Page 69 of A Sweet Chat for the Cowboy

Oh boy, he was completely unhinged. “Who’s out there?”

She and Martin came around a boulder and saw Tucker stopped in the middle of the trail looking at them. He must have heard her talking. The sight of him took her breath away, a reaction that filled her with an irrational anger—an anger she was more than willing to take out on Craig, so when he panic-whispered, “I don’t know! Local hunters! Radicals! Does it matter? You have to get me out of here!” she was able to snap, “Call Sarah” and hang up on him.

“What was that all about?” Tucker asked.

“Craig has been up all night hallucinating about radical hunters outside his hotel door waiting to ambush him.”

“I don’t think there’s any such thing as a radical hunter in South Dakota,” Tucker said.

“I know that,” Wynona said shortly. “There also isn’t anyone hovering outside his hotel door either.”

After a long look at her, Tucker turned and started down the trail.

“Sarah’s not going to help him,” Martin said.

“I know, but he doesn’t actually need help, so it works out.”

Martin laughed. “Well, he needshelp, but not the kind of help she can provide.” His phone buzzed. “Oh no.”

“Put it on speaker phone,” one of the ranch hands said.

Wynona didn’t like this idea, but they were already making too much noise, so she didn’t argue.

Martin held the phone out in front of him as he said hello.

Craig prefaced his request for rescue by calling Wynona a few choice words, including both racial and chauvinist terms.

Holden rolled his shoulders back and stood taller. Tucker stopped walking and turned around, his face reddening. Even Sundance turned and stared at the phone.

“Idiot,” the ranch hand muttered.

“Hey, Craig?” Martin interrupted, his voice so buoyant he almost sounded peppy.

“What?” Craig snipped.

“I record every phone call I get, and I’m going to send this particular recording to your boss, so you can tell those imaginary radicals outside your door that you don’t work for FWS anymore. Then they should leave you alone.”

Craig was sputtering nonsense syllables when Craig ended the call.

Tucker raised one luscious eyebrow. “That was pretty clever, there, intern.”

Martin smiled widely and shrugged. “It just came to me. I like Wynona. Craig’s an idiot.”

Though it was about forty degrees out and misting, Wynona felt warm from head to toe. Had she ever felt so safe? She had three strong men here—four if she counted Sundance—who all had her back. It reminded her of growing up on the res, and this was a good feeling.

“Do you really record your calls?” the ranch hand asked.

“I started last night when the threats started rolling in.”

“I can’t believe these people are threatening you,” the ranch hand said. He gave Tucker a bewildered look. “I get why they’re mad, but threatening a bunch of geeks? Weird.” He looked at Wynona. “No offense.”

She chuckled and started walking again. “I’ve got hunters threatening me and a peer calling me squaw. I don’t think you could offend me.” She started walking again and accidentally fell in step with Tucker. When she realized what she’d done, it was too late to undo it without making it obvious.

“I don’t think hunters are threatening you,” he said softly.

“Are you saying we’re lying?” She hated how defensive she sounded, but what was wrong with him?

“No, no,” he said quickly. “I know people are really threatening you. I just don’t think they’re real hunters. Even small drama attracts dramatic people. Then it becomes big drama.”

---