'd insisted I wear his tattered shirt, leaving him in just his jeans. Because I’d left my socks and boots back where the dingoes attacked me, Mitch gave me his socks to keep my feet warm, and pulled his boots onto his bare feet.
The saddle blanket beneath us and the fire had kept us warm enough, but the flames had died to glowing coals, and my breath misted in the cool air.
Yet I felt safe with Mitch's arm cocooning me against him. Our lovemaking had been extraordinary, tender and fierce all at once, and I'd felt it not just in my body but somewhere deeper, somewhere that scared me a little. I felt raw and exposed with him, yet somehow more myself than I'd ever been.
I'd fallen asleep with a warmth glowing inside me that had nothing to do with the fire. Mitch and I were on the cusp of something truly special, and although there were so many unknowns ahead of us, I was ready to see where this adventure took us.
Mitch rubbed my arm. "Hey, Charlie." His voice was low, urgent. "Wake up. But don't make a sound."
My heart kicked against my ribs. "I'm awake."
"Shh." His hand covered my mouth gently. "Something's out there."
I started to pull away, but he dragged me back against his chest, and I went rigid in his arms.
The glowing coals barely provided enough light to see beyond the firelight, and Mitch's body was tense against mine, every muscle coiled tightly.
That scared me more than anything.
He pulled his arm out from beneath me and sat up, taking the warmth of his chest with him. "Stay here. Don't move."
"Mitch—"
"Shhh. Stay put and keep quiet."
Stay put? What? Where’s he going?
He stood, shirtless in just his jeans, and darted toward the darkness beyond the firelight. His steps were silent as he disappeared into the scrub, swallowed by shadows.
Branches snapped in the darkness, one after another. Something was coming. My breath caught in my throat. Was it a kangaroo? Shit. Maybe it was more dingoes.
To hell with staying put. I wasn't lying here while Mitch was out there facing God knew what. I grabbed a big stick from the fire, and the end glowed bright orange.
I pushed to my feet, holding the stick out in front of me like a weapon. The orange glow barely lit a few feet ahead, but as my heart thundered in my chest, I braced, ready to burn anything that lunged from the darkness.
I held my breath, listening. The coals hissed. Wind rustled through the grass. Somewhere in the distance, an owl hooted.
But no footsteps. Or voices. And no howling dogs.
“Mitch,” I whispered into the black void where he’d vanished.
I took a step toward where he'd disappeared, stopped, then listened again. My heart hammered so loudly I could barely hear anything else. Still nothing.
The darkness pressed in around me, thick and impenetrable beyond the weak glow of my pathetic torch. Where was he? What if something happened to him?
How long had he been gone? Five minutes? Ten? Twenty?
I bit my lip, torn between screaming out for him and running into the scrub after him.
What if he was lying out there hurt, and I was just standing here like an idiot?
No. Don't think like that. Mitch knew what he was doing. But what if he needed me?
"Mitch?"
The wind answered, carrying nothing back.
"Mitch?" My voice cracked as I took another step forward, straining to see anything beyond the circle of light from my stick.
Soft thuds sounded against the earth in the darkness, getting closer. I stepped back, raising the burning stick. My breath caught. That's a horse. But not Zeus, he was still tied to the tree where Mitch had left him.
A branch snapped. I jumped back, holding the stick in front of me, staring into the darkness. My damn heart pounded to an erratic beat.
A shrub shifted sideways, and Mitch emerged from the darkness, leading a horse behind him.
Relief flooded through me so fast my knees nearly buckled. I frowned. The horse had a saddle on its back.
I dropped the stick back into the fire and stepped toward him. "Whose horse is that?"
He didn't answer. Just kept walking, leading the horse toward the tree where Zeus was tied. The new horse had dried mud caked along its rump, as if it’d been rolling in the dirt, and its tail was matted with burrs.
"Mitch, talk to me. Whose horse is that?"
"His name is Razor." His voice was flat, emotionless.
I stared at the horse, then back at Mitch. He wouldn't meet my eyes.
"Where's the rider?"
He tied Razor next to Zeus and walked toward the fire, still avoiding my gaze.
"Mitch. Where's the rider?"
"There isn't one."
"What do you mean, there isn't one? The horse has a saddle. Someone was riding him."
