Rugged Hearts (16 page)

“Yes, ma’am. I’m not afraid.”

“Good. Now I need to lay my head back and close my eyes for a moment or two. You all must listen to Emilee. She will tell me if anyone so much as moves a hair. We are going to wait patiently until someone comes, and I know they will. Principal Kale knows where we went today,” she repeated more to affirm the fact to herself than to her students. “Mr. Kinnison and your parents all know we’re out here. I’m certain they’ll be here soon.” She rested her head on the back of the seat, let her eyes drift shut, and prayed she was right.

Chapter Nine

Wyatt glanced at his watch. She hadn’t called him. But he reasoned she could have forgotten, with all the activities at school. He was about to look up her number when the shrill ring of the phone startled him. In two long strides, he snatched the receiver off the cradle.

“Kinnison Ranch.”

Mr. Kinnison?” The man spoke in an authoritative tone.

Wyatt’s gut tightened.

“Is Ms. Aimee Worth there, please? This is Principal Kale at the school. She was due back before lunch. We have parents lined up here waiting for their children.”

Wyatt closed his eyes, his worst fear confirmed. Something had happened to them out there. He reeled in his thoughts, realizing he had to be the one to explain to the principal that something wasn’t right. “She left here more than an hour ago, saying she needed to be back by lunchtime. The snow was light enough and the roads clear. She shouldn’t have had any trouble getting back to town. Something else must have happened, sir.

“I’ve tried her cell phone and can’t seem to get through.”

Wyatt watched the snow coming down outside the cathedral windows at the back of the house. “It could be where she’s at isn’t getting your signal. I’m going to head out and see if I can find her. I’ll let you know when I do.” He sat down and pulled on his boots as he held the phone in the crook of his shoulder.

“The problem, Mr. Kinnison, is all plows have been taken off the roads until the snow tapers off. I don’t know how you’re going to reach her from your end.”

Wyatt thought of Jed’s sleigh tucked away in the barn and silently thanked Rein for keeping it in working order. “I’ve got just the transportation, sir. Please tell your parents not to worry. I’m sure they’re fine. Aimee—er, Ms. Worth—seems to have a good head on her shoulders. I’ll call you as soon as I know something.

“Thank you, Mr. Kinnison. Please contact us as soon as you can and be careful yourself.”

“Yes, sir,” Wyatt stated, stomping his foot into his boot as he stood. He hung up, grabbed his coat and hat, and headed toward the barn. He threw the tarp off Jed’s old sleigh and made short order of hitching up his two strongest horses. He tossed several blankets in the seat, plus his rifle and ropes. He didn’t know what he might encounter out there. He shoved open the double-wide doors and led the team out into what was quickly becoming a blizzard. He took hold of the reins, flipped his collar up against the wind, and held his head down as he drove the team up the lane. The sleek blades, cared for by his meticulous brother, sliced effortlessly through the deepening drifts. Wyatt made a mental note never to tease him about it again.

The horses tromped easily through the snow, and he was glad for the lack of other vehicles on the highway. He scanned the area, searching for the dark blue Suburban against the snow, watching carefully wherever a guardrail looked bent or broken. The wind gusted on the open curves, and he had to put his head down to protect his face from the icy shards, but the horses kept a steady pace, plodding effortlessly forward. He wasn’t sure of how long it took to get there, but he recognized they were approaching the overlook, which on a good day was about the halfway point through the pass between town and the ranch. As he came around the curve just before the turnoff, his heart stopped at the sight of faint skid marks pointing down a slight dip in the terrain. Beyond, where the area leveled slightly before it plunged hundreds of feet over the cliff, he saw the Suburban. It had done a one-eighty and was facing toward the road, its back bumper held in place by something hidden beneath the snow, probably an old tree stump. He brought the team to a halt, jumped down and wedged a piece of wood in front of the runners, praying no vehicles would come around the bend to startle the horses.

