Rugged Hearts (21 page)

They came to a clearing, and Wyatt jumped down.

“Stay in here until I make sure it’s safe.” He grabbed his rifle from under the seat.

“Safe?” Aimee glanced around at nothing but snow for miles. Even the tall pines were coated in white. Ahead of them was a grove of younger trees. Frasers, if her nose served her well. “Do you feel there is a problem?”

He rested his rifle on his shoulder. Dressed in his buckskin jacket and black Stetson, he looked like he’d just walked in from an Old West movie.

“I spotted some tracks I should check out before we get all the kids down. It’s probably elk, but it could be a bear. They usually don’t come down this close to humans and rarely are aggressive unless they’re hungry or provoked. I just want to make sure we don’t surprise anyone.”

“Good to know,” Aimee muttered, scanning the woods nervously. “You won’t go too far, right?”

“Just beyond the clearing a few feet. Sit tight.”

Aimee watched him tromp through the knee-deep snow. She glanced over her shoulder at the kids huddled together under the blankets. Just to be sure, she did a quick head count and with all present and accounted for she kept a keen eye on Wyatt. Every now and again she caught a glimpse of his black hat through the stark white of the trees. After a few moments, he stepped into the clearing and waved his arm.

“Okay, bring them on over. Follow my tracks.”

Still unsure, but safe in the knowledge Wyatt had a gun, she rounded up the kids and paired them together. She took Rory’s hand. They lumbered through the deep snow to where Wyatt waited.

“I think we have a good one here.” He stood beside a plump Fraser fir that was about his height. “What do you think? Is this a good one?”

A rousing cheer went up from the children.

“Okay then, I’ll go get my chain saw and we’ll get this beauty home.” He handed the gun to Aimee.

She stared at him as though he was certifiable. “Wyatt, paintball is the closest I’ve come to even holding a gun of any sort.”

His face broke into grin. “You continue to surprise me, Ms. Worth. I didn’t take you for a paintball kinda gal. This is valuable information.”

“Really? Wyatt, is this necessary?”

“I wouldn’t have it if it wasn’t. It’s okay, Aimee, you can handle this. The safety is on. It’s right here. If you need to, and you probably won’t, flip this down, aim, and shoot. Got it? Just like paintball.”

“That’s nothing like in paintball,” she called after him.

“You’ll be fine. Relax.” He shot the words over his shoulder as he walked toward the sleigh.

“Hurry,” she rocketed back. “Please,” she added for the benefit of her students. With one eye on the gun and the other on the kids, she prayed he wouldn’t tarry.

Aimee turned to watch the children, who by now had encircled the tree, reminiscent of
A Charlie Brown Christmas
. They held hands and giving it their best loud but off-key voices, they sang their rendition of “O Christmas Tree.” This, she thought with warmth in her heart, would be a memory they’d cherish for the rest of their lives. She glanced over at Wyatt, who was a few yards from where they were gathered. He squatted down next to the sleigh, fiddling as men often do, with the chainsaw. Antsy with how quiet it was other than the singing, she scanned the area and shaded her eyes to a temporary crack in the clouds. For the span of a heartbeat, a shaft of brilliant light broke through the gunmetal-gray sky and sprayed a wash of iridescent color over the glistening white field. It had started to snow again. As it did, the flakes were caught in the elusive rays, making them appear as diamonds falling to the earth. She looked back at her students and reached out to touch the tree, just to make sure there were no critters living in its protection. A strong breeze picked up a small bit of snow, swirling it into the air before it dissipated in a sparkling shower.

Somewhere in her postcard-holiday thoughts, she heard a low sound and thought it was perhaps the wind through the trees. Lowering her gaze, she checked on Wyatt and her heart stopped. Crouched low, stalking toward Wyatt, was the mountain lion. The next few moments seemed to move in slow motion as she turned and checked to see the kids were occupied. She undid the safety and lifted the rifle to her shoulder and without hesitation walked toward the sleigh. Aimee’s heart thudded. She didn’t want to spook the creature for fear it would charge Wyatt or the kids. Her hands curled around the gun and something protective bubbled up inside her. Behind her, she could hear the kids had started to sing another song. She summoned her courage. This could have been the cat that caused her accident, likely the same one in the area who’d also killed the calf. She took slow, purposeful strides and to her advantage, the lion’s focus was on Wyatt, not her. Sweat trickled down her spine as she came within a few feet of where he calmly worked; blissfully unaware of any danger.