"Razor is Frank’s horse. My dad’s." Mitch grabbed a handful of twigs from the collection we’d gathered last night and tossed them onto the coals so hard sparks flew up into the dim light.
My brain stuttered. His dad's horse? But where was Frank?
Mitch added more branches, his movements stiff and mechanical, as if he was fighting to keep himself locked down inside. "So, where's your dad?"
He didn't answer. He just kept feeding sticks to the fire until the flames grew high enough for us to see the area around us.
"Mitch. Will you talk to me, goddammit? Where's your dad?"
His jaw clenched. For a long moment, he just stared into the fire, his jaw working like he was chewing on words he didn't want to say. Finally, he looked at me. "I don't know where Frank is."
Mitch looked calm on the surface, but fury blazed in his eyes.
"What do you mean you don't know?"
"I mean, I don't know, Charlie." He turned and strode back to Razor.
I blinked after him, trying to figure out what the hell was going on. In the firelight, the dark bruises across Mitch’s ribs and shoulder were nasty shades of purple and blue, and dried blood still caked the scratches along his back from when he and Doug tumbled down that cliff.
He'd always been so worried about my wounds, yet he’d never mentioned his own.
But that was Mitch. The soldier cowboy. Taking care of me while he bled in silence.
He’d fought off dingoes, carried me when I couldn't walk, and made love to me like I was the only thing that mattered in the world.
But ask him to tell me what he was really feeling?
That was where he drew the line. I'd thought last night had changed us, and that we'd crossed some threshold together.
But maybe I'd been fooling myself.
Maybe Mitch only knew how to give his body, not his heart.
His gaze skipped to me, and there was so much emotion in his green eyes that my breath hitched. It was like he was somehow telling me he was trapped, wanting to open up but unable to break free of whatever was holding him back.
He led Razor to the water, and as the horse drank, Mitch ran his hands over Razor's muddy back and down his legs, checking the horse over as if looking for injuries.
"Did your dad fall off Razor? Is that what happened?"
"I don't fucking know, Charlie." He dropped Razor's hoof and moved around to the other side. Now that I could see his face, tension radiated off him like heat waves rising from the baked red earth.
"Well, bloody hell, Mitch. What do you know?"
His chest heaved as if he was battling to contain his anger. At last, he met my gaze. "Frank rode away from the ranch a week ago and never came back."
A week ago? My stomach dropped. That was before I’d met Mitch. Before the flood. Before any of this.
Mitch ran his hand over the other side of Razor's body. "Shit."
"What?"
"Blood."
I gasped and moved closer. "Is Razor hurt?"
"It's not Razor's blood." Mitch's face appeared over the saddle, but he still wouldn't look at me as he brushed dirt off the worn leather.
Why the hell couldn't he just tell me what was going on? "Is it Frank's blood?"
"Don't know. Maybe."
He checked along Razor's neck and face, then came around to my side. Mitch stopped at the saddlebag and unhooked the flap. His expression was unreadable as he peered inside. He shook his head and let the flap drop.
"So, your dad went missing a week ago." I tried to piece it together in my head.
Mitch nodded.
Wait. A week ago. "You were looking for him, weren't you? That's how you found my dig site. You were searching for Frank."
He nodded again, still avoiding my eyes.
The realization hit like a slap. "So, you lied to me. You weren't checking fences." My throat tightened. "Why didn't you tell me the truth?"
He stood next to Razor's rump and wiped his hands down his jeans. He wouldn't look at me. Couldn't look at me. I wasn't sure which was worse.
He plucked a burr from Razor’s tail.
My stupid, foolish heart clenched. "Mitch. Answer me. What the hell is going on?"
He jerked his gaze to me, and I saw confusion and dread written all over his face. "My siblings and I made a pact not to tell anyone about Frank's disappearance until we figured out what happened."
My heart skidded to a halt. "I'm not just anyone, Mitch."
He flinched but didn't respond. He just turned away and untied Zeus from the tree.
"Did you hear me? I said I'm not just anyone."
"I heard you." He moved toward his saddle on the ground and lifted it onto Zeus's back. "We need to get moving."
I clenched my fists at my sides. "That's it? That's all you're going to say?"
He tightened the strap under Zeus's belly and yanked it hard. He was shutting me out like he was all alone out here in the middle of bloody nowhere.
The sky was starting to lighten on the horizon. Dawn was coming, and apparently so was the end of whatever this had been between us.