Chapter 13

13

Tanner was gonna shoot Smoke.

As she stared at the revolver he'd unholstered, time stood still for several heartbeats, and her mind flashed with her options. She was too far away from Smoke to jump in front of him and keep Tanner from hitting him.

But she was only two steps from the door. Lester's words from only moments ago echoed in her head: "...next time you try to leave the cabin, we won't miss." She could cause a distraction, and maybe with the chaos of the moment, Smoke would have the chance to get away.

She took a rapid step toward the door. "Don't give up yet, Tanner."

He lifted his revolver and focused on the wolf.

"Please." Why was he doing this now? After helping her this long, what had changed? Maybe she'd pressured him too much, and now he was angry or frustrated. Or perhaps he wanted to escape from her and realized he'd create a chasm between them if he killed Smoke.

Whatever the case, she had to act quickly. She reached the door, unlocked it with one swift flip, and then threw it open so that it slammed hard against the cabin.

Tanner's attention immediately flew to her. "Maisy, don't you dare—"

She bolted out, the cold night air striking her cheeks.

The bang of a gun echoed in the quiet of predawn from somewhere near the trailhead. And in the next instant, a bullet hit her in the shoulder.

For just an instant, she seemed to hover in a place between space and time. She saw a man step forward into the clearing with his rifle smoking and another man beside him with his rifle aimed and ready for another shot.

Behind her, Tanner shouted a warning.

Then the pain drowned out every other thought. The sting was so intense she couldn't make her lungs work to draw in a breath. Heat followed—a searing that burned with so much force that a scream escaped before she realized it.

She stumbled forward, sinking to her knees, unable to bear the pain and still screaming.

At the scream, shouting erupted from the woods, and men came running out of their hiding places toward her. Tanner was the first to reach her, and he dropped beside her, his brow furrowed and his face tight with worry. He was scanning her, but in the dark, he was having a hard time finding the place where she'd been hit.

Through the chaos, Maisy glanced back into the cabin. Smoke stood in the center of the room, tense and alert, his golden eyes upon her.

She bit down to stop her screaming. At the same time, she held Smoke's gaze, and she silently pleaded with him to go. Go, go, go. Run for your life . He took a hesitant step forward, as though he was contemplating coming to help her.

She gave a curt shake of her head. And again, she urged him with her eyes to flee while the men were distracted. She'd done this for him. Yes, she'd expected gunfire, but she hadn't believed that anyone would actually shoot at her—not after Tanner's reassurance that the men weren't aiming for them and mainly wanted to scare them.

Even so, she needed Smoke to know she was making this sacrifice in order that he could live. He had to run away, stay safe, and make the sacrifice worthwhile.

Smoke gave a subtle nod, almost as if he understood what she was trying to communicate. Then he hesitated only a moment longer before turning and racing to the broken window that was wide open. In a graceful leap, he arched through the open lower half and disappeared outside.

With all the men hurrying toward her, she prayed none of them would spot the wolf bounding away—or at the very least that he would make it to the cover of the woodland before being noticed.

As Lester knelt on the other side of her across from Tanner, his focus was entirely upon her, and none of the other men called out alerts either.

She had to distract them for just a few more minutes, had to keep them from realizing Smoke was gone in order to give the wolf time to make it far enough away that the men wouldn't be able to track him and hunt him down.

It wasn't difficult to make more of a scene than she already had. She clutched at her shoulder where the bullet had entered. And once again, she was all too aware of the blazing of her flesh. It was so intense that she rolled to her side and vomited in the grass.

Tanner's hands clutched her arms as she heaved. "I can't believe you guys shot Maisy!" He was shouting at Lester.

"I told everyone to shoot but to miss!" Lester shouted back.

"Then why'd they hit her?"

The raging of the argument sounded far away as dizziness and pain threatened to blacken her mind and send her into oblivion.

"Where's she been hit?" This was a different voice, one Maisy didn't recognize.

"We need some light," Lester called.

"Maisy?" Tanner's face appeared above hers. "Where are you hurt?"

Unable to get the words out, she lifted a hand on her uninjured side and pointed toward her shoulder.

