Chapter 2

Chapter

Two

Cade Miller forked the mix of hay, grain, and the vitamins the vet had suggested to the sick herd still in the corral past the barn. With summer finally here, the rest of his cattle could graze in the pasture east of the lake.

Everything was quiet today. Even the birds seemed to be chirping less. Why?

Was something bad coming? His mom had called him her ‘happy horse boy' as a child. He smiled at the memory, wondering what she called him now. Probably her ‘ultra-tough military hero son'. His mom was proud of him and adored him. Nobody could claim he was happy.

His horses, cows, land, and solitude were all he needed. At least that was what he told his family and any persistent friends like Easton and Walker Coleville when they insisted on coming to visit, bringing him some of Millie's bread or cookies, wanting to get him out rock climbing, mountain biking, or doing tricks off the thirty-foot rock shelf into his lake. Those two never gave up. He appreciated their friendship and would never tell them that. Their brother Rhett had built his house, and they had a good relationship, but their brother Clint had ruined his life.

An eerie female scream came from up the south mountainside.

A cougar?

Cade dropped the pitchfork, slid his sidearm out of the holster, and hurried around the corral. The mountain lions usually left him alone, but they loved to tear his calves apart. It never hurt to be prepared if a predator was coming after his cattle.

A scream sounded again, and then he heard gravel dislodging as something slid down the mountainside. Or someone.

He was a couple hundred yards away, but he could see a pink T-shirt, dark hair, and a distinctively feminine body tumbling down the mountainside. The woman somersaulted headfirst into a tree branch, and her screaming stopped. Her body slowed its descent as the ground began to level out.

Cade stowed his 1911 and jumped into his Ranger. The side by side was a lot faster than he could run, and he might have to haul her to his truck and the hospital. Unless she was in bad enough shape that he'd need to call for a helicopter.

His pulse sped as he raced across the dirt path around the lake and toward the switchback trail. He rarely saw hikers or even mountain bikers this deep in the mountains.

She was lying about ten feet away from the southeast side of the lake. Her head was down, long dark hair spilling around it.

Cade jammed the vehicle into park, turned the key off, and jumped out. Dropping to his knees next to her, he lifted some hair away and felt for a pulse. It was there and strong. That was good news.

Her head rolled to the side, and she groaned. So she had to be breathing. A goose egg was already forming on her forehead, but he didn't see any blood. Good. She was wearing a tight, long-sleeved pink shirt and black running pants. The material was ripped in multiple spots, scrapes and traces of blood, but no visibly broken bones.

He pulled out his phone to call for help when she rolled over to her back and blinked her eyes open.

Blue. Blue as his mountain lake or the Montana sky. Long-lashed eyes with shapely dark eyebrows and a sprinkling of freckles across her nose and sun-browned cheeks. Her lips were straight and wide—Julia Roberts type lips. He liked them.

He blinked and focused. She looked oddly familiar. Why?

"Ma'am? I'm going to call for help. Can you tell me what and where and how bad it hurts?" He was no kind of doctor, but his eight years in the military had taught him the basics. Living up here alone, he'd learned how to bind up his cattle or keep a horse alive until the vet arrived. But this was no cow or horse. This was a beautiful woman. How had she fallen down his mountainside?

She blinked at him as if not comprehending what he said, but then suddenly her eyes widened, and terror filled them.

"It's okay. You're safe," he said. Then something compelled him to add, "I won't let anybody come at you."

"No," she moaned, shaking her head. "She's coming."

"There now. We'll just call for help, and I'll keep you safe until the sheriff gets here." The sheriff. He loathed the sheriff and doubted Clint would come. He'd send a deputy to collect this beauty and avoid the confrontation with Cade .

"You cannot call." Those blue eyes were frantic. "No. She will come for me and torture or murder you."

She snatched the phone from his hand and hurled it away.

"What the …" Cade jumped to his feet to go retrieve his phone. What kind of woman threw someone's phone? She was obviously not herself. He hoped.

The phone plunked into the nearby lake. Not near the shoreline, either.

He stopped in his tracks and pivoted back, looking down at her. "Good arm," he muttered.

She smiled briefly, then jumped to her feet and rushed at him.

Cade eased back, holding up his hands. "Hey, hey."

He didn't get any more out. She grabbed his shirt and pulled herself closer. She was a decent height, maybe five-seven, and easily the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. She put even his lost love Sheryl Dracon, who'd had the face of an angel, to shame. That was a huge compliment in his mind to this intense and probably unstable woman.

"She's coming," she said, her eyes gaining a wild edge. "She's coming. We have to hide, or she'll hurt you."

"Look, ma'am." He took her hands in his to pull them from his shirt, but the moment he wrapped his palms around her smaller hands, the ground shifted, he lost his train of thought, and warmth radiated up his arms and into his blood vessels, charging him with a heady mixture of yearning and purpose.

