Page 16 of Chasing the Wild
“All good up there, old man?”
“Stôrmand,” I grunt in reply.
“Piss off with thatStôrmandbullshit, Wilder.”
A wry smile crosses my face hearing his growl. I’ve got young bucks I call in to help when I need it up here. Storm is about the only person on this mountain who I’d willingly sit down and crack open a beer with, though. He’s got a fucked up past like me and doesn’t talk much, and that suits us both just fine. He’s not a rancher, but he’s the only half-decent farrier who I trust with my horses, and the guy used to willingly climb on an angry bull for money back while he still had a pro career. Crazy son of a bitch.
When the roads are clear he comes and shoes the horses for me, keeps them in good shape with the busy summer season, and in return I help him out around his property if he ever needs anything.
He’s been up here a long time on his own, too.
However, after the shit he’s been through, I can’t blame him for being even more reclusive than I am.
“Snow’s already stuck good down here. Must be packed in solid already at the ranch?”
Storm confirms what I’d feared. If the weather has hit hard for him, then it’s a bitch of a front that has closed in… fast. He’s at a slightly lower elevation, but lives across the valley. We’re not exactlyneighbors,but round these parts, our properties are close enough to one another to count.
“Mountain roads are closed. Spoke with Hayes a couple of minutes ago.” Storm continues on.
Sheriff Cameron Hayes is a good bastard. Another man I’d consider a friend and someone who I will happily grab a drink with and give the time of day to. Man works his ass off over winter to make sure the mountain is cleared as fast as possible, on top of everything required of him on the Hayes family ranch, and I can always rely on him to keep in touch to let me know how conditions are looking out there. Especially when we become cut off from the rest of the world here on Devil’s Peak.
I know he worries about the gruff old assholes like Storm and myself who live out in these parts on our own. Fucking mother hen that he is.
“Weather should fuck off quick enough, it’s only likely to keep snowing until tomorrow.”
“You’re all good for supplies over there?” I mean, the man might have spent a career hanging onto the back of a bull like a goddamn lunatic, but he’s particularly shit at taking care of himself.
Storm lives hard and fast, and more than once, I’ve wondered if he gives a damn about anything other than horses and finding his next one-night stand.
“Aw. Offering to saddle up, ride over here and tuck me in are you, sunshine?”
“Fuck you very much.”
He chuckles. “Still need a hand with the next cattle round-up?”
“Assuming you can get your ugly ass up here by then… you know I won’t say no.”
Having the likes of him as an extra pair of hands when I need them around this place is a godsend, even though the majority of the time I can manage by myself, some jobs just need a team working the stock. Storm can handle a horse and knows cattlelike it’s in his blood. Plus, the other guys who help on the days I need it are young. Too fucking young. They might be good in the saddle, but Jesus, each year they make me feel older, and each year, they seem to get more baby-faced.
After exchanging a few more words with Storm—neither of us are exactlytalkers,and that’s fine by me—he’s passed on the relevant updates I need to know from Hayes.
Despite the front bringing this heavy snowfall, it’ll pass quickly, which means the crews should be able to get a clear run to re-open the mountain. That should mean a long enough window of time to do a trip into town for restocking supplies, and also get this girl’s busted vehicle towed to a mechanic.
Considering where we are, at the very top of the mountain access road, that could be two weeks away, at best.
I can get her down on horseback tomorrow if she wants to go find accommodation in Crimson Ridge. That might be the best place for her while she waits until we can get her car off the mountain, but she won’t be driving for a while.
As for tonight… well, no one is going anywhere in this whiteout. Unless they’ve got a death wish.
I tuck the radio handset back in its cradle and return to the lounge. The girl hasn’t moved, like I instructed. Just stares at the flames dancing in the fire and looks completely wiped out. But at least she’s had some water and some sugar and seems warm enough.
“You ok?” I grab a couple more logs from the stack against the wall and start loading up the fire.
“Maybe. I don’t know.” A bit of a raspy edge colors her voice, sounding sexy as fuck, and the very, very wrong response my body has is to feel a rush of blood heading to my dick.
This girl is pale and shaky and has hardly pulled herself together, and I’m thinking about what that voice would sound like gasping my name in the dark?
Of course, that’s where my mind goes. Of course it does. Because I’ve thought about her way too many times over the past few months, and now I’m having all my fucked up daydreams, unexpected desires I’ve never felt compelled by before now, thrown back in my face.