Tanner nodded and then began to gently peel back her coat. He halted abruptly, and at his murmured exclamation, she guessed he'd found the spot. She could feel the cold air on her shirt, which was damp and sticking to her body, likely from the blood she'd already lost.

Nausea swelled again into her throat. She twisted her head and vomited again, the movement and the pressure only adding to the unbearable burning.

"How bad is it?" Lester asked.

Tanner was bent over the spot, inspecting it. She could feel his hand on the underside of her shoulder too. "It didn't go all the way through, which means the bullet is lodged inside."

Lester cursed.

"She's bleeding a lot," someone else remarked.

Tanner rattled off a list of supplies for people to bring to him. And before she knew what was happening, she was being lifted and taken inside the cabin. Whoever was carrying her deposited her onto the bed. Someone else lit the lantern at the center of the table, and one of Lester's sons was scrambling about, putting water to boil.

Amidst the continued chaos, she finally heard someone mention that Smoke was nowhere to be seen. Lester cursed again, but then just shook his head. "This was all a bad idea anyway. I should've just put out the poison in the calf's carcass the way I'd planned."

She hated that some of the ranchers resorted to poison to kill the wolves. They used strychnine that looked like salt, and they often sprinkled it inside a dead buffalo or other dead prey that wolves hunted. It would attract a whole pack of wolves and kill them all pretty quickly.

The use of the poison had diminished the population of wolves along the Front Range to a minimum. But in the wilderness of the high country, the wolves deserved freedom from ranchers and other settlers encroaching on their hunting land.

She was just glad that, for now, Smoke was safe. Realistically she knew that he would always face danger in the wild—if not from the ranchers who wanted to eliminate the threat of wolves, then from other wild animals, disease, or hunger. But he was special to her and always would be.

Tanner hovered above her again, and he brushed her hair back from her face. "I'll bandage your wound as best I can to staunch the flow of blood, but I'll need to take you into town to the doctor so he can remove the bullet."

She nodded.

"It'll be a long ride." His voice was laced with regret.

Why the regret? Because he'd pulled out his gun to kill Smoke? And because she'd done what she had to in order to prevent him from injuring, possibly killing, her wolf?

His expression held an apology, but she closed her eyes to block him out. She didn't want him to apologize now—not after he'd rejected her. She'd declared her love for him, and he'd thrown it back in her face as if it meant nothing to him. Even if he hadn't liked it or had thought it was too soon, he could've talked about it maturely instead of turning against her. His reaction had been completely unexpected and had hurt her more than anything else he could've done.

The ache swelling in her chest didn't have anything to do with the bullet wound. It was the ache of a broken heart, a heart that was bleeding, a heart with the life draining from it.

And she was spitting mad. If she hadn't been flat on her back in bed, she would have jumped up and punched Tanner in the arm and then given him a piece of her mind. As it was, she could hardly move without scorching pain racing from one end of her body to the other.

"As soon as you bandage me up, I'll take your horse—if you'll let me—and I'll head out."

"I'm going with you."

"I can do it myself."

"You'll probably be too weak."

"Don't matter." She didn't care if she was being difficult or irrational. "I don't want to be with you."

He released a sigh. "Maisy."

"It's the truth."

"And I'm sorry." His voice dropped.

"Don't apologize. I don't want to hear it."

He was silent a beat. "Fair enough."

At the commotion of someone bringing Tanner the doctoring supplies, she turned her head away from him. A moment later when he bent back over her, she kept her face averted and answered his questions as briefly as possible.

As he cleaned the wound and bandaged it, she found herself fading in and out of consciousness, the pain too much to bear at times. When he finally had her shoulder and arm wrapped securely, he bundled her in several blankets before carrying her outside along with a bag of her few possessions.

Dawn had broken, and daylight hovered above the eastern peaks, thin wisps of clouds tinged with the pink of the rising sun. Frost coated the trees and brush, turning the wilderness into paradise.

Even though she was dizzy and weak, she swept her gaze over the landscape. This was goodbye. Once she rode away today, she didn't intend to return. She was done with the mountains, done with her life there, and done with waiting for Tanner to reciprocate her feelings.