He wasted no time securing a rope to the guardrail and held tight to the other end as he maneuvered sideways down the slippery incline. He picked his way to the side of the truck. Careful not to move or jostle the vehicle in any way, he stopped near the driver’s side and peered in the fogged-over windows. He heard the muffled cries of a few of the children mixed with the weak sound of singing by others. His boot slid and he lost his footing, but he tried not to grab the car for balance. Instead, he clung to the rope and held his breath. Through the front window, he saw Aimee, hands poised on the wheel, her eyes wide with fear. Realizing she might have gone into a state of shock, he pulled himself upright and moved to her window, tapping on it gently as not to frighten her. The startled look on her face confirmed that if she wasn’t already in shock, she was close. Blood caked in her hair. When he motioned for her to roll down the window, she stared at him with glazed eyes.

“I-I have to start the car to r-roll down the window.”

Wyatt heard her through the glass and nodded. “Okay, do it slow and gentle.” He held his breath until the window was down.

“Good, now turn it off.” She did as instructed, and drawing in a shaky breath, grasped the wheel as though to maintain control of the car. “Now I need you to listen to me carefully, Aimee. We need to get everyone out of the car. I have a rope tied to the guardrail. We can do this, but I’m going to need your help. The kids have to use their heads. We need to think of how to get them to hang on to the rope and climb up the hill to the sleigh without being afraid.”

She gingerly touched the wound on her head and stared at the blood on her fingers with dazed wonder. Her eyes darted to his and she nodded. “There was a mountain lion on the road, Wyatt. What if he’s still out there?”

It was a viable concern, but getting her and the kids out was of greater concern. The cat was probably long gone by now. “I didn’t see a trace of any animals out here, Aimee. He’s likely moved on to find shelter from the storm. Honey, we don’t have much time. The storm has shifted and it’s getting worse. Can you do this, Aimee? I need your help.”

She blinked, and nodded slowly. In a weary but still distinct teacher’s voice, she spoke. “Okay kids. Remember I told you someone would come. Well, Mr. Kinnison has brought Santa’s sleigh to rescue us. It’s important that we listen carefully to what he tells us to do and then we’ll all be able to take a ride back to the ranch.” The singing and sniffling in the back seats ceased abruptly.

Wyatt took a deep breath and with one hand on the rope, opened the door behind the driver’s seat.

“Okay, you must listen carefully and do exactly as I tell you. Understood? Everyone must wait their turn.” He paused to search the tiny faces. He didn’t anticipate there’d be any trouble getting them to cooperate. “When I tell you, I want you to unbuckle and come to me. Do not try to open the other doors. Come
only
to me and
only
when I call you.” Wyatt tried to keep his attention diverted from the cavernous drop-off on the other side of the truck. “Until then, you stay buckled. Can you do that?”

The children nodded in unison.

“Is anyone hurt really bad?”

They looked at each other.

“Joey has a scrape on his chin from the playground last week.”

Wyatt nodded with a smile. “Okay, good, we can take a look at Joey when we get back to the ranch. Now we’re going to pretend we’re mountain climbers on an expedition. You guys have seen stuff like that on TV, right?” He tugged the rope once more to check its security. “Let’s go, one at a time. Sadie is waiting back at the cabin and I think she misses you guys already.”

One by one, he pulled the children from the car, purposely leaving Aimee in front for balance. “Hang onto the rope. That’s it,” he encouraged each child as he got them up to the sleigh, lifted them inside, and tucked them under the blankets. “When we get back, we’ll see if we can find some marshmallows.”

With the last child safely tucked into the sleigh, he turned his focus to Aimee. “Your turn, schoolteacher. You’re not going to leave me stranded with all those kids.”

Her weary smile twisted his heart. “I wouldn’t dream of it, Mr. Kinnison.” She opened the door and handed him her book bag.

“Provisions,” she stated in a shaky voice.

He looped it over his shoulder and reached for her hand as she climbed from the vehicle. She rested her hand on the open door to steady herself and without the all of the former weight of its passengers, the Suburban began to slide sideways. Wyatt grabbed her hands, yanked her away from the vehicle, and fell to his back in the snow, hanging on tight to Aimee. He lay watching the truck slide toward the cliff, bumping up against the tops of a small bunch of trees that grew out of the side of the mountain. He looked up into Aimee’s terrified face. “You’re okay. We’re safe. We need to get to the kids. Are you ready?”

She nodded.

