Big Sky Cowboy. Linda Ford
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The hornets buzzed about her, stinging her hands and face.
Wyatt scooped her up and raced for the river. “What are you doing?” She hung on as he jostled her.
They reached the edge of the water and he set her down. “You were standing on their underground nest.” He pushed aside her hair to examine her stings, pulled up her hands to look at the exposed skin. “You were fortunate. Only six stings. Sit here.” He scooped up some river mud and returned to her side. “This is the best way to stop the pain. Close your eyes.”
She did so. There was no denying the stings hurt. He held her chin as he plastered mud on the three on her face.
Her face grew warm. Surely he would put it down to the aftereffects of the stings, not to the sharp awareness of how gently he spread the mud, how firm his cool fingers were on her chin. Yet she felt no fear. He would not hurt her. How could she possibly know that? Hadn’t she learned not to trust so easily? But none of her lessons applied to Wyatt. Or was she blindly ignoring what her head told her?
He released her chin and picked up her hand.
She quietly drew in a calming breath and watched him apply mud to the backs of her hands. “You must have had a good mother.” The words came out of their own accord.
She waited, wondering how he’d respond.
He shook the rest of the mud from his hands and wiped them on the grass, then he raised his gaze to hers.
“I did. But how do you know?” His eyes were almost black as she looked at him, silhouetted against the bright sky behind his head.
“Because you have a gentle touch.” Again, she spoke the truth from her heart without any thought to how he would react.
His gaze held hers, unblinking and as dark as a starless midnight.
She held her breath, waiting for him to speak or shrug or somehow indicate he’d heard and maybe even show what he thought about her words.
He laughed.
She stared. Of all the reactions he might have had, this was the most unexpected. “Why is that funny?”
He stood to his full height and grinned down at her. “Here I was thinking you would find me rough. After all, you have a mother and sisters who would normally tend your needs. I kept expecting you to tell me I was a big oaf.” He laughed again. “A gentle touch, you say. I will never forget that.”
He squatted in front of her. “How is your head? You took quite a fall.”
Her head buzzed from the swirling confusion of her thoughts. Not from hitting the ground.
“I’m fine.” She pushed to her feet. “What about you? Didn’t you get stung?”
He shifted his gaze to a spot over her shoulder. “Nothing to be concerned about.”
“Really? And yet you drag me over here and plaster mud on each bite?” She tried to sound teasing, but her voice caught with an overwhelming sense of tenderness. “Let me see.” She grabbed his chin just as he’d done with her and felt him stiffen. He wasn’t a lot different from his brother. Afraid of touches. Expecting them to be cruel. If he stayed here long he’d learn otherwise. Ma and Pa were the gentlest pair ever.
She saw no sign of stings on his face but detected three on his neck below his ear. “You have been stung. I’ll get some mud.” But when she tried to stand, he shook his head.
“There’s some here.” He pointed toward a clump that had fallen from his hands.
She loaded her finger with some and applied it to his bites. Beneath her fingertip his muscles knotted. She ignored his tension. Being this close gave her plenty of chance to study him more closely. Tiny white lines, from squinting in the sunshine, fanned out from the corners of his eyes. His black whiskers roughened suntanned skin.
When the stings were well bathed in mud, she wiped her fingers in the grass.
She turned her eyes toward him. His gaze jerked away as if uncomfortable with all the touching of the past few minutes, even though it had been impersonal for both them. Hadn’t it?
Swallowing hard, she put eight more inches between them.
“Are you feeling up to walking home?” he asked.
His tender look caused her throat to tighten. Then some little imp made her press the back of her arm to her forehead dramatically and wobble slightly.
His arm came around her shoulders and steadied her.
“Do you think you could carry me all the way?” She managed to make her voice quaver.
“I think I’ll go get my horse.”
She laughed. “I’ll walk. I’m fine.”
He nodded, a wide grin on his face. “I figured you were.”
They gave the area of the hornet’s nest a wide berth.
“I’ll be sure to tell the others its location.” She surely didn’t want anyone else to be attacked. Though, on second thought, if Ebner or some other troublemaking Caldwell cowboy got a sting or two, it sounded like justice to her.
As they neared home, she slowed her steps. “Wyatt, why would you leave Lonnie with your pa, knowing what he was like? I need to understand. I want to understand.”
He stopped, faced her squarely. “I’m afraid I can’t tell you anything more. I had to, and that’s all I can say.”
She sighed. It wasn’t enough and yet she couldn’t believe his reasons had been selfish. Or was she letting his taking care of her for a few minutes erase her sense of caution?
Wyatt kept his gaze straight forward as they returned to the farm. His fingers tingled from touching her tender skin. His neck muscles twitched at the memory of her ministrations.
When he’d seen the hornets attack her and then heard her head smack the ground, his heart had raced. He’d had to force himself to release her when he got her to the river. Something almost primitive had urged him to hold her and protect her.
He swallowed a snort. If Mr. Bell learned the truth about Wyatt, he would reveal his wrath. How would the man do that? In Wyatt’s experience the only way was with fists and boots.
Rose was in the garden when Wyatt and Cora tramped by. She looked up, saw the mud on her sister’s face and her mouth fell open.
Wyatt would have slipped away to avoid being questioned, but since Cora had banged her head hard he couldn’t leave until he’d informed her ma.
Rose trotted over to join them. “Looks like you fell into some mud.”
“I stepped on a hornet’s nest,” she said. “The mud takes out the pain.”
Rose turned to Wyatt. “You got stung, too?”
He nodded. “It’s nothing.”
“Ma will want to check on you both.” Rose hustled them toward the house. “Ma,” she called.
Wyatt glanced over his shoulder. “Lonnie will wonder where I am.” But before he could escape, the Bells crowded around them, all asking questions at the same time. Cora explained about the hornet attack and where the nest was.
“Wyatt rescued me.”
Mr. Bell eyed Wyatt closely.
Wyatt couldn’t tell if the man was grateful for the rescue or wondering if Wyatt had been too forward. He didn’t intend to hang around waiting to find out, and edged past Lilly.
“Did Ma look at your bites?” she asked.
“I’ve