She'd try to get in touch with her aunt in Minnesota and work something out. If she couldn't make the arrangements, she'd somehow get in touch with Pa once he was back, and she'd beg him for the fare to travel there.

After Pa made it home, she had no doubt that Lester would visit and relay his version of all that had happened. Pa wouldn't be happy about any of it, but maybe it would give him even more incentive to help her move away.

She wanted to climb up into the saddle without Tanner's help, but she was too shaky and weak to stand on her own, and she was forced to accept Tanner's assistance. When he situated himself into the saddle behind her, she was tempted to tell him to get off and walk, but with all the other men watching them, she reined in her anger.

As they started out, she could tell Tanner was trying to keep his gelding steady so that she wasn't tossed around too much. But no matter how carefully the horse stepped, each move jarred her.

When they finally reached the level path along the river, tears streaked her cheeks. She wasn't sure if the crying was from leaving home or Tanner's rejection or the pain. Maybe it was a combination of all of it.

When he brushed his thumb across one of her cheeks, she almost leaned into his touch. A part of her desperately needed him—his comfort, his assurances, and his strength. But another part of her despised him for letting her believe he might care about her, for letting her get close, for letting her hope in a future with him.

Granted, he'd never once made her any promises. All along, he'd been cautious—had warned her he didn't want to be more than friends and had tried to refrain from physical contact. He'd treated her respectfully, without crossing any lines.

If anyone was to blame for their situation, she was. She'd been the one to initiate their kisses, and she'd been the one to push for more.

Even so, he shouldn't have been so stubborn and shouldn't have treated her with such disregard, as if she meant no more to him than a passing fling.

As his thumb moved to wipe her other cheek, she turned her head away so that he couldn't touch her again. She was too tired and weak to do more than that. But it seemed to be enough to send him the message that he'd made his decision not to love her, and now whatever relationship had been developing between them was done.

She was done.

"How are you holding up?" he asked.

"I've been better."

"Let's see if you can handle it if I speed up." He nudged the horse to a faster trot. "I'd like to get to Breckenridge tonight, if possible."

As the jarring increased, she couldn't keep from wincing. It would be a long and difficult ride, and already she was weary of the journey after just an hour.

"Is this pace okay?" His question rumbled near her ear.

"It's fine." She didn't care that her voice was clipped or that she was stiff or that she was uncommunicative.

They rode for several beats of silence before he heaved an exasperated sigh. "I'm sorry, Maisy—"

"I already said I don't want to hear your apology."

"I know. But I owe you one anyway."

She closed her eyes.

He clearly took her silence as permission to continue. "I never should have kissed you or led you on—"

"I get it, Tanner." She didn't want to hear his regrets—not when she'd loved kissing him and wished it could've all turned out differently. "You don't care about me and don't want to plan for a future together."

"I do care—"

"Not enough."

"I care enough to know that I'm no good for you, and even if you think you want to change your plans now, someday you'll regret it. And I can't let that happen."

She was too weak and weary to argue with him. Besides, maybe he was right. Maybe she'd been deluded by the stirring of her emotions over the past days together along with their closeness and the fact that it had just been the two of them.

If she had the chance to think about everything rationally and logically, she'd probably come to the same conclusion.

"You're right." She released a breath—one that contained all the sadness over the loss of their relationship. "I was mistaken to think I could have a future with you."

"Exactly." His response sounded forced and unconvincing.

Or maybe she just wished that was the way it sounded. Even so, she had to let go of the possibility of having Tanner in her life. As wretched as that thought made her feel, she should've known it wouldn't work out.

"As soon as you drop me off, I give you permission to ride out of my life."

"I don't want to do that—"

"It'd be for the best—especially for me, so that I can put you out of my mind."

"Okay." His response was hesitant. "If that's what you really want."

"Yep. It really is." It wasn't what she really wanted. But apparently what she really wanted was unrealistic and unattainable. And now she had to let him go. Not that he had ever been hers to begin with.

He lapsed into silence, and she did too. And thankfully, she drifted off to sleep, the exhaustion along with the pain and the loss of blood finally taking their toll.