Spurs 'n Surrender (Operation Cowboy Book 2)(49)

“What kind of troubles?” Brodie asked a bit sharply.

“I catch him staring into space and…other things.” She didn’t want to mention how he sometimes jumped when she put her hand on him, even after sharing a romp in bed when he should be completely relaxed. “I think he has PTSD.”

Brodie returned to his plate of food. Danica pressed her lips together. Anya looked between them, wondering what was going on. Nobody seemed willing to discuss the war, as if the topic were dirty and shameful.

Anya pressed her point. “Do you think he’s okay out there alone?”

“Yes,” all three men said at the same time.

Anya blinked at their sudden agreement. Was it because they knew Wydell so well or because all three of them also had times where they needed to escape to the wilderness?

She barely ate, but after the guys went back outside to see to the nightly chores, she helped Danica clear the table. While her friend filled the dishwasher, Anya wiped down the counters and stove. Neither spoke. Then Anya fielded several calls from a newspaper reporter, who wouldn’t take no for an answer. Her annoyance level was at a snapping point.

“I know Wydell’s decision to be alone is weighing on you,” Danica said at last.

She looked up, hoping her face didn’t mimic the distress she felt in her heart. Deep down she knew Wydell shouldn’t be alone. He was upset with her and even if that wasn’t totally the case, he was battling inner demons.

“I’ll speak with him when he comes back to town. I never heard of these trails before. Or caves. Where are they exactly?” She kept her tone light hoping Danica didn’t catch on. She seemed lost in thought, so maybe she wouldn’t.

“The trails are off Deep Hollow Road, and the caves are at the end of them. We all went there as kids. Lots of artifacts in those caves.”

“Artifacts?” Anya asked.

“Yes, some Indian tribe. Nobody’s ever explored them properly or said for sure what tribe. But Anya, the guys are right. Wydell will be all right.”

She tried to ignore that niggling fear inside her, but it was useless. She had to see for herself if he was okay. “What makes you so sure he’ll be all right?”

“Because I know these guys. Brodie gets that way sometimes too. These men have seen things. They’re still trying to rebuild their souls along with this town.” Tears swam in her eyes. “Give Wydell some time, okay? If he isn’t back in a few days, we’ll go after him. Both of us.”

Anya nodded and carefully folded the dishcloth over the center divider of the sink. Then she turned with a bright smile she didn’t feel. “Thank you for dinner and for the company, Danica.”

“You’re always welcome.” They embraced, and Anya left the Bells’ ranch.

Twenty minutes later she’d packed a small backpack and parked next to Wydell’s truck. No matter how confident his friends were that Wydell was just working through some things, she had to see it with her own eyes. What if they didn’t know the Wydell she knew?





Chapter Eight


Wydell poked a stick into the fire, watching the flames leap higher. The warmth was welcome after the temperatures had dropped at night, and the golden flames had been good company.

He’d told them about going into battle. Taking on missions nobody else would, about getting burned and about losing Matt.

Then he’d talked how disappointing it had been to come home to a ghost town. The burning in his chest hadn’t totally gone away, but it had eased some. Putting his frustrations and sorrows into words had helped more than he thought. It had been a good idea to come out here.

He still needed to voice one important problem in his life, though.

Anya.

After hiking for so many hours, he’d come to the realization that he was in love with her. How, he had no idea. She was the polar opposite of him. He’d been raised a rough country boy while she’d been pampered in the city. Her ideas about the world were far different from his, which was part of the reason why they butted heads so often.

However, that thumping organ in his chest didn’t seem to give a damn. He wanted her.

As he stirred the coals at the base of the fire, he strained to listen to the night sounds. He’d encountered one other boar and typically they’d be sleeping right now, but he couldn’t be too careful. There were also coyotes to worry about. Not so much about attacking him, but running off with the food in his backpack. And in these parts, he’d heard stories about mountain lions, especially near the caves. Those were a proper concern.

Glancing up at the place where the openings hidden in the rock were, he tried to make them out through the darkness. But he couldn’t see them at all in this light. In the morning, he’d go exploring again, just to see if he’d imagined some of the artifacts hidden within those cave walls. Time had stripped some of his memories and replaced them with others.

He heard a crunching noise, and went still. Listening.

Small pebbles rolling. Kicked by a boar hoof?

He put his hand over the weapon pressed against his spine and waited. A low grunt reached him on the air currents.

In a blink he was on his feet, his hand dangling from his hand at his sidearm. After another sound that could only be called feminine, he suspected some kids had come up here to have sex.

“Who’s there?” he called.