“Wyatt.” Aimee’s voice croaked out barely past a whisper from the fear in her throat. “Wyatt!” She raised her aim above his head.

He looked up, saw her, and turned just as the mountain lion broke into a run and leaped at him with a force that knocked him to his back. He shoved at the cat, pushing the chainsaw blade against its neck. “Shoot, Aimee,” he yelled, inciting the cougar.

Aimee strode toward the pair wrestling on the ground, trying to aim for the big cat and miss Wyatt.

“Shoot, dammit,” he yelled again and this time Aimee squeezed the trigger. A shot rang out and thrown back by the force, she landed in the snow.

“Wyatt!” She tried to scramble to her feet.

A hand reached out and yanked at her. He stood in front of her. “Are you okay?” He held her at arm’s length, his gaze searching hers.

“Me? Are you okay?” She pressed her face into his coat and held him tight, dazed by the incessant ringing in her ears. By then the kids danced around them, chattering excitedly about the fact their teacher had taken on a mountain lion.

Principal Kale was going to have a heart attack. “Did I kill it?” she asked finally looking up at Wyatt.

“You scared it off. Jesus, Aimee.” He pulled her against him and she clung to him as though he were a life jacket.

“That was the most scared I have ever been.” She gripped his collar with both hands. “Maybe you should consider an artificial tree?”

His laughter rekindled the commotion around them.

“You should have seen him run, Ms. Worth!” Joey yelled. “Wait ’til I tell my dad about this!”

Aimee patted the boy’s shoulder. “Maybe you should allow me to explain this to him, Joseph.”

“Were you scared, Mr. Kinnison?” Emilee asked.

“Yes, Emilee, I was.” He hugged Aimee with one arm. “But Ms. Worth kept her head about her and saved my life.”

Aimee frowned at him, but the kids ate it up like school spaghetti.

“It looked bigger than Sadie,” another child exclaimed.

Wyatt took off one glove and placed his fingers between his lips, releasing a shrill whistle, effective in silencing the chaotic herd.

“I could use that move. Can you teach it to me?” she asked with a grin.

“I think we’ve all had enough excitement for one day. What do you say we get our tree and head back home.” His gaze darted to hers. “Um, get back to the ranch.” But she’d already caught the slip. These kids were getting to him, she thought. Little by little, they had chiseled away the hardened exterior to reveal a man, who like everyone, had a heart in need of love.

It took little time to cut the tree down. Wyatt purposely made the kids help drag it to the sleigh where they tied it to the back. Aimee watched, delighted to have the ordeal of the mountain lion behind her. She loved the outdoors, but today had taught her that out here, where man and wild animals shared the terrain, she had to be respectful of the territory. While Wyatt finished off the ties on the tree, Aimee began to lift each child back in to the sleigh. A few moments later, Wyatt, with a smile on his handsome face, stood at her side ready to head back. She helped Joey into the sleigh and guided him into his seat. She glanced at Wyatt. “Wasn’t Rory back there with you?” She checked around her and did a quick scan of faces.

No Rory.

Wyatt walked to the back and shook his head, then walked clear around the sleigh. His face was grave as he looked up at Aimee and shook his head.

“Ms. Worth?” A young girl’s hand shot into the air.

“Yes, Darcy?”

“My mom said it’s not polite to tattle on others.”

Aimee’s heart halted and she shot a look to Wyatt. “It’s okay though if you think someone might get hurt if you don’t tell what you know.”

Darcy appeared to contemplate Aimee’s reasoning, then stood in her seat and pointed to where they’d taken down the tree. “I saw Rory chase a rabbit over there. I called to him but he kept on going. I thought he’d come right back, so I didn’t say anything. I’m sorry.”

Aimee leaned over and squeezed the young girl’s hand. “It’s okay, sweetie; we’ll find him.” She scanned the faces of the brood in front of her. “It’s very important we all stay here, together. Understood?” Wyatt reappeared with his rifle.

“You stay here with the kids. He couldn’t have gotten far. I’ll follow his tracks.” He met her gaze and she knew they were both thinking of the mountain lion. Aimee nodded, but her thoughts were honed in on the dangers to a young boy in the woods. She shut her eyes and forced the negative vibes aside. If anyone could find him, Wyatt could. She looked at the man she’d had to rely on more times than she could count in the last two days. “Be careful.” He touched her shoulder.