The blue-eyed beauty stared at him, then down at his hands around hers, then back up at him. She wobbled on her feet. From the head injury or the ground-shaking he was experiencing?

"Who are you?" she asked, her blue eyes filled with a confused sort of wonder, as if he was someone very special and she had to know his name.

"I'm Cade Miller." His voice had gone weird, deep and gravelly.

He needed to release her and step away. Somehow retrieve his phone out of the lake and see if it still worked. Was that the first item of business, or should he insist she lie down until he knew if she had head or spinal injuries? He also needed to figure out who this beauty was and who she thought was coming to hurt him. Torture, murder? Not likely. He didn't want to be cocky about it, but he was a tough rancher—six-five, two-fifty, and loads of functional muscle. He was recovered from the blown ACL that had prompted his early medical retirement from his Army unit, well-trained and accomplished at combat. He could shoot a target at a hundred feet with rifle or pistol. He would never be afraid of some lady who apparently was powerful and scary in this beauty's mind.

"Cade." She looked him over. "That is an exquisite cowboy name. Cowboys are my favorite type of male."

"Uh … Excuse me?" He forced himself to release her hands, step back, and tip down his cowboy hat so she couldn't see his eyes as well.

"I have an appreciation for handsome, strong male cowboys," she restated, nodding to herself as if pleased to know that.

"All right then," was all he could think to say. "Are you injured? You should probably lie down until help comes."

"No help. No help." She shook her head vigorously. Then she stepped in again, knocked his cowboy hat off his head with one hand, and wrapped both of her hands around his biceps.

He felt a little surge of pride that her hands didn't come close to wrapping all the way around his bicep and triceps muscles, concern about her mental well-being, and annoyance that she'd dare knock a cowboy's hat off. If she ‘appreciated' cowboys, she'd know the hat was only removed as a sign of respect, in a public building, and usually in a home. He felt exposed with his hat off.

"Forgive me. It's essential I have an unobstructed view of your green eyes. Mesmerizing. Truly." She tilted her head to study him. She was close enough that her long, dark hair swept across his arm. Silk. He wanted to run that hair through his fingers. "What do the local girls call you? Cute Cowboy Cade? No, not strong enough. Charming? Handsome? Breathtaking?" She swayed and clung tighter to him.

"What girls?" He stared at her. She was obviously not in her right mind. A few bricks short of a stack, as his dad would say.

"Do you ride your horse into town, attend the weekend dances and cause all the young ladies to swoon? Do you distract them amidst a boring church sermon wearing your Wranglers and fancy boots and a big belt buckle? I imagine they're all awestruck around you and this enthralling cowboy fa?ade you've mastered."

"Cowboy … fa?ade?"

Where was her accent from? It was American, but definitely not Western or Southern. He'd heard highly educated Easterners speak like her before. He loved the unique flow and her vocabulary, but that hardly mattered right now.

"Where is the closest town?" she asked. "Is cowboy a central theme? Where am I?" Her eyes widened, and that fear he'd glimpsed earlier seemed to be sneaking back in.

"The closest town is Coleville, Montana."

"I've never heard of Coleville." Her eyes looked near panicked now. What was wrong with her? She must have a head injury. That goose was egg was huge.

"It's small. Kalispell's the biggest town close by."

Her eyes still looked an odd combination of blank and fearful.

"Have you heard of Glacier National Park? That's just a couple hours northeast of us."

"I believe so." She frowned. "A national park? Is it beautiful?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"It could not possibly outshine this spot." She looked around at his picture-perfect valley and the mountains surrounding it.

"Heaven on earth," he agreed. When his dad sold him this family plot of land a year ago when he came home from the military and Sheryl dumped him, his mom had not been happy. He'll end up a hermit, a recluse, a heart-broken, washed up cowboy living by himself in the mountains.

He only lived thirty minutes from town and twenty from the Coleville Ranch—not that he ever went to visit what had been his second home as a boy and teenager. He went into town for supplies every couple of weeks and rarely missed church on Sunday and dinner at mom's afterward. His family came to see him on occasion and the Coleville twins hadn't given up on him yet, probably hoping one of his sisters might be home from university and visiting. He might be a hermit and heartbroken, but at least he wasn't a heathen.

"What's your name, Miss?" he asked, letting himself take in her smooth tanned skin and beautiful features. That sprinkling of freckles across her nose and her pronounced cheekbones made her even more beautiful but also a tad-bit relatable. Not quite as much of a supermodel. In her tight running clothes, she looked more like a fitness model. A beat-up fitness model with rips in her clothing and smudges of dirt everywhere.

He winced. Some ice on that goose egg and an assessment of the rest of her body wouldn't be out of line. Medical assessment. He couldn't be checking out fit female bodies. Especially that of an odd stranger who'd dropped into his life and valley.