Wyatt searched the snow, and finding the rope, grabbed it. He got to his feet, amazed that her book bag was unscathed, and guiding her from behind managed to get back up to the road and the waiting kids. He allowed himself a momentary breath of relief as she climbed in under the blankets and drew her students close to her. She looked up at him. Tears shimmered in her eyes and she squeezed them tight. His breath caught and he felt the thud of his heart pounding hard against his ribs, and not solely from the physical strain. Something strange shifted inside him. Maybe he cared more about this bossy schoolteacher than he wanted to admit to himself. “We better get these kids back where it’s warm.” He hoped the gruff tone hid the emotion that clogged his throat.

***

Two hours later, Wyatt felt as though his life had gone to hell in a hand basket. There was a mad dash to the bathrooms upon their arrival back at the ranch and an intense, emotional plea from Rory to borrow a change of clothes. Their exhausted teacher, after seeing her students were completely safe, allowed him to tend to her wound.

“This might sting,” he cautioned, dabbing gently at the bloody area with a clean washcloth.

“I should have turned around the minute it started snowing. I put the lives of my students in danger,” she said, her eyes in a daze.

He’d assumed her stoic expression was part of the shock from the accident, but when she spoke, he realized it was far more. He examined her injury and what he thought was a gash turned out to be a severe grazing of the flesh, for which he was grateful. He applied an antibiotic cream to the pad and dressed the wound with gauze and tape. “Don’t beat yourself up, Aimee. You had no way to know the storm had changed direction.”

She eyed him. “I hope Principal Kale sees it that way. I feel so guilty.”

He backed to the doorway and gave her ample room to wash her hands and check out his handiwork in the mirror. Arms folded over his chest, he leaned against the doorframe. “To my way of thinking, if you didn’t, you wouldn’t be a good teacher. You thought you had time to get back to town before it got worse. Anyone can have an accident.”

She tossed at him a weak smile. “Sorry. I’m grateful it wasn’t worse, and I’m not sure what would have happened if you hadn’t shown up.” She leaned on the bathroom sink, head down.

“I’ve spoken to Mr. Kale, Aimee. I told him the kids and you are safe. He didn’t sound like he was upset with you.”

She nodded and blew out a quiet breath. “May I trouble you for some pain medication?”

“Sure.” He reached for a bottle on the shelf, fished out two tablets, and handed them to her. “Maybe it’d be a good idea if you lie down and rest a bit,” he suggested.

She swallowed the pills with a sip of water, paused at the door, and looked up at him. “I don’t know how to thank you.” She looked as though she might collapse any moment.

He steered her toward the living room. “You can thank me by getting some rest so you can help me handle this brood I have in my house.” She offered him a sweet smile as he tucked her in on his couch. He paused for a moment, fighting the urge to lean down and kiss her forehead. One of her students appeared silently at his side and took her teacher’s hand, effectively thwarting any intimate ideas Wyatt might have entertained.

“You’re still my helper today, Emilee. Can you help Mr. Kinnison while I rest awhile?”

She nodded and looked up at Wyatt, her dark brown eyes looking very wise for one so young. “My grandfather says Mr. Kinnison is a good man. I think he is a hero.”

Aimee reached up and touched the young girl’s cheek. “I agree with your grandfather, Emilee. Mr. Kinnison is a very good and brave man.” She squeezed the little girl’s hand and sent her on her way.

After Aimee fell asleep, he worried his suggestion might have been premature given the squirming, grade-school energy seated on the floor at his feet. Sadie, on the other hand, was in heaven, lapping up the unexpected attention. Wyatt stood and flipped through channel after channel, searching for an appropriate show he felt they could watch and at last found a
National Geographic
special on polar bears that seemed to quiet them down and capture their collective attention.

Rory looked up from the group and before he opened his mouth, Wyatt pointed down the hall. “Remember to wash your hands,” he reminded the small boy. He plopped down in one of the rockers nearest the couch. He glanced at Aimee, who’d been asleep for what seemed an eternity but in reality had been only forty minutes. After Wyatt called the hospital in Billings and explained her condition, the doc stated she’d probably wind up with nothing more than a goose egg and a powerful headache from the trauma. However, he also cautioned to watch for other symptoms, such as blurred vision, memory loss, nausea, which could be signs of a deeper concussion. Wyatt had no trouble keeping an eye on her as she slept. It gave him time to debate what was happening between them. Two days ago, he hadn’t had a clue who she was and now every time he turned around she was there. He checked his watch again. Only another ten minutes before he could wake her as the doctor had suggested.