“It’s going to be fine. Stay here. I’ll fire a shot when I’ve found him, okay?”

She nodded and watched him return to the fresh tree stump, then make a beeline toward the dense woods. Once more, the clouds pressed together and cast the landscape in a shadowy gray. A fine mist of light snow began to fall. Aimee checked the children and tucked them under the blankets. Once they were settled, she climbed up into the seat, her hands clasped tight as she listened for his signal.

Chapter Twelve

The little turd
. Wyatt followed the shallow footprints over fallen logs and around trees. He half expected to find Rory stuck headfirst in a rabbit hole. When he found this kid, after he checked him over to make sure he wasn’t hurt, he was liable to give him a sound, verbal lashing for not listening to his teacher. To his advantage, against the stark white palette, it was much easier to see bright patches of color or sudden movements.

His quest came to an abrupt halt when he heard the faintest sound of a child’s scream. Wyatt pressed forward toward the sound and realized this far into the deep woods, sound could be deceptive. He trudged farther in and scanned the area in search of Rory’s blue-and-Vegas gold Billings Bulls jacket. He walked forever, it seemed, and by virtue of the change in terrain, he realized that he was near the foothills. He tried not to entertain the possibility they might need a helicopter to look for the boy, but even so, until the snow let up, they wouldn’t send a chopper out. Wyatt looked up and saw giant flakes falling through where the branches hadn’t reached out and snagged them. “Rory!” He hooked his hand near his mouth and called to the boy. His voice echoed in the eerie silence.

He pressed forward.
Jesus
. The tyke must have run clean through the woods. He didn’t entertain whether it was because he was chasing something, or if he was being chased. “Rory!” he called again. He heard the scream again. This time it was closer and laced with fear. “I’m coming, Rory. Where are—” Wyatt skidded to a halt and saw why. Rory had managed to squeeze inside a hollow log. From where he stood, Wyatt determined the boy was wedged in the center of the log, maybe a foot or more from the openings at either end. Pacing from one side to the other, the mountain lion searched for a way to get at his next meal. “Not today,” Wyatt whispered, bringing the gun to his shoulder. He didn’t kill for sport. Too many of Michael Greyfeather’s teachings were ingrained in him. This was about survival.

“Don’t move a muscle, Rory,” he said so the boy could hear him. Wyatt took careful aim. He couldn’t…wouldn’t…miss this chance. “Hey!” The sound of his voice caught the mountain lion’s attention and as hoped, the cat’s curiosity was his downfall. He raised his head and looked straight at Wyatt. He pulled the trigger and in the next instant, the creature fell with a single shot to the head. Wyatt heard Rory’s muffled sob.

“Are you okay in there, Rory?” Wyatt moved cautiously toward the big cat. When satisfied there was no danger, he flipped the safety and lay the gun on the ground. He kneeled down and peered inside the log. “You can come out now, Rory. He’s dead. He can’t hurt you.”

“Are you sure you killed it?” a small, scared Rory asked from inside the hollowed tree.

“Yes. Can you crawl out toward the sound of my voice?” Wyatt hadn’t considered the fact the boy could be stuck. “Can you move, Rory? Ms. Worth and the other kids are waiting.”

“I don’t want to get in trouble,” he responded.

Wyatt sighed quietly, glanced to the heavens, and remembered one of the reasons he had trouble with small children. “But you don’t want to freeze to death, either, right? And if you stay out here tonight, that’s exactly what will happen.” He scanned the woods and waited for the boy to make up his mind. “Pick your poison, Rory. Get scolded by Ms. Worth or freeze to death in that log.” He figured the kid was smart.

A small face peered up at Wyatt from the end of the log. He pushed his glasses up his nose. Wyatt realized his methods of persuasion might have been a little rough, but in the end, it got the job done.

“Are you mad at me?”

Wyatt got to his feet, grabbed his gun, and reached down to help the boy out of the log. He helped him brush off his coat. “Let’s just say I’m not real happy. This could have turned out much worse for you, pal.” He clamped his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “You need to learn to think before you take off next time.”

“Yes, sir.” He trudged beside Wyatt and looked over his shoulder where the mountain lion lay. “What will happen to him?” He swiped his dirty coat sleeve under his nose.