She stared at him, her lips pursed and her eyes filled with frustration. She blinked several times and shifted unsteadily.

Warning bells clanged in his head. The way she'd hit that tree. The lump on her head. The fear of some lady coming after her who would hurt him. Maybe she wasn't a mentally unstable beauty. Maybe she had a bad head injury like he'd feared earlier. She was confident and well-spoken, so he'd assumed her brain was functioning properly.

"Do you know your name?" he asked, his voice soft, careful.

Her blue eyes got brighter, and he feared she'd cry, but she just shook her head, folded her arms across her chest, and said in a snotty, definitely East Coast voice, "You have not merited the right to my name, cowboy sir."

"Okay," he drawled, confused and maybe a little hurt. All he'd done was try to help her. "We need to find my phone and call for some help, or I can run you to town or wherever you're staying in my truck, if you feel up to that. Since it might be rough finding my phone." He gestured toward the deep blue mountain lake. It was only a couple hundred feet wide and long, but it was fifty feet deep in spots. Her throw had been impressive. Maybe she was a famous athlete and that was why she looked familiar.

"I … I don't know where to go. All I know is she'll find me. Wherever I go. She'll find me."

"I think you need to go to an emergency room, ma'am. "

"No." She shook her head and blinked quickly. "Absolutely not. She'll find me and she'll hurt you."

"Um … who is she?"

Her eyes gave that blank and scared stare. "The witch," she finally said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Of course. The witch. Oh, boy. He rubbed at the growth on his jaw. Picking up his hat, he dusted it off and plunked it back on his head. "If you absolutely won't go to the emergency room, why don't we get some ice on your head, let you wash up and get a drink of cold water. Then we'll figure out where to take you. All right?"

She nodded, all prim and almost snotty again. Did she have multiple personalities, or was it all the head injury talking? Maybe somebody would be coming for her. That would be good. Was that somebody a boyfriend or husband? He glanced at her left hand. No ring. Happiness bubbled in his chest and he had to shove it away. It was no never mind of his if she was single.

He turned toward the house and she fell into step beside him, limping slightly. He stopped and looked down at a huge rip in her pant leg. A black and blue spot was already appearing on her right thigh.

"You all right?" He gently touched the skin next to the bruise.

She swatted his hand away. "Do not take liberties, Mr. Miller."

"I wasn't …" Cade shook his head. He couldn't win. "I was worried about your leg."

"It's fine." She looked defensive and scared. That made his heart soften toward her. She obviously didn't know who she was, where she was, and she was afraid of some lady coming after her. The witch. She was trusting him to take care of her and not take advantage of her. He didn't blame her for drawing boundaries.

Was she in danger? Maybe that was why she'd fallen. Somebody was chasing her. His hand automatically went to his pistol as he evaluated the mountainside trail she'd come from and then around his peaceful valley. Clear. He couldn't see a person, an animal, or anything out of the ordinary. They could have been scared off when he came running.

He doubted she was in danger. No danger ever came to Coleville, and the only danger in his mountains were wolves, mountain lions, coyotes, rattlesnakes, and the occasional bear.

"Are you hurting anywhere?" he asked.

She touched the goose egg on her forehead and winced. "A little bit."

"Your back or neck?"

"No."

"Okay. Are you comfortable coming to my house and we'll see if we can figure out how to help you get home? Without a phone." He didn't remind her she'd chucked his means of communication into the lake. He could email or message from his home computer. That was what he'd do.

He could also drive her down the rutted-out mountain road and to town. He'd let Sheriff Clint Coleville, the man himself, take care of her. The rest of the Coleville family were great, but except for giving Mama Millie hugs at church and Easton and Walker's visits, he stayed away from them as well. Pain by association.

"Do I have a choice?" she asked.

He started to rile up, but then he realized her voice was an odd mixture of fear, pain, and teasing. "You sure do, little lady. You can saddle up one of my horses and hightail it out of here on your own."

She smiled at him. The sun got brighter, and his future shone right along with it. He glanced up to see where the cloud was that had shifted away from the sun, but the sky was blue and free of any puffs of white. He blinked back at her. That smile was still on her face. Radiant. Appealing. What would those full, straight lips feel like against his own?

Okay. It was getting out of control now.

"I love horses and cowboys, but my brain function is subpar at the moment. I'll choose you." She winked at him then.

The ground shifted, and he wondered if an earthquake was coming. She chose him? She couldn't mean that. She wasn't in her right mind.

Turning, she walked toward his side-by-side vehicle, that slight limp to her gait proving that bruise on her thigh was deep and painful.

He followed like an old, well-trained Border Collie on a leash.

Who was this woman? And how could he keep her here until tomorrow and beyond? His quiet, predictable life had just been thrown upside down. He was confused but not annoyed by that. That alone shocked him. The dark-haired beauty shocked him even more.

He should want answers.

He only wanted more time around her.